Aubrey
AFTER THE ALIBI
The door chimes and I yell, "Welcome to Doug's," then drop the bottle of vodka when I see Silas Everett walk into the bar.
Doug hears the bottle shatter in the sink and rushes to my side. "You okay?"
I nod because words have left me. Completely left me.
The last time I saw him was three days ago when there was a dead cop in my house and he was making me promises I wasn't sure he could keep. To say I've been on edge since then is an understatement.
But so far, things have happened the way he said they would. The detective's death has been on every newscast, but then so has Paul Granger's case. The two were linked together from the first moment and it's the only thing people are talking about.
Silas sits on the barstool at the end, closest to the door. Movement from the back of the room catches my eye, and I watch Deacon put his pool cue down and head this way. He has barely left my side.
Deacon takes the stool one over from Silas. The two men look at each other and nod but don't exchange words, then Silas turns his attention to me.
"Go take his order and I'll clean this up," Doug says as he picks up pieces of glass and throws them in the trash.
It feels like I'm wading through mud as I walk to that end of the bar. Why is he here? When he left the house on Monday, there shouldn't be any other reason for us to ever have contact. While I appreciate everything he's done for Deacon, his wife killed my parents and she's still roaming free.
I don't say anything when I stop in front of them.
"Miller Lite?"
I reach down into the cooler in front of me and pull out a beer, setting it in front of him. He picks it up and points the neck of it at Deacon. "Can I buy you a beer?"
Deacon shakes his head. "No. I'm good. But I would love to know what brought you in today."
Silas takes a swig then sets it down in front of him.
"Just having a beer. It's been a shitty couple of weeks.
My wife, Margaret, hasn't been herself lately.
" Hearing him say her name is like a punch to the gut.
I glance at Deacon, but he hasn't looked away from Silas.
"Really, she's been fighting the same demons for the last ten years.
We just discovered she did a terrible thing when she was young and naive, and she's struggled with that guilt all these years. "
I'm so confused. Why is he saying this?
"I got word today that the DA isn't going to fight Paul Granger's appeal. Shouldn't be long before he's free." He takes a drink of his beer and wipes his hand across his mouth while studying me.
I'm standing here staring at him with my mouth hanging open. Is this what he came here to tell me? That Paul is getting out of prison soon? Hank has already let me know that.
Deacon leans toward him. "What the fuck is this about?"
Silas holds his hands up. "Just stopped in for a beer and a little conversation." He throws a $100 bill on the bar.
"Well, I've got to be going. Like I said, Margaret has been having a really hard time.
I'm afraid she's started drinking again.
I sure hope she doesn't get behind the wheel of a car. That would be tragic."
Oh, shit. What is he saying? Deacon looks at me and then back at Silas. He's struggling to understand as well.
Silas gets up from his barstool just as his phone rings. "I'm sorry, I need to take this. Hello? Yes, this is Silas Everett."
We watch him as he listens to whatever the caller is saying. His head bows, his hand covering his eyes.
"I'm on my way."
He ends the call, looking straight at me.
"It's just as I feared. If you'll excuse me, that was the Corbeau Police Department.
Poor Margaret has been in a fatal accident.
" He pauses a second or two, then adds, "It may not be the justice you wanted, but it's the only justice possible.
" Then he turns and walks right out of the bar.
Neither of us moves.
He's struck us both dumb.
"Did what I think just happened…happen?" Deacon asks.
"He made sure I knew the person who killed my parents just met the same fate." I try to figure out how I feel about this. I wanted Margaret to be held responsible for her actions, but I never said I wanted her dead.
Is her death really justice for me? For my parents?
I'm not sure.
I'm not sure about anything.
The only thing that feels certain is it's the justice Silas felt like she deserved, which leaves me feeling strange. Curious and unsettled. Like a piece of this puzzle is still missing.
Did Silas think that by meting out his own form of justice he would sever this connection between us? We're still irrevocably linked together. Connected forever in a twisted, ugly way.
Because if Silas Everett is ever questioned as to where he was when his wife died, Deacon and I are now his alibi.