Into This River I Drown

“We have some time, George,” my aunt says. “I doubt they’ll be able to return in this storm as it is. I told them to call when they were heading back, but I also told them to stay and start setting up the new site if it looks to be too much to travel in this storm. Of all the days for it to rain.” She sighs, showing just how inconvenient this weather is for her.

Griggs snorts. “Fucking rain. You’d think God was out to get us.”

I’m cold, and it has nothing to do with how wet I am.

Christie walks over to the table and turns the lantern up to its highest setting, chasing away some shadows and creating new ones. The light illuminates a switch on the wall. She flips it, and the two light bulbs overhead burst into life. The light is almost blinding. Stark. “You need to call in the bridge,” she tells Griggs. “Let them know that a concerned citizen called you, saying that it looks like an accident has occurred. Your deputies will be too busy with the town to do anything about it now, but at least it’ll look like the accident happened when the storm hit. It’ll make things easier later, when they find the Ford.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was already going to do it,” the sheriff grumbles. “Don’t need you fucking harping on my back. Christ.”

“George,” Christie snaps. “Shut your fucking mouth and do what I tell you without complaint. I’m getting sick of your attitude. I’d hate for you to be a situation that needed to be rectified.”

I’m shocked when Griggs looks contrite—cowed, even. He mutters something under his breath, but then he nods and moves toward the door again, squeezing the radio on his shoulder. “Dispatch, come in.” He lowers his voice, and I can’t hear the rest of the conversation aside from an occasional screech of static.

Christie pulls out her cell phone and flips it open, presses the call button, and puts it to her ear. “Walken,” she says after a moment. “They’re here. No. No. Traynor’s dead.” She glances over at Abe and me. “I’m surprised, too, but he always was a little sociopath. We’re better off in the long run without him. No. Yes. Cal Blue is dead. No one could survive that fall.”

My anger rises again, as does my heartache. It’s like poison traveling through my body, and I allow myself to settle in it. It feels like fire.

Christie turns and continues to talk on the phone. As soon as her back is turned, Abe raises his head off my shoulder and nudges me sharply. I look at him and his eyes are narrowed. He nods down at the space between us. I widen my eyes slightly and shrug. I don’t know what he wants. He makes sure my gaze is on his, then very pointedly looks down between us. I glance back at Christie, who is arguing softly into the phone. Griggs is still preoccupied with the radio. I look down between us.

Clutched in his left hand is a pocketknife, the blade closed. Estelle’s gift from so very, very long ago, somehow missed by Griggs and Christie.

I love you, my husband. Forever, Este.

I nod. Not much time.

I move as close to him as I can get, keeping my eyes on Griggs and Christie. They’re still distracted. Abe grips one side of the knife, pointing the closed blade at me. I move my arms behind me toward him, ignoring the pain that snarls in my shoulder. My fingers brush against the metal. I extend my thumb and forefinger and—

Christie turns to look at us, frowning. I glare at her, staying still. She turns back to the phone, saying, “I don’t care what you think—” and I grasp the blade between my fingers. My fingers are wet and the blade slips before I can get a good grip on it. I grab it again. Slip. My hands are starting to sweat, and we don’t have fucking time for this and—

“She’s what?” Christie snarls. “Fucking Lola! Dougie didn’t talk to her before I got to him, did he? Shit. Fine, put her on the phone.”

I stare at her, the knife all but forgotten. Perversely, she turns to me and brings her finger to her lips, winking at me as she shushes me.

“Lola!” she says into the phone. “I’m fine, love. Don’t worry. No. No, I forgot something up at Big House and drove back to get it, and by the time I got here, it started raining cats and dogs!”

I shout against the gag, the sound muffled but still carrying in the small room. My aunt narrows her eyes and pulls my gun out of her coat pocket. She says, “Hold on a moment,” into the phone and puts it against her shoulder as she takes five large steps over to where we sit against the wall. I only have a moment to brace myself, but it’s not enough, and galaxies of stars explode across my vision as she smashes the gun against the side of my head. The pain is so overwhelming and bright I’m unable to make a sound. Through the haze, I hear Abe spitting around his own gag, trying to put himself in front of me. My vision clears momentarily, and she pushes Abe back against the wall, pressing the barrel of the Colt against his forehead. Her words, however, are for me.

“Make another sound,” she hisses, “and I’ll put a bullet in his head right now. We clear?”

I nod, feeling fresh blood trickle down my neck.

She puts the phone back to her ear. “Sorry, sister. No, it was just the TV, the volume got loud suddenly. Must have been from the storm. What?” She frowns down at me as she lowers the gun, taking a step back. “Benji? I haven’t seen him. The station’s closed? No, he’s not here. Are you sure he’s just not over in the Shriner’s Grange? I can’t see Little House clearly through the rain, but I don’t think his truck is there. No. Abe and Cal too? I’m sure they’re fine, honey. I’m sure of it. If they are all gone, then that must mean they’re all together. They’ll be okay.” She smiles at me as she says, “Anyway, Cal is such a big guy. He won’t let anything happen to them, I just know it.”

Bitch, I say with my eyes. I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking rip your head off.

“Just stay in the church with the town until the storm passes, okay? I’ll stay here at Big Ho

use where it’s nice and dry. Call me when the rain lets up and I’ll meet you. If they’re not back by then, we can go looking together, but I promise you they’re fine. Don’t worry so much. Okay. Okay. Love you too.” She sighs and disconnects the call. She stares down at her phone for a moment. She shakes her head and slips it back in her pocket.

She looks over at us and brushes her hands over her face. I’m pressed tightly against Abe and hope she can’t see between us. Abe has pressed the edge of the pocketknife into my hand again, and I’m pulling at the blade with my fingers after having stretched them to the point of pain to dry them on my shirt. My head is pounding but I’m trying to push through it to focus on the knife.

Griggs comes back. “Done,” he says. “Called it in. They’ll check it when the storm lets up. According to the weather report, the front slowed and now it’s just sitting over Roseland. They don’t expect it to clear up for hours. We have time before anyone finds the truck.”

Christie looks moderately relieved. “All that remain are a few loose ends,” she says. “This day can’t be over soon enough.”

He shrugs at her, and I see something in his eyes that turns my stomach. It’s almost like adoration. It’s cemented when he leans over and kisses her on the lips. She starts at this, as if it’s unexpected. She pulls away, but not before I see the small smile on her face. She steps away from him and the smile melts away into a sharp look. Griggs doesn’t look contrite in the slightest.

I pull on the blade of the knife, but the handle slips partially from Abe’s grip. I look over at him, and his eyes are drooping, his head bobbing. I elbow him sharply and he snaps his head up, his pallor graying further. I don’t know how much blood he’s lost, or how much pain he’s in, but given the fact that a bone is sticking out of his arm, I’m surprised he’s stayed conscious this long. He turns to me, eyes slightly out of focus, but he nods and I feel him tighten his grip on the knife handle. I start to pull on the blade again, pinching it as tightly as I can, and it starts to open and this will work, this will work and—