Evie was not home. Without a clue as to her whereabouts, Henry was painfully aware of the tenuous and uncertain nature of his situation. He neither belonged here, nor in San Angelo with his mother. He felt rootless and transient. He even considered going back to visit Evan at Reeves, if for no other reason than to establish the motivation for Carson’s evident unwillingness to assist in any way. It seemed now that it was less a case of Carson not wishing to help Evan and more a case of Carson not wanting Henry to find Sarah. The question begging for an answer was why.
Glenn Chandler showed up first. Henry had waited a good two hours. It was close to three in the afternoon. The sun was high and bold, and sitting in the truck, he felt like he’d done an overnighter in the Reeves’ sweatbox. That was a memory he didn’t want to be reminded of, but was reminded anyway.
“Hey, son. What’s up?” Chandler asked him. The tone was warm and amicable. Glenn Chandler seemed to Henry to be a good man.
“Just waitin’ on Evie,” Henry said.
“You’re gonna be waitin’ a while longer, then,” Chandler said. “She’s up in Big Lake. She has a cleaning job in a hotel up there.”
“Any idea what time she’ll be back?”
“If she comes on the bus, she’ll be back by six or thereabouts. She finishes up at five, so maybe you wanna go up there and fetch her. She’d appreciate that.” Chandler smiled. “She’s always asking me to come get her. I tell her get the bus. She says some folks was born to be chauffeured.”
“It’s not so far,” Henry said. “I can go up, sure.”
“Well, come and get a cold one and shoot the shit for a while, unless you got someplace else to be.”
Henry shook his head. “Only other place I could go is Calvary, and I ain’t so welcome there.”
“Sheriff Riggs run you out?”
“As good as.”
“Best excuse for an asshole that ain’t the thing itself,” Chandler said. “Never liked the man, never will. Coupla things happened I didn’t tell of last night. Not so polite for dinner conversation, and I ain’t a man to talk of others out of school. For Carson Riggs, however, I’ll make an exception.”
Chandler turned and walked to the porch steps. Henry took this as a cue to follow him.
“One time,” Chandler explained when they were seated at the kitchen table, “there was a kid got clipped by a car on one o’ them narrow roads out here. This was, I don’t know, maybe four or five years back. It was an accident, plain and simple, and I don’t believe the driver of the car was even aware that it had happened. It was evening, pretty dark, and he come around a corner and the kid was in the road and that was that. Kid wasn’t killed, but he got his legs busted up and suchlike. Anyway, no one is sure of the whys and wherefores, if the driver knew what had happened or what. You drive these roads at night, you clip all sorts of things, animals and whatever, and you don’t think to stop. What you gonna do?”
Chandler reached for his beer and took a drink.
“Riggs set himself to finding out what happened. Kid himself remembers it was a dark car, out-of-state plates or somethin’. I don’t know the details, but three days later, there’s this guy found tied to a bed in a motel room up near Barnhart. Someone has gone to work on his legs with a tire iron or somethin’. Busted ’em to pieces. From what I heard, they were busted so bad he wasn’t gonna walk again. There’s an investigation or whatever, and they find evidence on the front of his car, a scrap of fabric, a ding, I don’t know, that suggests he’s hit somethin’ with the car. Word had it that Riggs found him and done that to him. Eye for an eye an’ all that. Figured he didn’t have a hope in hell of proving that he hit that kid, but he was gonna get the kid some justice anyhow.”
Henry had listened silently. He had no difficult imagining Riggs tying some poor unfortunate son of a bitch down to a bed and going at him with a tire iron. The man had a look about him, the kind of look that said such a thing was well within his capability.
“First time I met him, I walked away unsettled,” Henry said.
Chandler smiled sardonically. “There are some people you decide to stay away from, or at least don’t make a fucking enemy of them, and he sure as hell is one of them.”
“You have any further notion of what went on between him and his brother? Why he doesn’t want me to find the daughter?”
“Secrets,” Chandler said. “That’s what it’s always about. Basic problem with families is that you don’t choose who you get. That’s the fundamental flaw right there. You don’t choose ’em.”
Henry thought of his own father, Jack Alford, gone before he even knew that Nancy Quinn was pregnant, unconcerned regarding the consequences of his own action, and Nancy now drinking herself into an early grave, already losing her grasp on whatever fragile threads tied her to the same world as Henry. His expression gave up his thoughts.
“You got ’em, too, right? The ones you don’t know what the hell to do with, the ones you invite and then sorely regret it when they turn out to be just as plumb crazy as you remembered ’em to be.” Chandler laughed. “When I was a kid, my folks had a cousin used to come over for Thanksgiving. Drunk from dawn to dusk, telling the kids the worst jokes, teachin’ ’em the worst language … laughing like a hyena when some five-year-old he’d coached said
Fuck you, Mommy
at the dinner table. Real asshole. Anyway, it’s the same with all families. Doesn’t matter who they are, where they’re from, if they’re dirt -poor or they shit in high cotton. We all got ’em. Now, whether Evan is the crazy one or it’s his brother, or maybe both of them, I don’t know, but if there’s something serious going on between those two, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to get involved.”
“I think it’s too late,” Henry said. “I already dug the hole.”
Chandler paused for a moment and then leaned forward. “My girl is a smart one,” he said. “I trust her judgment about people, and she says you’re a smart one, too. She doesn’t fall easy. I’ll tell you that much. But she seems to have fallen for you. If I had my choice, I wouldn’t have her take up with an unemployed ex-con who’s gotten hisself into a scrap with Carson Riggs, but there’s no explaining the human heart, is there, Mr. Quinn?”
“No, sir. There isn’t.”
“Well, for whatever reason, you and she have wound up together, and whatever trouble you’re getting’ yourself into, she’s more than likely gonna get into it, too. She’s like her mother that way, you know? She sees a door, she wants to know what’s on the other side, especially if it’s locked. She sees a dark hole, she wants to climb down it, see if the monsters are real. Some of us choose the safe option, my friend. Chandler girls ain’t those people.”
“I’ll take care of her, Mr. Chandler,” Henry said.
“You can’t say that, Henry,” Chandler replied. “You can’t say that without knowing what you’re dealing with. And you are evidently the kind of man who makes a promise with the intention of keeping it. Besides, if and when there’s trouble, then she’s more ’an likely gonna be the one takin’ care of you.” Chandler gave a wry smile and added, “And if you’re plannin’ on pursuin’ this thing, whatever this thing might be, then I think it’s more a question of
when
than
if
.”
“Can I ask about Evie’s mother, Mr. Chandler?”
“Why so?”
“I am just curious. What happened to her, why you never married again.”
“Ain’t none of your business, son,” Chandler said. “You may be in Evie’s good books, but you ain’t family. If you ever get to be family, then I’ll have that conversation with you, but until then I’ll just politely decline.”
“I apologize if—”
Chandler smiled, and it was sincere and genuine. “You don’t got nothing to apologize for, son. I ain’t bein’ ornery about it, and I ain’t offended. And I sure as hell ain’t concerned if Evie tells you whatever she wants, but family is family, and you ain’t there yet.”
Henry understood; seemed that when it came to Glenn Chandler, there was what you saw and what you got and they were invariably the same thing.
“So, you gon’ go get her, or what?”
“I’m gonna go get her,” Henry said.
“I’ll give you the address where she’s working. She finishes up at five, so if you’re outside o’ there, you’ll surprise her.”
Chandler scribbled down the address. “You won’t have any difficulty findin’ it. It’s on the main drag.”
“Appreciated.”
“You comin’ on back here for dinner?” Chandler asked.
“I don’t know. Figured maybe I’d take her out or something.”
Chandler looked thoughtful. “Ah, well, this here’s where you and I are gonna have to have words, son. You start taking her out, then I’m gonna be sat here with a knife and fork and little else in front of me.”
Henry opened his mouth to speak.
Chandler smiled, laughed a little. “Go,” he said. “I’m yankin’ your chain. You ain’t back here by seven or thereabouts, I’ll take care of my own dinner.”
Henry finished his beer, thanked Chandler, shook the man’s hand.
“This thing with Riggs,” Chandler said as a final comment. “You hear a rattler, first thing to know is where he’s at—if he’s behind you, if you’re in his line of sight. Sometimes running is the worst thing to do, you know? Sometimes you just stand your ground and let him pass by. Main thing is not to give him cause to take a snap at you. Know what I mean?”
“I do, yes.”
“I hope so, son. ’Cause if any harm comes to Evie and it’s of your doin’, there’ll be a standoff. And I ain’t gonna be like Carson Riggs, I assure you. I ain’t comin’ around corners when you least expect it. I’m comin’ at you dead square, and I’ll be carryin’ a thirty-aught-six. Maybe somethin’ bigger.”
Henry nodded, didn’t say a word. One thing he’d learned at Reeves is that sometimes any word was a word too many.
Evie’s surprise pleased him. She was genuinely shocked to see Henry standing there at the side of the pickup across the street from the hotel.
“Holy crap, Henry Quinn. What the hell is this?”
“Saw your pa. He told me where you was at, and I figured I’d come get you.”
She threw her arms around him and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Henry was a little taken aback himself, but in a good way.
“So what’s the deal?” she said once she was in the cab and the engine was started.
“Can go on back home if you want, or I can take you someplace for dinner.”
“Someplace sounds good,” she said.
Henry put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I had a talk with your pa.”
“Uh-huh?”
“He told me about Riggs. Something that happened a while back.” Henry repeated the story of the busted legs, then added, “Dangerous man, potentially, and he has warned me off again. He really don’t want me lookin’ any more.”
“He told you that already, Henry. How many times do you need to be reminded?”
“Enough times to get it through my thick skull, I guess.”
“Is it through yet?”
“Don’t reckon it is.”
“That’s what I figured.” Evie put her heels up on the dash, took a cigarette from a packet in her jeans jacket pocket, and lit it. “So what you gonna do?”
“Gonna keep asking questions ’til I get some answers.”
“Or he ties you to a motel bed and breaks your legs with a tire iron.”
“I guess so, yes.”
“So why do you owe so much to Evan Riggs, Henry? What is the deal there? I get that he dragged you out of a fight an’ all, but that kinda thing has gotta happen plenty in jail. You got something going on with Evan Riggs that your girlfriend doesn’t want to know about? Was Henry Quinn a cute little prison wife, maybe?”
Henry laughed. “Sure. That was it right there. You got me, baby.”
“No, seriously. Why do you have to find this girl?”
Henry took Evie’s cigarette from her, took a drag, handed it back. “Sometimes you cross paths with someone,” he said. “There’s something there. You can’t name it or label it. It just is. Evan Riggs is me, you know? Bad decisions, moment of weakness, moment of stupidity, and I could be there. Evan’s gonna die in Reeves. He knows he’s got one shot at leaving something of value behind. At least that’s the way I believe he thinks. His daughter, for better or worse, is his daughter, and maybe he’s not taken into consideration that she might not want to be found, I don’t know, but he has his mind set on this one thing, and I made a promise I would see it through.” Henry looked sideways at Evie and smiled ruefully. “I didn’t think there was anything to it but delivering a letter. I didn’t know that Evan’s brother was going to get in the road like a fallen telegraph pole, but he has, and now I have to deal with it.”
“So you’re gonna keep looking for her no matter what Carson Riggs does?”
“Well, I can only look so long, but yes, I guess I’ve made that decision.”
“Only look so long?” she asked. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that if he kills me, then the game is over, ain’t it?”
“You think it’s that serious?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t even know what the
it
is, let alone whether or not it’s that serious.”
“He’s warned you off twice now,” Evie said. “Looks serious to me.”
“Well, right now there’s no law against trying to find Sarah Riggs or whatever the hell name she goes by, and the more people tell me to be careful, the less careful I want to be.”
“Regular kind of man, then,” Evie said, lowering the window an inch or two further.
“And if you want to stay out of this, I understand completely.”
Evie laughed. “You don’t know me at all,” she said. “You may have fucked me, but you don’t know me, Henry Quinn. Nope, I’m in this ’til the bitter end. I’m like you, I guess. Someone tells me not to fetch down the cookie jar, then not only am I gonna fetch it down, but I’m gonna eat every damn cookie in there even if it makes me sick as a dog.”
Henry laughed, and then he glanced sideways at her. She had a smile on her face, but there was a coolness in her eyes, a flicker of anxiety perhaps.
“Bring it on, Carson Riggs,” she said.
So now he knew. Whatever they were cooking up, they were in it together. Okay, so they weren’t on some wild spree of robbing banks and shooting folk, but there was trouble up the line. Five days out of Reeves, and there was something going on. Henry could feel it in his bones. Bonnie and Clyde, Dillinger and Billie Frechette, Starkweather and that poor dumb teenage girlie he dragged along for the ride. Not such good precedents.