Night Light (36 page)

Pop stroked his hair. “Do you want to tell me what you’re sorry for?”

Aaron sucked in a sob. “I can’t. You’ll hate me.”

“Aaron, I could
never
hate you. Not in a million years. Why would you think that?”

The tragedy of his sin rushed up like floodwaters, trapping and drowning him.

“Because you’re her daddy, that’s why.”

His grandfather stared at him, stricken. Tears rimmed his eyes. “Aaron?”

Aaron’s sobbing grew harder. “Sometimes we do things we don’t mean. Sometimes we’re sorry but we can’t tell nobody. And then God punishes us by taking our sister.”

His grandfather reached out and pulled him into his arms, crushed him against him. “It’s okay, son. I’ll never hate you, and neither will God. You don’t have to tell me what you did. Just whisper it to God when you’re alone, and you’ll see.”

D
OUG STOOD JUST OUTSIDE THE DOOR TO HIS STUDY, LISTENING TO
every word. The pain had gotten him up, and he’d come into the kitchen to get some water. That was when he’d seen the light in his study.

He stood in the shadows, listening to the boy’s pain. As Aaron’s words sank in, he tried to get his mind around them. What violence was the boy talking about? And why would his grandfather hate him if he knew? What did it have to do with Jessie?

Somehow, Aaron blamed himself for his mother’s death. New questions ignited inside Doug. Did the boy have something to do with his mother’s death?

Or had he merely witnessed it?

Doug peered into the study again, saw the pain on Allen’s face. It was clear that he was thinking the same thing. But could it be true? Doug backed against the wall in the hallway, and breathed a quiet prayer for clarity. If the boy had somehow killed his mother … what did that mean? And what should be done about it?

No, it couldn’t be that. The boy would never have killed his mother. Not in a million years.

But as Doug went back to bed, the thoughts wouldn’t leave his head. Aaron was hiding something important. Somehow, Doug would have to get it out of him.

sixty-six

D
ENI LAY AWAKE IN HER BED AS THE NIGHT TURNED INTO
morning. Sleep seemed more and more rare for her these days. Her heart ached with all the tragedy in her life, all the turmoil, all the worry. The Bible said to be anxious for nothing, but how did someone stop worrying about the life of a little girl in mortal danger? As the first gray light of morning came through her window, Deni got up and prayed some more. Life had been so hard lately, so full of sadness. She wanted so much to put it all behind her, to stop the dreariness and the constant labor, the danger and the turmoil.

She wondered if things would be easier in Washington. Maybe there wouldn’t be such hard work. Maybe Craig was right about getting the provisions that came in for the senators and their staff. Maybe she could even get a job in Crawford’s office, filing or doing paperwork, and eventually, when the lights and televisions came back on, she’d be in the hub of broadcast journalism. She’d be one of the first on the scene to apply for the jobs.

But until they found Sarah, she couldn’t even think about leaving. The thought of leaving even after Sarah was found hung like lead in her heart. What about her mother and father and sister and brothers? How could she bear going through the rest of this outage without them? It wasn’t like she could keep in touch by the phone or computer.

Could she depend on Craig to fill the void left by her family?

Since Craig had come to town, he’d disappointed her in so many ways.

And now she just wasn’t sure …

sixty-seven

W
HEN MORNING CAME
, D
OUG FOUND
A
ARON ASLEEP IN THE
chair in his study, and Allen still awake. Allen got up when he heard Doug outside the door and followed him into the kitchen.

“Sorry we can’t offer you coffee,” Doug said. “It’s a luxury we can’t quite afford.”

“If only that were the worst of our problems,” Allen said.

Doug poured him some water and slid it across the counter. The man probably hadn’t slept all night — the lines in his face were deep.

Doug kept his voice low. “Allen, I heard you talking to Aaron last night in the study. The things he said … well, they kind of made it sound like he knows more about Jessie’s murder than he’s telling.”

Allen stared into his water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When he told you that he had things to be forgiven for. Things about his mother.”

Allen’s eyes glistened as he met Doug’s eyes. “You’re reading way too much into that. He’s a little boy. Surely you’re not accusing him — ”

“It’s just that you should have made him tell you what it was. You shouldn’t have let him keep the secret. We need to know if he had something to do with her death.”

Allen got up and went to the door of the study, and made sure Aaron still slept. Quietly, he came back to Doug. “Now you listen to me,” he said, just above a whisper. “My grandson is not a killer. He’s a broken kid with a troubled past. He’s lied and stolen to feed his family. He has a conscience, so he has a lot of things to feel guilty about. But murdering his mother is not one of them.”

Doug hoped he was right. “I want to believe that too. But the next time he talks about it, you need to see it through. I know you want to protect him. So do I. But there’s a murder investigation underway and we need to know what happened.”

“All right, Doug. I hear what you’re saying. If he’s hiding something, I’ll get him to tell me.”

Doug knew he couldn’t count on it, and he almost didn’t blame Allen. He’d lost a daughter and maybe a granddaughter. He would cling to what he had left, even if it meant lying.

After breakfast, he and Allen went with Aaron to find the house where Jessie had gotten her drugs. Armed with his rifle and Allen’s shotgun, they headed to the sleazy area between Crockett and Birmingham, where reports of murders, rapes, and shootings were everyday occurrences. The streets that used to be high-traffic seemed barren and abandoned now as men loitered in the streets. This area was much worse than the apartment complex where the Gatlin children had been living. Mangy, skinny dogs roamed, looking for food; men loitered on the streets watching as the three rode by. But Aaron wasn’t afraid. Courageously, he confronted each group he saw before Doug or Allen could. So far, no one had admitted to seeing Moe or Sarah.

Aaron led them to the rundown house where his mother used to buy drugs. It was a rattrap with a rotting front porch and trash piled high in the yard. Doug swallowed his anger. How could Jessie drag her kids to a place like this?

The building had been condemned long before the outage, and the windows were boarded up. But the door was open. A terrible smell wafted out of it, and as he stepped into the doorway and gazed into the darkness, he saw three people through a haze of smoke. A man lay sleeping on a torn-up sofa, and another on a big red beanbag. On the floor, a girl sat rolling a cigarette, deeply engrossed in her task.

“Hello,” Doug said.

The girl looked up. “You cops?”

“’Course not,” Aaron said. “I’m Jessie Gatlin’s boy. This is my grandpa and my foster father.”

She finished rolling her cigarette. “What do you want?”

“My baby sister,” he said. “I think Moe Jenkins kidnapped her.”

That got her attention. “Moe Jenkins?”

Doug touched the rifle hanging from his back and stepped into the house. “You know him?”

“I might.”

“Have you seen him in the last day or so?”

“I ain’t seen him in weeks.” She licked the paper and folded it over.

“Anybody here who might’ve seen him?” Allen asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know who all’s here.”

Clearly, Aaron took that as an invitation. He shot through the smelly living room and into the kitchen. Doug followed after him.

Two men sat on the filthy counter. One had a tourniquet around his arm and a syringe in his trembling hand. The other was counting change on the dirty counter. Doug grabbed Aaron’s shoulder and kept him from moving toward them.

“I remember you,” Aaron said to the one shooting up. “You knew my mama.”

The man’s lids were heavy. “Get outta here, kid. You don’t belong here.”

Doug agreed with him. “We don’t want any trouble,” he said. “All we want is Moe Jenkins. Have you seen him?”

The two men exchanged looks, then the heavy-lidded one popped his tourniquet loose. “I don’t know nobody by that name.”

“I think you need to be leaving.”

The voice came from behind him. Doug turned. A scruffy man stood in the doorway, aiming his shotgun at Doug. He was bone-thin and the whites of his eyes were as yellow as the enamel on his teeth. The man chambered a round, and Doug moved his free hand to his wound.

Doug moved Aaron behind him, and his grandfather grabbed him. But Aaron wouldn’t be silenced. “Look, I know you don’t like to rat each other out and that’s fine. We won’t tell the cops nothing about you. I just want my sister!”

The girl from the living room came to the other door, as if curious about the tension.

“We don’t know nothing about her, kid,” Yellow Teeth said. “Now get out.”

Doug didn’t like being a drug addict’s bull’s-eye. But Allen blocked the door where the girl stood.

“Some of you have children,” Allen said in a raspy voice. He turned to the girl. “Are you a mother?”

Her face slackened. “Yes.”

“Then think of that tiny three-year-old girl in the hands of a maniac.” His voice broke, and tears filled his eyes. “I’ve lost my daughter. I don’t want to lose my granddaughter too.”

There was silence in the room. No one moved.

The man with the gun had steely eyes. “Empty your pockets,” he said.

“We don’t have any money.” Doug pulled his pockets inside-out. Aaron and Allen did the same.

“Then we don’t have no information. You got ten seconds to get out of this house.”

Doug raised his hands. “Okay, put the gun down. We’re going.”

But Allen still wouldn’t budge. “You people have families somewhere. People who love you and want better for you. People who are praying for you to come home.”

Doug shot him a look. This wasn’t the time for a sermon about the social perils of drug abuse.

But Allen went on. “You had a choice. You came here of your own free will. You chose where you are. But little Sarah didn’t choose. She’s the hostage of a man who’s not in his right mind.” He looked from one to another of them, beseeching. “You’re not zombies, you’re human beings. You’re worth more than this. And you can still feel something for a little girl who’s in jeopardy.”

The man with the gun wasn’t impressed. “Ten … nine … eight …”

Finally, Allen gave up, and led Aaron through the living room and to the front door. Doug followed, fully expecting the boy to erupt and run back in.

“Five … four … three …”

Doug shoved both of them out the door.

Aaron was drenched with sweat and breathing hard. “They know where she is. All of them or some of them, they know. We’ve got to make them tell us.”

“Son, they have a gun,” Doug said.

“I don’t care!” Aaron screamed. “Let them kill me!” He started to sob. Doug reached for him, but he wouldn’t be comforted.

Tears spilled onto Allen’s cheeks as he cried, “God, help us!”

In a low voice, Doug said, “It’s dangerous here. We can’t stay. We’ll get Sheriff Scarbrough to come back and shake the place down. That’s the best we can do right now.”

Aaron’s eyes flashed, and he turned on him. “My sister is missing!” he shouted. “She could be dead. I’m
sick
of burying people.” The words shot straight to Doug’s heart. “My mother was mean, even to Sarah. She deserved to die, but Sarah doesn’t!”

The words stunned him. Allen straightened and turned to the boy.

“You’ve never said that before,” Doug said. “That your mother was mean.”

The boy was falling apart, and his voice was hoarse with his ranting. “She went psycho sometimes. That last day, she came home all high on something and started beating us all up. And when she hit Sarah and locked her in the closet, I couldn’t take it anymore …” His voice faded as if he realized he’d said too much.

The girl in the house stepped out on the porch and looked at the boy.

Doug just gaped at him. “What did you do, Aaron?”

Aaron smeared his tears. “
Nothing
!” he cried. “
Nothing.
I didn’t do nothing. I just distracted her and she came running out after me. At least I got her away from Sarah before she bloodied her nose like she did Luke’s.”

As the boy raved, the events of Jessie’s last day began to take shape. Aaron
had
had something to do with his mother’s death, as Doug had suspected. Had Aaron shot his mother in self-defense? Was he Jessie Gatlin’s killer?

Before Doug could put the thoughts together, the woman hurried off the porch, looking furtively over her shoulder. She headed straight to the frantic boy, tears welling in her eyes. “I saw your sister,” she said.

Aaron sprang to attention and Doug caught his breath.

“You did? Where?” Aaron asked.

“Came by here yesterday,” she said. “The little girl was asleep and he said she was his kid. I didn’t know he had a kid, but then, they looked alike so I figured it was true.”

“Where did he take her?” Allen demanded.

“He got a key from somebody. I heard him say something about the old Firestone building over on Lime Street.”

Doug’s heart raced. “Lime Street. I know where that is.”

She stood there a moment, glancing back at the door. “I had to tell you,” she said, wiping a tear. “I’d want somebody to if it was my kid.” She swallowed and touched Aaron’s shoulder. “Your mama may not have acted like it, but she loved you. She bragged about you all the time, the way you took care of things. Sometimes she cried because she knew she was doing wrong.”

“Then why didn’t she quit?” Aaron bit out.

“Because the dope … it had her in chains. Took over her mind.”

The girl’s mouth trembled as she got out the words. Doug looked at her, thinking she may have once been pretty, but now her skin was dry and drawn, and fine wrinkles dug into her face. Was she describing her own bondage as well as Jessie’s?