Page 15

The fact that he continued to speak lucidly—well, lucidly for Malachi—inclined me to think he hadn’t been bitten by a copperhead, but he was scared and alone, and I couldn’t bring myself to hang up on him. I sighed hard.

“Where are you?”

“Oh thank you, thank you Eden—I owe you one. I owe you big. When will you be out here?”

“First…” I pronounced every letter in the small word, for I was determined to keep my cool. “First you have to tell me where you are. ”

“I told you, I’m at the Bend. I’m outside. There’s a payphone, but I’ve got to get off of it before somebody sees me. ”

The Bend.

Like the Barrel, a place recognizable even without its first name. I knew roughly where it was, but I wasn’t one hundred percent positive how to reach it. That’s the beauty of city planning here—there wasn’t any.

Moccasin Bend—the state mental-health facility—is located upon Moccasin Bend, a thumb-shaped peninsula created by a sharp crook in the Tennessee River. From the brow of Lookout Mountain the river rather decidedly resembles a snake, and thus the name, or so I guessed. Since it’s surrounded on three of its four sides by running water, I had to assume that there would be but one way out there short of swimming—and I wasn’t sure what that one way would be.

“Malachi, I know you’re at the Bend. But I need for you to be more specific. I’ve never been there before, and I’m not sure I can find it. How did you get there?”

“Okay, okay. ” He was excited now, knowing I was coming for him. “Okay, go downtown. ”

“I am downtown. ”

“North or south of the river?”

“South. I’m a block or two over from Miller Park. ”

“Okay. Go towards the river. Go over the river, I mean. Go over the drawbridge to the north side, and go left at that first stoplight there. Do you know where I mean?”

“Frasier Avenue, yeah. I know what you’re talking about. ”

“There’s that road that runs underneath the interstate, and it dumps onto the road right there to the left of the stoplight. There are signs talking about it being a bike route to Moccasin Bend. Follow the signs. That’s how I got here. It’s kind of confusing, though. ”

“That rings a bell, now that you mention it. ” I’d thought about trying to scribble down some notes, but I didn’t have anything handy in the car and I had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about anyway. There are a lot of scenic bike routes around the valley, and if one ran out to the Bend, so much the better.

“It’s dark out here, Eden. Please hurry. ”

“I’m doing my best. Now where do you want me to pick you up?”

“I’m on the road—” And here it sounded like he dropped the phone, or he was shifting to hide himself. “I’m not out to the sign yet. I’ll try to get all the way to the sign before you get here. ”

“What sign?”

“There’s a sign that marks the entrance. It’s two signs, actually. Big concrete ones that look like they were put up in the sixties. You have to pass them to get onto the grounds. ”

“And you’ll meet me at the signs?”

“I’ll try to. ”

I shifted the phone to my other ear. “Malachi, so help me God if I get to those signs and you’re not there, I’m turning around and driving home. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” he whined. “I’ll try to be there, but it’s farther out than you’d think. I’ll come out to the signs as fast as I can. ”

“All right then, so will I. ” I hung up then, tossing my cell phone onto the passenger’s seat and clutching the steering wheel so tight I thought I might bend it.

I tried to picture the Bend in my mind, and compare its location to my mental map of the area. Once I got to Manufacturers Road, if I kept bearing west and south towards the river, I’d have to hit upon the entrance eventually—or so I hoped.

As I neared the edge of the peninsula, I found myself in a darkness that mocked my headlights for their woeful inadequacy. I passed a big liquor store on my left, but it was closed; and on my right I saw a few enormous factory buildings in various states of repair.

In front of me there was nothing at all, except for a strip of pavement that slithered off between the trees. I turned on my brights, kept my eyes open for signs, and hoped for the best. The road was growing less linear and flat by the foot, so I drove more carefully than I usually do. Every curve was blind, and every hill promised obstacles just beyond my vision.