Death Rhythm Read Free Page B

for the night.”
    “Edna?” Mae whispered. “You’re Edna’s son?”
    “Look, if you’d rather not, I understand.”
    “My God,” Mae said.
    The deputy took the phone from Andy and nodded into it, saying, “Yes, it’s all true. Yes. Yep. Are you sure? We’d check first thing in the morning. About eight o’clock?” He gave the phone back to Andy.
    “So you’re Edna’s boy,” Mae said, sounding more composed.
    Her voice sounded younger than Andy expected. In the short ride in the patrol car, he’d formed an image of Mae as an elderly spinster, but hearing her voice for the first time shot that all to hell. Andy’s mother was fifty-three, so that would make Mae fifty-one? Hardly an old spinster, now that he thought about it.
    He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    Mae spoke up again. “I suppose it’s all right if you spend the night. There’s plenty of room. And I’d like to hear about Edna. Could I talk to Mr. Jacobson again?”
    Andy held out the phone. “She wants to talk to Mr. Jacobson.”
    The deputy took it. “I’m here.” He paused and nodded into the phone, saying yes and uh huh and sure, then saying, “Eight o’clock, okay?” He hung up the phone and turned to Andy. “Looks like you’re in luck.”
     
    They drove past the reach of the streetlights where Main Street transformed into a two-lane highway. About a mile out of town they turned right into a long, gravel driveway. At the end was a large house. A window on the second floor lit up from inside. The patrol car’s headlights converged on the front door.
    “This is it,” the deputy said.
    When Mae Stone emerged, she was momentarily blinded by the brightness. She squinted, shielded her eyes with the back of her forearm, peering out from beneath, anxious to get a good look at Andrew Byrd. She saw his silhouette turn towards the brightness, giving the headlights a wave of the hand, signaling the patrol car to leave.
    The car stood still, its engine running. It gave a honk on the horn. A voice cut through the harsh lights. “Will you be all right, Ms. Stone?” It was the sheriff. She waved, closing her eyes against the glare.
    Finally, the patrol car turned away and left Mae and Andy in the dark. They watched the tail lights dissipate into the night, leaving an illusory red streak floating in the air.
    With a CLICK, Mae illuminated the front steps with a floodlight, which hung above the door.
    “Andy,” she said, barely audible, as if tasting the name. “Andy,” she said again, her eyes darting over him. “Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.
    “You, too.” Andy wasn’t sure whether to call her ‘Aunt’ or ‘Mae’ or ‘Aunt Mae’ or just ‘Miss.’ He set his duffel bag on the step and shook her hand.
    “I’m sorry,” Mae said. “You’re shivering. Come in.”
    Mae flicked on light switches as they walked through the house. They passed two closed doors in the hallway, one on either side. A third doorway, open, showed stairs going up, which ran parallel to the hallway. There were empty coat pegs sticking out of the wall on the left. Flowers in terra cotta pots were set on the floor on either side of the hallway like runway lights.
    The hallway opened to the dining room. A single woven placemat sat on a round oak table. A lone chair faced a window peering out into the night.
    As each light popped on, Andy squinted, feeling for the first time the tiredness in his eyes. His lids felt weighted, and he stifled a yawn.
    “Would you like something to drink?” Mae asked as they headed into the kitchen. “I’ve got milk, water, apple juice, beer. Or I could mix up something.”
    “Water would be fine, thanks.”
    The kitchen was clean and well lit, the floor made of white tile, the cupboards painted light blue. Mae motioned to one of the blue vinyl chairs tucked up to a small kitchen table.
    “Have a seat.” She turned on the faucet and stuck her finger under it, waiting for the water to turn cold.