“Pick your glass,” Miss Anna said. “There’s three, all alike.”
“Oh, no ma’am. We trust you,” Trevor said quickly.
Miss Anna laughed. No music in her voice, but no needles, either. “No you don’t” she said. “Nor would I in your shoes. Pick. But don’t drink. Not yet.”
“Did you really hex Mark for what he did to those cats?” asked Paul.
Miss Anna didn’t laugh this time. Just shook her head.
“But you could have,” Paul continued. It wasn’t a question.
Miss Anna nodded.
The choice in beverages suddenly seemed very important indeed. Trevor closed his eyes and picked blind, then Paul did the same. Then, Miss Anna said, “Now, which one of you saw it?”
And Trevor said, “Me,” without hesitation. They weren’t talking cats now.
“Shut up!” said Paul.
“It’s all right,” said Miss Anna. “I won’t call the police. We all know that stepfather of yours would have your mother dead before they’d finished digging up the grave, and he’d do it if she was at work and if work was a hundred miles away.”
Miss Anna had just repeated exactly what Randy said to Paul and Trevor’s mother after she and he came back to the trailer from burying the yellow haired man. Paul sucked in a breath and looked at Trevor. Miss Anna lived too far away to have overheard.
“Me,” Trevor repeated. “I saw. Do you need me to tell you?”
“No.” The old woman shook her head. “Now’s when we drink, by the way.” They did, and Miss Anna continued, “I saw it, too, but I don’t have any personal enmity in the matter. This must be done by someone who saw the thing, and who carries it with anger, and maybe a little bit of hatred in his heart. Is that you Trevor? Go deep now, before you answer me.”
Finally, Trevor said, “Yes’m.” Just the one word, but it satisfied the woman.
“Good,” she said. “Then we’ve something to discuss.”
Part two of this story is now up here.
We’re going deep this week over at Trifecta, where we’ve been tasked with using the third definition of ‘deep’ from the Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary in a story of between 33 and 333 words.