Dark Corner Part 12

"Why?" David said. "Why fake his death?"

"Think about it. If the world believed you were dead, you would, in a sense, get a picture of how life on earth would be if you had genuinely pa.s.sed on. Consider all of the articles that have been written about Richard since his supposed death. Think of all the tributes and outpourings of love, compa.s.sion, and admiration, by friends and foes alike. I imagine that Richard is soaking up all of it, reveling in his secret knowledge, savoring his victory. He has, in effect, cheated death, from a worldly perspective."

"Too much" David dragged his hand down his sweaty face. "This is too much for me. I came all the way here from Atlanta and moved into his house, for nothing. I'm not going to learn anything about him. He's gone to who-knowswhere, and that's it."

Reverend Brown returned to his chair. "I disagree. Coming to Mason's Corner was the best step you could've possibly taken. I'm convinced that, in his home, you'll find clues that will tell you what's happened to him."

"Clues?" David said. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Books, papers, correspondence, photographs, artwork you can search through his belongings and piece together the puzzle. To a large degree, a man's thoughts can be divined from his surroundings. I don't think it'll be easy, but with the grace of G.o.d, you'll discover the complete truth"

"I'd be lying if I said that I was ready for this," David said. "But thank you for being honest with me. It means more than you can know."

"Please keep what I've told you in the strictest confidence. If you have to share my theory with a friend, don't let them know who gave you the idea. It wouldn't look good for the pastor of the largest church in town to be responsible for spreading a controversial rumor like this."

"Understood" David was wrung out, ready to go home and crash on the bed.

Reverend Brown stood, signaling that their conversation was over. He folded David into another hug.

"May G.o.d bless you, David. I'm praying for you. And your father."

Still numb with shock following his conversation with Reverend Brown, David returned to the house.

When he walked through the front door, he saw the place as though with a new set of eyes.

I'm convinced that, in his home, you'll find clues that will tell you what's happened to him.

His discussion with the pastor felt as if it had been part of a dream. A dream he wanted to forget.

In the living room, he settled onto the sofa. King trotted toward him and slapped his paws on David's lap, wanting to be petted.

"Not now, King," he said. "Go lie down "

King looked at him pitifully, then lay on the floor near David's feet.

David stared at the ceiling. The fan rotated slowly.

So my father might be alive. Might be, remember. Reverend Brown could be wrong and has no proof to support his theory. But what should I do next?

How about traveling? With the fortune his father had given him he could travel the globe searching for his dad. But where would he go? He didn't have the vaguest idea.

As the pastor had advised, the search would have to begin in this house.

A recent black-and-white photograph of his father stood on the coffee table. His father leaned against the vine covered column of a large, antebellum-style house. He wore a gray sport coat and a white shirt. His arms were folded across his chest, and his famous cigar jutted from his fingers.

David thought that his dad's confident, the-world-is-myoyster smile held a hint of mystery.

He looked into his father's piercing eyes, as though he could communicate telepathically with him, wherever he was in the world.

Where are you, Dad? Why have you done this?

He traced his finger across the picture frame.

Maybe he shouldn't try to find his father. Maybe his father did not want to be found by anyone, including his son. His father, who had been photographed publicly for decades, would have needed to alter his appearance in order to live his new life in anonymity. What if he acted like a different man, too?

Concentrating on the photo, David felt a realization stirring. He walked through the house, gripping the picture in his hands.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor. He walked into the office and stopped beside the window.

He raised the blinds.

In the distance, Jubilee loomed, as ominous as ever.

David studied the photograph, looked out the window again.

It looked like his dad had taken the photo in front of the Mason house.

For Sunday dinner, Nia prepared a fresh salad, lasagna, garlic bread, and for dessert, peach cobbler.

Nia worried about how her mother would receive David. When she returned home after her meeting with a client in Memphis, Mama talked about how, at church, David had stood when visitors had been asked to rise. "You could see that the boy was eating up the attention, glorifying in it," Mama said. "Just like his father." She was determined to find fault in David, and Nia was beginning to think that her mother's dislike for David had nothing to do with Davidand everything to do with a troubled relationship her mother must have had with David's father.

David arrived at three o'clock. He was casually dressed in tan slacks and a white, b.u.t.ton-down shirt. He looked handsome.

He presented her with a bouquet of fresh tulips and lilies. "This is for the ladies of the house"

"Ooh, thank you. That's so sweet of you. Come on, I'll introduce you to my mother." She took him by the hand.

Mama sat in the recliner, a crossword puzzle on her lap. She peered over the edge of her gla.s.ses.

"Mama, I'd like you to meet David."

David stepped forward to shake her mother's hand.

"Hmph," Mama said, allowing her hand to be held briefly. "I saw you at church this morning."

"Did you? I enjoyed the service."

"Were you paying attention?"

Oh, Lord, Nia thought. Here we go.

"I was" David's smile had frozen.

Mama twisted her lips. "I hope so. Because I sure was. I have a few things I want to learn the truth about. Know what I mean?"

"Uh, sure" David's eyes shifted around the room.

Nia broke in. "Hey, dinner's ready. Let's eat"

Dinner was equally strained. David tried valiantly to engage her mother in conversation, asking about their family, sharing details about his own family and background, commenting on things he had seen and people he had met in town, and touching on current events, but Mama would not be charmed. She gave him curt responses and narrow, distrustful looks.

Nia was embarra.s.sed. She rarely brought men home to meet her mother, but her mother had never behaved like this.

When Nia began to serve the peach cobbler for dessert, Mama got up.

"All right, being civil has worn me out," Mama said. "Nia, I'm going to take a nap. Make sure you clean up what you messed up. David, take care of yourself."

Stunned, holding the spatula in her hand, Nia watched Mama leave.

"Well," David said. "Looks like I blew it."

"I'm so sorry, David. Mama doesn't usually act like that."

"I don't get it. What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, you were a sweetheart," she said. "I don't think the way Mama acted has anything to do with you. She hasn't told me so, but I think she's bitter about something related to your dad"

"That explains it, I guess. Doesn't help me much, though. I can't change my bloodlines."

"Don't worry, she'll get over it." Nia put down the spatula. "I need to get out of this house for a while. Want to take a walk? We can have the peach cobbler later."

Outdoors, they strolled along the sidewalk, hand-in-hand, following the same path they had taken last night. It was a warm, gorgeous summer afternoon. The earth was vibrant, bursting with life and possibilities.

They walked into the park, where they had settled on a bench the night before. They followed a hiking trail that curved through the woods. The cool shade was a welcome respite from the heat.

"I spoke to Reverend Brown this morning," David said.

"Did he tell you anything interesting about your father?"

The way David looked at her made her stop in her tracks. Then he smiled, as if to rea.s.sure her, but it was a strained expression.

"He did," David said. He seemed about to say something else, then appeared to change his mind.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said.

He wasn't being open with her. She could tell that he was deeply worried about something. But she wouldn't push him. She'd let him reveal his thoughts at his own pace.

"Have you ever heard of a woman in town named Pearl?" David said. "She's supposed to be psychic, from what I hear."

"Has Pearl called you?"

"Huh? No"

"Good," Nia said. "I've heard of Pearl. I've talked to her. She called me."

"When? Why?"

"She called me a couple of years ago," she said. "I was living in Houston at the time, but I was home for the holidays. She called me and warned me to be careful dealing with my colleagues."

This time, it was David who stopped walking. "Are you for real?"

"Oh, yeah. She was right, you know-Mr. Morgan, the stalker, proves it. My problem was that he was the last one I would've worried about"

"That's amazing. So this Pearl is the real deal, then"

"Let me put it like this: if she were to call me, I would listen to her. I think lots of people in town would agree. Some folks thinks she's a phony, but that's probably because she's never called them."

The trail came to a short wooden bridge that spanned a creek. They stopped near the middle of the bridge and leaned against the st.u.r.dy railing.

David peered into the brownish water below. "That's how Pearl does her thing then, by calling people?"

"Sometimes. She runs a palm reading and tarot card business out of her house, too, so people usually visit her. She doesn't come into town very often" She looked at him. "Why all these questions about Pearl?"

"I think my dad talked to her, so I wanted to know more about her. I might talk to her about him."

"This stuff about your father," Nia said. "It's really bothering you, isn't it?"

He did not respond immediately. He draped his arm across her shoulder, brought her closer, and kissed her on the lips.

She ma.s.saged his broad back with the palm of her hand. He was such a lean, firm man. She loved the feel of him. She felt safe at his side, protected against the world.

"You're right, it's bothering me, Nia," he finally said. She detected that his worries went deeper than she could possibly understand, and that there was much about his father he had not told her. She wanted him to tell her everything, if it would help to lighten his burden, but she would not pressure him. In time, he would open up to her. She had the feeling that they would get to share a lot of time together. Whether Mama liked it or not.

Pearl was afraid.

She had burst out of sleep last night, s.n.a.t.c.hed out of slumber by a threat that she sensed but could not see, and she had been unable to find peace since.

She lived in a small clapboard house located on the bluffs at the edge of town, just her and three cats, and though the home was modest, a vast, gra.s.sy field lay adjacent to her property.

Late in the golden afternoon, she walked barefoot through the meadow, her short arms spread, her delicate fingers streaming through the soft weeds and wildflowers.

She was a pixie of a woman, five feet tall, and she weighed only a hundred pounds. She was twenty-four years old.

At times like this, when powerful feelings overcame her, she wished for a bigger body, to better contain all of the energy. She wished she were older and wiser, too.

Great evil stirred in Dark Corner. A malevolent force that had been asleep for years was about to awaken. Life in the town would never be the same.

She liked to stroll through the field, because it usually relaxed her. She had been born with the gift of clairvoyance. Her mother had possessed the gift, too, as had her grandmother-indeed, the talent spanned several generations. Her elders had taught her that just as it was important to use your gift for the benefit of others, so was it important to learn how to contain your power, to keep it from overwhelming you and driving you mad. She had developed myriad ways to cope: meditation, prayer, soothing herbal teas, gardening, and long walks outdoors.

A breeze rustled the gra.s.s. Sunlight bathed her body. Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms above her and tilted her face to the sky, luxuriating in the refreshing warmth.

Suddenly, the earth began to quake.

Her eyes snapped open.

The ground beneath her shook, flowers swaying.