“Yup. Two months back.”
Nolan went silent for a moment, then scratched at the back of his head. He had more hair than most men in their twenties. All of it was long and wild and stark white.
“O—Oh, wow,” he stammered finally. “Sorry about that, lassie! I just—”
“You’re so old you forgot what month it is?” I joked. “Or maybe what year we’re in?”
Nolan elbowed me unapologetically, and surprisingly hard for an old man. “You mind your manners, boy.” He was already turning red though. “H—How much did you say?”
“Two months,” Madison said meekly. “This one and the last.”
He nodded vigorously and swing his cane in a different direction. “Come with me.”
A minute later we were in the front office, and Nolan was spinning the dial on an ancient-looking safe. The thing had to weigh a thousand pounds.
“Sorry about that,” he said, apologetically. “I g
uess the kid’s right — I sort of did let the weeks and months get away from me.”
Three times he tried opening the safe. Three times he failed. Madison shot me a concerned look, but all I could do was shrug.
“Bah!” Nolan spat finally. He rubbed at his eyes. “Go ahead, son. You do it.”
Madison looked a little surprised as I bent and spun the dial, opening the safe quickly and easily. The old man had given me the combination months ago. I’d opened it for him a half-dozen times since then.
“You know,” I said, stepping back. “It might help her out if you gave her next month’s rent in advance, too.”
“Next month?” Nolan repeated.
“Sure. You do plan on making it to next month, right?”
The old man half-snarled, half-grinned at my joke. “Might as well,” he eventually chuckled. “Saves you both the trip down here.”
He counted out a thick stack of purple notes, then handed them over. “Here lass,” he said. “Sorry again about—”
“You have no reason to be sorry,” Madison smiled. She leaned in and hugged him gratefully. “And thank you for paying next month early.”
“I’d pay every month early just to see your pretty face,” smirked Nolan. He swung the safe closed, turned back at me and laughed. “You…” he poked the cane in my direction. “Not so much.”
Forty-Five
MADISON
We weren’t far from Nolan’s place when we encountered his stablehand. The man was on the younger side of his thirties, tall and lanky with sandy blond hair. He was tanned almost to the point of being brown, or maybe he was just covered in dirt — I really couldn’t tell.
He was working a nearby field, swinging a weed-whacker back and forth in long, sweeping arcs through the tall grass. Only it was strange, because there was no buzzing, no motor. Actually, there was no sound at all.
The closer we got, the more we realized we were probably sneaking up on him. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t reacting. When finally Chase tapped the man on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Oh! Hey!”
Reaching up with one hand, the man pulled a set of thick black headphones down around his neck. No wonder he couldn’t hear us.
“Well hello there,” the man said amiably. He had one hand over his heart, like we’d just scared him half to death. He used the fingers to pull the glove off his other, and extended a hand. “I’m Edgar.”
I shook it. “And I’m—”
“Ms. Lockhart,” he grinned. “Of course.”