Dark Places

on the soggy living-room couch, each of us at opposite ends, listening to the rain get going again.
    “Trey Teepano had an alibi,” he finally said.
    “Well, Runner had an alibi too. Apparently they’re easy to come by.”
    “Maybe you should go ahead and officially recant your testimony?”
    “I’m not recanting anything until I’m sure,” I said. “I’m just not.”
    The rain got harder, made me crave a fireplace.
    “You know that the farm went into foreclosure the day of the murders, right?” Lyle said.
    I nodded. It was one of forty-thousand new facts I had in my brain, thanks to Lyle and all his files.
    “Doesn’t that seem like something?” he said. “Doesn’t this all seem too weird, like we’re missing something obvious? A girl tells a lie, a farm goes under, a gambler’s bets are called in by a, jeez, by a Devil-worshiping bookie. All on the same day.”
    “And every single person in this case lies, is lying, did lie.”
    “What should we do now?” he asked.
    “Watch some TV,” I said. I flipped on the TV, plomped backdown, pulling out a strand of half-dry hair to check the color. It looked pure shocking red, but then, that was the color of my hair.
    “You know, Libby, I’m proud of you, with all this,” Lyle said stiffly.
    “Ah don’t say that, it sounds so fucking patronizing, it drives me crazy when you do that.”
    “I wasn’t being patronizing,” he said, his voice going high.
    “Just crazy.”
    “I wasn’t. I mean, it’s cool to get to know you.”
    “Yeah what a thrill. I’m so worthwhile.”
    “You
are
.”
    “Lyle, just don’t, OK?” I folded a knee up under my chin and we both sat pretending to watch a cooking show, the host’s voice too bright.
    “Libby?”
    I rolled my eyes over at him slowly, as if it pained me.
    “Can I tell you something?”
    “What.”
    “You ever hear about those wildfires near San Bernardino, back in 1999, they destroyed, like eighty homes and about ninety thousand acres?”
    I shrugged. Seemed like California was always on fire.
    “I was the kid who set that fire. Not on purpose. Or at least, I didn’t mean for it to get out of control.”
    “What?”
    “I was only a kid, twelve years old, and I wasn’t a firebug or anything, but I’d ended up with a lighter, a cigarette lighter, I can’t even remember why I had it, but I liked flicking it, you know, and I was hiking back in the hills behind my development, bored, and the trail was just, covered, with old grasses and stuff. And I was walking along, flicking the lighter, just seeing if I could get the tops of the weeds to catch, they had these fuzzy tips—
    “Foxtail.”
    “And I turned around, and … and they’d all caught on fire. There were about twenty mini-fires behind me, like torches. And it was during the Santa Anas, so the tops started blowing away, and they’d land and catch another patch on fire, and then blow anotherhundred feet. And then it wasn’t just small fires here and there. It was a big fire.”
    “That fast?”
    “Yeah, in just those seconds, it was a
fire
. I still remember that feeling, like maybe for one moment I might have been able to undo it, but no. Now it was, like, it was all beyond me. And, and it was going to be bad. I just remember thinking I was in the middle of something that I’d never get over. And I haven’t. It’s hard to be that young and realize something like that.”
    I was supposed to say something now.
    “You didn’t mean for it to happen, Lyle. You were a kid with some horrible, weird luck.”
    “Well, I know, but that’s why I, you know, identify with you. Not so long ago, I started learning about your story and I thought,
She might be like me
. She might know that feeling, of something getting completely beyond your control. You know, with your testimony, and what happened after—”
    “I know.”
    “I’ve never told anyone that story. I mean, voluntarily. I just figured you—”
    “I know. Thanks.”
    If I were a better person, I’d have put my hand on Lyle’s then, given him a warm squeeze, let him know I understood, I empathized. But I wasn’t, the thanks was hard enough. Buck hopped up on the sofa between us, willing me to feed him.
    “So, uh, what are you doing this weekend?” Lyle said, picking at the edge of the sofa, the same spot where Krissi had put her face in her hands and wept.
    “Nothing.”
    “Uh, so my mom wanted me to see if you wanted to come to this birthday party she’s