Life According to the Dead

Charlie

As noon approached, the sun crept toward the center of the sky, beating down on Charlie with all the merciless heat it could muster. Beads of sweat pooled at the back of his neck, but he was stubbornly trying to force himself to stay out for ten more minutes at least. The front lawn, he reasoned, wasn't going to weed itself. His gloved hands clawed at the dirt, digging out weeds at the root and then tossing them to the growing pile on his front porch.

His cell phone rang in his pocket, providing the perfect excuse to stop working. Sighing with relief, he yanked off his garden gloves and pulled it from his pocket. "Halliday," he grunted.

"Mr. Halliday?" The young, officious voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Charlie couldn't quite place it. "This is Deputy Police Chief Henry Longwood."

"Longwood," Charlie repeated, recognizing the name instantly. "You're Ray's kid, right?"

An uncomfortable pause on the other line. Then: "Yes, sir."

"I had a few drinks with him last night."

"I could tell," the man said dryly.

Charlie could tell from the sound of Henry's voice that Raymond had a hangover. Of course – Raymond had been drunk half his life ever since he and Charlie had retired a few years back. Charlie immediately wished he hadn't brought it up.

"Well, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"It's about your son. Jim Halliday."

Charlie groaned. "Tell me he didn't get arrested again."

"Oh, no," said Henry quickly, much to Charlie's relief. "Nothing like that."

Charlie waited.

"When your son was eight years old," said Henry carefully, as though wondering how to place his words, "he tipped the police off about the location of a murderer named Zachariah Searcy."

Charlie pushed open the screen door, ducking into his kitchen. The coolly conditioned air washed over him in a welcome wave of relief from the heat. He started to pour himself a glass of water.

"That was ages ago," he said. "What's your point?"

"Searcy broke out of prison," said Henry, "and we have reason to believe he knows Jim was involved in the case."

Charlie ground his teeth together. He muttered a few curses under his breath.

"There's no reason for us to think Jim is in any real danger, of course," Henry was saying. "To be perfectly honest, there's a much better chance of Searcy targeting my father. He was Chief of Police, he made the arrest personally, and his name was all over the file Searcy read. I just thought it would be best to let you know–"

"Why?" Charlie asked.

"Sorry?"

"Why are you calling me? I haven't seen Jim in weeks. Too busy," he added lamely. "Anyway, he's the one you should be warning. Not me."

"It's just..." Henry paused awkwardly. "He and I...Well, I kind of got off on the wrong foot with him, I suppose."

Charlie gulped down his glass of water. "That makes two of us. The kid's detested me practically since he was born." He clamped his mouth shut at once, wondering why he had just told Henry that.