Page 49 of Whistle
“I’ll be damned.”
Harry looked off into the distance and stood. “We’re not far from the road here.”
“Beyond that tree line,” Dell said.
Harry said, “Thanks, Dell, I’m just gonna look around a bit.”
“Yeah, sure, knock yourself out. If I was you, I’d maybe give the other farms around here a heads-up, you know?”
“Good advice.”
He slowly paced the edge of the creek, then steered toward the tree line, looking to see whether anyone or anything had parted the tall grasses along the way. There hadn’t been much rain this week, but there’d been a couple of overnight showers, so it was possible there might be some tracks left behind where the grasses gave way to open ground.
Harry stepped gingerly, not wanting to miss, or mar, anything. But as he moved slowly to the trees, he didn’t see much that caughthis eye. No impressions left by shoes. He did spot a short trail of some kind of animal footprint, and not one he recognized. It was nearly a foot long, and didn’t look like a print from a lynx or a bobcat or a bear, either. He took a couple of pictures and continued on.
He worked his way through the line of trees and reached the road, a two-lane stretch of blacktop without a building in sight. Stood there a moment, thinking about what had been done to Angus Tanner, and now Zeke, and wondered what in the hell he might be dealing with here.
He turned, ready to retrace his steps and get into his car, which he’d left by the Peterson house, when something dark but shiny caught his eye. He stopped, bent over, picked up the item, and had a close look at it.
It was a cracked, tinted lens that evidently had become dislodged from a pair of sunglasses.
He was driving back into town, talking on the radio to Mary, when he learned that there had been an explosion over on Barrett Avenue. That was around the corner from Harry’s house.
“One fatality,” she said. “Darryl Pidgeon.”
“Say that last name again?”
“Pidgeon. Like the bird but with adin it.”
“Rings a bell. I think Dylan hangs around sometimes with a kid named Pidgeon. Can’t remember his first name. Wonder if it could be the same. What happened?”
“Some kind of barbecue thing. Blew up.”
“Christ. I’ll swing by on my way back in.”
There were still emergency vehicles lining the street when Harry turned down Barrett. He parked his car a few houses away and walked up, spotted someone he knew from the Lucknow Fire Department.
“Jess,” Harry said, waving the man over. “What happened here?”
Jess filled him in. “Poor bastard got scattered all over the place. Still finding pieces.”
“Isn’t that kind of over-the-top for a barbecue accident? I mean, I’ve seen people get burned up pretty bad, but, Christ, blown to pieces?”
Jess shrugged. “Early days yet. Got to do our investigation.”
“Anybody else hurt?”
“Wife was in the kitchen, got hit by some glass, got a couple cuts. Paramedics patched her up here on the scene. Lucky thing the boy was in the dining room, far enough away that the glass didn’t hit him. He was playing with his birthday present.”
“It was a birthday? Were there lots of other kids here?”
“No. Just the kid and his mom and dad. Dad was cooking up dinner.”
Harry sighed. “What’s the boy’s name?”
“Auden.”
“Auden,” Harry repeated. “Thought I recognized the name Pidgeon. Auden Pidgeon. Hangs out sometimes with our Dylan.” Which gave Harry a moment’s pause, thinking about what might have happened had Dylan been invited over to be part of the celebration.
