door, waiting to see if Maggie would dare come back. As he turned to face his wife he couldn’t hide the fact that he was quite upset. “Stupid kids, throwing rocks.”
“What did you do?”
“I chased ’em off.”
“Did you see who they were?”
“Naw, it was too dark.”
She was about to ask another question, but he brushed past her, scratching an itch over his heart as he walked out of the room. He wanted to get to bed, to turn the lights out, and to put this day behind him. He didn’t want to answer any more questions.
MAGGIE CAME at last to Cobb’s Garage, formerly an old mining company fire station haphazardly constructed of stone and brick with two huge wooden doors on iron hinges. The lights were on; Levi was working late. She went to the side entrance and with no thought of knocking, tried the door. Finding it unlocked, she entered quickly, slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it. Her mind was set: Levi Cobb might pick her up and throw her out, but she would not leave on her own. She would not be outside for one more moment.
A utility truck from the phone company was sitting up on jacks, and Maggie spotted Levi just beyond the back end of the truck by the cluttered workbench. A bearded, graying, heavyset fellow with wire-rimmed glasses and the huge arms of a laborer, he was holding a welding torch in one hand and just raising his welder’s mask to see who had come in. At the sight of her standing against the door, holding it shut, trembling and disheveled, he cocked his head.
“Mrs. Bly?”
STEVE BENSON had gotten a call from Evelyn’s mother in the middle of the night and arrived at the Clark County Medical Center in West Fork before two o’clock the next afternoon. He could sense fatigue chasing him down the hospital corridor, but he knew he had the stamina to outrun it. He strode down the hallway, weaving past patients in wheelchairs, past nurses and doctors, intent on finding Room 31 . He was aware of people staring at him as he passed. A towering man dressed in rugged, outdoor clothes, he knew he looked out of place in that white, sterile environment, and yes, he did look like he’d driven half the night, his face a blackening stubble and his eyes glazed and intense. They could stare all they wanted, he thought. His priority was to see Evelyn and find out if his brother Cliff had been located.
He spotted the nurses’ station and the sheriff’s deputy waiting there for him—at least she was dressed like one. At the sight of her, his impatience went up another notch. What was the sheriff’s department thinking, “Aw, the Cliff Benson thing’s no big deal, only a minor case, send the girl”? She looked to Steve like a green-as-grass rookie: auburn hair trimmed neatly at the neck and not a hair out of place, as if she’d never done a moment’s police work. Lean, fit build. A china-doll face. He also noticed she looked ill at ease, wound up, like it was her first day on the job.
Great. Just great.
She was looking his way. Don’t try to stop me, young lady.
“Can I help you?” she asked, walking toward him.
“I’m Steve Benson,” he said, coming to a halt to keep from running over her.
“Mrs. Benson’s brother-in-law?”
“That’s right,” he answered, letting her shake his hand but already looking past her, toward the corridor beyond, anxious to see Evelyn.
“I’m Tracy Ellis, the county, I’m the—I’m with the Clark County Sheriff’s Department,” she was saying. Yeah, she was nervous all right. It was understandable. “Evelyn’s mother said you were coming. So you’re the brother of the—uh—”
Steve finally gave her his full attention, if only to get around her. “Cliff Benson is my brother.”
She seemed to grope for her next question. “Are—are you alone? Has anyone come with you?”
“I’m alone. Let’s cut to the chase here. I want to see my sister-in-law, and I want to know if you’ve found my brother.”
She read his
“What did you do?”
“I chased ’em off.”
“Did you see who they were?”
“Naw, it was too dark.”
She was about to ask another question, but he brushed past her, scratching an itch over his heart as he walked out of the room. He wanted to get to bed, to turn the lights out, and to put this day behind him. He didn’t want to answer any more questions.
MAGGIE CAME at last to Cobb’s Garage, formerly an old mining company fire station haphazardly constructed of stone and brick with two huge wooden doors on iron hinges. The lights were on; Levi was working late. She went to the side entrance and with no thought of knocking, tried the door. Finding it unlocked, she entered quickly, slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it. Her mind was set: Levi Cobb might pick her up and throw her out, but she would not leave on her own. She would not be outside for one more moment.
A utility truck from the phone company was sitting up on jacks, and Maggie spotted Levi just beyond the back end of the truck by the cluttered workbench. A bearded, graying, heavyset fellow with wire-rimmed glasses and the huge arms of a laborer, he was holding a welding torch in one hand and just raising his welder’s mask to see who had come in. At the sight of her standing against the door, holding it shut, trembling and disheveled, he cocked his head.
“Mrs. Bly?”
STEVE BENSON had gotten a call from Evelyn’s mother in the middle of the night and arrived at the Clark County Medical Center in West Fork before two o’clock the next afternoon. He could sense fatigue chasing him down the hospital corridor, but he knew he had the stamina to outrun it. He strode down the hallway, weaving past patients in wheelchairs, past nurses and doctors, intent on finding Room 31 . He was aware of people staring at him as he passed. A towering man dressed in rugged, outdoor clothes, he knew he looked out of place in that white, sterile environment, and yes, he did look like he’d driven half the night, his face a blackening stubble and his eyes glazed and intense. They could stare all they wanted, he thought. His priority was to see Evelyn and find out if his brother Cliff had been located.
He spotted the nurses’ station and the sheriff’s deputy waiting there for him—at least she was dressed like one. At the sight of her, his impatience went up another notch. What was the sheriff’s department thinking, “Aw, the Cliff Benson thing’s no big deal, only a minor case, send the girl”? She looked to Steve like a green-as-grass rookie: auburn hair trimmed neatly at the neck and not a hair out of place, as if she’d never done a moment’s police work. Lean, fit build. A china-doll face. He also noticed she looked ill at ease, wound up, like it was her first day on the job.
Great. Just great.
She was looking his way. Don’t try to stop me, young lady.
“Can I help you?” she asked, walking toward him.
“I’m Steve Benson,” he said, coming to a halt to keep from running over her.
“Mrs. Benson’s brother-in-law?”
“That’s right,” he answered, letting her shake his hand but already looking past her, toward the corridor beyond, anxious to see Evelyn.
“I’m Tracy Ellis, the county, I’m the—I’m with the Clark County Sheriff’s Department,” she was saying. Yeah, she was nervous all right. It was understandable. “Evelyn’s mother said you were coming. So you’re the brother of the—uh—”
Steve finally gave her his full attention, if only to get around her. “Cliff Benson is my brother.”
She seemed to grope for her next question. “Are—are you alone? Has anyone come with you?”
“I’m alone. Let’s cut to the chase here. I want to see my sister-in-law, and I want to know if you’ve found my brother.”
She read his
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