“I can’t leave him.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“No.” He leaned into the truck and put the bag in her lap. Then he took her face gently in his hands and forced her to meet his eyes. “You’ve got five thousand dollars. You can get to Maine easy. But drive fast and drive steady. You need to get far from here.”
“What? I can’t—”
“What’s left here?” he said. “They’ve killed him, Rebecca. Your brother is gone. They’ll come for you next.”
She was silent, her lips parted, eyes hazy.
“Was there a town in Maine?” he said.
“What?”
“Where you wanted to go. Was there a specific town?”
She blinked at him, as if she no longer recognized his face, and then said, “Camden. I wanted to go to Camden.”
“Then go,” he said. “Find your way there. Drive careful and keep the pistol at hand. If anyone tries to stop you, use it.”
“I can’t. Don’t send me on my own. I can’t go alone.”
“It’s not done yet,” he said. “When it is, I’ll join you. But I’m not running out on that boy, Rebecca. He’s with them. With the same men who murdered Owen.”
At the sound of her brother’s name, she winced.
“I’ll go to Barrett,” she said.
“It was going to Barrett,” Arlen said, “that led to this. Maybe it wasn’t him directly, but it was damn sure the men he’s working with. You can’t go to him. You need to leave, and you need to leave now.”
She didn’t answer.
“Drive north,” Arlen said, and then he stepped back from her. “I’ll find you. I’ll catch up soon enough.”
“Arlen, no.”
But he’d closed the door, and now he held it shut and looked through the window and into her eyes and said, “Rebecca, you have to go.”
She was silent, staring at him through the glass. He said, “I’ll settle up for him. Believe that. I’ll put an end to it. To them. Then I will find you.”
She started the engine. He let go of the door and stepped back and lifted his hand in a parting wave. Then he turned and walked down to the house and her brother’s body to make good on his promise.
49
BY THE TIME the sound of the truck’s engine was gone, he stood above the corpse as a freshening sea breeze pushed the salt smell toward him and rustled the portions of Owen’s blond hair that were not held down by dried blood.
“All right,” Arlen said in a whisper, his throat thick with tension. “Let’s give it a try.”
He’d merely had to touch Owen’s legs the first time. He could try that much again.
He knelt on the porch beside the body and reached out and laid his right hand against Owen Cady’s calf. He felt no warmth through the pant leg. Just stiff, unresponsive flesh.
Let me hear you again, he thought. Speak again. Let’s see if I can hear it.
He heard nothing, felt nothing.
All right, speak aloud, then. He wet his lips and said, very softly, “Owen?”
Nothing. This was the height of insanity, so damned foolish it was—
You’re going to need to try harder.
It was Owen’s voice again, reaching Arlen like a piece of ice laid gently on the back of his neck. He sat there on the porch with his hand on the boy’s leg and didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“What do you mean, try harder?” he said finally. His voice was a whisper.
I’m farther from you now.
Arlen took his hand away and sat back on his heels and wiped his hand over his forehead. It came back slick with cold sweat. He had an idea. Or a memory, really. He moved forward, laid a hand on each of Owen’s shoulders, and looked down into his face. The gray, blood-streaked flesh showed nothing. He hesitated for a moment and then reached out and, very gently, used his thumbs to lift Owen’s eyelids. They rose just a touch, a trace of blue showing, and at the sight Arlen’s chest tightened, making the simple act of breathing difficult. He forced himself to look into the eyes, his hands still on Owen’s shoulders, and then he spoke again. A little louder this time, a little more forceful. As if he believed.
“All right,” he said. “I’m trying. Come back to me, damn it. Come back.”
I’m here.
It was beyond eerie, that voice. Beyond anything Arlen had ever heard or even imagined. It floated up from within his own brain, but it was so clear, the voice so recognizable. His mouth was dry and his words croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“Tell me,” he said, and the familiar old phrase sent an electric shiver over his skin. “Tell me what happened.”