Chris Whitaker - We Begin at the End

“Their mother is dead.”

“Jesus, Walk.” She dragged a hand through her hair. Thin wrists, veins standing proud. “You gonna make this harder than it needs to be. You got the man already, right?”

“You didn’t think to ask where Darke really was that night.”

She tipped her head back, mouth a little open as she blew the smoke away.

“Did you at least get security?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She met his eye with tears in hers.

“I could call you in, make you testify. You know what the penalty is for perjury?” Maybe he could prove Darke had lied, but it didn’t mean shit, not really, not without so much more.

She closed her eyes. “There’s no family. Just me and the girls. No one else at all.”

He would not tear a mother from her children. The toll was too great. He knew that from talking to Hal and watching Duchess and Robin.

“I need something. A favor. It could come to nothing, but I need it.”

She did not ask what, just nodded once.

He reached forward and touched her hand, and she grasped his tight, like she did not want to let go, like she could wring the absolution from it.

31

SHE SLEPT THE SHALLOWEST OF sleeps each night, so was on her feet quick and pulling on a sweater and jeans when she heard the tapping. Robin slept deeply beside, curled fetal the way he used to in the family room at Vancour Hill Hospital.

At the window she held up a finger, found her sneakers and crept down the stairs and out into the cold night.

He wore a scarf and woollen hat, his bike propped by the gate.

“Shit, Thomas Noble. That was Mary Lou’s window you were tossing stones at.”

“Sorry.”

“How far did you ride?”

“I left at dinner, told my mom I was sleeping over at a friend’s.”

“You don’t have friends.”

“I’ve started hanging out with Walt Gurney.”

“That kid with the eye?”

“It’s only contagious if you touch it.”

He wore a coat so thick it was like his body was wrapped with tires.

They moved down into the long yard. Behind bare trees was a small fishpond. Robin had sat there an hour before Mrs. Price told him it was not stocked.

They sat together on a stone bench beneath a half-moon and bright nests of starlight.

“You should really wear regular gloves. Not even Robin wears mittens.”

Thomas Noble reached across and took her hand and blew onto it, then braced himself but she said nothing.

“You were in the newspaper. All that stuff that happened. I kept the cuttings.”

“I saw it all.”

“I wish you were coming back to school.”

A look toward the sleeping house, the neighbors’ beside. Wake up, go to work and pay bills. Take vacations. They worried about pensions and P.T.A. meetings, which car to buy next and where to spend Christmas.

“I liked Hal. I know he was scary and all that but I liked him just the same. I’m real sorry for you, Duchess.”

She balled snow in her hand till her bones ached. “I’m figuring out my next move. Take it back to breathing. I can’t fuck up, I know that much. The girl, Mary Lou … I’d like to behead that motherfucker.”

Thomas Noble pulled his hat low over his ears.

“I need to get back to Cape Haven. I made a promise to Robin, that I’d find us a home for good this time. It’s all that matters to him.”

“I asked my mother if you could come live with us but—”

She waved him off, gave him an out. “The way she is with the mailman you’ll likely have a sibling soon enough.”

He frowned.

“I don’t need anyone … but my brother, he’s just a baby really. You think there’s such a thing as a truly selfless act, Thomas Noble?”

“Sure. You coming to the winter dance with me.”

She smiled.

“I like winter most. Out of all the seasons, and I think we have more than most in Montana.”

“Why?”

He raised his bad hand, the mitten covering it totally.

“That’s why you wear mittens.”

“Yes.”

“There was an outlaw, William Dangs, and he was a crack shot badass that held up three banks before they got him. He had one arm, at the shoulder, whole thing gone.”

“Serious?”

“Yes.” Right then she was glad he did not know her tells.

She began to shiver.

He took off his coat and slipped it round her shoulders.

He began to shiver.

“They might send us someplace far. If we get anyone at all, could be anywhere in the whole country.”

“I’ll ride there. Doesn’t matter where.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“I know. You’re the toughest girl I ever met. And the prettiest. And I know you’ll probably hit me but I think my world is infinitely better because you’re in it. Before it was just kids that laughed, pointed, whispered. But not now. And I know—”

She kissed him then. Her first kiss, and his. His lips were cold, his nose cold on her cheek. He was too startled to kiss her back. She broke it and turned back to the frozen pond.

“Shut up,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

They breathed mist.

“Hal said we begin at the end.”

“So where are we now?”

“I’m not sure it matters.”

“Wherever it is, I hope we can stay here a little longer.”

They held hands a while, then stood and walked back down the yard, spring buried so deep. In the house was her suitcase and her brother and she had nothing else in the world. She could not decide if that made her free or so terribly cursed.

Thomas Noble pulled his bicycle from the gate and dusted snow from the saddle.

“How did you find me?” she said, as she handed his coat back.

“My mother was talking to your case worker.”

“Right.”

He climbed on the bike.

“Hey. Why did you come here tonight?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“And? I can read you. Tell me.”

“I’m looking for him. Darke. Every day after school I ride to the Radley farm and walk the woodland.”

“Could be you’ll find a body.”

“I sure hope so.”

He freewheeled to the end of the Price driveway. She followed him out into the street. Mailboxes neatly lined, each had a family name painted on. Cooper and Lewis and Nelson . Robin liked to read the names, to see himself inside.

“Thomas Noble.”

He stopped, leaned on one foot and looked back over his shoulder.

She raised a hand.

He raised his own.

When she got back to their room she found Robin crying, scooted back against the wall, his head in his hands.

“What is it?”

“Where were you?” he spoke between sobs.

“Thomas Noble came here.”

“The bed.”

She looked over at the balled sheet.

“The bed is wet,” he said, distraught. “I had a dream about that night. I heard things. I heard voices.”

She pulled him close and kissed his head. Then she helped him out of his shorts and T-shirt, put him in the bathtub and washed him.

When she was done she dressed him in clean pajamas and laid him in her bed. He was sleeping by the time she got to work stripping the mattress down.

* * *

Walk lay in his bed wrestling with facts he already knew. Dickie Darke had lied about his alibi the night Star was murdered. Milton had paid him a visit, maybe the two had gone hunting but Walk didn’t buy it. Milton was missing, Walk had stopped by his place and found it in darkness. There was no one he could check in with, no motel or anything. Milton camped, hunted, moved through the acres in the kind of solitude he couldn’t bear in the Cape.

An hour from dawn he stood and dressed, drank coffee then climbed into the car and drove to Cedar Heights.