The Light by D.J. MacHale

Author:D.J. MacHale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2010-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

15

“He knew about Cooper,” I said, trying to get the sheriff to understand how important that was. “He said he was on the road.”

“What road?” the sheriff asked.

“I don’t know, he didn’t get the chance to tell me.”

We were sitting in the small sheriff’s office in Thistledown. The department consisted of exactly two people: an older lady who was the receptionist … and Sheriff Vrtiak. I guess there wasn’t much crime in Thistledown.

“So he grabbed you to tell you that Cooper Foley was on a road somewhere?” Vrtiak asked.

“No,” I said, and stopped talking. I wasn’t exactly sure why he had grabbed me, other than to blabber some insanity about seeing something and knowing the truth. Trouble was, I kind of knew what he was talking about, but how was I supposed to explain that to the sheriff? I had to choose my words carefully so I wouldn’t sound like a lunatic.

“He grabbed me because he wanted to warn me about something. But I saw him wearing Cooper’s jacket yesterday, so I asked him about it and he told me that Cooper was on the road.”

“You sure it was Foley’s jacket?”

“Well, no. But if it wasn’t, it sure is a coincidence.”

“Coincidence,” Sheriff Vrtiak repeated, thinking out loud. He sniffed, then continued. “What did he warn you about?”

We were now stepping into lunatic territory.

“It was crazy talk, mostly. He told me that he knew. That he saw. And he told me not to follow somebody.”

“Foley?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Then he saw something that scared him and he ran to get away from it and … you know what happened next.”

Sheriff Vrtiak pulled at his eyebrow nervously. I didn’t think he was used to dealing with such drama. Or tragedy.

“George O. was a local fixture,” he explained. “He’s lived here longer than anybody I know. He may be a little … eccentric, but he’s not crazy. At least not by my standards.”

“Well, he sure was acting crazy before he …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. What had the guy done? Committed suicide? Had a terrible accident? Been frightened to death? All the above?

“You say he was scared,” Vrtiak said. “What do you s’pose he was scared of?”

That was the big question and I knew the answer. Sort of. Up until that moment I had only discussed Gravedigger with Sydney. I wasn’t sure if she believed me or not, but I was tired of being alone in this.

“There was a guy,” I said tentatively. “He was standing on the second-floor balcony of the ice cream shop. I think that’s the guy George was afraid of.”

“Who was he?” Vrtiak asked.

There was a yellow legal pad on Vrtiak’s desk. I grabbed it along with a pencil and did a quick sketch of Gravedigger, complete with his sunken eyes and broad hat. Vrtiak waited patiently, then took the pad when I offered it to him. I wasn’t surprised at his reaction. He looked at the sketch, then at me, then back to the sketch. He pulled at his eyebrow so hard, I thought he might pluck out every hair.

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