Cage Of Night Part 37

"You're really an a.s.shole, you know that?"

This last line was spoken as they finally started climbing the stairs.

"G.o.d, how'd you like to hang out with those guys?" Josh grinned.

"Yeah, right."

"Let's start looking again."

I went into the bedroom and wished I hadn't.

First thing through the door, I smelled Cindy's perfume. I felt sick, thinking of them in the double bed that rested between two long corner windows.

I started hearing their ghosts, what she said to him, what he said to her.

She loves me, I wanted to say to Garrett's ghost.

But there wasn't time.

We had to hurry.

I started with his dresser drawers. One was filled with underwear, two handguns and several bullet clips. The next was filled with socks, a long economy-pack of Trojans, a small cellophane bag of stuff that looked and felt just like marijuana. The third drawer contained two ugly sweaters. Probably Christmas gifts he never wore. The last drawer held a bunch of skin magazines and several videotapes. The Blonde Blower was the t.i.tle of one of the tapes. Kind of made a fella wonder what it was about.

I looked under the bureau and under the bed but found nothing. I looked behind the bed and behind the drapes and behind the small bookcase and found nothing again.

The closet seemed to hold no problem at all.

Garrett didn't exactly have a lot of clothes. There were three shirts on wire hangers that clanged, and maybe three pairs of dark slacks, and two pairs of Levi's. A fleece-lined jacket hung on one hook while a red and black checkered hunting shirt hung on another.

And then I saw them and I knew right away that something was wrong, him not wearing them tonight, and so I picked them up and I carried them out to the head of the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"You down there?" I whispered.

"Yeah."

"I think I found something."

"What?"

"Bring the flashlight up."

That was the trouble with sharing a flashlight.

We put Garrett's new cowhide western boots down on the kitchen floor and then we started examining them.

There probably hadn't ever been a pair of western boots that had been examined with such care.

"Funny he isn't wearing these," I said. "They're his brand new boots."

"Yeah. Real funny."

"What if he didn't wear them because something was wrong with them?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"But what could be wrong with them?"

"I guess that's what we have to find out."

So we kept on looking.

Couple of times, the boys upstairs sounded as if they were standing on chandeliers and dropping big black vaults on the floor. And every so often they would swear at each other and argue about the pizza or the beer or the TV show they were watching. Fun guys.

Josh was the one to find it.

The white st.i.tching on the upper part of the sole of the left boot.

The white st.i.tching was discolored maybe an inch, inch-and-a-half.

Josh held the beam close to the st.i.tching.

"Kind've orange," he said.

"Yeah."

"The way dried blood is kind've orange sometimes."

"Maybe that's why he isn't wearing them."

Then we looked closer and saw that there was also a deep staina"like a splasha"right across the arch of the same boot.

"Bet whatever stained the st.i.tching also stained the arch," Josh said.

"I'd bet the same thing."

He turned off the flashlight.

We just knelt there in the faint moonlight, looking at the lone western boot sitting between us.

Josh said, "He gets Mae Swenson's blood on his bootsa""

"a"but he's too cheap to throw them awaya""

"a"so he just keeps them in the closet."

"Figuring that after you get convicted of her murder, he can start wearing his boots again."

"Maybe we're full of s.h.i.t," he said.

"Maybe. But I don't think so."

"Neither do I."

"You know what I want to do with this boot?" he said.

"What?"

"Take it over to the Chief's office. Have somebody lock it up for the night. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I want you to come with me, brother."

"No way."

"It's time, brother. You can't keep running. Mom and Dad're right."

We knelt there for a long time. Neither of us said anything.

Then he said, "I could beat the s.h.i.t out of you."

"So?"

"So if I could beat the s.h.i.t out of you, I can make you turn yourself in."

"Maybe you can't beat the s.h.i.t out of me."

"Sure I can."

"It's crazy to turn myself in."

"No, it isn't, Spence. What's crazy is to keep running, and to let one of the local rednecks have an excuse for killing you."

I sighed. He was right.

"Scares the h.e.l.l out of me," I said. "Turning myself in."

"Scares the h.e.l.l out of me thinking about you out there all alone in the timber all night. Scares the h.e.l.l out of Mom and Dad, too."

"How'd you ever get so grown up all of sudden."

"Vitamins."

I laughed. "You crazy a.s.shole."

"Look who's talking."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

In ten more minutes, the downtown stores would close. But for now, they looked lovely, all the electric Christmas lights and Santas and reindeer vivid against the night sky. Even the corny holiday music sounded good to me just then as we drove down the street toward the police station.

I was huddled deep down inside the collar of my coat, and hunched down in the seat. A lot of people were looking for me right now.

"How you doing?" he said.

"You mean other than p.i.s.sing my pants?"

"Yeah, other than that."

"Other than that, just great."

"It's going to he all right, Spence. It really is. You just got to have a little faith."

"Uh-huh."

We were a block away from the police station when I saw her and when I saw her, I said, "Cindy!"

The library was right down the block from the police station. She'd probably been doing homework and was now walking home.

"Let me out so I can talk to her," I said.

"Are you crazy?" Josh said, grabbing at my arm because I'd already opened the door and was jumping out of the car even though it was still moving.

"We can walk from here!" I said. "Bring the boot!"

There wasn't anybody in the world I needed to see right now more than Cindy Marie Brasher. n.o.body.

I was out the door and sliding a.s.s-over-appet.i.te on the icy street toward Cindy.

Behind me, I heard Josh cursing and pulling the car over to the curb. It wasn't easy. I hadn't given him any warning.

She saw me then and she looked so sweet and beautiful in her navy blue tailored winter coat, her cheeks red with the season.

She looked confused, maybe even a little scared, as if she might want to drop her armload of textbooks and take off running.

But I reached the sidewalk before she could move.

"G.o.d," I said. "G.o.d, it's good to see you!"

She started to say something but I didn't let her. "I was so p.i.s.sed off at you for not going to the Chief. But I'm not mad anymore, Cindy. I'm sure you were just scared."