shouldn’t complain.
The whole town, Floyd included, has always thought that Ray was the one who killed Eve because no other killer was ever found. Father told everyone a crazy man did it. Broke in the house, took his daughter, slaughtered her on a dirt floor. But the town never believed it. They have always figured that Ruth married the man who killed her sister. But Ray didn’t kill Eve. He loved her and no good will come from digging up the past. No good will come from speaking ill of the dead.
But these men sitting in Ruth’s kitchen don’t know how much Ray loved Eve. All three of them suspect Ray did something to little Julianne Robison because, even though she was just a child, she looked so much like Eve. Blond hair, blue eyes, pink satin skin. And Ray is a troublemaker, always has been because he drinks too much and Floyd is constantly throwing him out of Williamson’s bar.
Despite the twenty-five years that separate the lives of Julianne and Eve, Floyd and these two men think their looking alike means something, and Ruth will let them keep thinking that because then they will keep a close eye on Ray. If these men believe the past has something to do with what happened to Julianne Robison and that Julianne’s disappearance will turn out to be Palco’s first murder in twenty-five years, they won’t believe Ruth’s lie and they’ll keep digging. If Ray is the one who took Julianne Robison, they’ll figure it out as long as they keep looking. Because Ruth’s too afraid to tell Floyd the truth about that Saturday night, this is the best she can do.
W ith Arthur still trapping her against the counter, Celia looks through the maple’s branches, makes a small humming sound and says, “I don’t see anything.”
Arthur stands straight, his sudden movement causing Celia to stumble.
“The paddock,” he says. “The God damned paddock is empty.” Celia looks again, this time leaning over the sink. The gate near the barn hangs open.
“I’ve told that boy to mind the latch,” Arthur says as he grabs his hat from the top of the refrigerator. “Dan. Get out here.”
“Arthur, please,” Celia says, following him toward the porch.
Ever since Julianne Robison went missing and stayed missing, Celia feels a rush of fear every time she or Arthur gets angry with the children. It’s the fear that anger will be the thing they are left with should one of them go missing, too. It’s silly, she knows, but even eight weeks later, even as the town seems to be forgetting, even as the search has ended for Julianne Robison, the fear is a reflex.
“Maybe she’s gone around the back of the barn,” Celia says. “You don’t know she got out. Please don’t overreact.”
“Well, that’s not the point, is it?”
While Celia tries to rein in her anger and frustration since Julianne disappeared, Arthur has unleashed his. His temper explodes without warning as if he thinks Julianne must have been careless, irresponsible, and that these two things led to her disappearance. He won’t have the same happen to his children.
“Dan,” Arthur shouts again. “Get out here.”
Pulling on a shirt, Daniel stumbles from his room. “What?” he says, blinking and forcing his eyes open. “What is it?”
“You latch Olivia’s gate last night?” Arthur says, pulling on his second boot.
“Sir?”
“The gate. You latch it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Giving his boot a final tug, Arthur stands straight. “You sure about that?”
“I’ll check, sir.”
“He’ll check,” Celia says, reaching for Arthur’s hand. “Let him check.”
Arthur yanks away. “I’ll give you your answer, son. You didn’t latch it. Now get your shoes on and see to it that cow hasn’t gotten out.”
Daniel walks into his room, his shoulders rounded, his arms hanging at his sides, while Arthur stands in the threshold leading onto the back porch. He crosses his arms, leans against the doorjamb and stares at Celia.
“Don’t be too hard
The whole town, Floyd included, has always thought that Ray was the one who killed Eve because no other killer was ever found. Father told everyone a crazy man did it. Broke in the house, took his daughter, slaughtered her on a dirt floor. But the town never believed it. They have always figured that Ruth married the man who killed her sister. But Ray didn’t kill Eve. He loved her and no good will come from digging up the past. No good will come from speaking ill of the dead.
But these men sitting in Ruth’s kitchen don’t know how much Ray loved Eve. All three of them suspect Ray did something to little Julianne Robison because, even though she was just a child, she looked so much like Eve. Blond hair, blue eyes, pink satin skin. And Ray is a troublemaker, always has been because he drinks too much and Floyd is constantly throwing him out of Williamson’s bar.
Despite the twenty-five years that separate the lives of Julianne and Eve, Floyd and these two men think their looking alike means something, and Ruth will let them keep thinking that because then they will keep a close eye on Ray. If these men believe the past has something to do with what happened to Julianne Robison and that Julianne’s disappearance will turn out to be Palco’s first murder in twenty-five years, they won’t believe Ruth’s lie and they’ll keep digging. If Ray is the one who took Julianne Robison, they’ll figure it out as long as they keep looking. Because Ruth’s too afraid to tell Floyd the truth about that Saturday night, this is the best she can do.
W ith Arthur still trapping her against the counter, Celia looks through the maple’s branches, makes a small humming sound and says, “I don’t see anything.”
Arthur stands straight, his sudden movement causing Celia to stumble.
“The paddock,” he says. “The God damned paddock is empty.” Celia looks again, this time leaning over the sink. The gate near the barn hangs open.
“I’ve told that boy to mind the latch,” Arthur says as he grabs his hat from the top of the refrigerator. “Dan. Get out here.”
“Arthur, please,” Celia says, following him toward the porch.
Ever since Julianne Robison went missing and stayed missing, Celia feels a rush of fear every time she or Arthur gets angry with the children. It’s the fear that anger will be the thing they are left with should one of them go missing, too. It’s silly, she knows, but even eight weeks later, even as the town seems to be forgetting, even as the search has ended for Julianne Robison, the fear is a reflex.
“Maybe she’s gone around the back of the barn,” Celia says. “You don’t know she got out. Please don’t overreact.”
“Well, that’s not the point, is it?”
While Celia tries to rein in her anger and frustration since Julianne disappeared, Arthur has unleashed his. His temper explodes without warning as if he thinks Julianne must have been careless, irresponsible, and that these two things led to her disappearance. He won’t have the same happen to his children.
“Dan,” Arthur shouts again. “Get out here.”
Pulling on a shirt, Daniel stumbles from his room. “What?” he says, blinking and forcing his eyes open. “What is it?”
“You latch Olivia’s gate last night?” Arthur says, pulling on his second boot.
“Sir?”
“The gate. You latch it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Giving his boot a final tug, Arthur stands straight. “You sure about that?”
“I’ll check, sir.”
“He’ll check,” Celia says, reaching for Arthur’s hand. “Let him check.”
Arthur yanks away. “I’ll give you your answer, son. You didn’t latch it. Now get your shoes on and see to it that cow hasn’t gotten out.”
Daniel walks into his room, his shoulders rounded, his arms hanging at his sides, while Arthur stands in the threshold leading onto the back porch. He crosses his arms, leans against the doorjamb and stares at Celia.
“Don’t be too hard
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