The Winslow Incident (37 page)

“Don’t you
know?
” Hazel
couldn’t believe it.

“In the park?” Constance tried.

Chance shrugged his shoulders.

“Well that’s nothing out of the
ordinary, at least,” Hazel said. “You’re crappy parents to her. You’ve always
been crappy parents.”

“At least we didn’t abandon her.”
Chance slammed the door in her face.

There was no point in trying to
defend herself, or in telling him to go to hell, so she retreated from the
porch and made her way past the rose bushes again. As she retook the sidewalk
she thought,
They’re not even sick—they’re cowards.

She stopped to glance back at
their house, sealed up tight against the world, concerned only with protecting
them.

And that infuriated her.

Hazel ran back through the yard
and up the steps and the porch light went out just as she reached the door and
swung the back of the flashlight against the ornate window. Glass imploded into
the foyer, destroying the sanctity of their shelter, and Constance screamed and
Chance shouted but Hazel was already racing away down the sidewalk feeling
slightly better.

Once she reached Dr. Foster’s
house she shortcut a diagonal into Prospect Park toward the Crock on Fortune
Way. Now she had no choice but to go and see if the Peabodys’ Jeep was parked
there. That first. She wouldn’t let herself worry about having to go back to The
Winslow unless it was actually there. Maybe the keys would be in it. Wouldn’t
that be lucky?

Walking through the park, Hazel
shined the light before her feet to avoid stepping on any bodies. And when she
reached the playground she scanned the flashlight across the swings and monkey
bars. Then she lighted upon a slight figure crouched on the metal platform of
the red merry-go-round: Patience Mathers.

As Hazel approached she saw that
Patience was wearing her Rodeo Queen garb—white hat, fringed chaps,
pony-hair boots, the whole cowgirl outfit. She played the light up and down
Patience. Her red vest was soiled and when Hazel got closer, she could smell
the dried vomit.

“Hey . . .” Hazel stopped a few
feet away.

Only then did Patience look up
with hollow eyes.

“Patience, are you okay?” Of
course she wasn’t, Hazel could see that. Her face was so drawn she looked like
a corpse.

“I don’t think so,” she whispered.

Hazel put her hand over her nose
and mouth, the smell of Patience’s sick-encrusted clothes overwhelming her.
“Wait here, all right?” she said through her fingers.

“Don’t go!” Patience reached for
her, panic igniting her eyes.

“I’ll be right back, I swear.”
Hazel took off in the direction of the duck pond, trying to remember where
she’d stumbled into the pile of clothes.

When she returned to the
playground she helped Patience peel out of her clothes and into Julie Marsh’s
sundress. Even in the pale light of the moon, Hazel could make out the welts
and scratches now covering nearly all of Patience’s skin. “You have to stop
scratching yourself,” Hazel said. “Do you understand?”

“Okay,” Patience said and dragged
her nails along her right arm.

Hazel grabbed her hand away.
“Don’t do that anymore.
Don’t.
”

“Okay.” Patience sat back down on
the little merry-go-round.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I’m waiting for you and Sean to
finish the ghost hunt.” She took on a pained look. “But there isn’t any candy.”

Hazel reached into her back pocket
and pulled out the box of jawbreakers. She shook out a few and handed them to
Patience, who put a purple piece in her mouth but then puckered her face as if
the candy were sour. She spit it to the ground where her boots and dirty
clothes lay in a heap and handed the rest back to Hazel.

“Nobody’s ghost hunting right
now,” Hazel said.

“Sean is.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Tanner said he saw you and Sean
together.”
All over each other
, she didn’t add. “When was that?”

Patience whispered something Hazel
couldn’t quite hear.

“When, Patience?”

She said, “He wanted to kiss me.”

“You’re lying.”

“He did, Hazel. He told me I’m
beautiful.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Patience looked up at her. “Yes,
he did. In front of the Mercantile. Tanner Holloway was there too. You can ask
him.”

Hazel didn’t have to. She sucked
in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe she’d just hold it till she passed
out or better yet, died. She hated to think Tanner had told the truth about
that. It meant she’d have to consider he was telling the truth about a few
other things that she didn’t want to believe.

“I didn’t ask him to do anything,
Hazel, I’m not easy pickins.”

Hazel finally exhaled. “I know
you’re not.” She felt as though she were flailing underwater, out of air and
unable to figure out which way is up.

“Tanner wanted to kiss me too
after he pushed me too high on the swing but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Popular, aren’t you?” Hazel
popped a candy into her mouth to offset the bitterness. Jealous of Patience
Mathers? She got that upside down, inside out sensation again.

Patience looked as sad as when
Hazel had told her she couldn’t come live with her after Hazel’s mom
disappeared. Patience offered to share her room and let Hazel bring all her
stuffed animals and they’d be sisters. Hazel said she had to keep her daddy
company at their own house but they could be sisters anyway. On every birthday
after that Patience would sign the cards pasted with ribbons and stars and
hearts she still handmade for Hazel,
Love, your sister P.

“I didn’t want him to,” Patience
said.

“I know you didn’t,” Hazel said.
“I’m sorry.”

“Something’s wrong with Tanner.”
Her mouth puckered again. “He doesn’t smell right.”

“You don’t have to worry about him
anymore. He’s long gone.” But suddenly Hazel recalled how excessively sweaty he
was at the granite wall outside Matherston Cemetery and for the first time
realized,
Maybe he’s sick too.
Could he have made it down the mountain
by himself if he were? Maybe that was the real reason he’d wanted Sean or her
to go with him.
What if he didn’t make it out?
The thought alarmed her
for reasons she couldn’t distinguish from all the other things making her
anxious.

Hazel kneeled on her haunches to
face Patience where she sat on the metal platform with her feet drawn up out of
the dirt. “Have you seen Sean since you were all together at the Mercantile?”

Patience shook her head.

Then they were quiet for a long
time. Hazel knew she should get moving but felt paralyzed, hopelessly incapable
of doing anything she needed to do.

Finally, Patience said, “Did you
know Hawkin Rhone is back?”

Goosebumps rose on Hazel’s arms.
“That’s impossible—he’s been dead for a long time.”

But Hazel recalled Kohl Thacker
saying the same thing in the ballroom of The Winslow while the woman by the
fireplace cried, “Where are the children?”

“Gramps told me he’s back.”
Patience said.

“As usual your gramps is
completely full of crap.” Hazel swallowed hard. “You
saw
what happened
to Hawkin Rhone with your own two eyes.”

Patience made chewing motions with
her mouth as if she’d been conveyed back five years and now stood with a
mouthful of taffy on the banks of Three Fools Creek opposite the rotting cabin,
watching Sean crack Hawkin Rhone’s head open with a pine log. She stopped
grinding her teeth and stared at Hazel. “Sean’s looking for him. I hope Hawkin
Rhone doesn’t find him first.”

Hazel’s heart constricted. “What
are you talking about?”

“Gram and Gramps told me other
forgotten things, Hazel, about you and your family.”

“You shouldn’t’ve listened.”

“Things you should know,” Patience
continued, her expression disturbingly blank. “You didn’t believe me before but
you’d better now: terrible things are happening at The Winslow.”

Hazel’s heart clenched tighter.
She was certain her grandmother was still somewhere in the hotel, along with
Rose and Owen Peabody, and Honey Adair and the other defenseless sick people.
But Hazel wasn’t going back there without reinforcements. “Don’t say another
word. I’ve got enough problems without hearing more of Ben Mathers’ nonsense.”

“He said your grandmother killed
Gram Lottie.”

“More lies. And listen—don’t
eat any bread or donuts or anything from Rhone Bakery.”

“And your great granddad killed
Gramp’s father.”

“Did you hear me? No bread.”

“And drowned Aunt Sadie in the
pond.”

“Enough!” Hazel suddenly felt
nauseated. “Enough.”

Patience took a shuddering breath.
“Hazel, when am I going to feel better?”

“Soon,” she said, despite the fact
that Patience looked worse each time Hazel saw her. “Soon, I’m sure.”

Patience stared at her filthy bare
feet for a moment before glancing around the playground. “Where’d Jinx go?”

“I think he’s dead,” Hazel whispered,
because saying it too loud would make it too real. “Doc Simmons killed him.”

“You’re crazy.” Patience shook her
head. “I just saw him.”

Hazel shined her flashlight across
the park. “Before I got here?”

“Just now. Under the monkey bars,
watching you like he always does.”

“
You’re
crazy. I didn’t see
him.”

“He looks different. Maybe you
didn’t recognize him. I hope he doesn’t come back.”

“I don’t think he will.” As Hazel
sighed, defeat hung itself across her shoulders like a saddle. She looked at
Patience and wondered if Doc Simmons was right, that there was nothing to be
done and people were only going to get worse. “Do you want me to take you
home?”

“No—we’ll stay here and wait
for Sean.” Patience pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. “We
have candy now, so he’ll come.”

“I don’t think he’s coming
either.” She reached over and pushed Patience’s hair out of her eyes. “And I need
to go and get help. I have to get down to Stepstone somehow so I can bring back
doctors.”

“Noooo, no no.” Patience shook her
head fiercely. “You’re staying here with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Hazel, don’t leave me,
please.
”

“I have to, Patience, I don’t have
any choice.”

“You do—you always have a
choice. I need you, I’m sick. Help me, Hazel.”

“I have to go. Me staying here
won’t help you. You need a doctor, Patience.” Hazel turned her back.

“No! I need
you
!” Patience
grabbed her sling from behind and Hazel twirled around and reflexively raised
her left arm to strike her away. “Don’t hit me again.” Patience shrank back.

“I—”

“You never liked me. The only one
you ever liked was Sean.”

“You’re wrong . . .”

“But he doesn’t like you anymore.”

“Stop it.”

“You’ll see.”

“
Shut up.
”

“Why did you slap me? You don’t
even care about me!”

“Stop it, Patience!” Hazel was
certain she could not take one more awful word, one more harrowing sight, or
one more dreadful thought before shattering into jagged pieces like that broken
mirror in the Mother Lode Saloon.

Then her friend began to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Hazel said softly.
“Just be quiet and stay put. Okay? I’ll come back with help for you, Patience.”
Feeling overwhelmed and woefully ill equipped, Hazel walked away.

Leaving the park, she popped out
onto Fortune Way in front of Rose’s Country Crock. The screen door hung open
but the interior held dark—an uninviting invitation. The Peabodys’ Jeep
was nowhere in sight, nor were there any other cars around. Yet an exhaust
smell hanging in the dead air told her somebody had recently driven by.

Her pulse picked up when she
noticed a light on next door in the old bank building where her dad’s office
occupied what used to be the teller area and the former vault now served as the
lockup.
Of course he’s here.
She smiled in relief, chastising her
foolishness for not thinking to come here sooner.
He’s here
being Sheriff
of Winslow.

She dashed past the Crock,
pounding the wooden boardwalk in her haste, and threw open the glass door
stenciled,
Mathers Bank ~ Established 1888
.

Inside, she found an empty office,
an empty chair, and an empty spot on the table behind her dad’s desk—a blank
rectangle outlined in dust.

It’s not here either . . .
Her spirits sank. The radio.
Damn damn damn! The radio’s
gone.
Of course her Uncle Pard had a radio, but there was no chance he’d
let her get anywhere near that.