The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney (10 best books of all time TXT) 📗

“Okay, but . . .” His brow furrows. “You’re sure?”

Not long after I started with Maurice, I told him how every week, no matter how diligently I expected it, it would startle me, every time, when he opened the door. I said it to laugh at myself, to joke about how jumpy I was. And then I noticed, a few weeks later, just how lightly he eased the door off the jamb. It slipped into our routine so matter-of-factly, I didn’t see it at first.

It felt a little like this feels, right now.

“Thank you.” I smile and jerk my head away. “I’m sure.”

—

“ARE YOU SURPRISED?” Christie Jones’s voice filters in through a dull crackle.

I lean closer to the center console, where the phone rests in Alex’s outstretched palm. “More surprised that it’s so civil.”

“Civil is the only way they’re going to do it,” Christie says. “Thanks to the charter, Maggie either needs Rose’s consent, my consent to use Rudy, or to prove that we’ve exhausted all peaceful avenues. So without any of that? All she can do is try to suspend the charter. She’s always wanted me to use Rudy to keep the neighbors in line. And if the town votes to let him loose on the Flood, that’s precedent she can use next time she’d like to drive a ‘danger’ out of town.”

“And then there might not be any town to protect.” Alex’s outburst is vehement enough that he nearly drops the phone.

“Yes, Alex,” Christie says. “We agree on that.”

He flushes. Felix absently pats at his arm.

“In any case,” Christie says. “I’m listening to that ‘further information on channel three’ now . . .”

There’s a swish through the speaker as Christie holds the phone up to Maggie Williams’s tinny voice on the TV. “. . . and what of the evacuation?” she’s saying. “Sheriff Christie Jones would like you to believe that her creature can assist. Now, we are all, of course, grateful for his assistance in the Harper incident. But do we feel confident, Lotus Valley, that he will not turn that same violence on us? Because I, your mayor—I’m not sure I do.”

Harper incident. I glance at Alex up front, but he’s studiously watching the road.

Another swish as Christie comes back on the line. “. . . so it’s safe to say the campaign has already begun.”

“So she trusts Rudy to take on the Flood,” I say, “but not to help with the evacuation?”

“It’s not trust, exactly.” Christie’s voice goes dark. “She doesn’t think Rudy’s capable of anything but violence. But she doesn’t see an issue with using that violence for her own ends, either.” There’s a beat. “You’re talking to the pawn shop customers today?”

Alex makes a noise of assent. I think, for a second, of that other other list in his pocket.

“And you’re . . .” She clears her throat. “Sure about the Mockingbird? Jay said he could go later.”

Alex draws his shoulders a little straighter. “She’s more likely to talk to me.”

“All right.” She doesn’t sound happy, but she doesn’t argue, either. “Well. I know you’re thinking about who stole that tape deck. But it’s just as important that you charm the living hell out of these people. Listen to their hopes, their worries, their wildest show business dreams, whatever makes them think twice before voting tonight. Be courteous, be quick, be vague. Felix, I swear to God, if you criticize anyone’s baking—”

Felix sighs all the way around the tight corner. “Once!”

Christie ignores him. “And remember that Maggie has a lot of friends,” she says. “Whatever you do today, assume it’s going to get back to her.”

“If she hasn’t already foreseen it,” Felix says.

Next to me, Cassie shifts, but she doesn’t say a word, or turn away from the window. She’s been trying her best, these last five minutes, to pretend this conversation isn’t happening.

“Don’t get hung up on that,” Christie says. “I’ll be back this afternoon, but until then, Jay’s nearby.” There’s a pause. “Is Cassie there?”

I half turn, too nervous to look at her dead-on. She doesn’t even flinch. Alex is the one who finally has to say, “She is.”

There’s another, longer beat, and it’s quiet enough that I can hear the five of us breathing out of sync. “We’ll talk later, Cass.”

Christie’s name vanishes from the screen as she disconnects the call.

“Does she not want us to see the Mockingbird?” I ask.

Alex chews on that for a moment. “Ms. Jones doesn’t like me alone with her.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Felix drawls. “You always wanted the two of us to agree on something.”

“I work for the sheriff’s office,” Alex says. “She’s a respected citizen. I can’t just avoid her.”

In the quiet that follows, I turn my attention back to the list of names in my hand. “So,” I say. “Our first stop is this . . . John Jonas?”

And that’s enough to finally get Cassie’s attention.

“Please, no,” she groans.

“He bought something,” Alex says with a shrug.

“Apparently an . . . antique bassinet,” Felix reads off the receipt. “You know, like a weirdo.”

Cassie wrinkles her nose. “What does he need an antique bassinet for? He lives alone with his begonias.”

Felix grins. “I’m sensing a lack of respect for Lotus Valley’s second-most accurate prophet.”

“He’s a clown,” Cassie says dryly.

“Must suck that he’s got a place on you in the rankings, too,” I say.

“Wow. Okay,” Cassie says. “I lost the fourth-grade spelling bee on nebula. Did you want to rub that in, too?”

I duck my head, laughing. At least I distracted her for a second.

It was bad enough to think that somewhere among these names was the person who brought me here. Now I also need to convince them that I can fix this.

Even though I haven’t convinced myself.

“What’s wrong,” comes Cassie’s voice from my right. Not quite a question. Rarely a question, with her.

Any number of answers could be correct. The weightless, sliding sensation of a car that’s not under my control. The distant line of the highway out of the corner of my eye, all those exits open in theory but closed to