I froze. “What?”
He gave me a sick grin. “That’s what I found out. Those inmates, the ones from Napa, they were caught near Sacramento early Saturday morning. Before we even got here. And by the way, they hadn’t robbed any bank, so I don’t even know where the rumor about the money came from in the first place.”
My mind turned slowly. “Wait, so you knew it wasn’t them . . .”
“But I didn’t get back here until after Rose was shot, and Dunc and Mr. H. were killed. I couldn’t have stopped that. But I was so mad at Archie for what he’d done, for leading everyone into danger and for nothing. He got them killed. And he risked Rose’s life because he didn’t care enough to wait for me to find out the truth. That there wasn’t any money to begin with.”
“No money,” I echoed.
“No.”
“But Rose said . . .”
Tomás waved a hand. “I know what Rose said. That guy, Abel, I think he must’ve been fucking with her when he told her that. He probably heard you guys talking about the money and decided to screw with us. But the thing is, I knew when you and Archie left that you were going after something that didn’t exist. I knew and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t try and stop you. I let you both go. In part because I blamed Archie for everything, but also, because I really fucking hated that guy.”
“Oh.” My mind continued to spin. There were other implications in what he was telling me—something wasn’t right—but I was too drunk to see the whole picture, to put all the pieces together in a way that made sense.
“I’m really sorry, Ben,” he said. “I thought you’d just come back with the keys and leave him. But then the storm . . . I didn’t know—”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly.
He stopped walking. “No, it’s really not okay. Don’t say that. That’s what you always tell Rose.”
I tilted my head. “What do I always tell Rose?”
“That everything she does is okay. It’s not good for her, you know. Or you.”
I didn’t respond. It wasn’t that he was wrong, it just didn’t seem very important at the moment.
“Then who were those people?” I asked. “The Preacher, he kept saying I knew who he was. They were hiding something, for sure.”
Tomás turned toward the flames before answering, letting the smoke blow in his face. “You want to know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think they were transporting drugs. The guy who died last night, Abel or whatever, I was the one who had to move his body when we found him this morning. He had a bunch of meth or something on him, these bags were taped to his chest. They must’ve thought we were on to them about that, but I don’t know where they were going with it or why they were here.”
“Eureka,” I said.
“Eureka?”
“That’s where they were going.” I pulled the paper I’d found earlier from the pocket of the Preacher’s jacket. Pointed to the letters EUR AMTK. “I think they were probably meeting someone there. At the train station, I guess?”
Tomás stared at the paper for a long time. “This is all kinds of fucked up, you know? I mean, in a way, they were just camping like we were. But with drugs. And guns.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t bother mentioning that we’d brought our own drugs and guns. “So do you feel better after confessing that to me?”
“A little, maybe. I’m not sure. How do you feel?”
“About that?” I asked. “Okay, I guess. I already knew you didn’t like me.”
“That’s not true,” he said.
“It’s not?”
“No. I mean, I get that I can be a dick to you. But it’s more that I don’t think you’re good for Rose. Or really, I don’t think Rose is good for you. You remind me of me, actually, Ben. Or you did when you two first got together. I knew my sister wanted to fix you the way she used to want to fix me.”
“Fix you how?”
“Rose never told you?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “I kind of had a breakdown, I guess, when I was in eighth grade. Got really depressed and ended up in the hospital for a couple of weeks. It was part of why we moved. Rose tried to do everything for me after that and tell me what to think so that I’d feel good about myself or whatever, but it got annoying. She resented me for needing help, but it wasn’t help I’d asked for in the first place.”
“And that reminds you of me?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh,” I said. Then I scratched at my legs.
Tomás looked over. “What’s wrong?”
“Bug bites.”
“I got those, too. They’re everywhere.”
“They’re bedbugs.”
“Christ.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course they are.”
I asked him for another cigarette. Better to keep my hands busy than pick off scabs. After handing one over, Tomás ended up flopped beside me again in the camping chair. He threw his head back. And sighed.
I lit the cigarette and smoked silently. Part of me wondered if I should feel angry with Tomás—or even Rose—but I didn’t. Nicotine pooled through my veins, my heart, and yes, there were shadows in the trees and a cruel bite to the air, but from where I sat, there was also a view of the moon rising high in the sky, pleasing in its fullness and the way it lit our small clearing. There was the scent of pine and the crackling of a fire and the promise of things that were good even as we sat in the depths of our very own tragedy. I had no idea how any of that could be, and yet there I was.
I breathed it in. Deeply.
Tried to hold on tight.
43.
THE WORLD CONTINUED to freeze around us, and strange thoughts continued tumbling through my mind, ones about Archie and Rose and all the others. What was it the Preacher had said? We’re very private people. That had been the first lie he’d told us. After hearing that, I’d admired Avery for snapping a photo of him. The girl after the wolf. But then he’d invited her scrutiny. Her probing lens.
Everything afterward, it seemed, had also been lies—who he was and what he wanted. Although perhaps my imagination was limited by the things I believed in. Perhaps the man we’d met had genuinely been both a preacher and a drug smuggler. I had no proof to the contrary and I was most certainly biased by my past experiences with a man who’d claimed to speak on God’s authority. Even so, when I thought about it more, I decided that the Preacher’s first lie to us had actually been, We won’t bite.
The vodka caught up with me, and I soon struggled to keep my eyes open. The effort must’ve come through on my face, because eventually Tomás told me, “Go be with Rose.”
I rolled my head in his direction. “Huh?”
“She needs you.”
“But I thought—”
“Forget what you thought,” he said. “Go on. You don’t need to stay up. It’s too cold.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Me? I’m going to sleep, too. After this.” He pulled out a final cigarette and gave me a weak smile.
I smiled back as best I could. Then I left him there, smoking, by the fire.
—
Rose stirred as I lay beside her.
“Shhh,” I told her.
“Ben,” she said.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered. “That’s what I’m doing.”