Free Adam's Woods by Greg Walker Page B

magnitude of is origin amplified by the pressing weight of the silence filled with screams never uttered. Gone. All of them. All of them but him. But no, he did hear screaming, searched for its source before realizing it came from himself. His last remembrance, before collapsing into the middle of the intersection, was the wide grin and wave from the man before he turned around to get into the van and drive away.
     

     
    Eric strolled down the road towards the grocery store, hoping his attempt to appear casual wasn’t overdone. He waved to a few people met only since moving in, not residents at the time of the murder. They were all friendly enough, but there existed a reserve that told him that they knew. Of course they did. If they hadn’t heard from Arnie Fisk, there were enough others to fill the grapevine with gossip about all things Kane. He had decided just to let things run their course. He reasoned that with enough time, he could eventually be just another neighbor, that the day would come when he could be just “Eric”, not, “Eric...you know, the one with the brother that... ”
     
    If he stayed that long.
     
    He had seen Arnie several times since his visit. On the first encounter, the older man had stared at him while riding his tractor mower in the lot that belonged with the Grange Hall, nearly across from Eric’s house, and then nodded once and looked away. It took Eric a few days to realize he’d been issued an apology, and that it was all he would get. The next time, when Arnie drove by in his truck, he stared straight ahead as though Eric weren’t there, demonstrating that the apology had limited provisions not covering the resentment felt at Eric’s presence.
     
    Eric could live with it, had even come to sympathize somewhat but still bristled at his accusation. He kept an eye out for the others that Arnie claimed felt the same, but so far no one had tried to run him over or taken a shot at him. He had kept close to the house, settling in with the few belongings retrieved from Pittsburgh, so still hadn’t seen everyone. Perry Rice, the man that had found him in the woods, still lived next door but was away in Arkansas visiting his son. Pastor Burroughs, amazingly still preaching at the Baptist Church though he had to be in his seventies, stopped by briefly and promised to have him over for dinner. Janine West, that ran the grocery store and also another childhood acquaintance, had come around the counter and given him a hug along with his change. She had tears in her eyes.
     
    For his part, Eric was determined not to mention the past unless confronted with it, would try not to stir up trouble even inadvertently or repeat the situation with Fisk if it could be helped. His career as a writer was all but unknown here, and that suited him fine.
     
    Plus there was Mary.
     
    Since the first kiss, they’d seen each other nearly every evening for a week. He’d been to her place in Drake City for dinner, they’d driven to Erie to see a movie and then take a moonlit boat ride on the lake with a fellow realtor and friend of hers, and spent a lot of time talking over coffee. At first the murder dominated the conversation, but eventually they worked through their lives beyond that and up to the present. He learned she had done a tour in the Army after high school and served in South Korea. He found out that she’d had a miscarriage she never told her husband about, already suspecting his infidelity. He wanted to know it all.
     
    Away from Lincoln Corners, he also enjoyed being in a place for a while where if he were recognized, it was because of his writing. It had only happened once, at a bookstore they’d browsed in, and he’d signed an autograph and talked with a fan, a pimply teen draped in black, while Mary looked on amused.
     
    Reaching the corner and waving to Janine sweeping the floor inside the store, Eric turned left and kept walking. The houses thinned out, and soon, after rounding a