The Cypress House(56)

“I don’t believe that,” he said. “I don’t believe a woman like you could be forced into doing so much for a man like that based on nothing more than intimidation. Someone like you? Shit, you’d have called the governor by now. Called old J. Edgar Hoover himself, had all of them down at Raiford, hauling your baby brother out while they fastened shackles around Wade.”

“Nothing more than intimidation,” she echoed. “Nothing more.”

“That’s all it sounds like to me, and you don’t seem the type to crumble under it as completely as you’re wanting me to believe.”

She lifted her chin and gave him that challenging stare she had. Her shoulders were pulled back and he could see her breasts pushing at the gown and the smooth lines of her sides swerving out into her hips, could see her hair tracing her neck. When he took another drag off his cigarette, he held the smoke longer than he intended. Almost like he’d forgotten it was there.

“Okay,” he said. “You’ve made your decisions. Something you need to understand? I’m about to make mine.”

She was silent.

“There any reason I shouldn’t walk up the road with that cute little box, show it to the law, and tell them what I’ve seen?”

“Where is the box?”

“That ain’t the question, honey.”

“It’s my question. Where is the box?”

He grinned at her and shook his head.

It went quiet again. They listened to the water break on the beach, and Arlen finished his cigarette and put it out under his toe.

“I’ve told you all I care to tell you,” she said. “This isn’t a game. My brother will die. He’s the same age as Paul, almost. Ten months older.”

“And he’s almost out,” Arlen said.

“How do you know that?”

“I only look ignorant, Miss Cady. Solomon told you fourteen days left. I suspect he meant until your brother gets out. Am I right?”

Her silence told him that he was.

“So he’ll come back,” Arlen said. “That’s your idea at least. Then what?”

“I’ve got a plan.”

“Many of the dead people I’ve known did.”

“You’ve such an encouraging touch.”

“Is that what you need? Encouragement?”

“What I need,” she said, “is to be left alone again.”

“Bullshit. Last thing in the world you want is to be left alone. You could’ve sent us off days ago, but you didn’t. You let us linger.”

She was quiet.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I’ll have to do some thinking.”

“What have you done with that box?” she said.

“It’s in a place of my control. Don’t get any bright ideas about having Wade hang me up by my toenails to find out where.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You’d do damn near anything you decide to do,” he said. “That much has been made clear.”

She went quiet again, and he realized that she was crying. Hardly making a sound, but her cheeks were damp and her breathing unsteady.

“Like I said,” he told her, the edge dulling from his voice, “I’ve got my own decisions to make.”

They sat there for a long time in the silent dark, and eventually he stepped away from the railing and went to the door and held it open. She hesitated but then rose and walked inside. Her body passed close to him, almost brushing him, and he could smell her hair, clean and with some hint of flowers.

She turned to him, still standing very close, her chest inches from his, and said, “So what do you expect me to do? Go upstairs and wait for you to think?”

“You can do that,” he said, “or you can kill me while I sleep. Let me know what you decide.”





24


SHE CAME INTO HIS ROOM just before dawn. He’d finally found sleep; the flask still lay in his hand, held against his side the way a child holds a dear toy. He wasn’t sure what sound stirred him or even if one had. He just opened his eyes and she was there, the white gown almost all that showed of her in the dark. The sky hadn’t begun to lighten yet, but he knew it must be close to morning. For a moment he didn’t speak, just looked at her and then dropped his eyes to her hands, thinking of the pistols. Her hands were empty.

“You don’t believe that Wade’s intimidation is enough to keep me here,” she said. “Enough to keep me working for him. That’s what you said.”

He didn’t answer, just pushed up in bed. He was bare-chested, and the room that always felt too warm now seemed cool.

“You asked why he didn’t just run us off and take the place over for himself,” she said. “Do you know how much I would love to have him do that? I’d give him the property, sign it over to him without a dime in return. That’s not enough for him, though. Not at this point. This family has been connected to him for too long. We’re either working for him or we’re working against him. That’s how he sees it at least. The minute I try to leave this place, even if I want nothing more than peace, he will view it as a threat. And I can tell you something about how he handles threats.”