Lasting Shadows Page 5

She bit her lip as her eyes dropped to his.

  “No,” she said. “I live with my Dad, my sister, and my brother.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Dad might not like you seeing an older man.”

  “He doesn’t have to know,” she said. “It’s my life.”

  He licked his lips and made a point of looking at hers. He felt her breath quicken. She swallowed.

  “Well,” he said, breaking the spell, letting go of her hand and turning to his car. “I guess I better get back. Lots of work to do.”

  “Wait!”

  He looked back over his shoulder at her.

  “Here.” She pulled a small pad of paper and a pencil from her pocket and scribbled something on it, handing it to him.

  He glanced down at it seeing her number in a girlish curvy hand.

  Her phone beeped at her. She held it up.

  “Break’s over,” she said.

  She smiled at him weakly, a blush flooding her cheeks. She turned away and walked hesitantly to the front of the building. At the corner, she glanced back. He blew her a kiss. She grinned and vanished around the corner.

  He slid into the driver’s seat and put her number in his phone, smiling a moment. He sent a text.

  “Hey, angel.”

  “I can’t text at work, silly.”

  He sent her a winking emoji and saved her number as ‘Angel’. She sent him a sticking out tongue face.

  Carefully, he folded the little slip of paper and pressed it into a slot in his phone case.

  “So far, it’s been a good day,” he said to himself.

  Chapter 3

  ECHOES

  Checking the map and using GPS Quinn found the Nock Cemetery at the end of a long gravel road, seemingly in the middle of a thick forest. Train tracks boxed it in from all sides. A nearly invisible wire fence, five feet high, enclosed the place, meeting at an incredibly fancy gate, looking very stately and Greek, with twin eagles at the top, one on either side. The arched entry was iron and barred. For a moment, Quinn wondered if they were trying to keep people out or the spirits in.

  He stopped the car just to the left of the entrance on the gravel parking lot as a low, thick fog slowly rolled in. Clouds seemed to move along with it, hiding the sun yet again. He tugged off his sunglasses and slipped them in his pocket. Snatching up his phone and his voice recorder, he made a new entry. He stated the date and his location and got out, peering at the place as he slammed the car door. The sound seemed at once both echoed and muffled.

  He looked around in the parking lot. It appeared desolate, but at least regularly maintained. He listened, hearing nothing at all but the trees moving a little with the breeze. No birdsong, no insects, just the creaking of the limbs.

  He turned to the gates, the right one shut, the chain and padlock hanging open. The left one stood open and a little crooked, as if stuck in that position. He tried to move it when he approached, but the thing only creaked in protest. Rust stained his hands. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and tried to clean them as he stepped in. A straight narrow gravel path showed the way, slowly going from gravel to simply dirt, as he wandered deeper.

  Family plots were indicated with little stone or iron fences, with a half dozen headstones or more inside. Several held a few more elaborate tombstones, a few with statues or fancy plaques turning dark or green from the weather. The deeper into the cemetery he walked, the foggier the air became, forcing him to walk right up on plots before he could read them.

  At the end of the modern section, the path became simply a little stretch of dirt, half grown over. A historical plaque explained he was entering the preserved section of the graveyard, with a brief description of the tragedies that had befallen the little town over several generations.

  He felt a little chill, like the touch of a cold finger on the back of his neck. He turned to his left shoulder, but of course, nothing was there. He lifted the voice recorder to his mouth.

  “Too foggy to see well,” he said. “In the historical section now, but… damn it… I can’t even see three feet in front of me. Have to come back another time.”

  He shut off the recorder and slipped the thing in his pocket, resting his hands on his hips.

  “Well, fuck.”

  He pressed on, making his way in a bit farther before throwing up his hands in frustration. He sighed, shaking his head and turned back the way he had come.

  He staggered backward a few steps. The fog was gone. A heavy dark smoke seemed to cling to the ground, twisting in little curls with the breeze. Unseen grackles carried on making so much noise he could hear nothing else. Graves yawned at the sky, open with piles of dirt beside them, the coffins plundered and tilted to the side, their lids dirty and cracked, popping free, the rusty nails sticking up crooked and bare.

  His heart thumped madly, his breathing shallow and fast. Sweat soaked him through. In the cackling bird calls, he heard whispers, distant voices, growing nearer.

  He burst into a run.

  From the historical section back through to the modern, the fog returned as he dashed at full speed, all the way to the parking lot and the safety of his car. He flung the door open and slid into the seat, slamming the door behind him. There he froze, staring back at the gates, watching the fog consume them, turning to smoke.

  The jolly ring tone jingle of his phone made him shout. He clutched at his chest and looked down at the screen.

  Angel.

  He half laughed, still gasping for breath and answered it.

  “Hi,” she said. Her voice sounded very timid and nervous.

  “Hi, angel,” he said, still gasping but trying to calm himself down.

  “You sound tired.”

  “Just ran to the phone,” he said. “Didn’t want to miss out on talking to you.”

  He heard her grin, laughing a little.

  “So you must be on break,” he said.

  “Last one of the day,” she said.

  “Not smoking I hope.”

  She sighed. He heard her stamp her foot.

  “No,” she said, a little irritation edging in her voice.

  “Good,” he said. “Then I’ll give you an extra kiss next time I see you.”

  She laughed a little. He could imagine the blush on her cheeks. It made him grin.

  “When do you get off?”

  “Store closes at eight,” she said. “I’m usually out of there by ten after.”

  “How about I pick you up?” he said. “Take you to dinner.”

  He heard her thinking it over, imagining her biting her lip.

  “If I’m not too old to be seen with.”

  She laughed.

  “You’re not too old,” she said. “Dinner sounds cool.”

  “It’s a date then,” he said. “How about eight-thirty? I’ll pick you up.”

  “Okay.”

  He heard the happiness in her voice as she gave him her address and soaked it up, breathing in deep as his heart relaxed.

  “See you then, Angel.”

  He hung up and let a long breath escape before glancing at the cemetery again. He shuddered from head to toe, a little shocked noise erupting from this throat.

  Sun shined into the graveyard, the fog completely gone. He got out of the car, staring with his mouth hanging open. Both sides of the gate stood open. The gravel path was carefully cleared and smooth. He entered through the gates again with a stumbling step, his eyes bulging, mouth agape.

  He walked all the way to the historical section and again stopped, his mouth hanging open.

  “What the fuck?”

  Though more overgrown, even there the graves were proper and decently kept. Small cheaply constructed information plaques were planted in various strategic locations. Even the vines kept at bay.

  He stared for a long moment before stumbling over to a primitive log bench and dropping hard to sit. He looked down at his phone and hit Kate’s number.

  “Quinn? Is everything okay?”

  “Kate�
�� I… I don’t know. Maybe this thing with Gin is getting to me… I’m seeing things or something.” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “Maybe I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

  “What happened?”

  “I went to visit the local cemetery,” he said. “It was like being in a horror movie, Kate. I half expected to be torn apart by zombies. Graves were dug up, rotten coffins everywhere. A thick horrible fog and then smoke…”

  “Oh my god, Quinn!”

  He shook his head.

  “But now I’m sitting here and it’s just as you would expect,” he said. “Quiet, peaceful, well kept. I don’t know. I must be losing my mind.”

  “Oh, Quinn… What can I do to help you?”

  He groaned, again rubbing his eyes.

  “Nothing, Kate. Just be there for when I need to talk, yeah?”

  “Of course, Quinn.” He heard that sweet kindness in her voice then, the pity, the motherly longing. He blew away a long sigh.

  “Writing is going very well,” he said. “This is a helluva place. I’ll have material for years to come thanks to this. Was a great find, babe. You did excellent.”

  “Thanks, Quinn.” She took a quick breath. “I’m leaving a little early today,” she said. “I could grab up something and take it there for dinner-”

  “Kate,” he said. “You’d drive two and a half hours here and back just for dinner?”

  He heard the disappointment in her voice.

  “Really, you don’t have to do that,” he said. “You’d be exhausted trying to get back so fast. That’s almost six hours, just driving time.”

  “I could stay,” she said in a small voice. “Drive back in the morn-”

  “Kate, I have to work. Besides, I already have something waiting for dinner. I just wanted to do some fieldwork today. Get some research done. Didn’t expect my mind to play tricks on me though.”

  She fell silent. He licked his lips, his brows crushing together.

  “Heard anything more from Gin? Don’t say it too loud. I know Jerry will report back.”

  “No,” she said, her voice broken. She sniffed.

  “What about Jack?”

  She sighed deeply.

  “Not since before you left.”

  “Have you filed papers yet?”

  “I talked to a lawyer,” she said. “Has to be a one year separation before we can get the divorce. No visiting. No contact.”

  “And I’m sure he knows that as well.”

  “I guess so.”

  He listened to her breathing, though the bird calls and breeze continued to drown small sounds out.

  “Have you seen him?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Yes,” she said. “He was with that dark-haired woman again. The one you knew. The smoking one.”

  Rita. The wild cat.

  Memories flashed in his head of the woman moaning loudly above him, her long straight hair tickling his lips. A half-smile curled up on the side of his mouth. He slipped his sunglasses back on.

  “Just stay away from him, babe,” he said. “That man is no good for you. You gave him five years too many.”

  She made an agreeing sound.

  “Alright,” he said. “Back to work.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was quiet and small.

  “Chin up, babe. It’s all gonna work out.”

  “Okay, Quinn.”

  Silence crackled a little on the line.

  “Quinn?”

  “Yep?”

  She hesitated.

  “Look, babe, I gotta go, okay?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Later, alright?”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Quinn… I lov-”

  He hung up the call, shoving the phone in his pocket and hitting record on the voice recorder again.

  He wandered through the headstones, taking pictures and dictating notes. He found double and triple graves, over and over, fathers and sons who died in the mine, some from the first collapse, but most from the fire and the collapse that followed. He scoured every grave in the entire cemetery, even seeing the headstone of a native American girl who died in the early nineteen-twenties, her photo forever sealed on the tombstone, a faint smile and a long curling lock of hair.

  ***

  After another hour or two of wandering taking notes and photos, he finally got back in his car and headed back to transcribe everything to his working notes. The afternoon train stalled him for only a few moments, the railroad crossing actually behaving as intended. He watched it zoom past behind the relative safety of the boom gate, trying hard not to think about the calamity of the train the night before.

  When he arrived at the house and lugged out the bottled water from the trunk he heard the old woman puttering around in her yard whispering and mumbling again. He blocked her out of his mind and marched back into the house, closing out the world behind him to focus on the books.

  Chapter 4

  DESPERATE

  An hour before dinner Quinn closed up his writing shop, saving all his work for the day and shutting off the laptop. He ran to the back of the house, got his shower, and dressed up in something very nice but casual. He loaded up Tamara’s address into the GPS on his phone and set the thing to hold his messages until further notice. Then he checked himself in the full-length mirror one last time and smiling, jogged straight out the front door to his car.

  ***

  After a half-hour of navigating odd little twists and turns down a collection of dirt, gravel, and a few badly repaired paved roads, he pulled into the drive of a single-wide trailer with an addition, nestled just a little off the road, surrounded by thick brush and tall pine trees. A semi-truck, pickup and two small economy cars parked side by side in the front yard. He opened the door and stood up just as she burst from the front porch yelling back into the house.

  “It’s just a date, Dad, damn it,” she yelled. “You don’t have to inspect every guy I date.”

  He heard muffled male shouting from inside the house.

  “Oh my god! Yes, Dad, he’s got a job! Jesus!”

  Quinn smirked. Her father shouted something else as she waved at him. He waved back.

  “Of course I will, Dad. I promise I’ll do that next time.”

  She ran out, slamming the door behind her and dashing to him. He walked around the car and leaned against it as she approached. He held up a finger. She stopped and stared at him with wide eyes.

  She wore more makeup than necessary, a very skimpy, clingy blue dress leaving very little to the imagination, and extremely high heels that looked like she would need physical therapy to walk normal again after an hour in them. She also carried a large purse, slung across her chest. He pointed at it, still smiling.

  “If you’re packing cigs in there…” He thrust a thumb toward the trailer, folding his arms across his chest.

  Her face fell.

  “But-”

  “Nope. Not with me, angel.”

  She stamped her foot and sighed, clenching her fists.

  “I’ll buy you a drink, but I won’t tolerate that,” he said.

  He laughed a little to himself as she turned and dragged her feet back to the trailer. Her father’s voice boomed again from deep inside. He heard her voice but couldn’t make out the words. Then he saw the front door open. A massive balding man in a white tank top and jeans stepped out, raising his hand.

  “Jacob Holt,” he shouted.

  “Quinn Tilman.”

  “You’re the first boy she’s brought around here who won’t let her smoke. Good for you. Been trying to get her to quit ever since she started.”

  “I never tolerate it,” Quinn said, matter-of-factly.

  Tamara squeezed past her Dad.

  “Next time you’re around, I’ll make her wait at the door,” Jacob said. “Needs to learn to be a little more lady-like.”

  “Pfft, Dad…” Tamara whined but hugged the big man anyway.

  “Be careful out there you
two,” he shouted.

  “Of course,” Quinn said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  Quinn opened the door for her, catching her annoyed gaze. He closed it with a little breathy laugh and ran around, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “Your Dad usually wear glasses?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  He laughed.

  “I was gonna say, that’s the first time I’ve been called boy in several decades.”

  She cracked a little, laughing too.

  “He’ll freak out if he sees you up close,” she said. “He’ll think you’re too old for me.”

  “I am too old for you, angel.”

  She shoved at his upper arm.

  “No, you’re not!”

  He grinned.

  “So, where shall we go? There’s only one restaurant in town, I noticed.”

  “Ooh, can we please, please, please go to Maxine’s in South Hills? It’s only a half-hour away… Please?”

  “Maxine’s? I take it that’s where the cool kids go?”

  She flashed her blue eyes at him and sidled up close as she could with the center console in the way.

  “Yes,” she said in a very seductive deep voice. She bit her shining red bottom lip, the little gold dot piercing now a tiny glittering stone, catching the light.

  He looked at her with one brow raised.

  “Does that make me a cool kid?”

  She grinned.

  “Yes, it does.”

  He laughed, reaching over and patting her bare knee. He squeezed a little and let go.

  ***

  Maxine’s turned out to be a bar and dance club that happened to also serve up an elegant dinner. Close to a local university, the place was filled to the brim with young wild hormones, raging loud and clear. Quinn’s jaw dropped at a few of the delectable young creatures that passed him by with little sweet smiles and a glance over, but never where Tamara could see him. When she faced him she was the world.

  They ate, danced and drank, though Quinn was very careful to keep himself in check. Tamara, he managed to work up into a little buzz.