Nothing But the Bones, page 30
Chapter Sixty-Eight
The drive from Atlanta to Hillcrest Cemetery in Waymore Valley took about two hours. During that time, Amy explained to Nails all about how her iPhone worked. How it was a game changer, and she couldn’t live without it. She told him about her husband, Parker, and how they met at her job, working together at a newspaper in North Carolina, but also how the internet was slowly choking out the newspaper business, and how she’d probably be writing a “blog” at some point in the future. Nails didn’t know what a blog was. So she told him all about that, too. He didn’t remember Amy being so talkative back when they were kids, but he didn’t mind. He liked listening to her talk. He liked how happy she sounded. She wasn’t traumatized by what happened to her when they were kids. She wasn’t frightened of him. If she had been once, she wasn’t anymore. She’d moved on. She was a successful young woman. With a family. And a life she enjoyed. Good for her.
After they crossed the county line, she told him to take a left on White Bluff Road.
“I know where it is from here, Amy.” He sounded colder than he intended.
“Right. Sorry. Of course you do. I’m just all caught up, you know?”
“I know, it’s okay.”
They drove a few more miles in silence, and eventually, Nails turned into the cemetery entrance. He knew right where to go. He hadn’t been out here in well over twenty years, but a man never forgets where he buries his mama. He pulled the SUV over to the shoulder of the road and he and Amy got out. They made the long walk over the winding breezeway. He stopped in front of two matching gravestones. One that belonged to his mother and the other to Satchel. The old man died five years ago and Nails had been denied the opportunity to attend the funeral. He didn’t care that much, though. He doubted there was much of a turnout. And seeing how the old bastard had decided to be buried here, spoiling the earth right next to his mother, the same way he’d spoiled her life. It wasn’t something Nails wanted to be a part of anyway. He kissed his fingers and laid them on his mother’s grave before walking a few feet over to a smaller one. A more recent one. One that read Riley Sinclair 1979–1998. The only other thing carved into the granite was the word FEARLESS. Nails didn’t know where the money came from that made all of this possible, just like the mysterious wad of cash currently in his fanny pack, but Clayton had done exactly what Nails had asked of him, and the gravestone looked just like he hoped it would.
Nails knelt down but he didn’t cry. Amy put a delicate hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nails.”
“It’s okay. Thank you for keeping all this so nice.”
“Don’t thank me. This is all Kate’s handiwork. She handles everything out here. She’s been out here once a month like clockwork since, well, since it happened. We had a small service. But I’m sure you know all about that.”
“Yeah, I heard. Clayton kept me informed. But he never told me if her parents showed up. Did they come?”
“No. Clayton tried to convince them, several times, but they didn’t agree with her being buried out here. They thought she should’ve been buried in Florida. But if they really cared, they didn’t show it. They didn’t fight for it at all.”
“That’s my fault.”
“No, Nelson. No it’s not. Don’t say that.”
Nails didn’t push it. Instead, he picked up a few chunks of white rock and put them on top of the slab of granite. He and Amy stayed still like that for a moment before Nails finally stood. “Okay,” he said. “We can go now.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Amy was supposed to bring Nails to Freddy’s bar when they left the cemetery, but he insisted that she drop him off by Burnt Hickory. She explained how she would be leaving town to go back to North Carolina the next day, and Nails understood. So did she. It was too much, too soon. They said their goodbyes and Amy Silver went back to her life.
It took a few days of being alone in the woods, camping, with the feel of the packed dirt under his bedroll, hearing the nightbirds and the rushing water of Bear Creek, for Nails to find his bearings. He walked along the overgrown train tracks that he used to follow when he was a kid. This was his home, but it didn’t feel that way anymore. It never really had. So much had changed, but so much stayed the same. His trailer was gone, demolished, so he visited Satchel’s house. The place had been abandoned since his death and fallen into disrepair, so Nails didn’t spend much time there. There was nothing in that box of ghosts that interested him. It was just a time capsule of bad memories and fresh anger that he’d spent the past nine years trying to clear from his system. He didn’t want to be there. Honestly, nothing about McFalls County felt welcoming or brought any sense of comfort except the sound of the woods at night and the smell of the damp clay. He’d missed that more than he thought was possible.
It was his fourth night of freedom before he decided to go see Freddy. The Chute was a two-hour walk from Satchel’s house, but Nails didn’t mind making it. The night air cleared his head of cobwebs and phantoms. He arrived at the familiar shoal-covered parking lot and looked at the same neon signs that had lit up most of his Friday nights over a decade ago. The place hadn’t changed much at all. It was a snapshot of a different time. Walking through the front door of the bar was the first true feeling of belonging he’d felt since he’d been back. He didn’t know the kid at the door and so he just walked by. The kid didn’t bother to stop the giant, either. He didn’t get paid enough. The inside of the bar hadn’t changed much either. There was a DJ booth now instead of a jukebox, but otherwise it was the same as he remembered it. The massive disco ball still twirled overhead and the whole place was drenched in the same red light. He looked at the empty room where a girl named Dallas stole his heart and then took a seat at the bar.
Freddy, dressed in a pink bathrobe and wearing the brightest blue eyeshadow money could buy, was behind the bar. The Chute’s proprietor had aged and gotten fragile, but not fragile like fine China. He looked more like a glacier that was steadily losing huge chunks of ice into the sea. A frosted mug of apple juice sat on a bar napkin in front of Nails before he even settled into the stool.
“I was beginning to wonder when you were ever going to show. All the balloons done fizzled out and the cake is probably stale by now.”
“It’s taken a little getting used to,” Nails said. “I’m sorry if I messed up the welcome home party.” He downed the juice and Freddy poured another, fresh mug and all.
“Don’t worry. I get it. I figured if I had to wait nine years to see that chrome dome of yours that a few more days wasn’t gonna hurt my feelings too much.”
“I should’ve come by sooner.”
“Forget it. Did you get the commissary money I sent?”
“Every month like clockwork.”
Freddy just smiled.
“Thanks, man.”
“Not a problem.” Freddy put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Another kid that Nails didn’t know appeared from back in the kitchen. “Gavin, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Nails McKenna. We go back—way back.”
The kid stuck out a hand for Nails to shake. He took it. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Call me Nails.”
“Cool. Always good to meet a friend of Freddy’s.”
Freddy scuffed the back of the young man’s neck as if he were his grandson. “Listen, I want you to go to my office and call our friend the sheriff. Tell him our prodigal son has finally decided to grace us and to get his ass out here, pronto.”
“You want me to call Sheriff Burroughs out here—on purpose?”
“Yeah. Now get.”
Gavin disappeared back through the door he’d come out of, and Freddy watched him go.
“He’s a little young for you, yeah?”
“Nah,” Freddy said. “I’m just a little too old for him. But it keeps me sharp, you know? You only live once.”
“I guess so, Freddy.”
People were coming in the door now, and as early as it was, Nails could tell the night was about to crank up. People much younger than him were filing in and they were playing music he’d never heard before. He sipped at the second mug of juice and Freddy took the next hour or so to catch him up on the mountain gossip. The biggest news was about Gareth Burroughs. “He got himself blown up in a meth lab fire,” Freddy said. “At least that’s the story being sold to all of us. But the truth is, no one really knows what happened. Clayton’s big brother, Halford, is calling the shots on Bull Mountain these days and he’s as big a bear as his father ever was. Maybe bigger. And can you believe that Clayton Burroughs is the county sheriff now?”
“I can, Freddy. It makes sense. Clayton is solid. I think he’ll make a good sheriff.”
“Well so do I,” Clayton yelled from across the room. Everyone turned to look. He stood at the door in his starched tan shirt and silver star. The whole room got quiet until Clayton unpinned his badge and stuck it in his pocket. A moment later, Kate Farris, now Kate Burroughs, joined her husband at the door and they crossed the room holding hands. Nails thought the hug Kate gave him might almost snap his neck. She eased back. “Welcome home, stranger.”
“It’s good to see you, Katelyn.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Nelson.” She moved aside for Clayton to share the next hug. They bumped shoulders. The way men do.
“We expected you a few days ago. We had a cake.”
“Yeah, Freddy told me. I’m sorry. I just needed to get my head right.”
“Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
“Yeah.”
A man in a bright yellow T-shirt barked at Freddy from the far end of the bar and waved an empty beer bottle in the air. “Who’ve I got to blow to get a beer in this dive?”
“Fuck off, Earl,” Freddy barked back. “I’ll be there when I get there.” Freddy opened a couple of beers for Clayton and Kate, and they all toasted to the return of their friend. Nails felt good and hollow at the same time. He couldn’t explain it. He wanted to be here but still felt out of place. But he did notice the way Freddy and Clayton kept looking at each other. Prison had taught Nails to pay attention to body language. You needed to be able to read the signs before something popped off. And there was clearly something going on here that he wasn’t aware of.
He put a stop to it. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
Clayton nodded to Freddy, and the old man went to work on the combination safe. “We would’ve told you what was going on four days ago if you hadn’t decided to go all Kung-Fu and wander the earth first before coming to see us.”
“Cut him some slack, Freddy,” Kate said. “The man just said he needed to get his head right.”
“Yes ma’am,” Freddy said, as he opened the safe and removed a large yellow legal file.
“I don’t need any more money, Freddy.”
“Good, because I’m not about to give you any.” Freddy tucked the file under his arm. “Why don’t we head into my office.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Clayton said.
“What is this about?”
“Just hang on a second, Nails.”
Gavin reappeared from the kitchen door.
“Gavin, would you go handle Earl over there?” Freddy pointed at the shiny yellow man at the end of the bar. “And work the bar for a little while. I’ve got some shit to handle.”
“No problem.” Gavin crossed the bar, and the group of friends picked up their beers. Nails left his juice where it sat. Freddy headed toward his office in the poolroom and everyone followed.
Once they were all inside, Clayton closed the door. Freddy lay the file down on his desk. He stepped over stacks of loose paperwork and boxes of clutter to get into his closet. He took out a black canvas duffle bag. He tossed it on the desk next to the file. The duffle had a layer of dust on it so thick that Freddy had to wipe it down with some paper towels from a roll on the desk. “We’ve been holding on to this for a long, long time, man.” Clayton took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Freddy’s desk and pushed the bag toward Nails.
“What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
Nails sat down in the other chair, found the pull, and unzipped the bag. It was stuffed with notebooks and papers. It didn’t take long before it all started to look familiar. It was hers. Her music. Dallas’s music. Nails shot Freddy a look and then stared at Clayton and Kate. He’d thought this stuff had been lost forever. “How did you get this?”
“I’ve had it the whole time,” Clayton said. “Although I never really knew what most of it was until after you were sentenced. I took it from the trunk of that car you stole back in Florida before it was impounded. And it sat in my closet at the house for years collecting dust. Then, when I got elected sheriff, Kate and I went through it all. When we realized what it was, we put it in that bag, where it sat in the closet of my office downtown until four days ago when I brought it here.”
Nails rummaged through the bag. He still didn’t understand a word of it, just a bunch of bars and symbols. But for a moment, just a beat, he could feel her—and it all came flooding back.
“Clayton wanted to bring it to you at the prison, but I told him that was a bad idea.” Kate leaned on the edge of the desk. “I didn’t know if it would be taken away from you in there, and I thought it was best if we just safeguarded it for you until you were released.”
“Thank you, Katelyn.”
Seeing the pages of music brought Dallas back to him like a hard rush of blood to the head. It also brought back all the mistakes he’d made. The biggest one being the night he left her to retrieve all the stuff in this bag. But his friends didn’t know that. They thought this was a good thing. They didn’t understand. They were trying to be his friends. But that bag was just a huge reminder of what he’d done wrong. It was just paper. It wasn’t worth it. All he wanted to do that night was impress her. Make her happy. And it cost her everything. Nails began to tuck the notebooks and papers back in the bag and then zipped it up. “Can you hold on to it for me a little longer? Until I find a more permanent place to stay?”
Freddy smiled. It was a mischievous smile. Nails hadn’t seen the old man ever look like that before. “What’s that look, Freddy? What is it?”
Freddy pushed the bag to the side and focused on the file lying on his desk. He laid a callused hand on it. “Now I need you to listen to me before you open that. Clayton and I kept this part from you for a damn good reason. So don’t go getting shitty about it. Let me explain first.”
Kate pulled a third chair away from the wall and sat down next to Nails. She put her hand on his knee.
“Freddy’s not being entirely truthful, Nails. He did want to tell you. I was the one that insisted we didn’t.” Clayton rubbed at his beard. “But just hear us out.”
“Hear what out?” Nails was getting agitated at all the cryptic nonsense. “Just tell me what is going on.”
“Just show him,” Kate said.
Clayton picked up the file from the desk and handed it to Nails. After a bit of stink eye, he opened it. Inside were several eight-by-ten black-and-white photos. He held up the first one. It was taken from a long-range camera, and it showed a picture of a woman, a blond woman, slender and smiling, wearing a T-shirt, sunglasses, and jeans. She was walking down an unfamiliar city street holding a cup of coffee and talking on a cell phone. Nails looked at it for a long time before it set in. It was the smile. It was almost too bright to look at. He glanced up at Freddy, who looked practically giddy. Nails couldn’t form any words. So Freddy did.
“She goes by Rachel now. Rachel Sinclair. She’s a piano teacher in a small town north of Richmond, Virginia. She also runs a Narcotics Anonymous meeting every Wednesday night at the Baptist church up the road from her house. Her address is written on the back of that photo.”
Nails flipped it around and read it. He turned it back over and looked down at the other pictures. All of them candid, all of them taken by a professional. “H … How?”
Clayton took the volley. “What happened to the two of you down there left her in really bad shape. The doctors told me she would likely never wake up from the coma she was in, so that’s what I told you. But before I left Jacksonville I asked the sheriff of Duval County to keep tabs on her. He’s a good man and he kept his word. It turned out the doctors called it wrong. Riley did wake up. They got in touch with the sheriff, and he got in touch with me. I called in another favor and he had the hospital fudge her paperwork. Then we had her transferred to a rehab facility under the name Rachel to keep her clear of the armed robbery and grand theft auto charges that Riley would be facing if she ever woke up. If the sheriff down there hadn’t worked his magic like he’d done, she’d be locked up right now. I had to keep it all on the down low to avoid her going to prison, too. Riley Sinclair had to die in order for Rachel Sinclair to have a chance at living. I was going to tell you once she was back on her feet, but then it all went sideways. Kate and I were footing the bill for her physical therapy for a while, anonymously of course, but then one day I get a call and find out that she just up and checked herself out. No forwarding address. No nothing. I tried to track her down, but the girl is good, and the trail went cold. Not knowing what happened to her only made not telling you feel more like the right thing to do. I didn’t want to give you any false hope. I didn’t know if you’d end up doing the whole fifteen years or not. And hope can deal the hardest blows.”
Nails flipped through the pictures. One by one. Soaking them up. Every detail. She looked amazing. She looked happy. “So, what is all this, then? You finally found her?”
“No, brother. That was all Freddy.”
Freddy leaned forward on his desk. “After your parole hearing went through last month, Clayton finally told me everything he just told you. I wanted to tell you. But first, I figured what the hell, maybe I could try and find her myself before you got out. I made some calls. I found some guys in Atlanta named Cobb, a couple of fellas that Scabby Mike recommended. They’re professional trackers known for finding people that others can’t. I asked them to see if they could find her. It took them less than a week.”
