Free Boogie House: A Rolson McKane Mystery by T. Blake Braddy Page B

don’t care a bit for my boy, especially that grizzly bear-lookin’ one.”
    “Bullen.”
    “Mmm-hmm. Some of them talk about you like they’d like to see you end up the same way.”
    "They resent me marrying Vanessa, Chief's daughter. Thought I was kissing ass somehow. We dated a long time before I thought I wanted to be a cop. But you know how rumors are: doesn't matter when or where they start."
    She sighed. "I just don’t trust them to do what’s best for me, for my baby’s memory. There’s something to it.”
    “I can believe that,” I said.
    There was another long pause, and she said, “I’ve been having bad dreams, McKane. Unsettling dreams. How about you? How are you sleeping these days?”
    “Fine,” I squeaked.
    “Coroner tells me my son's been dead for five days. Five days ago, I dreamed about white horses grazing in a field. I was always told dreaming about white horses means somebody close to you was going to die. I knew even in that dream who it was supposed to be for. And it wasn't a dream dream, the way most dreams are.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Walking through the field, I saw somebody standing off with the horses, petting them, keeping them company. When it came time for the person to turn around, show me her face, she did, but I woke up."
    "Who was it?"
    "Me, Rolson McKane. Me in the flesh. Well, maybe, future me. Wearing the very clothes I am going to be wearing to my son's funeral."
    "Wow," I said. It was all I could manage. My mouth had gone dry, and the words got lodged in my throat. I coughed and said, "That's a vivid dream."
    "It was and it wasn't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Now, the clothes I was going to wear, I haven't put them on in years, haven't even really thought about them since buying them, but I know for a fact I am going to press them and wear them for the funeral."
    "So your dream helped you decide what to wear?"
    "I don't know. That's why dreams do matter. You understand? I'll never know whether I chose to wear those clothes, or if I was bound to wear them anyway, if the whole thing was out of my hands. All because of a dream."
    I nodded. "I've been thinking about dreams lately myself."
    She smiled knowingly. "Dreams are powerful things."
    "But they aren't reality, Mrs. Laveau." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself.
    The woman shook her head, disappointed in me. "Just because you're not awake doesn't mean it isn't real."
    "I don't know, Janita. I’ve gotta think about this."
    "What's there to think about?" She glanced at the empty liquor bottles. "What else is burning up your schedule? You need to look for a probation officer? There a highway needs garbage picked up?"
    "I'm trying to clear everything out. I'm no longer a cop. This is my opportunity to have a clean break from the force."
    "Well, you are just about there. After you help me, you can have that clean break. You can pack up and get the hell out of this town and never see me again. But for the time being, you need to be a cop again."
    "Seems to me I wasn't ever meant to be a police officer in the first place."
    "What you were meant to be isn't up to you. Haven't you listened to a word I've said?"
    "Cops don't take up personal causes. I'd be a vigilante, an unlicensed PI. Working for free, no less."
    She got to her feet and shrugged. “And some things are worth more than money,” she said. “Think about it. But I think the choice has already been made for you.”
     

 
     
     
    Fifth Chapter
     
     
     
     
     
    I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning my filthy house, thinking about the ways I’ve failed at being a good man. I’ve always tried, but I think everybody tries, and I can’t always see the line well enough to stay on it.
    But cleaning helped me think. Beyond feeling embarrassed at Janita Laveau seeing my house, with bottles and cans propped like family heirlooms everywhere, I was melancholy in a way that sitting still was only going to make worse. I broomed