Page 69 of Call Off the Dark

“He took the gun with him, which he usually doesn’t do because he leaves it here for me because—well, never mind why.” She wasn’t about to explain what had happened to Tyler. “And when he came back there were spent shells . . .”

Helen trailed off, knowing her vague explanation wasn’t sufficient, but now that she knew Wade had only pointed the gun at the sky and fired, her sense of loyalty to her husband had to take precedence over his brother. She continued rolling the piece of wood back and forth with her foot.

Isaac’s boot came down on the wood, preventing her from rolling it further. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

She studied the thick sole on his shoe, the leather material, the knot on the laces at the top. Her eyes continued to drift up, past his worn jeans and the black canvas work shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms, until finally she was looking at his face. They were standing close together now, too close for a normal conversation. She took a step back and crossed her arms against the cool wind.

“He’s been saying some things that worry me. He seems to be under some kind of emotional strain, and I think maybe your visit triggered it.” Helen chose her next words carefully. “I think it’s guilt about the accident and maybe some resentment about past issues between you two.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “He talked to you about the accident? What did he say?” For a flicker, she saw defiance in him—maybe even anger—but it was gone so quickly that once it had passed she wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Not much. That you were hurt badly, and he was devastated and left town not long after.”

“That’s all?”

“More or less.”

Isaac waited expectantly, and she knew he wanted her to elaborate on what “more or less” meant. When she didn’t, he smiled faintly in acknowledgment that she wasn’t going to share and he couldn’t make her.

“I’m sorry, Isaac,” she said, “but maybe the best thing would be—I don’t know, maybe you should go.”

“If Wade’s in trouble, I want to help.”

“I’m not sure you can. And I’m not sure it’s safe for you. I think he’s having a mental health episode.”

All day something had been nagging at Helen, something dark and insistent in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure it was an idea she should give wings to by putting it into words, but it had to be asked now. “Isaac, the accident? Was it definitely an accident?”

Isaac crossed his arms, mirroring her own stance, and his face hardened. “You’re asking me if your husband is the kind of man who would deliberately run over his own brother with a tractor?”

She’d offended him, it seemed. “No, I’m sorry. That’s a stupid question.”

“Do you think he would?”

“No.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

When she didn’t answer right away, Isaac asked, “Do you think I would just pop by for a visit if my brother had tried to kill me?”

“Unlikely.” Helen managed an uneasy smile. She didn’t want to be in this conversation any longer. “I should go inside.”

“Wait.” Isaac uncrossed his arms and stepped toward her, his eyes tender now. “I’m sorry. Your question surprised me is all. Is everything okay?”

“Not really.” They were standing too close again, but she’d already backed up the first time he’d advanced on her. It would be a strange dance if she retreated again, so she held her ground as if the space between them was perfectly normal, as if she wasn’t just tiptoes and one sway away from kissing distance. “Some of the things he’s saying sound threatening.”

“Toward you?” Isaac’s voice was low now, intensely probing.

Helen shook her head. “No, toward you.”

“Doesn’t matter what he’s saying. Wade can’t hurt me,” Isaac said firmly.

“But would he try?”

Isaac seemed to weigh his words before he spoke again. “Growing up, our parents were tough on us. How much has Wade told you?”

“Not much.”

“Some parents make their kids hug it out after a disagreement. Not our dad.” Isaac’s expression tightened. “He made us solve our disagreements with a good old-fashioned fight. Winner gets their way.”