Mayes, Casey - A Deadly Row

“I’ve missed you, too,” I said, “but I’m on my way to Hickory, and I’m not sure when I’m going to be back.”

“What on earth are you going to do up there?”

“I’m visiting family,” I said.

“I know what that’s like,” she said. “Could we do it tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why not, if nothing else comes up.”

“Wow, I feel so special,” she said with a laugh.

“I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that with Zach’s job, I’m not sure what’s going to happen the next hour, let alone the next day.”

“That’s fine. I was just teasing. Tell you what. Let’s plan on tomorrow, but if something comes up, just give me a call.”

“Will do,” I said, and hung up. I’d always liked Lorna, but the changes in her had made her even nicer to be around.

As I drove toward Hickory, I found myself enjoying the scenery. The interstate going to Statesville cut through a corner of Lake Norman, and I saw a cluster of sailboats docked by a complex situated right on the water, and a few Jet Skis were already out enjoying the day. It must be nice to be able to spend time on the lake every day, though Zach and I could never have afforded property anywhere near the water. When I glanced through my rearview mirror back toward the lake, I saw a black car with heavily tinted windows two vehicles behind mine, but I didn’t think much of it.

At Statesville, I switched from I-77 North and took I-40 West. It was the same direction I would have driven if I was going home, but I wasn’t making that trip, at least not today.

Out of habit from Zach’s many lectures on personal safety, I looked back, and sure enough, the black car was still there. I tried to tell myself that it was a coincidence. After all, anyone leaving Charlotte when I had who headed to Hickory a little above the speed limit would be close to me all the way there. But it still left me a little uneasy. I thought about speeding up a little to see if they’d still follow me, but Zach wouldn’t be happy if I got a speeding ticket. I decided to ignore it and go on my way.

Half an hour later, I took the exit for Uncle Thomas’s house, and ten minutes after that, I was at his place. The black car had taken my exit, and I’d felt my stomach tighten, but whoever it was had pulled into a convenience store to get gas, and I had laughed a little self-consciously at myself.

Uncle Thomas was half a mile from Lake Hickory, really just a wide stretch of the Catawba River. While I’d never seen a sailboat there, there were usually plenty of fishing boats, ski boats, and Jet Skis on the water. Uncle Thomas had a kayak, and he always put it in the water at Geitner Park on a small creek that led out onto the lake. The two of us had gone kayaking every summer whenever my folks and I would visit him, and I’d loved that quiet time we spent together on the calm water. There was always something to see, from herons taking off to turtles sunning themselves on floating logs.

I found my uncle in the front yard of his house, tending a raised-bed garden that was about the size of a sheet of plywood. Though his hair had whitened over the years, it was still full, and there was no brilliance lost in his smile. Looking at him again, I felt the comfort and safety of my childhood sweep over me. Whenever Uncle Thomas was around, I knew in my heart that nothing could ever be wrong.

After I got out, we hugged, and then I looked carefully at his garden. “Wow, you’ve really downsized, haven’t you? I remember when half your yard was full of your vegetable garden.”

He smiled. “Ever since your aunt died, I haven’t needed that many plants. She was a demon freezer and canner, but I have no interest in doing any of that. I just grow a few things every year to keep my hand in it.”

I looked at the bed, a twelve-inch high wooden box sitting on the ground, filled with rich, black soil. In that compact space, he was growing three tomato plants, two rows of potatoes, a block of onions, and a block of green beans. “How did you manage to fit so much into such a small space?”

“What can I say? When I get started, I have a hard time stopping.”

“You could always build another bed,” I said.

“Then I’d just fill it up, too, and we both know it.” His smile faded as he added, “I’m finished up here. Why don’t we go onto the porch?”

I nodded. While his house wasn’t really anything that special, he had a screened-in porch that I’d always adored. When I’d been a kid, I could remember having slumber parties out there, hearing the crickets and watching the fireflies doing their nightly dances. While my uncle’s place was still technically in the city of Hickory limits, he had nearly an acre of land, with trees all around him. It was a little like his own slice of heaven.

After Uncle Thomas washed up at the spigot outside, he asked me, “Would you like some lemonade?”

“You wouldn’t be stalling, would you?” I asked him.

“Me? Would I do something like that? How’s that husband of yours? Is he still treating you right?”

“You know it. He’s fine, and he sends his love. He’s working on a pretty bad case for the Charlotte police at the moment. They’re in a jam, so they called him in.”

“How’s the consulting business going?”

“It comes in spurts. Anything else you want to talk about? How are the Crawdads doing?” That was our local Single-A professional baseball team, and my uncle rarely missed a home game.

“It’s too soon to tell,” he said. “Okay, you’re right. I’ve been beating around the bush, but I called you up here, so I should get to it.”

Now that he was getting ready to tell me something, I found myself wishing that I’d been the one stalling, instead of him. Uncle Thomas was more important to me than I’d even realized, and the prospect of losing him was enough to break my heart.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said suddenly. “We can just sit out here and enjoy the day.”

“No, you’re a busy woman, and I’ve got things to do myself. I’m sure you have a puzzle due today.”

“There’s a puzzle due just about every day,” I said. “If I don’t get around to it today, I have some saved up. If they run through those, they can always use old ones.”

“I hate repeats,” he said. “I feel like I’m being cheated.”

“Hang on a second. You do my puzzles?”

He nodded. “Ever since the Hickory paper started carrying them. I’m getting pretty good at them, too.”

“That is the sweetest thing I’ve heard in ages,” I said, truly touched by his admission.

“Why wouldn’t I do them? I’m proud of you, Savannah, and so was your mother.” He frowned, and then said, “I’ll be right back.”

What was he getting? Were there test results he wanted me to look over? Was it even worse than I’d feared?

To my surprise, a full five minutes later, he came out onto the porch with a small wooden box clutched firmly in his wrinkled hands. It was big enough to hold a packet of letters four inches thick, or just about anything else that would fit into that space.

“Those aren’t test results,” I said.

He looked surprised by the declaration. “Of course they aren’t. Why would you think they were?”

“You told me you went to the doctor, remember?”

“Savannah, I also remember telling you that everything was fine. Sure, my blood pressure’s higher than he’d like, and I could stand to lose ten or fifteen pounds, but there’s nothing dire.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, suddenly feeling a weight lift from me. I knew I wouldn’t have my uncle around forever, but that didn’t mean I was ready to let him go just yet, either. “What’s in the box?”