Page 29 of Broken Bayou
As I hurry across the street to my car, he yells after me. “Wait. Wanna grab a cup of coffee while you’re here?”
The sun is low in the sky when I turn back onto Main. I’d stopped at the Sack and Save for more wine and gotten hung up by Johnette again as she talked to the man in front of me about barrels and missing teachers and shoddy police work. Now, the other shops are closed, the street empty. I don’t like it. I don’t want to be out here at night alone.
I turn off Main onto the dead-end road, then through the gate at Shadow Bluff. Through the dusky shadows, I spot an old truck sitting in the driveway. One I recognize. I frown and my guard goes up. Being alone here would be preferable to this. Eddie is standing by the porch steps, rocking, while Doyle sits on the steps with something in his hands.
A small surge of adrenaline warms my veins. Fight-or-flight mode. Some of the men from the sex offenders’ groups I used to monitor in grad school gave me this same feeling. I learned from them to trust my gut. Them and some of Mama’s boyfriends. Not having a steady, reliable male figure in my life did me no favors when it came to trusting men. It’s a miracle I ever married Christopher and no surprise we divorced.
I stare at Doyle a moment through the windshield, then grab my tote and the wine and get out. I keep my shoulders back, walk with a purpose, and I keep my eyes on his. I stop at the porch steps.
“Hi, Eddie,” I say. He doesn’t meet my gaze but he smiles.
Then I look to Doyle and wish I’d put my gun in my tote. He’s carving a large stick with an even larger knife. He pushes off the old step. I keep my eyes on the knife until he shoves it and the stick in his back pocket. He holds his hands out in front of him, his nails long and dirty. “I don’t want no trouble.”
I stay where I stand. He’s blocking the way to the door. “Then whatdoyou want?”
“I’m a handyman. Thought I’d see if you got anything needs fixin’.”
“What?”
“I used to fix things here. I know the house pretty good.”
It feels as if ants are crawling on my skin. What the hell does that mean? “Nothing needs fixing.” I think of the kitchen door, but I’m not about to mention that to him. “I’ve got some things I need to do so ...” I start to step around him when Eddie’s hand locks on my arm.
“She don’t want to be alone,” he yells, his grip tightening.
I force myself not to react too quickly. I don’t want to upset him any more than he already is. I slowly twist my arm, but I’m unable to free it. “Eddie.”
“Edward,” Doyle snaps, and Eddie releases my arm. It’s clear who’s in control here.
Doyle moves a step closer to me, and I take a step back, scanning the yard for the best exit in case I need to run. I hear the sound of an engine on the road leading in. Doyle’s eyes flick in that direction, then back to me. His jaw works side to side, like a nervous tic. He’s muttering something, but I can’t understand what it is. All I can think about is the knife in his back pocket and the way he was handling it.
Tires crunch on the driveway near the front gate. “Let’s go,” he says to Eddie as he heads for his old truck.
Eddie stands where he is, then shoves his hand in his pocket and produces another metal figure like the one he gave me on the levee. He holds it out to me, his eyes staying on the ground. This figure is welded together with misshapen metal bits. I close my fingers over it. It’s notquite as scary looking as the first one, but it still gives me pause. The fact Eddie’s not only letting me touch this doll but is giving it to me tells me to pay attention. Giving me a second one feels important. He trusts me.
“I said let’s go!” Doyle yells, and Eddie runs to the truck.
They pull away just as a shiny pickup truck pulls into the drive and stops behind my car. Travis jumps down from the driver’s side and watches his brother drive off as he walks toward me.
“What the hell did he want?”
“He asked if anything here needed fixing,” I say. “Said he was a handyman here once.”
Travis shakes his head. “Hope he didn’t scare you.”
“It’s fine.” I watch Doyle’s truck disappear, Eddie’s doll cold in my hand.
“I got your note,” Travis says.
I look at him, confused, then remember. Right. That feels like days ago, not an hour ago.
He holds a finger up. “And I didn’t come empty handed.” He runs to his truck and comes back holding a bottle of wine and a pizza box. “Thought we could talk over dinner.” He lifts the pizza box and wine. “Best I could do.”
Not that I’m hungry, but I’m glad he’s here.
We need to talk.
Chapter Nine
