Free Blackwater Lights by Michael M. Hughes

me she’s the key to this.”
    Ellen slowly shook her head.
    The bartender gave the last call. Denny’s face was flushed. “I think I’d better get going,” he said. He took his wallet out of his pants pocket and dropped it on the floor. He leaned beneath the table to pick it up, and bumped his head loudly on the underside. “Ouch,” he said.
    Ellen grimaced.
    Denny lifted his head. “I’m a real klutz sometimes.” He rubbed his hands in his hair. “My mother used to tell me I was lucky I lived past the age of five.”
    “Can I give you a lift?” Ray asked.
    Denny took out some cash and shook his head. “I’m fine. Really. Just a little buzzed, that’s all. Anyway, I walked. It’s not far.”
    Ray squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Denny. I mean that.”
    Denny smiled. “Sure.” He nodded in Ellen’s direction. “You two have a good night,” he said, and walked, a bit wobbly, out the door and into the night.
    “He likes you,” Ellen said.
    Ray finished his beer. He was feeling a bit wobbly, too. “He’s a sweet guy.”
    She laughed. “No, I mean he
likes
you. It’s plain as day. He’s jealous of me. And he has a crush on you.”
    Ray paused to consider it. “Huh. I didn’t quite get that.”
    “Well, it doesn’t surprise me at all. Look, he lives with his mother, working in a rinky-dink library in a town so small you can blink and miss it. And here comes this cute guy from Baltimore—a guy who just happens to have seen the lights his very first night here. A guy who needs help solving his own mystery and asks him for help. Denny’s always been big on mysteries. How could he not fall in love with you?”
    Maybe she was right. Now that she said it out loud, it made sense. The way he’d seen Denny looking at him … he’d interpreted it as interest, even intense interest. But Ray hadn’t felt a sexual vibe, and he considered himself pretty good at picking up on that kind of thing. “He seemed pissed that I’d invited you here. But I thought it was just because he didn’t want me to spill our secret.”
    Ellen wiped a finger around the rim of her empty coffee cup. “Maybe he sees something … oh, never mind.” She looked up at him. She seemed to be considering saying more, but instead grabbed her purse. “They’re getting ready to close. Will you walk me to my truck?”
    Ellen drove a blue Chevy pickup with patches of gray primer. A robot air freshener hung from the rearview mirror. He stood behind her as she unlocked the door. She turned to him, her eyes looking up into his. “I want to help you. My life is a little hard right now, having to take care of William and work all the time. But if you want to go check out the Hand, I can get someone to cover my shift and take you one afternoon. Before you have to go home.” She smiled. “Maybe we can make a picnic out of it. I could bring William along. I’m sure he’d love to see you and talk your ear off again.”
    “That sounds like a plan,” he said.
    Ellen took his hands. “Please be careful, Ray. It might be silly, but I … I really worry about you. This is all pretty weird. And Crawford—it sounds like he’s a real sketchy character. Lily, too.”
    “I’ll be okay,” he said.
    She looked into his eyes. She had a simple, unadorned prettiness that revealed itself slowly. And her eyes were captivating. As tired and weary as they were, they were alive and warm and gentle. And concerned.
    She squeezed his hands. “Goodnight, Ray.” She turned and climbed into the truck.
    He stood and watched as she drove off.

Chapter Eight
    There were only a few cars outside the Church of the Open Door. The building had once been painted white but was now a faded, ashen gray, with paint flaking and peeling off in strips. The steeple dripped with layers of pigeon droppings, and the stained-glass windows had gone grimy and dark.
    The doorknob was a tarnished brass lion head. When Ray reached for it, the door opened and swung inward.
    A