I slipped on a pair of sandals before heading outside. Betty was seated on the porch, sobbing with a blanket wrapped around her. Calvin stood next to her talking with Wyatt and Sheriff Almond. Parked in the driveway were two police vehicles and an ambulance. Calvin glanced in my direction. His eyes seemed to light up. I walked toward him, slowly and cautiously.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s Albert,” Calvin said.
Betty sobbed harder.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He’s dead.”
My hand went to my mouth.
A squeaking sound grabbed our attention. Two paramedics rolled a gurney carrying a large black body bag. Albert was clearly inside as it was cumbersome, and they were having a hard time moving it over gravel. They pushed and pulled, but the wheels kept getting stuck on every rock.
One of the paramedics wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Can we get a little help over here?”
Both Sheriff Almond and Wyatt nodded. Calvin followed behind. Between the five of them, they were able to get Albert’s body into the ambulance. The paramedics shut the doors, got in, and drove off while Sheriff Almond, Wyatt, and Calvin made their way back to Betty.
The sheriff looked to her. “So, you just found him down there?”
She threw her hands up. “Yes, I already told you that.” Betty glared at Calvin. “Why didn’t you tell me Albert was back in town?”
“It slipped my mind.”
“What was he doing here?” she asked.
Wyatt and Sheriff Almond exchanged a look while I stood there silently, trying to stay out of it.
“He was just passing through. You know how he is.” Calvin scraped one boot against the other, flicking off a clump of dirt.
Betty’s lip quivered. “But why was he down there?”
Calvin rubbed the back of his neck. “He must have wandered off. He’s been drinking a lot, even more than usual.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You should have been watching him.”
“You’re the one with the bees on the property. You’re the one keeping secrets. Got the goddamn secret life of bees over here. Maybe if you were taking your pills, you’d know what was going on around you,” Calvin spat.
Betty stood quicker than I thought an old woman like herself could. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Calvin.” She thrust a finger into his chest. “Your mother didn’t raise you to speak like that.”
Calvin’s face reddened and his eyes tightened. “My mother is a murderer. You don’t know what she raised me to be.”
Betty let out a gasp.
I didn’t react. I had heard Joe tell Calvin about their parents the night before while I was hiding in my room. You can hear everything in that house. I didn’t know it was true then. I thought Joe was saying anything he could to infuriate his brother. But I knew it was true now. Knowing that made me believe that Joe was also telling the truth about the night Lisa died. He wasn’t driving. Calvin was. But the question now was, did Calvin lie to cover his own ass after the accident, or was it not an accident?
Sheriff Almond’s eyes went wide and his brows drew together. “Did you say murderer?”
“All right, that’s enough,” Wyatt said, stepping in between them.
“Ignore him, Sheriff. He don’t know what he’s talking about,” Betty huffed.
Calvin pressed his lips firmly together but didn’t say another word.
Everyone was silent. Sheriff Almond jotted a note down and pocketed the pad of paper. He rocked back on his heels, his eyes swinging from Betty to Calvin. He clearly wasn’t in the know about the Wells’ family history.
“As of now, it appears to be an accidental death, but we’ll know more after the autopsy,” he said to Betty. “I’m going have Deputy Miller take you home. Okay?”
She nodded several times and stepped away from Calvin.
If my car was working, I would have packed up and got a police escort out of this town. But instead, I just stood there silently, trying to go as unnoticed as possible. Wyatt walked Betty to his vehicle and helped her into the passenger seat. Sheriff Almond lingered, standing between Calvin and myself.
“When was the last time either of you saw Albert?”
“Last night when he went into town with Calvin,” I said.
Calvin’s eyes swung to me, unhappy.
“And I saw him just before you arrived last night,” Calvin said. “He was helping me put out the fire Joe started but walked off before y’all pulled up.”
Sheriff Almond twisted up his lips. “This is the fourth time I’ve been here this week.”
“I know,” Calvin said. “It won’t happen again.”
The sheriff let out a heavy sigh and sucked on his front teeth. Before turning to leave, he threw Calvin an accusatory look. It was like he knew something would happen again, and he would, in fact, be back.
“If it does, I’ll find something to arrest you for,” he warned.
The sheriff’s footsteps were heavy across the porch and down the steps. He glanced back once more, narrowing his eyes as he climbed into his vehicle. The sheriff backed his SUV down the driveway, and I felt a pang in my stomach—like it was telling me that was my last opportunity out of here.
“Are you hungry?” Calvin asked.
How could he think about food at a time like this? His uncle was dead. I was about to call him out, to question him, to throw a fit, when my stomach rumbled. I glanced at my watch. It was just after five. Only sixteen hours left. I looked over at Calvin and simply nodded. He smiled and beckoned to follow him . . . back into the house.
46.
Calvin
Grace sat at the kitchen table, nursing a beer, while I busied myself in the kitchen, preparing a meal fit only for my girl. I considered making my specialty—brown beans, bacon, and hot dogs—but decided she deserved better than that since it was her last night. That meal held a special place in my heart. It was the dinner I fell in love with Grace over, and it was the meal that earned her trust. She didn’t believe that combo of ingredients could taste good, but it did. I proved her wrong once, and I’d do it again. I glanced over my shoulder at her. She was watching me. Her gaze started at my feet and went all the way up to my head. I smiled and refocused my attention on sautéing the fresh green beans from my garden and checking on the boiling pot of noodles. It felt like she was looking at me for the last time, but I hoped it was the last of many, and I know that didn’t make any sense. I was used to things not making much sense.
“Are you doing all right?” she asked, breaking the silence. I grabbed my open beer from the countertop and swigged.
The question caught me by surprise. I wasn’t sure she cared about me anymore but it appeared she did. Why else would she ask about my well-being? Why would she be concerned with my grief? I leaned against the counter, crossing one foot over the other.
“I will be eventually,” I said, wiping at my eyes.
Time healed all wounds and those it didn’t scabbed over nicely enough.
Grace raised her chin and then lowered it, about to say something but then deciding not to. I sniffled and rubbed at my eyes, wondering what she was going to say. Her words were so careful now, like she was playing a game of chess.