The Vanishing by Gary Brown (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📕

“What sort of evidence?”

“The kind that leaves a trail.”

Virgil turned to walk away. “Are we going to do this ridiculous banter all night? Because if we are, I’ve got more important things to do.”

Fallon grabbed Virgil by his arm, buried his thumb deep into his forearm, halted him mid-step.

“What the…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lutt,” Fallon said. He relaxed his grip. “I don’t believe we’ve finished our conversation.”

Virgil pulled away. “Oh yeah, we’re done,” he said. He placed his aching arm around Fallon and whispered in his ear. “Understand this, you little prick. If you ever try that shit with me again, the only thing compromised around here will be your balls on a fence puller. Am I making myself perfectly clear, or am I speaking in a manner you’re finding difficult to comprehend? Maybe I should slow down my speech for you. Use smaller, less intimidating words.”

Fallon looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Lutt. I believe we have arrived at a mutual understanding.”

“Right answer,” Virgil said. “Now run along like the good little whipping boy you are. I’m sure Prophet’s waiting for you. You wouldn’t want to be accused of shirking your responsibilities.”

“One last thing,” Fallon said.

Virgil stared at him, said nothing.

“The evidence I mentioned earlier. The kind that leaves a trail. I was referring to blood, Mr. Lutt. Like the kind running down your leg.”

Virgil looked down at the smearing mass below his knee. “What about it?”

“Anything you’d care to explain?”

“Not to you,” Virgil replied as he walked away.

45

“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” Sky asked as she hugged her husband. “I was expecting you an hour ago.”

“Sorry,” Virgil replied. “Something came up.”

Sky sensed something was wrong. “You don’t seem yourself,” she said.

Virgil looked down at his knee. “Guess I’m still a little shaken up.”

Sky gasped at the sight of the blood on his pant leg. “Good Lord, Virgil! Did you cut yourself putting up the fence?”

“No,” Virgil replied. He lied. “I tripped in the dark and fell down the stairs. Why do you think you always lead when we dance? Two left feet, remember?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine, honey.”

“Maybe we should go back to the room. I’ll clean it up for you.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s just a scratch. Besides, I ran into Reisa when I walked in and got a first-hand look at his pot roast. Nothing short of the need for amputation could keep me from that right now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sweetheart, I’m fine. Let’s go round up Blessing and eat. I’m starving.” Virgil looked around the room. “Where is the little munchkin, anyway?”

“Probably helping her Uncle Reisa in the kitchen. When you’re not around, he dotes on her like she was his own daughter. Naturally, she soaks up the attention by the bucketful.”

“That sounds like Blessing. By the way, have you seen Prophet’s daughter?”

“Amanda?” Sky replied. “Not recently. She was helping in the fields earlier, though. Why?”

“No reason. I just haven’t seen her around much. She keeps to herself quite a bit, don’t you think?”

Sky nodded. “Now that you mention it, she does. She hardly said a word the entire time we were in the field this afternoon.”

“This may sound odd,” Virgil said, “but do you know if Prophet adopted her?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Sky replied. “Why would you think that?”

“Just curious.” Virgil’s troubled look belied the indifference in his voice. “She said nothing to you about her past that may have struck you as out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

Sky pressed. “Virgil, there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

Virgil hesitated. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Forget it.”

“You don’t ask a question like that out of the clear blue without reason. What’s wrong?”

In his mind, Virgil replayed the conversation he had overheard: ‘We’ve had a hard enough time concealing her identity… You should have killed her after you killed her parents… The FBI will come looking for her… again.’ What in the world was going on? Should he tell Sky what he had heard? He knew Fallon would soon figure out it was him he had been tracking. He simply hadn’t put it together yet. If only I hadn’t fallen! If I hadn’t cut my damn leg on the woodpile, Fallon would never have known it was me he was after. He’d still be running around chasing phantom intruders in the dark. But the conversation he had heard was real, and the consequences that could come from his knowledge of the facts would be grave. According to Fallon, Amanda’s parents had been murdered by Prophet, and Amanda was either involved in some way or a victim herself. Cassandra, Prophet, and Fallon knew about the killings. Were they co-conspirators as well? And now he knew. Why would Prophet want Amanda’s parents’ dead? What could they have possibly done to bring about such a fate? Prophet wasn’t a street punk, not a hired gun. He was a man of God, a seer, a visionary. His strength and leadership had kept them together through good times and bad. He had led them away from the anarchy of the outside world and the evil that men do to this small parcel of land which they were slowly transforming into paradise. No, it was impossible. He was mistaken. That was all there was to it. He had misunderstood their conversation, simple as that. Wasn’t it? Virgil’s mind whirled with indecision. No, he had heard them correctly. He knew because the churning in his stomach confirmed it. And there was Blessing and Sky’s safety to think about, not to mention his own. He wrestled with his thoughts: keep your mouth shut, leave it alone, forget what you heard. No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t walk away from this knowing if what he suspected to be true was true. If he was unwittingly living in the company of killers, then his world had become paradise lost. That was something he could not accept. His stomach pitched again.

“All right,” Virgil