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“You gave me your card a few weeks ago. In Roseland? You asked about my
father, Big Eddie? I’m sorry. Edward Green. It was at the gas station.” He gives me a brisk, “Hold on.” I hear him cover the phone, then a muffled voice speaking to someone else. I can’t make out any of the words until, “And can you shut the door on your way out please? Thank you.” There’s another pause. “Mr. Green?”
“Uh, yeah. You can call me Benji. If that’s okay.”
“And what can I do for you, Benji?”
I’m at a loss of where to begin. I want to ask questions immediately, demand an
explanation, but my mouth feels dry, and I don’t know if I’m entitled to these answers. The silence begins to drag on until Cal comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. He reaches a big hand under my shirt and rubs my stomach in slow, soothing circles. He leans down and kisses the top of my head. “You got this,” he murmurs. “If you have to talk to him, then talk.”
“Benji?” Corwin asks, his voice sharper.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m… nervous. About calling you.”
“Did something happen?”
“I don’t know. I think so. I think many things happened. I think things are going
to happen.”
“Gossip, huh?” He sounds amused.
“Like wildfire.”
“Griggs?”
“Yeah. And the mayor.”
“Walken,” he growls. “Why am I not surprised?”
“And Traynor.”
Silence. It feels thick. Then: “Did you say Traynor? As in Jack Traynor?” This can’t be good. “Yes.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Oh, Jesus Christ, kid. Have you seen him? How do
you—No. That can wait. Listen to me. You stay away from Jack Traynor, you hear me? That man is a fucking sociopath. Do you understand? You do nothing with Traynor. You say nothing to Traynor. I’m serious, Benji.”
My hands feel clammy. I glance down at the marks circling my wrist, the red having faded into blues and purples and greens. “He’s here. In Roseland,” I say faintly.
Corwin swears. “We were told he was back East. What the hell is he doing in Roseland?” The question seems to be rhetorical, so I don’t answer. I don’t know the answer, regardless. “Listen, Benji,” Corwin says brusquely. “I need to meet with you. Get some information. This isn’t going to be strictly on the record. For now. But if Traynor is involved, this just became a whole new ball game. When can you meet?”
I try to backpedal. “Uh. Look. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. If he’s as bad as you say, it may not be good for me to be seen talking to you, you know? What if he comes after my family? My mom? The Trio?” I tilt my head back to look at the man behind me, making sure he understands what I’m trying to say. He smiles softly at me and kisses my forehead.
“You want to know something, Benji?” Corwin asks, his voice going softer. No, I don’t feel that I do. But there’s something in his voice that I can’t deny. “What?”
“A man called me five years ago. Told me he thought something was going on in
his town. Thought he should alert the authorities outside of the sheriff’s office.
Wouldn’t tell me his name. Said he had a family to think about. That he had a son.” “No,” I whisper.
“When can you meet?”
“I have a store to run,” I hedge.
“Get someone else to watch it. This is important.”
