But there was a gun, too. A semiautomatic. Small, easily concealed. With clips beside it. Lying atop a white, starched handkerchief.

Messing with me. For real.

I was too shocked to be shocked further. And behind that a question loomed. I knew I could be dangerous. That I could get in someone’s face. Could I pull the trigger, too?

My work phone buzzed from an outside pocket of Shovel Pig. A text. I pulled the phone out.

An unlisted number. Untraceable, as it turned out.

>> I hope you like what I left for you.

I looked at the words without them really registering. How long had my phone been compromised? Somehow, getting the text there, outside my house, was worse than if I’d still been in my car.

Me: Who is this?

>>Can’t you guess?

Me: No.

>>Are you sure you don’t want to guess?

Me: Who is this?

>>I’m your brother. Back from the dead.

Fuck. I almost dropped the phone. The shock. The sense of violation.

Then I took a breath. He wanted me flustered. He was telling me he knew all kinds of things about me. That was all.

Me: Not funny, asshole.

>>No, not funny. Apologies. Well, if you won’t guess, I guess you can call me “Hellbender.”

Hellbender. The Goliath of salamanders. Another unsubtle message that he knew my past. I don’t know why I thought “he,” but I couldn’t shake the idea.

Me: Leave me alone. Or I’ll call the police.

>>Oh, by all means. Go right ahead. Shall I tell them about your contraband? Or about breaking and entering?

The man who I’d beaten up on the hill wouldn’t give me a gun, either.

Me: What do you want?

>>I just want to help.

Me: Right. What do you really want?

>>I took care of the guy watching your house, didn’t I?

That made me pause. A jolt like I’d had to hit the brakes at a sudden stoplight. First one cigarette butt, then a half dozen. The almost comical layering of boot prints, erasing the shoe prints. And the weight behind the fence? Was the texter Langer or was Langer dead? But I couldn’t bring myself to ask that.

Me: I don’t want help like that.

>>Hellbender thinks you do want help like that. Hellbender thinks you need help like that.

Me: Stay away from my house.

>>Oh, I have. If I wanted to be in your house, I would.

Me: Just stay away!

I waited a minute. Two minutes. No reply.

A neighbor was mowing their lawn. A leaf blower sounded somewhere in the distance. A bird was singing from a tree above me.

I picked up the gun, hid it under my jacket until I could stash it in Shovel Pig. Along with ammo clips.

I don’t know what army Hellbender thought I would be fighting, but it was a lot of bullets.

[49]