Chapter Text
Chapter 6
‘If we wanted one we could just have bought it in the shop.’ How has it come to this, a committed urbanite like him, slogging uphill through the pines in boots and a sweater to go to – no, he still can’t bring himself to say it.
‘I know we could.’ Goody’s impervious to his grousing, and truthfully it’s a good day to be out, bright and breezy with just the first snap of fall in the air and the woods around them beginning to turn, golden ferns and yellow birch leaves glowing against the dark pines.
‘Can we at least make it quick? Buy the stupid thing and leave?’
‘I want to see the alpacas,’ says Goody firmly.
‘What are you, an eight-year-old?’ At heart Billy rejoices at the change in his husband that a few months have worked – he’s more vigorous, less lined, brighter-eyed, and, though Billy’s waiting for the right moment to point it out, good living and relaxation are starting to show around his waistline.
‘I’m not the one protesting at an afternoon’s fresh air and exercise,’ says Goody loftily, and really, is there any other response to that than to tackle him down and rub pine needles into his hair, the forest ringing with their laughter?
By the time they reach the farm they’ve composed themselves into pillars of the community again, and the whole community seems to be up there with them, Jack’s ridiculous pumpkin festival obviously an important civic event: Billy spots Bogue, brisk and natty as ever, shaking Teddy by the hand, the Frankels talking to Tyler and his mother, David the realtor joking with one of Harp’s deputies. Children are charging about shouting and adults wandering with steaming cups and baskets of fruit, but through the crowd Billy’s eye is drawn to a man standing alone beside the farmhouse.
He’s a striking figure, barrel-chested and long-haired, his Native heritage clear in his features, and surveying the scene with an expression so stony it makes Red’s impassivity seem boyish. ‘Who’s that?’ he murmurs to Goody, but before he can reply Blue, her friend Donna and TV come dashing up to buttonhole them, Jack the dog tumbling at their heels.
‘Mr Robicheaux, do you have any pins?’ asks Blue breathlessly.
‘Pins?’
‘We have to find one,’ elaborates TV, ‘and a bird’s feather and some prickly leaves.’
‘And a key,’ adds Donna.
Goody pats himself down. ‘Don’t think I have any of those. This for a scavenger hunt?’
The girls look at each other and giggle. ‘We’re making a curse spell. Aunt Em’s teaching us.’ And there is Emma, red hair flaming, sitting on a haybale with a suitably witchy tumble of pumpkins at her feet.
‘Here.’ Billy fishes in his hair for one of the plain pins holding it up. ‘Will this do?’
He offers it to Donna who takes it gravely. ‘We won’t curse you,’ she promises.
‘Glad to hear it,’ he says, equally serious.
‘Hey, girls, TV!’ Josh comes shouldering through the throng in flannel shirt and jeans bearing a tray of red and blue cups. ‘Hot apple cider for you. Goody, Billy,’ he greets them, all good humour, ‘would’ve got some for you if I’d known.’ Billy’s found him much less annoying of late; perhaps it’s the effect of all the hot sex he and Alejo have presumably been having.
Blue and her friends take their cider as Emma comes over with Teddy to claim hers. Josh turns the container. ‘Blue cups are the hard cider – where’s Ale?’
‘He took Luis off to pick apples,’ Emma tells him.
Josh tsks, then thrusts the last blue cup at Goody. ‘You take it.’
‘Won’t say no,’ says Goody cheerfully.
Billy turns to Teddy. ‘Who’s that guy over there? Big, long hair, thousand-yard stare?’
‘That’s Denali,’ says Teddy at once. ‘Haven’t you seen him before?’
‘Denali?’ Billy frowns, confused. ‘I thought he was one of Jack’s spirits.’
Teddy laughs. ‘Denali’s not a spirit - he’s Bogue’s right-hand man. Probably here to see about the lumber.’
‘How did he come to work for Bogue?’ asks Goody curiously.
Teddy shakes his head. ‘He never says much. Red doesn’t like him, I don’t know why.’
‘Red not here today?’ Goody sounds disappointed.
‘Oh, yes,’ Teddy assures him, ‘he’s up with the alpacas.’
‘Excellent!’ Surely this enthusiasm can’t all be genuine.
‘If you go up you’ll find Matt’s picking apples with Ale too.’ Emma looks impossibly cute, sipping cider in a rollneck sweater. So wholesome.
Billy can’t contain the question. ‘Why does everyone buy into this? Picking fruit, choosing pumpkins,’ – ‘petting alpacas,’ adds Goody. Billy grinds his teeth. ‘Isn’t it all a bit artificial?’
Emma shrugs. ‘The pumpkin festival’s a fixture. Marks the season. You could stay away, but why would you?’
‘Come on.’ Goody nudges him. ‘Pumpkin. Alpacas.’ He passes him the cup as they set off. ‘And have some cider.’
Billy pulls a face. ‘You’re determined I’m going to enjoy myself, aren’t you?’ But the cider’s good, spicy and warming, and they share it back and forth as they follow the path.
A handwritten sign guides them around the orchard, the trees heavy with fruit and plenty of people filling baskets; Alejo waves to them from a ladder, Luis perched in the crook of a branch above him.
Up in the top field the alpacas are, somewhat surprisingly, real, a herd of small shaggy animals in brown and white with bat ears and long eyelashes. A small crowd is feeding them treats and patting them under Red Harvest’s watchful gaze, Kipitaki sitting obediently at his feet.
‘Cute,’ says Goody, nodding at the alpacas.
‘What are they for?’ asks Billy suspiciously. ‘Apart from novelty?’
‘Wool,’ says Red, as though it should be obvious. ‘Jack sells it in the shop. And they make good guard animals.’
‘They do?’ It’s impossible to tell from his face whether he’s serious.
‘And you know how to doctor them?’ asks Goody.
Red shrugs. ‘They’re easy enough – make sure their vitamin levels are right, trim their toenails.’ If the conversation’s a contest Red is clearly winning.
A small brown alpaca comes nosing over to investigate them; Goody pats it tentatively. ‘You’re a long way from home,’ he tells it.
Red actually cracks a smile at that. ‘Aren’t we all?’ In answer to Goody’s quizzical look he gestures. ‘Not much here that’s original, not any more. When white people first came this place was forest all the way from lake to sea. All the farms, all the towns, just little spaces carved out of an ocean of trees.’
‘Jack said something about that.’ Billy struggles to cast his mind back. ‘About how you shouldn’t start fencing nature. Not what you’d expect a farmer to say.’
Red nods, grave again. ‘Did he tell you about Kloskabe? He picked up a lot of the old stories from his wife, she was Abenaki.’
‘Protects the land and we should respect him? And he said other names too?’
For once there’s a ghost of sympathy on Red’s face. ‘He believes it, but his spirits don’t have too much power any more. The stories die, people who used to tell them forget, and then there’s nothing to them, blown away on the wind. Then there’s just loggers and ranchers and factories.’
‘Same where you’re from?’ guesses Goody.
Red’s gone back to looking distant, as though he’s said more than he meant to. ‘Pretty much.’
That seems to be the end of their conversation; as they stroll back down, ‘Alpacas were cute,’ Goody muses, ‘but does Red ever do upbeat, d’you think?’
Billy huffs a laugh. ‘Guess that’s what attracted him to Mr Relentless-Optimism-and-Disregard-for-Spelling-Q.’
They stop by the pumpkin field to secure the object of their outing, Billy waiting impatiently while Goody affects to choose among a sea of identical orange vegetables, then drop back down to the farmhouse. ‘More cider,’ declares Goody brightly, and by this time Billy’s beyond protesting.
Josh is still there keeping an eye on the amateur witches who now seem to be casting their curse around a hollowed-out pumpkin. Bogue, working his way round the crowd, pauses at Josh’s side to watch. ‘Brewing up a spell?’ he asks Josh genially.
‘You really believe it when you’re a kid,’ says Josh. ‘Remember when I was their age, looking for magic stones and arrowheads.’ He seems slightly embarrassed at the admission, but Bogue nods enthusiastically.
‘World is full of wonder, and it’s a shame we forget it.’ His bright eyes follow Blue as she guides the others through their ritual. ‘Young lady who knows her own mind.’
Josh warms to the approval at once. ‘She’s a firecracker. Smart as a whip, can tell me twenty things I don’t know, and brave as anything, willing to stand up to kids twice her size.’ His eager pride is touching.
Bogue puts his head on one side. ‘Joanna, you said?’
‘That’s right,’ says Josh, ‘though she goes by Blue.’ Blue looks up at the sound of her name, and Josh calls, ‘Come and say hi, dino.’ Blue scrambles to her feet and comes skipping over, followed by the others. ‘This is Mr Bogue, you heard me talk about him.’
‘And you’re Miss Blue, I understand.’ Bogue bows politely and Blue giggles. ‘How old are you?’
‘I’m seven.’ Blue surveys him, brow crinkling. ‘How old are you?’
Bogue creases up into a smile. ‘As old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth.’
Blue stares at him for a moment, then breaks into a laugh; Bogue seems gratified. ‘How about a present for a good girl?’ he asks. ‘Why, what’s that behind your ear there?’
Goody comes up behind Billy, fresh cider in hand, to see Bogue reach out and snap something into his fingers: Billy expects it to be a quarter, but what’s in his hand is duller and differently-shaped. ‘A key!’ Blue snatches it, delighted.
‘How did you know?’ asks Donna curiously.
‘Say thank you,’ prompts Josh, and Blue does, favouring them both with a radiant smile.
Bogue turns to TV. ‘Now then, what would you li—‘ he begins, but before he can finish Alejo comes striding up and shoves rudely between them, face grim. ‘TV, come here. Leave all that.’
‘Mr Bogue is showing us some real magic tricks,’ objects TV.
‘Trouble, big guy?’ Josh puts a hand on Alejo’s shoulder but he shakes it off.
‘Go with your brother,’ he orders, pointing to where Luis is waiting with a basket of apples, and TV starts reluctantly towards him, scuffing his feet mulishly. Alejo turns to Josh. ‘We need to go.’
‘You heard some bad news?’ Josh holds out his hand to Blue, all concern.
‘I should speak to Jack,’ Bogue excuses himself smoothly. He bows to Josh and Blue, glances at Alejo, then bounces away, face already lighting up as he greets another neighbour.
Josh turns back to Alejo. ‘What’s happened? Is it your--’
‘What did you say to him?’ hisses Alejo urgently.
‘Huh?’ Josh’s concern turns to puzzlement.
‘Why was he talking to Blue and TV?’
Josh looks confused. ‘They were playing – he was just taking an interest. I was telling him about Blue and he—‘
Alejo grabs his arm. ‘Estupido!’
Josh wrenches himself free, flushing. ‘What the hell’s got into you?’ Their voices are rising, both oblivious to the attention they’re drawing.
‘I should not have left you on your own.’
‘You saying you don’t trust me?’ demands Josh, his face darkening.
Alejo seems to make an effort to control himself. ‘Of course I do. But they – you shouldn’t let them draw attention to themselves like that.’
Josh’s temper is beginning to smoulder. ‘You telling me how to look after my daughter?’
‘Yes!’ It comes out sharp with exasperation. ‘I want you to keep her safe.’
‘You saying I don’t?’ Josh’s anger has turned cold. ‘Ain’t got a big family like some, but I can look after her just fine.’
‘Daddy?’ Blue tugs anxiously at his hand. ‘You said we’d go see the alpacas.’
‘Tio Al-,’ begins TV, but Luis nudges him to silence.
The interruption pulls Alejo from the argument. ‘TV, Luis, get in the car. We’re leaving.’
Josh turns away, shepherding Blue ahead of him. ‘Ain’t taking orders from you. You want to drag your boys away when they’re having fun, go ahead, but Blue and I are staying. Cmon, dino,’ he comforts her, ‘we’ll find those alpacas together.’
He shoulders away through the crowd and Alejo gazes after him with an expression that turns suddenly to anguish. ‘Güero, wait!’
Josh ignores him, and Alejo stares after his broad back for a moment more, then shakes himself out of it to herd TV and Luis, sulky and snapping, back to the car.
Billy turns to see Goody looking troubled. ‘Guess there was a worm in the apple after all.’
--
Later that evening Billy is sitting on the sofa, Goody’s feet in his lap, watching a documentary while Goody reads. Over the jazz accompaniment to a Jackson Pollock the sound of a car swells, and headlights swing across the window as it pulls into their driveway. Billy mutes the sound: a door slams and two voices exchange some unintelligible conversation, one deep, the other slurring. Goody raises his eyebrows. ‘Is that Sam?’
Footsteps crunch outside as Billy follows Goody to the door, and they open it to see Sam, in uniform, propping up a flushed and dishevelled Josh. ‘Brought you a neighbour in need of succour.’
Goody rolls his eyes. ‘Bring him in.’
‘Found him at Mitch’s worse for wear and talking about driving back,’ explains Sam as he manoeuvres Josh inside.
‘This ain’t my house,’ objects Josh vaguely as he collapses onto the recently-vacated sofa; Goody deftly fields the half-full glass standing on the coffee table and puts it up on a bookshelf.
‘Didn’t think he drank,’ says Billy. ‘Never seen him with anything stronger than soda.’
‘Had a row with his boyfriend, I figure that much,’ says Sam. ‘Been rambling about it all the way here.’
Josh is squinting at the screen, baffled by the abstract art. ‘Had it with him. Makin’ a fool of me.’
‘Couldn’t see it ending well for him, so I thought best to bring him back where he could sleep it off.’
Goody turns back to Sam. ‘Beyond the call of duty, coming all the way out here.’
Sam grimaces. ‘One fewer drunk in the tank for us tomorrow morning, and paperwork I won’t have to do. Just see he stays here until he’s sober.’
A thought strikes Billy belatedly and he squats in front of Josh so he can see his face. ‘Where’s Blue?’
‘With Em.’ Josh goggles at him, drunkenly belligerent. ‘You calling me a bad father?’
‘Yes,’ Billy tells him.
Josh struggles up to confront him. ‘Ain’t none of your business, you smug asshole, always acting like you’re so superior…’ but he can’t sustain the energy, words fading to a mutter as he slumps back again.
Goody looks him over resignedly. ‘This is going to take more than a quick black coffee, isn’t it?’
‘Not for me.’ Sam quirks a smile and Goody slaps him on the back. ‘Come on through. Wasn’t the way I expected you to see the house, but now you’re here…’
Billy takes out his phone. ‘I’ll let Em and Matt know what’s happened.’
It’s Matt who answers. ‘Looks like we got him for the night,’ Billy tells him after he’s explained.
Matthew sighs. ‘We guessed something had gone wrong when he left a message earlier – Em tried to call him back but he wouldn’t pick up. But Blue’s been fine, she’s in bed now and she can come into school with me tomorrow.’
‘I’ll get him to call you in the morning,’ Billy promises. He looks in on Josh who’s starting to doze, a glass of water untouched in front of him, then joins Sam and Goody in the kitchen. ‘She’s fine,’ he reports as Goody gets up to fix him tea.
‘So who’s the boyfriend caused all this?’ asks Sam, hands cupped around his mug.
‘Alejandro Vasquez,’ says Goody. ‘They had a big row at the p—‘
‘Alejandro Vasquez?’ Sam looks genuinely surprised. ‘He’s back?’
‘His father’s sick, he came back to look after him.’
Sam relaxes slightly. ‘But he’s not fixing to stay?’
Billy shrugs. ‘That’s what he said. Though things seemed to be going well with him and Josh and I thought he was changing his mind.’
‘That what the row was about?’ Billy exchanges a glance with Goody: it’s not like Sam to look for gossip.
‘No, it was…’ Goody hesitates and Sam narrows his eyes. ‘Didn’t have anything to do with Bogue, by any chance?’
‘Well, he was there, at the farm – Josh was telling him about Blue, boasting a bit, like parents do, and Alejo wouldn’t have it…’ He eyes Sam. ‘You can’t say Bogue was to blame for any this.’
Sam sighs, tracing shapes on the table. ‘Bogue is never to blame. But things here…well, a lot of people are happy with them, but I was never one of them, and Alejandro Vasquez was another.’
‘What kind of things?’
Sam shifts uneasily. ‘Can’t go making accusations if I can’t back them up,’ and that seems to have the ring of an official reprimand about it. Billy casts a quick look at Goody: Sam’s reticence seems to confirm their speculations. ‘But maybe it’s best for Alejandro’s if there’s nothing to keep him here.’ Sam drains his mug. ‘I’d best hit the road – night won’t be getting quieter back home.’ He looks in on Josh, still dozing. ‘Tell him I’ve got his keys and he can come pick them up when he’s fit to drive. Mitch will keep an eye on his truck.’
‘Now you know the way here…’ Goody closes the door with a wave, then shakes his head. ‘Looks like we’ve got a guest for the night.’
In the living room Josh has woken up again. ‘You’re right,’ he announces to Billy sorrowfully, ‘’m a bad father. Bad person. Fucking things up like I always do.’
Maudlin’s an improvement on troublesome, Billy supposes, though he has little patience for it. ‘Then don’t,’ he tells him briskly.
Josh’s finger wavers between the two of them. ‘Don’t know how you do it, and Em‘n’ Matt neither. ’M just not right for it.’
Billy nudges Goody. ‘I’ll get him a pillow and blankets. Make him take his boots off and see if he’ll drink the water.’
Goody wrinkles his nose. ‘Why am I the—’
‘Division of labour,’ Billy assures him as he ducks hastily out.
By the time he comes back, arms full, Josh has turned talkative: Emma said he’d spill over to anyone who’d listen, and she wasn’t wrong. ‘…can’t ever tell what he wants, first hot and then cold – he was round my place all the time but he wouldn’t have dinner, made me chase him, then we got together and fuck, is he-‘
Goody hums impatiently and taps the hand holding the glass; Josh gulps at it distractedly. ‘I’d got to thinking maybe… we could settle down, y’know, and then he’s treating me like a fool in front of everyone. Well, screw him. Me and Blue, we don’t need anyone else, we’ll be OK.’ His face twists back to self-reproach again. ‘Blue. I let her down.’
Goody pats his knee briskly. ‘She’s fine, you can fetch her in the morning. Drink up.’ He gets up to take the bedding from Billy. ‘Better see if you can steer him to the bathroom before he beds down.’ At Billy’s expression he grins unsympathetically. ‘Quid pro quo, cher.’
--
Next morning Billy comes padding down the stairs to find Josh an inert mound on the sofa: he feels a pang of sympathy at the day he’s going to have to face, so he makes coffee, leaves a mug beside him in the darkened living room and takes theirs back up to the bedroom.
The morning sun is pouring in, Ha-eun stretching on the end of the bed, and Goody emulates her, pushing the covers back to show that he’s invitingly naked, but Billy puts down the mugs with a grimace, slides back into bed and covers them both up primly. ‘Like having your parents in the house?’ teases Goody.
Billy shudders. ‘Something like that. I didn’t wake him, he’s going to feel pretty bad.’
Goody sits up, nursing his coffee. ‘Will you drive him over to Langston to get his truck?’
Billy sighs. ‘I guess.’ The only other person likely to have the time is Alejo, and obviously that’s not happening.
‘Can see what he means about Alejo being hard to work out,’ speculates Goody. ‘Hope I didn’t make it worse by being too enthusiastic.’
‘Alejo has his own issues,’ Billy comforts him. ‘He had a whole life before, had to put it all on hold – for all we know there’s a guy he left behind.’ He leans against his husband, comfortingly domestic. ‘Think they’ll try to patch it up?’
‘If it was just a spat, sure. But Josh falling off the wagon? If it’s what it looks like that’s not something you just get over.’
Billy nods thoughtfully. ‘Strange that Alejo was so freaked out all of a sudden. You think there is anything to what Sam said?’
Goody shakes his head. ‘He’ll believe anything bad about Bogue, that’s plain, and Alejo’s got the same idea. But there’s bound to be more to it.’
‘Maybe it was going to run its course anyway. Spared them a worse break-up later on.’
Goody quirks an eyebrow. ‘Of course it does mean that Alejo’s back on the market...’ A brief bout of wrestling ensues, until Billy gets Goody pinned laughing underneath him. ‘Changed your mind?’ Goody grinds against him provocatively and Billy’s just about to be convinced when there’s a thump from downstairs and some muffled cursing. Billy freezes. ‘Just like you said,’ Goody laughs, heaving himself upright. ‘Time to break out the Advil.’
Josh is sitting up on the sofa rubbing his head and gulping at the coffee. Billy throws the curtains open with a certain amount of enjoyment and Josh winces as Goody wordlessly hands him the pills. In the light of day he’s puffy-eyed and sallow, face creased from the pillow. ‘Owe you guys one,’ he says gruffly once he’s washed the painkillers down.
‘Sam’s your real guardian angel,’ Goody tells him, ‘saved you from a lot worse than our sofa.’
‘Shit.’ Josh’s shoulders slump as memories of the previous night return. ‘I try to drive?’
‘No,’ Goody reassures him, ‘Sam took your keys. Billy will take you over to pick up the truck once you’re fit. And Blue’s been overnight with Em and Matt, they’ll see her to school.’
‘Least she didn’t have to see me like this.’ Josh looks perilously close to tears. ‘Swore I’d never let her down this way.’
Billy exchanges glances with Goody: willing or not, they seem to be involved in this. ‘Screwing up’s universal.’ Billy keeps his face neutral. ‘It’s what you do after makes the difference.’
The tough approach seems to be what’s needed: Josh pulls himself together with a visible effort. ‘C’n I use your shower? Then I’ll get out of your hair.’
‘Don’t want breakfast?’
Josh looks slightly green. ‘Couldn’t look at a plate of food.’
Goody huffs a laugh and stands up. ‘Go get washed, and when the bacon’s ready you can see if you change your mind.’
After they’ve eaten Billy drives Josh back to his place, dropping Goody on the way to open the store. He waits outside until Josh emerges in clean clothes, still pale but more alert, then starts the engine again. ‘We can grab more coffee in Langston when you’re at the station.’
They stop briefly at the auto shop so Josh can leave a sign to say he’s opening late. ‘'Preciate you taking the time,’ he mumbles as he gets back in; it’s strange to see him so abashed. There’s no way Billy can endure the journey with a silence this big hanging over them: ‘You got a sponsor to talk to?’ he asks, eyes on the road.
Josh stiffens, hesitating, then exhales. ‘Yeah.’
‘Good.’
Josh scrubs tiredly at his face. ‘Guess the whole town will have heard the story soon enough.’
‘Won’t hear it from Goody or me,’ Billy promises, ‘and Sam has more than enough on his plate, but yes, place like this they probably will.’
‘Reputation as an upstanding citizen didn’t last long,’ says Josh bitterly, but Billy shakes his head.
‘I doubt that.’ He picks his words carefully, Goody’s secrets not his to give away. ‘There’s not many of us don’t have our own battles; no one should think less of you for wrestling with it.’
Josh sighs. ‘I know, Change is a process, not an event.’ He glances across at Billy, obviously making up his mind. ‘Was pretty much on the way to being a wreck like my ma, then one day I looked at my sorry life and thought, I can do better than this.’
‘Come a long way,’ says Billy noncommittally.
Josh nods. ‘That’s why it’s been – I wanted to do something, you know – I had a shitty childhood, and I saw all the other kids with proper homes and parents who cared where they were and bedtime stories’ – he breaks off, embarrassed. ‘And Blue, she was on the way to a shitty childhood too, but I can be a real family for her.’ It’s an unlooked-for insight into what the move to Rose Creek must mean to him, and some of the determination covered up by his brash humour. ‘And then I screw it up over some guy.’ He slumps down in the seat. ‘Guess I had an idea it could all be story-book perfect.’
Who gets that? is on the tip of Billy’s tongue, but then he thinks of their own new life. It’s right, isn’t it? Story-book perfect. ‘Look on the bright side,’ he says instead.
Josh flashes him a baleful glare. ‘Think there is one?’
‘Last night you were envying Emma and Matt and me and Goody, but even drunk you drew the line at wanting to be like Red and Teddy.’ It has the desired effect: Josh bursts into an unwilling laugh.
Once Josh and his truck are reunited Billy heads straight back home: there’s work enough on his plate right now organising his show. Casey’s firmed up the dates with the gallery and before too long he’ll need to go see the space and talk practicalities, a prospect that brings with it a strange reluctance. He wonders, as he sits down at his desk, will he slip effortlessly back into his old life, like shrugging into a well-worn coat, or will he be like Rip van Winkle, walking the city streets as though a hundred years have gone by and everything changed? But this stage of organisation is at least straightforward – composing the text to accompany his images, ordering the photographs, noting gaps and places for further development – and it soon absorbs him; by the time he shakes himself back to awareness the sun’s moved round from the other side of the house and he’s stiff from hunching over the screen.
He shakes himself loose, stretching, and wanders downstairs; when she sees him Ha-eun leaps gracefully from the shelf in her catio to come rubbing round his ankles. ‘Hungry?’ he asks her. That’s another thing, he remembers as he rummages in the fridge for food for both of them – they’re supposed to ring Alejo and fix up a time for him to come and finish the carpentry job. Is this the time, though?
After he’s eaten, restless, Billy considers. Walk into town? Why not? He can drop into Teddy’s, see if Alejo is there, and if not then he can pick up some coffee and zucchini cake and help Goody work on his waistline a little more.
Outside the Ba-Q-ry a squad car is parked at the kerb: maybe they’ve finally got around to crimes against language. But there’s no sign of Harp or his officers inside, nor of Alejo, just Teddy presiding over the usual late-afternoon crowd. ‘Seen Alejo?’ he asks.
‘Not today.’ Teddy starts making up their regular order. ‘Expect he’s at the hospital again.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Em was in earlier – she doesn’t think his papí will be coming out again this time.’ Just as well he didn’t call, then. Teddy looks awkward. ‘Heard Josh took their quarrel badly. Think he’s OK?’
‘He’ll live,’ says Billy briefly. He’s saved from further comment by Harp and a skinny young officer who come in, sober-faced and official-looking.
‘Excuse us, Mr Rocks.’ Harp is always self-important. ‘Teddy, we’re putting the word out about a missing boy.’ Missing? Billy’s skin prickles. ‘Most likely it’s nothing, but Amanda Gill was expecting Riley back with his friends, and it seems he’s wandered off somewhere.’ He catches Billy’s expression and smiles reassuringly. ‘Probably just staying with a friend, or got in somewhere he shouldn’t, but there’s no harm putting the word out.’
‘Will do,’ says Teddy, ‘tell people to keep an eye out, check their outbuildings?’
‘That it?’ Billy glances from the officers to the calm scene around them. ‘Shouldn’t we all be out searching?’
The deputy opens his mouth as though he might agree, but Harp’s quicker. ‘If the kid’s not back tomorrow then we’ll follow procedure. But ten to one he’ll be home before then asking what all the fuss was about.’
Teddy nods in agreement, their complacency disconcerting. Billy turns to the deputy. ‘How old is he?’
‘He's ten—‘
‘—and that's old enough to know what he’s doing,’ Harp cuts in sharply. Is it? Billy thinks of faces on the side of milk cartons. ‘No point upsetting people unnecessarily.’ Harp smiles again, though there’s no warmth behind it. ‘But perhaps you could do us a favour and mention it to Mr Robicheaux.’ He takes the bag of muffins that Teddy hands over – Billy notes that he doesn’t offer to pay – and leads his subordinate out again with a nod to the room.
Teddy snaps the lids on the cups and puts Billy’s order onto the counter. ‘He’s right – kids that age get into places they’re not meant to, or go off in the woods and get turned around. Boy that age will know how to cope.’
He certainly doesn’t seem anxious, and perhaps Billy’s reactions are still tuned to the city; maybe kids out here do know learn to take care of themselves, growing up running around in the woods. ‘I’ll make sure Goody knows to pass the word along,’ he promises.
Outside there’s no sign anyone thinks there’s an emergency, the town going about its business, relaxed and friendly as ever. Riley Gill: he doesn’t think he’s heard the name, but he must be one of Matt’s grade-school class. Was he one of the boys running about at the farm, he wonders, one of the gang who ride down his street on their bikes?
Distracted, he finds he’s wandered past the store, up to the square opposite the courthouse, and he sinks onto one of the benches there to think. What Harp said was logical, you can’t have people overreacting. And it’s not as if he can do anything himself – he wouldn’t recognise the boy if he saw him. Telling Goody’s the best he can do: he should go to the store, set the afternoon back on its easy track again. But what Sam said comes back to him. Things here…well, a lot of people are happy with them, but I was never one of them, and Alejandro Vasquez was another, and for the first time it crosses his mind just how often Alejo has his nephews with him. He should take Goody his coffee, but instead he sits there, in the heart of Rose Creek, letting the afternoon swirl on around him as the cup cools by his side, and what he’s been looking at itches in the back of his mind, the picture he took of an indistinct figure disappearing among the trees.