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“You ever regret living all the way out here?” King pressed, hoping for some kind of conversation to spring up like a weed reaching for the sun.
"You know," Moe said, his voice hoarse and breathless as they worked. "Cinderhill used to be a peaceful place before Dale ruined everything. I guess that’s what you’re asking about. That’s the juicy stuff you want to hear about, isn’t it?"
King stopped what he was doing, looking up at Moe. "I’m not trying to exploit Cinderhill. Get to all the deep dark secrets for fun. I’m worried about Bailey. Her safety. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I don’t gossip. I don’t get involved.”
“I know that. But you care about Bailey?”
“Of course I do. She’s a solid person. I’m a private person and she respects that. Cares for this place. For all the people.”
“Then help me. Tell me what you know and how I can help.”
“Why hasn’t she told you?” Moe huffed loudly as he rolled a few more rocks over to the half-repaired dam.
“She’s not ready.”
“Then that should tell you something.”
“It tells me she’s scared. Overwhelmed. And if you can look me in the eye and tell me she’s safe, that Cinderhill has no looming threat, I’ll let it go.”
“No you won’t,” Moe chuckled. “Don’t bullshit me. I know the look you have in your eyes. I’ve seen it many times before.”
“Oh yeah? On who?”
“Dale used to look like that when he was stuck on something, a dog with a bone, he’d have that same look in his eyes.”
“You think I’m like Dale?”
“Two men may appear similar on the surface but their intentions can reveal their true character. Good intentions stem from a desire to help and make a positive difference, while bad intentions stem from a desire for personal gain or control over others. But their intensity can be the same. You can be the same and opposite all at once.”
“I’m nothing like Dale. I don’t want to control Bailey or Cinderhill. I want her to be free. Safe. Is she?”
Moe looked down for a long beat and then back at King.
“Not once her mother dies.”
“I keep hearing that. And Bailey seems to be in a dark place about it all. Her mother is very ill and refusing any kind of comfort or care. She’s got some weird allegiance to her husband. But what does her mother’s death have to do with Dale?”
Moe let out a deep sigh, leaning against his shovel. "Dale was a good man when I met him. He cared about the community and wanted to make it a better place. But then something changed. He became obsessed with power and started twisting his beliefs into a controlling kind of leadership."
"Everyone keeps telling me that, but I can’t grasp how it all went down. How did he convince people—"
“He didn’t convince all of us. But you have to understand who I was when I arrived at Cinderhill. I was a shell of a man. Broken. My wife of twenty-three years died in a car accident. The same accident that left me all mangled like this." Moe turned his arms so King could get a better look at his scars. “I wasn’t interested in what Dale was doing or trying to do. I was surviving. Barely holding on. I did one little task at a time to keep myself from jumping off the nearest cliff. I knew things were changing gradually, but I was drowning in my own pain.”
“And how did you finally realize how bad it was?”
"People started leaving. People who loved Cinderhill and had been here longer than I had. Not these fly-by-night folks who tried it out and decided they missed the city. No offense.”
“None taken,” King chuckled.
“Well, once longtime residents started leaving, I started paying attention. Those who stayed were being forced to submit to Dale's will. He mostly left me out of it. I kept to myself and did the work asked of me. I think he could tell I was pretty off balance myself.”
"But some people did fight back?”
"It was useless. It would never work. Trying to make him see how absurd he was being was futile," Moe said, waving his hand dismissively. "Now, I’m in a better place and obviously I regret that I didn't do more. I stayed quiet and out of the way, but I should have stood up to him. I had no idea the violence that was happening behind closed doors."
King nodded, feeling a sense of empathy for the old man. "I need you to level with me. Is Bailey in danger now that her mother is so sick?” There was no point in dancing around the questions. If King was going to help, he needed all the information he could get.
