The Best American Mystery Stories 2002

“I thought she’d gone into town for a couple of days. Heard she wasn’t feelin’ so good.” Jake drew those last words into an accusation. A smirk peeked from the corner of his mouth as he lifted his chin and glared at me.

How, I thought, could he talk like that after what he did to my sister? My eyes felt like they were on fire. I looked away.

I shuffled my feet and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Well, that’s why she stayed home and Uncle Keven and everybody went up to Aunt Roberta’s,” I lied, “to see about Sarah staying with her for a while.” My mouth was as dry as sawdust.

“You know, boy, I haven’t seen you talk this much in a week’s time. Somethin’ going on here you want to tell me about?” He folded the equalizer and stood up. “ ’Sides, you can drive. Why don’t you drive your little ol’ ass on out there?”

I felt caught. Cornered. My stomach twisted itself into a knot.

“I said,” Jake growled, “why—”

“Uh, because... because—”

“Oh, hells-bells. I’ll do it, boy. Let’s go right now.”

“Right now? You sure?”

“Shut up, boy.” Jake’s mouth warped itself into half-smile, half-grimace. “You ain’t afraid to go with me, are you?”

“No, sir, it’s just that...” The knot twisted on itself. Would Uncle Keven be ready?

“What? It’s just what, little boy?” Jake leaned over and put both hands on his knees.

“Nothin’.”

“Damned straight, nothin’.” He stood back up and puffed his chest out. “’Sides,” he added, “I like visiting with your sister.” He winked at me with his good eye. “Now go on and get your stuff.”

The Ford screeched up the driveway toward the three silos, The Holy Trinity. I said a prayer to the Holy Mother of God as Jake drove past.

Jake turned onto Highway 16 and the blacktop began snaking its way past more grain silos lining the six miles of winding road toward home. I loved to count the silos every time we drove the highway between home and Uncle Keven’s. There were sixteen total, the same number as the state highway’s.

I counted the first five silos before Jake said a word to me.

“Why you acting so strange, boy? One minute you’re babblin’ like a schoolgirl. Next minute you’re all clammed up.” Jake had to turn his head all the way around in order to see me with his good eye. “You don’t think I like little boys, do you? Is that what’s bothering you?” He turned his head back toward the highway. “Shit, boy, I like girls. I’m not like that uncle of yours, Uncle Keven.” Jake cooed my uncle’s name, then tilted his head back and kissed the air in front of him. “No sirree bob, I ain’t nothin’ like that little queer.”

I kept counting the silos, hoping that concentrating on them would keep my head clear, focused.

Farther down the highway, Jake leaned into the door, cocking his head ever so slightly, like a man listening to his girlfriend whispering secrets over his shoulder. His cigarette dangled from his bottom lip and he draped his right arm across the steering wheel.

“Turn here,” I blurted out at the sixteenth silo. My hands shot up and cupped my mouth as if I’d just burped at the dinner table.

Jake’s right hand slapped my thigh. “Don’t you think I know that, boy? I know where your sister lives,” he said with a laugh as the Ford’s wheels left the pavement and started up the gravel road.

We topped the last hill and coasted down the driveway to the front of my parents’ house. Jake cut the engine before the truck came to a stop.

Bill and Will, our two Labs, didn’t sprint out to greet the truck as they usually did. I heard them barking from inside the barn off to the right of the house.

“Why are them mutts put up?” Jake asked.

I kept staring at the house, wondering if Uncle Keven had heard the truck.

Jake’s hand slapped my shoulder. “Hey,” he snorted. “I asked you a question.”

I pulled my hands out from under my bottom — I’d been sitting on them trying to warm them up. “Uh... uh... sometimes Sarah just puts them up. I don’t know why.” I kept searching the windows of the house, looking for a clue of Uncle Keven’s presence.

“Hold on, boy.” Jake snatched at my shirtsleeve as I leaned into the door to push it open. “I got us an idea.”

I froze. I could feel my chin start to jiggle.

“I got us a proposition, boy.” My shirtsleeve fell free. I heard Jake’s Zippo lighter click open. I pulled my stare from the floorboard and watched him suck on another cigarette, his head slightly turned to the right, that gray eye peering at nothing. His lips pinched the cigarette and the flame flickered. The Zippo clinked shut and his brown hands moved away from his face. “Why don’t you hustle on over there to that barn, saddle up one of them ol’ swaybacks your old man calls a horse, and take yourself and them dogs out for a evenin’ ride?” He took another drag on the cigarette. “A real... long... ride. That away,” he blew a cloud of smoke toward the roof of the truck, “I can help your sister Sarah around the house.”