Endless Night

  Dad went for the phone, right arm raised away from his side as if rowing the air, the way it always did when he was in a hurry. On a forward swing, he wrapped his big hand around the phone. “Yellll-oh,” he said, then listened for a while. “Gotcha. Thanks.”

  As he hung up, Jody lifted her eyebrows.

  “Nick Ryan,” he explained.

  “Ah.” She knew Nick well. He’d gone through the academy with Dad, and was one of his oldest friends.

  “He’s running the show.” Dad turned to Andy. “Your uncle’s coming up the street. Looks like he made it in time for supper.”

  Andy didn’t look pleased. “Oh, great.”

  “He’s early. Traffic must’ve been light.”

  “Are they sure it’s him?” Jody asked.

  “A spotter verified the Arizona tag. What I want you to do, Andy, is grab a look at him just to make sure. Let’s go.” Dad led the way.

  Andy and Jody followed.

  On both sides of the front door were long, narrow windows draped with yellow curtains. The first week after moving into the house, Dad had called in a man to have the glass replaced with thick, transparent acrylic slats. The man was missing two fingers of his right hand. Jody, four at the time, had asked, “Why don’t you have more fingers?” He’d smiled and said, “I got hungry and had to eat ’em. Now, I’ve got me half a mind to nibble off some of yours. They sure look tasty.” It was one of Jody’s earliest memories. Mom had been alive then, had overheard the conversation from the kitchen, and been aghast: first at Jody for asking such an embarrassing question; then at the worker for his reply; then again at Jody. She’d expected Jody to run away screaming. Instead, the toddler had said in a tough little voice, “You just try biting me, bozo, and I’ll knock your head cleannnnn off.” Jody didn’t remember saying that, but Mom used to tell the story to just about everyone, and Dad even repeated it whenever one of his friends pointed out that it wasn’t a good idea to have windows within arm distance of the door. His friends were all cops, of course. And they all got a big laugh out of Jody’s encounter with the finger eater.

  Until remembering the story again right now, she’d assumed almost from the day it happened that the man had been teasing her. After all, people don’t eat fingers.

  It occurred to her now, however, that he might’ve been serious.

  After last night, nothing would surprise her. In fact, eating someone’s fingers seemed almost normal compared to wearing pants made out of somebody’s butt.

  Dad stepped to the window on the right side of the door and hooked the curtain aside.

  What had the front of the pants looked like? Jody wondered.

  I don’t want to know.

  Dad waved Andy over to him. “Come and take a look. The car’s just pulling into the driveway.”

  Andy stepped up beside him. As they both peered out the window, Dad put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  A car door thudded.

  “It’s him, all right,” Andy said.

  “Okay.” They stepped away from the window. “Both of you stand back,” he said. He watched them until they’d retreated a fair distance into the living room. Then he turned to the door and swung it open.

  Stopping at the threshold, Andy’s uncle smiled nervously and ducked his head forward. “Jack Fargo?”

  “That’s me.” He took a huge step forward and swung out his right hand.

  “I’m Wilson Spaulding, Andy’s uncle.” Wilson’s head bobbed continuously as he spoke, and didn’t stop bobbing when he finished. He had a nasal voice, droopy eyes and almost no chin at all. He was short and gangly. His chest was as sunken as his chin, and he seemed to be hunching his shoulders forward as if trying to conceal its absence. Perched on his head was a white cap with an emblem including crossed golf clubs. He wore a blue polo shirt; white shorts; knee socks that matched his shirt; and big, black leather lace-up shoes.

  Man, Jody thought.

  “Glad you made it here so fast,” Dad said, towing him into the house.

  Wilson grinned and bobbed. “I’m nothing if not prompt.”

  What a goofball, Jody thought.

  “And there you are,” Wilson said. He pointed a finger at Andy and shuffled toward him.

  Andy stiffened a little as if determined to stand his ground. “Hi, Uncle Willy.”

  The skinny arms wrapped around him. Wilson started slapping his back. “What a terrible, terrible thing. You poor boy, you poor boy.” Wilson turned toward Dad, still hugging Andy and maneuvering him like a dance partner. “We were devastated by the news, Jack. Devastated. Absolutely terrible.”

  “At least Andy made it through,” Dad told him. “And my Jody here.”

  “So this is Jody.”

  He let go of Andy and scuttled toward her, arms out, a weird, sad grin on his face. “I know all about you, Jody. Yes I do.”

  She stood her ground.

  Andy gave her a look. It seemed to say, Now let’s see how you like it.

  Wilson flung his arms around her and pulled her against him. He felt all crooked and bony. He patted her back and rubbed it. “Jody Jody Jody. You’re the one. We might very well have lost our Andy if you hadn’t been such a little hero.” He pushed her away and clutched her shoulders and bobbed his head in front of her nose. “I thank you. My wife thanks you.”

  “And I thank you,” Andy called out.

  She wanted to pound him.

  Wilson’s eyes, already red and bulging, seemed to swell even farther out of their sockets. “And I understand it on good authority that you actually dispatched one of the murderers.”

  “Sort of,” she murmured.

  “What a charmer! What a little charmer! Oh, Jack, you’re such a lucky man to have such a daughter.”

  “Yes, sir. I know it.” He suddenly appeared beside Wilson, wrapped a hand around the man’s skinny forearm, and led him aside.

  Thank you, Father!

  “Would you like to stick around for a while and have some hamburgers before you start back?”

  “I’d be delighted, Jack.”

  “How about a drink?”

  “Double delighted.”

  Dad walked him toward the kitchen. “Name your poison, Wilson.”

  “Call me Willy, Jack. But not Wee Willy—I hate that.”

  Jody and Andy looked at each other. Andy swung his eyes toward the ceiling. Jody shook her head. They followed the two men, keeping a distance.

  “Wee Willy,” Wilson said. “That’s what they always called me. I bet you got a lot of that yourself.”

  “Wee Willy?” Dad sounded confused. “Me?”

  “Ha! No! Wells Fargo. Didn’t they always call you Wells Fargo? Or maybe Stagecoach? Or maybe Banker? Or Piggy-bank?”

  Jody elbowed Andy. Andy looked as if he was pained by the notion of being related to such a man.

  “They never called me anything like that,” Dad said.

  “Well, I can’t understand why not, with a name like Fargo.”

  “Maybe they didn’t figure it’d be safe.”

  “Safe! Ho! Very good.”

  Jody took hold of Andy’s arm. She stopped walking, and halted him beside her. “Hey Dad, if you don’t need us right now, would it be all right if we leave?”

  “Fine,” he called back. “Just remember what I said about windows.”

  “Okay,” she called to him. Then she pulled Andy after her. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Side by side, they limped to her bedroom. She led him in, then shut the door. She pressed her back to it. “I don’t want to speak ill of your relatives, Andy, but that guy ...”

  “You oughta be glad he didn’t do this to you.” Andy caught her cheek between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. Then he squeezed it and shook it.

  “Hey.” She knocked his hand away. “What is he again? Your mother’s sister’s husband.”

  “Right.”

  “Good. That’s lucky for you. He’s not a blood relation, so there’s no chance
your kids might turn out like him.”

  “No way.”

  “Thank God.”

  Andy leaned in toward her. “What’s your big interest in how my kids’ll turn out?”

  “Oh, give me a break.”

  “Huh?” He pushed his hands against the door on both sides of her head, then leaned even closer. His head was tilted back so he could look her in the eyes. “Do you have any weird relatives?”

  “No Wee Willy.”

  “Then we don’t have to worry, do we?”

  “Worry?”

  He winked at her twice with his right eye. “About our kids being freako nerds.”

  “Our kids? You’re twelve years old, hot shot.”

  “I won’t always be.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  The wild silly gleam vanished suddenly from his eyes.

  “Hey,” Jody said. “I’m sorry. I was just kidding around. You won’t always be twelve.”

  “I might be. They might kill me before my birthday.”

  “Nobody’s gonna kill you.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” he muttered.

  “What? Being killed? Don’t count on it. For one thing, it’s gotta hurt.”

  “Maybe for a while. Then it’d be over, though. You know? And then nothing would hurt anymore. Not ever.”

  “Hey, cut it out.”

  “And I’d be with Mom and Dad and Evelyn.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She put a hand behind his head and eased his face toward her. His forehead pushed lightly against the tip of her nose. His breath felt hot on her throat. “Do you know what happened to my mother?”

  “Just... you know ... that she’s dead.”

  “She got killed when I was in second grade.”

  “Was she murdered?”

  “She got run over by a car.”

  “Yuck.”

  “It was so weird. It was all because she went to a place called the Longlife Health and Nutrition Center. She was a real health nut, and this was where she always bought all her special vitamins. She came out with a whole bagful of stuff. But she must’ve wondered about something, because they said she was reading the label on a bottle of pills when she stepped off the curb. The heel of her shoe got hung up and she tripped. She stumbled past where our car was parked and ... She ended up falling flat right in front of a moving car. That’s how she got killed.”

  “That’s awful,” Andy said in a small voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Were you there? Did you see it?”

  “No. I was in school.”

  “Oh, man.”

  “I just wanted you to know. Things happen, you know? Really bad things. But ... like ... I still miss her and everything, but not all the time. Things’ll get better for you, Andy. It won’t always be this bad. So don’t talk about crazy stuff, okay? You don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die. It’d wreck me.”

  He raised his face, looked her in the eyes, blinked. “It would?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “You do love me, don’t you?”

  She thought about it for a moment, then answered, “Sure I do. Now, let’s get out of here before you start in on kids again. Because I’m not having kids with you, so you might as well forget it.”

  “If you say so.” He made a sad attempt at a smile. “You can always change your mind, though. Know what I mean?”

  “Don’t hold your breath. Come on, let’s see how Dad’s coming with the burgers.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dad used the back yard barbecue, after all. He and Andy’s uncle were both outside, but soon came in with a platter full of hamburgers. Dad carried the platter and a Pepsi can. Willy had a glass containing a crushed wedge of lime and the remains of several ice cubes.

  “Can I get you a refill?” Dad asked.

  Good idea, Jody thought. Get him plowed, so then maybe they’ll have to stay.

  Not that she wanted Willy to stay.

  She just didn’t want Andy to go.

  “Don’t believe so, Jacko. Thanks all the same, but I’ve got a mighty big drive ahead of me. I believe I’ll have a soda, instead.”

  “Pepsi okay?” Dad asked.

  “Would you have any sort of a diet cola?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Dad gave the man an odd look. With good reason, Jody thought. Diet cola? The guy was as skinny as a worm.

  “Well, I don’t suppose one real soda will kill me.” He bobbed his head a few times and winked. “Just don’t tell the wife. She’s after me to trim down, you know.”

  “Mum’s the word,” Dad said.

  They sat around the dining room table, each with a hamburger and potato chips on a plate, and either a can or a glassful of Pepsi. For a while, nobody spoke as they customized their burgers with various combinations of mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, freshly sliced tomatoes, pickles and thick slabs of onion.

  “Mmm, good,” Willy said after his first bite. “Abso-tivly posa-lutely delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  Quickly, before a conversation could get a chance to start, Jody asked, “Do you think you’ll be able to let Andy come and visit us?”

  He tilted his head sideways. “Why, we aren’t even out the door yet, and you already want him back! Jacko, you’d better watch out! I think your little lady might have her eyes on young Andy here.”

  “She could do worse, I guess.”

  “Dad! It’s nothing like that, and you know it.”

  “Oh, I know. The thing is, Wilson, they went through a lot together last night. Looks to me like it turned them into a team—and when you’re on a good team, you don’t like to break it up.”

  “Yeah,” Andy pitched in. “It’s like we’re partners.” He frowned at his uncle. “So you’ve gotta let me come back and see her.”

  “Now, don’t go aiming gottas at me, Andy. I don’t respond well to gottas. However, I imagine we’ll be able to arrange something along the lines of a visit. After you’ve settled in, and your aunt’s had time to accustom herself to the situation.”

  “He’s welcome any time,” Dad said.

  “Splendid. Of course, any consideration of a visit will absolutely have to wait until the culprits have been apprehended.”

  “But Uncle ... !”

  “Annndrewww?” Willy tipped back his head as if hoping to make his point by showing Andy the interiors of his nostrils. “We don’t argue.”

  “What if they never catch those guys?”

  Jody opened her mouth, but a quick look from her father stopped her from speaking.

  “This is not a safe place,” Willy explained. “I left my job at eleven o’clock this morning and spent my entire day on the road to come here and take you away because you’re in danger here. In fact, it’s gone against my better judgment even to stay for supper—which puts us both in needless jeopardy.” He smiled and bobbed vigorously at Dad. “Not that it isn’t a luscious supper, because it most certainly is. But you tell him, Jacko.”

  Dad rubbed his left cheek and settled his gaze on Andy. “You’ll be a lot safer in Arizona, that’s for sure.”

  “That’s coming from a police officer,” Willy pointed out.

  Jody felt as if she might explode. “Dad! What if the guys don’t ever get caught? Does that mean Andy and I never ever get to see each other again in our whole lives? That isn’t fair.”

  Even before she’d finished, her father had begun to pat at the air with his open hand. When her last word was out, he said, “Settle down, honey. I’m not saying that. What we’ll do is play it by ear. We can ask Andy to come for a visit as soon as things look stable around here.” He faced the boy. “How does that sound?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “And I’ll call you on the phone tomorrow,” Jody told him.

  “Will you give them your number, Uncle Willy?”

  “We’ve already got it,” Dad explained.

  Not muc
h was said during the rest of the meal. Jody worked on her hamburger. She supposed there was nothing wrong with it—that it was probably as tender and juicy and tasty as Dad’s barbecued burgers always were—but it filled her mouth with heavy, dry lumps that were hard to swallow. After eating less than half of it, she gave up. She nibbled a few potato chips and sipped her Pepsi.

  Andy seemed to be having trouble with his burger, too. He didn’t quit, though. He never set it down, but held it over his plate with both hands and stared at it and every so often took a small bite.

  He’s trying to make it last, Jody thought. He knows he’ll have to leave when we’re done eating.

  Just as Andy finished his burger, Dad asked, “Would anyone like some ice cream?”

  “Sure!” Andy blurted. A reprieve.

  “I’m afraid we’d better pass on that, Jacko. Much obliged, anyhow. I’m afraid we’ve already dallied way too long. We’ve got that big drive ahead of us.” He winked at Andy. “Don’t we, young fellow?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You’re planning to drive all the way through?” Dad asked.

  “That’s the thing about me, I never do anything halfway. It’s whole hog or nothing. I believe if you’re going for it, you should go full steam ahead, come hell or high water, torpedoes be damned!”

  “Give me liberty,” Jody muttered, “or give me death.”

  Her father and Andy both looked stunned: Dad shocked by her rudeness, Andy delighted.

  But Wilson Spaulding bobbed his head at her, shook a crooked finger, and blurted, “Abso-tivly! Preeeeci-sely! Give me liberty or give me death! That’s the sort of gung-ho spirit we like to see. Damn the torpedoes!” He turned to Dad. “You’ve sure got yourself a charmer, here.”

  “Or something,” Dad muttered.

  Andy laughed, but Willy didn’t seem to notice him. “We should take her with us. By force, if necess ry! How would you like that, young lady?”

  The eagerness that suddenly brightened Andy’s face killed her urge to make a crack. “Thank you for asking, Mr. Spaulding. I can’t, though. I’ve gotta stay here with my dad.”

  You didn’t mean it, anyway, you jerk! You got Andy’s hopes up for no good reason at all.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Andy.

  “It’s okay. I know you can’t come.”