Chapter 14: Who Stands Where

The old man pressed the button, and my father's voice filled the clubhouse.

I had already heard it once on the step, and I didn't think I could stand it again.

I stood it anyway, with my hand flat on the table beside the sparrow.

Nobody in that room moved while it played.

A man by the pool table took off his cap.

Another man, a big one with a gray braid, sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

When the voice said Ray's name, thirty heads turned to the head of the table.

When it said, "Tell my girl I'm sorry I'm not coming home," I heard somebody behind me start to cry.

It was Pearl.

The message ended, and the old man shut the phone.

Ray had not moved at all.

"That's a recording of a dying man," he said finally. "A man who didn't know what he was saying."

"He knew who left him," the old man said.

"He was hurt and he was cold, and he was out of his head."

"He called me at twelve past nine," the old man said. "Where were you at twelve past nine?"

"I rode for help."

"There's no help on that road for ten miles," said the man with the braid. "I've ridden it a hundred times."

"I rode for help, and when I came back, he was gone."

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Called Me Dramatic, So I Took the Club from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.