American rust
things had gone bad. Meaning Billy Poe had beaten one of them to death, then panicked and took off, and was now coming back to clean up his mess. The saddest part being he'd gotten this other kid mixed up in it. Harris wondered if there was a way to keep that one in the clear. People like him still had a chance.
    It was not Billy Poe he really worried about. He'd known for years where the boy would end up. He'd bent over backwards, he had put his own name on the line, knowing the entire time what would happen. By a certain age, people had their own trajectory. The best you could do was try to nudge them into a different course, though for the most part, it was like trying to catch a body falling from a skyscraper. Billy Poe's trajectory had been clear very early; it wasn't Billy Poe he was worried about. It was Grace and what this would do to her.
    Ho said: “You know I always hated that prick Cecil Small, but it's bad timing with the new DA. Cecil Small might have been willing to float a break.”
    “I never said a thing about it.”
    “I know you're worried about your nephew there.”
    “He ain't my nephew.”
    Ho shrugged. They watched the boys walk up the hill. Young men, Harris corrected himself Billy Poe was twenty- one. Somehow that seemed impossible. When he'd first met Grace, her son was five years old.
    “Here they come,” said Ho. “I'll put on my mean face.”

6. Isaac
    L ooking up from where he and Poe had just emerged from the brush at the edge of the field, he saw Harris's truck. But the same instant he wondered if they might be able to make it back into the trees, the lights at the top of the truck came on. Poe began walking through the waist-high grass, toward Harris and toward the machine shop. Isaac followed in a daze.
    They were across the field and near the muddy torn- up ground by the machine shop when Poe slowed to let him catch up. “We're good,” he said quietly. “He knows where I live and if he found my jacket he wouldn't still be here.”
    “You think he'll see us being here as just a big coincidence,” said Isaac.
    Poe nodded.
    Isaac was about to discuss it further but then he wondered if Harris could somehow hear them, even from up there. Poe began to walk more quickly as they passed the building where the Swede was lying. Not anymore, he thought. The Swede is already gone. The coroner's probably already been here, the DA, everyone. Half the town, judging by the tire tracks. What's- her- name, coroner's daughter, Dawn Wodzinski. Due to inherit the family business. Her father being both county coroner and funeral home director. No, knowing her is not going to help you. The DA is that new guy. What's- his- name.
    Meanwhile see how fast Poe is walking. Relieved he doesn't have to look at what he did. Because of him a person is dead but he'll forget that detail soon enough. He'll remember he's innocent. He'll remember it was your choice to do what you did. Meanwhile it was him who wanted that fight, didn't care what the cost was because the cost was not to him—it was to you and the Swede and he will not take any of that off you. Know him well enough for that.
    They made their way up the fireroad through the trees, climbing the hill under a dark gray sky Their pants legs were soaked and stuck with burrs and grass seed and Poe climbed with long strides, staring only at the ground in front of his feet. Isaac nearly had to jog to keep pace, it was humiliating and he was angry at Poe for that as well. There was the sharp odor of crushed weeds and skunk sumac, a more pleasant smell of damp soil. They passed a dug- out mudhole where a vehicle had gotten stuck, clods of dirt sprayed up the sides of the trees. He could feel his face getting hotter and he tried to calm down. Sacrificed on the altar to others, presenting Isaac English. His own fault. Not the Swede you traded for Poe—traded yourself. You aren't going to California. Aren't going anywhere.
    They reached the top of the hill and

Similar Books

Pike's Folly

Mike Heppner

Whistler's Angel

John R. Maxim

Tales for a Stormy Night

Dorothy Salisbury Davis

Don't... 04 Backlash

Jack L. Pyke

Summer Forever

Amy Sparling

Leaden Skies

Ann Parker

For the Love of Family

Kathleen O`Brien

Emily's Dilemma

Gabriella Como