Those Shiny Maidenville People
Pastor Lumen sat in his hospital bed, bent forward, a tube running from his back and draining fluid from his lungs. His longtime friend Deely White sat beside him while the doctor worked. Deely’s wife, Carvelle, kept a hand on the pastor’s arm while they told him what had gone on.
The old man straightened. Hollow cheeks, white hair now, like his boy’s, and a thin mustache that traced an eternal frown. He was tall when he stood, still mighty and imposing despite the hanging arm. “Black’s a drunk,” he said cold.
Deely nodded ’cause he always did.
“He’s fearful of the Ryans, Joe and his brother, and their band of transgressors.”
“He’s just askin’ him questions,” Carvelle said. “Samson’s helping ’em find the Ryan girl.”
“She was lost at birth. And Bobby?”
“I reckon he’ll sit with Samson and see him through.”
Pastor Lumen fixed hard eyes on the monitor beside him, the quickened beep a scant reminder of where he was. Mentally he was strong. He believed he was strong.
“Bobby don’t got the heart for it, it ain’t his fight. You heard about his boy? He should be lookin’ up for the answers ’stead of down.”
Carvelle reached up and patted his shoulder.
“You want me to go and see him?” Deely said.
Pastor Lumen nodded. “I don’t want Black talking to the boy.”
*
Samson Lumen was sick. The first time they tried talking to him he’d panted like a dog, sweating so bad Black had stopped awhile till he calmed. The second time Samson puked right there on the table between them.
They’d called a doctor who didn’t give them nothing more than saying maybe the man was anxious.
They’d put Samson in a cell for the night ’cause Joe and Tommy Ryan had parked up out front of the station and stayed there.
The room was small so they kept the A/C on and left the door open.
Samson sat on a hard chair and kept his hands in his lap and his eyes on the table.
“So you walked Summer home from school. Where’d you see her?” Black said.
Samson swallowed. He was sweating again. “I saw her comin’ out the school gate.”
“Where were you?”
“I was finished for the day. She was out late. She was carryin’ her music case. It was big and she was strugglin’ with it ’cause the handle was broke.”
Samson glanced up at Milk.
“And then?”
“It was raining, then it turned heavy. So I caught up with her and asked her if she needed any help.”
“You ever do that before? Help out one of the kids?”
He shook his head.
“So why then?”
“I ain’t exactly sure. I just felt bad for her. She’s small and she was strugglin’. I see her at church.”
“You were being a gentleman,” Milk said.
Samson looked down. “I ain’t sure about that.”
“So you walked her back. Which way?”
“Along Beeson Road.”
“Why not just stay on Riverway to All Saints? That’s the easiest way back to the Ryan house.”
Samson cleared his throat, glanced at his empty glass of water but didn’t ask for no more. “I just followed Summer. I didn’t know where she lived. She cut through Rushing –”
“Into the woods?” Milk said, surprised. “A fifteen-year-old girl led you, pretty much a stranger, into the woods.”
Samson nodded, glanced at the Bible Bobby had dropped off, then looked up. “Yeah, she did.”
Black sighed, stretched his hands up, and fanned his shirt. They’d told Samson he was entitled to a lawyer. He’d just shook his head.
“Then where?”
“We came out by the Red, near to her house.”
“You said you didn’t know where she lived.”
“She said . . . she said that her house was near, and thanked me, then grabbed the case and took off quick.”
“And what did you do?”
“I stood there awhile.”
Black looked over at Milk. Milk was big in his chair, hunched over like he’d split the thing if he straightened.
“You watched her?” Milk said.
Samson nodded. “It was raining hard and the Red flows fast. My momma used to tell me the Red would reach out and grab me if I got too near.”
“You think Summer’s pretty?” Milk said.
Samson looked at Black, then down at the Bible.
“It’s okay, Samson,” Black said.
“I don’t look at girls like that,” Samson said.
“You like guys?”
Black shot Milk a look.
“Summer’s just a child,” Samson said quiet, looking like he might puke again.
“So this was the first time you walked her home. What about the second?”
“It was maybe a month later. Same again, it was raining and I walked her back.”
Black poured Samson a glass of water and told him he was doing good and they were nearly done.
“What did you and Summer talk about?”
“It was raining so loud I couldn’t hear much.”
“Not in the woods though, it’s sheltered pretty well in there so maybe you spoke to her when you were cutting through?” Black said.
“I ain’t sure.”
“Come on, Samson. Summer’s missin’ and we’re tryin’ to find her. She might be in trouble, and she’d need your help again.”
“She said she was sad.”
“Why?”
“She said she didn’t think life would be so tough. And she looked upset, like maybe somethin’ had happened at school, or at home. I didn’t know what to tell her. I ain’t good with words. I’m tired, Black. I want to go now. I need to check on my daddy ’cause he’s sick.”
“You’re doin’ well, Samson. We’re nearly done, I just need to make sure we ain’t missed somethin’, otherwise we’ll have to bring you back in and do this all again, and then you’d miss breakfast at Mae’s again, and your mornin’ prayer in St. Luke’s.”
Samson dipped his head, then brushed something from his shoulder. Black wondered how right he was in the head, and how much they should press him.
“The book?” Black said.
“She gave it to me at St. Luke’s one time when I was cutting the grass ’cause she said she read it and thought of me.”
“Can you think of anything else she said? Anything at all that might help us find her? Even if it’s somethin’ you reckon ain’t worth mentioning.”
Samson picked up his Bible, rubbed his thumb over the embossed letters, then set it down again. Then he shook his head, kinda like a kid might when they don’t want to eat no more greens.
*
They’d left Samson in one of the empty offices and sent Trix out to fetch him a sandwich and a Coke from Mae’s. Black and Milk ate together out back.
“What’s that?” Black said.
Milk glanced at the glass. “Protein.”
“You can get that from meat you know, don’t have to drink the shit.”
Milk took a sip, smacked his lips, and leaned back heavy in his chair. “Noah in today?”
“Don’t think so. Why?”
“Seen the badge he wears?”
Black nodded.
“I remember that funeral, his daddy,” Milk said. “All those people on the streets, must’ve been a thousand. He wore a suit, Noah, you remember that? Small little suit and necktie. Didn’t cry neither. Then his momma passed, and he’s still sick. It don’t rain but it pours.”
Black remembered it clear, the procession drove long and slow down Hallow Road, eight motorcycles passing a blur of stars and stripes and those tight faces of kindly strangers from towns far and wide. State police wore full dress; Black had stood silent among them. Noah’s mother wouldn’t look at him.
“Still, sometimes I reckon he’s got it better than the Bowdoin boy. It ain’t gonna end well, not with Ray like he is.”
“I stop by there now and then, just sit outside awhile, hope maybe Ray sees me and knows that we’re watching.”
Milk shrugged. “Temper like he’s got, ain’t nothin’ gonna stop him.”
Black sighed.
“What do you reckon on Samson?” Milk said.
“Not much so far.”
“He’s odd.”
“Ain’t a crime.”
“I reckon he’s hidin’ somethin’ big. And that skin all burned up on his cheek like that, it’s strange.”
“What we got is her book at his house, and he walked her home twice. What’s the motive for more?”
“Sexual, like always. She’s pretty, he ain’t.”
“That simple?”
“Yeah, that simple. He made a play, she knocked him back, he couldn’t take it. We should check out the Lumen house.”
“Won’t get a warrant.”
“Samson will let us, he’s scared, just word it right. Do it while the old man’s still at Mayland.”
Black nodded.
“Let’s say he did somethin’ to Summer, he definitely ain’t smart enough to cover his tracks. We’ll find somethin’ that puts her at his house and then we can get heavy. He ain’t got the money for a lawyer so he’ll get stuck with Forbes.”
Forbes L. Dillinger. That weren’t his real name, it was something he cooked up to make himself sound hot when the truth was he was about as useless a lawyer as you could find. They threw him state bones every now and again, no-wins he could try and plead out.
“You know we can’t send Samson back out there.”
“I know.”
“So what then?”
“I ain’t figured it yet.” Black looked down at his burger and pushed it away.
“You got anyone else for all this?”
Black shrugged. “Just waitin’ on a break.”
“We’re due.”
“We are.”
They looked up when Trix stopped by the door. “You need to come see this,” she said.
They walked through to the front, bent the blinds low, and looked out into the square. Five trucks. Joe Ryan’s boys. They sat on the hoods, smoking and dealing cards and sipping beer.
“Looks like they’re settling in,” Milk said.
*
Main Street in Maidenville was redbrick and beautiful. They left the Buick a quarter mile away and walked along, side by side. The stores were fancy; each streetlight had a basket of purple daisies hanging from it. There was a small hotel, restaurants, and banks. Even the hardware store had a shine to the window. At the far end they could see the back of Fairline Park, the trees sweeping from green to gold like they’d been given a lick of paint.
Purv glanced around. “Fuckin’ Starbucks, ruinin’ small towns.”
Noah frowned at him.
They passed Maidenville moms sitting outside a bakery, eating pastries and sipping from wide cups while their kids tangled beside them. They passed the Fountain Record Store, the first in the state to stick labels on the front of certain albums warning of occult references.
Raine spat her gum out onto the sidewalk. A passing man shook his head.
“What the fuck’s his problem?” Raine said.
Purv shrugged.
“I reckon I could live someplace like this,” Noah said, looking around, a smile on his face.
Raine waved him off. “Everywhere looks better in sunshine.”
“I could live here too,” Purv said, eyeing the fancy convenience store. “Man left the counter to help a lady load her groceries. I could strip the shelves bare in that time.”
They found it at the north end of Main, by the crossroads, behind a steep bank of grass. Maidenville Public Library. The building was old and grand. There were banners, one told of a bake sale that coming weekend, the other of a drive to collect books for the local elementary school.
“Place is huge,” Purv said. “How many books you reckon they got in there?”
It was bright inside, smart carpets and bold paint and towering shelves. Raine picked out a book, thumbed the pages and looked around. There was clusters of kids reading at long tables.
“All these people in here,” Purv said. “Ain’t they got televisions in Maidenville?”
There was a boy working the desk, maybe college age, thick frames and cheeks fired with acne.
“Over there,” Noah said, nodding in the direction of an empty terminal.
They walked over and sat at the computer. Raine took Summer’s library card from her bag and typed in the membership number.
“Password?” Purv said.
Raine tried their date of birth. It didn’t work. “Shit,” she said.
The boy glanced over then stood.
“He’s comin’,” Noah said.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” the boy said. He wore a nameplate: Henry.
Raine smiled, arched her back a little, and pushed her tits out.
“You need any help?”
“I can’t remember my password,” Raine said. “Such a ditz. It’s this heat.” She pulled her top down a little and blew. “Some days I even forget to put my panties on.”
Noah glanced at Purv and Purv glanced at Henry, who was blushing bad and fiddling with his glasses.
“You reckon you can help me out?” she said, voice loaded with sweet.
Henry nodded quick, leaned down and tapped a couple keys, then smiled as the screen lit.
Raine scooted forward and saw a couple of files.
The boy cleared his throat. “So, can I show you how to –”
“Fuck off now,” Raine said.
“Excuse me?”
Raine waved him away with her hand.
Henry walked off slow and sad.
“Brutal,” Purv said.
Noah nodded.
“Either of you know how to print these files?” Raine said.
Noah and Purv shook their heads.
“Jesus,” Raine said, standing and turning and hollering for Henry. She pulled her top down again as he came running.
*
Raine flipped the pages, articles from the locals and nationals going back a couple years. She sat in the back of the Buick while Noah drove the dirt roads toward Grace.
Purv turned from the front seat. “Maybe Summer was doin’ a project on the Briar girls. Did she talk about them?”
“Maybe. We watched the news, she got upset, she used to ask my daddy about it when he got back from the searches.”
“Anything there?” Noah said, glancing in the mirror.
Raine scanned the pages, didn’t find nothing new till she got to the end. “There’s a ton of shit about the Maidenville Academy.”
“That fancy school,” Purv said. “Why?”
Raine read as they drove. “Briar girl three, Lissa Pinson, went with a boy from that school.”
“You reckon Summer talked to him?” Noah said.
Raine stared at the pages, and she thought of her sister looking for the Briar girls, and maybe looking for the Bird, and she got a pain in her stomach so bad she couldn’t barely breathe.
*
Joe and Tommy Ryan sat outside the gates to the Lumen house, the engine idling but the lights cut. Joe had just got off the phone with one of his boys, Austin Ray Chalmers, who was sat out front of the police station with a couple men.
Tommy lit a cigarette, took a long sip from the flask he was carrying, then offered it to Joe, who shook his head.
“We goin’ in?” Tommy said.
“No. Cops will. We don’t want to fuck anything up. If Summer was in there they’ll know about it.”
Tommy rolled down his window and leaned an arm out.
Joe eased the truck along to get a look down the side of the house.
“Where were you last night?” Joe said.
Tommy shrugged. “In the square with you.”
“I woke early hours and your truck weren’t there. We ain’t movin’ till she’s found. Austin Ray and the boys, we’ll do shifts. We gotta stay on Black.”
Tommy glanced at his brother, then back out the window. “Ran home to take a shower is all.”
Joe nodded, then he looked out, saw a bottle of William Lawson’s in the weeds and wondered if Samson was the type that liked to drink. Like Black. He’d known Black a lifetime. Before he’d gone inside Black had been slick with purpose, a drinker, always, but tough and smart. Him and Mitch Wild made a tight pairing. Joe had seen it on the night news, on the small black-and-white in his cell. They didn’t say but he knew Black had fucked up ’cause Mitch was a pro to the bone, no way he would’ve walked up to that house without cover.
“You heard anything more from Black?” Tommy said.
“He ain’t got nothin’ yet, reckons Samson was sick yesterday. If this drags, if she don’t show . . . we’ll have to pull him out.”
“The Angel? How?” Tommy looked over at him.
“Just go in and take him.”
“All right.”
“I was thinkin’ we wait for the storm. Do it when the cops are busy, when people ain’t lookin’ down.”
Tommy nodded. “Move on the storm, I like that.”
Tommy opened the glove compartment, saw a SIG and a Smith & Wesson inside. He carried a knife, always had since they were boys and got caught out by a couple guys from Windale who did a number on Joe ’cause he was the bigger of the two. It’d been Tommy they were after; he’d fucked one of their girls. Joe said it was him.
“You know much about this guy?”
“No. The Angel was like a ghost till recent. He worked at the school but outside of that, nothin’. I got it the old man was shamed of him, never saw Samson at church or nothin’, like he was locked down with his momma.”
“I saw him recent, at St. Luke’s, when we dropped the girls there,” Tommy said.
Joe nodded. “That’s what Ava reckons. He started goin’ to church again, every day she said.”
“How come?”
“Could be when his momma died. Could be when the old man got sick he wanted to go pray for him.”
“Could be ’cause Summer was there,” Tommy said quiet.
Joe put his foot on the gas, wondering what was to come, hoping it’d be over soon and Summer would come home safe, and that he wouldn’t have to hurt nobody for that to happen.