A Town Called Evening (Episode III)

Luke takes a trip to Evening, Montana

Luke drove in total silence. With exception to tires on asphalt, the only other sound was the tick-tick-ticking of his mother’s rosary swinging from the rearview mirror. Though he found the noise distracting, Luke’s mother insisted he keep it in the truck at all times.

Evening lay in the shadow of the Rockies, tucked neatly into a valley with little sunshine and thick foliage. The forest possessed a strange stillness. In the hours since Luke crossed into the county, he’d yet to lay eyes on beast or bird. The trees bowed toward the road. Something about their formation reminded Luke of a long gullet of some terrible creature. Half of him wondered (or feared) that the road would come to a sudden end.

It didn’t.

Luke emerged from the forest and into town. The light didn’t improve much. A strange haze hung low. His truck passed newer brick buildings and into what he presumed was “old town” with its wooden slat boards and groundward inclination. Everything looked as though it had been thrown in the wash too many times: faded grey and weather-laundered brown.

It took Luke all of five minutes to drive from one end of town to the other. If this was where Vincent Adder was from, it stood to reason he’d go East to find a wife. There were few people.

Luke noted a lone elderly woman hobbling along the raised sidewalk. She stopped to stare with a void expression. On the snow—fresh by the look—there were some bootprints.

A faded blue and white sign spelled out ‘SHERIFF OFFICE’. Luke pulled into its empty parking lot. He shut off his truck and reached over to his passenger seat for a pair of gloves, eyes lingering on his phone.

The conversation from earlier returned to him:

“Where are you right now, son?”

“On the road.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I took the day off.”

“You took the day off without telling anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand why that sounds a little odd? Your mother’s worried about you. She says you spend too much time by yourself. We want you to move on…”

Luke slid his handgun into its holster and pulled his jacket over the belt. Whether there was a sign outside the door forbidding conceal carry didn’t matter. There wasn’t a plan, really. Luke’s intention was simple: just to “check”.

Yet, he’d been on edge since yesterday.

There was something strange here, something wrong. The mountains penned everything in. Their faces seemed to scowl at him, their peaks jagged and unwelcoming.

Luke scrutinized Grace Kirkwood one final time. With a sigh, he folded up her poster and replaced it in his jeans pocket. Maybe his parents were right and he was slipping.

Luke exited the vehicle and stepped out onto the frozen sidewalk. It was colder here.

He heard a shuffling. Luke looked up to see the stooped old woman from earlier approaching. On her wrinkled face, she wore a half-smile. Her parka was worn through on the elbows, her socks were mismatched. She adjusted the woolen scarf on her cotton-white head. “You’re going to the police?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you from here?”

“No, ma’am.”

She nodded and cast an unreadable look toward the building. Then, the woman turned back to Luke. “My Katie is up there,” she said, gesturing to the mountains. “I’m just waiting for her to come down to say hello.”

Luke was not sure how to respond.

She unclasped her purse and pulled out a picture. “Isn’t my Katie pretty?”

Luke looked at the faded photograph. A young redheaded girl, no more than fifteen, posed in a 1970s-style portrait.

“That’s your daughter?” Luke asked.

“Yes! She just got married last year. I’m here to visit. I’m just waiting… I’m waiting for her to come down and say hello.”

Luke took a step toward the police building. “I hope she doesn’t keep you waiting too long.”

In what appeared to be an urge to follow him, the woman took a step forward. Then, she paused. The woman blinked and looked back toward the mountain. “I have to make sure I’m here when Katie comes down,” she mumbled. “She could come back down any moment and I have to be here. I have to wait.”

Luke kept an eye on her as he entered. He’d need to tell their police. Perhaps the poor woman had dementia.

Removing his hat, Luke stepped inside.

Like most other things in Evening, the atmosphere was odd. It was completely silent, the curtains were drawn, lone a fan stirred the stale air. Light from a single hanging lamp pooled on a plastic table. Beneath it, two officers played cards.

They hadn’t noticed him.

Luke cleared his throat.

Both startled.

Luke offered a tight smile. “Morning, officers.”

They exchanged looks. “Morning,” managed the first. “Can we help you?” asked the second officer.

Luke stopped about two feet away from a counter that separated the front of the office from the back. “I’m looking for a man named Adder.”

The first officer snorted.

“No, you’re not.” A third man appeared. His face was a strange pallor, his uniform wrinkled. The star on his chest spelled out SHERIFF in dull bronze letters. “You’re looking for that woman, his wife,” he finished.

Luke remained as he was, head slightly cocked. This must’ve been the one he’d spoken with on the phone. “Maybe I am,” he said. “Have you seen her?”

“No one sees the Adders,” said the sheriff. He moved closer to Luke, leaning over the counter a fraction closer than was socially acceptable. His black eyes did not blink. “They don’t have a phone,” the sheriff continued, “they don’t have a regular address. They’ve got a fancy home up there in those mountains and if you wanna talk to them, you’ll hafta’ take the trip yourself.”

“Then maybe you can direct me.”

The man’s gaze drifted out the window toward Luke’s truck. “Can’t drive out there,” he said. “Trails here aren’t any good unless you’re walking or riding.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Sharply, the sheriff turned his acicular eyes back toward Luke. A small, sardonic smile pulled on his thin lips. “No, I s’pose you didn’t ask. And I guess you’re not asking me this either but I’ll tell ya’: it’s late to head up today. You won’t get back before the sun leaves. Gets darker in the valley than other places. Once a year, we get twenty-four full hours of night. S’why we’re called Evening.”

“Where’s the trail, sheriff?” Luke’s voice was quiet and low.

They stared at each other. A fly buzzed somewhere in the room. Judging by the sound, it was beating itself against glass or a lightbulb.

A fly in winter?

The sheriff was the first to look away. “I’ll give you a map.”

Luke released the breath he’d been holding in small increments and dropped his right hand from his waist. There was no need for tension, he chided himself. They’re just not used to out-of-towners.

As the sheriff dug around his desk for the map, he never looked away from Luke. “Careful if you do make your way up, sir. We’ve got a… wolf problem.”

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From the author

Thank you so much for keeping up with this pulpy little series! It’s rapidly becoming my favorite to write. These episodes are meant to be under 3k words and easily digestible for you on your busy Monday. Hopefully, I’m hitting the mark!

Also, there are quite a lot of you compared to last month, so let me reintroduce myself! Hello, I’m M.E. Beckley. As a child, I used to tell stories to my younger siblings. I’m all grown up now and telling them to you! I hope that you enjoy what I have to offer. ♥️

Enjoy your week!

Kindly,

M.E. Beckley