It was the one thing Martha had removed from his jacket before they buried him.
She raised her own glass.
“You remembered this place better than I did,” she whispered.
Annie was wiping the counter nearby.
“He came through here years ago?”
Martha nodded.
“Long time.”
“My dad owned the place back then.”
Martha looked up.
“Name?”
Annie paused.
“Samuel Brooks.”
Martha stared at her.
Then she smiled.
“Sam.”
Annie frowned.
“You knew him?”
Martha looked toward the photographs on the wall.
“I knew him before he became a father.”
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a folded photograph.
Three young men stood beside three motorcycles.
One was Rook.
The second was Sam Brooks.
The third was a man Martha did not recognize.
On the back, Rook had written:
Red Hollow. 1982. We owe this place more than money.
Martha's smile disappeared.
Because beneath that sentence was another line.
Written in darker ink.
If Pike ever comes for the Lantern, tell Annie to open the blue door.
Martha slowly looked toward the back of the tavern.
There was, indeed, a blue door.
And suddenly the two drinks on the counter no longer felt like a memorial.
They felt like the beginning of a promise.
The Man Who Owned the Town
Annie read the photograph twice.
Then she looked at Martha.
“Where did you get this?”
“My husband kept it.”
“Rook?”
“Yes.”
Annie touched the photograph with two fingers.
“My father talked about him.”
“What did he say?”
“That Rook was the kind of man who never walked away from a fight just because the other side had more people.”
Martha gave a faint smile.
“That sounds like him.”
Annie looked toward the blue door.
“My father never told me what was behind it.”
“Maybe he thought you weren't ready.”
Annie's expression hardened.
“Ready for what?”
Before Martha could answer, the front door opened.
Vernon Pike entered with four men.
The room changed immediately.
Conversation stopped.
Annie lowered her eyes.
Caleb stepped away from the glasses.
Vernon wore an expensive gray jacket over a black shirt. His boots were polished. His silver watch probably cost more than Annie's car.
He looked around the room as though inspecting property he already owned.
Then his eyes settled on Martha.
“You're still here.”
Martha took another sip.
“So are you.”
One of Vernon's men snorted.
Vernon smiled.
“You should've left when I asked.”
“I don't remember you asking.”
“I did.”
“No.”
Martha placed her glass down.
“You told me to move my motorcycle.”
Vernon looked toward the window.
“Same thing.”
“No. Asking and ordering are different.”
The room became very quiet.
Vernon walked closer.
“You don't know this town.”
“I've been in it for four hours.”
“Then you've already seen enough to know when to mind your business.”
Martha glanced at the photograph.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“My husband used to say the same thing.”
Vernon looked at the photograph.
Something flickered in his expression.
Recognition.
Only for a second.
But Martha saw it.
“So you knew him,” she said.
Vernon shrugged.
“I knew a lot of people.”
“Did you know Rook?”
“I knew Russell Cross.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Vernon's jaw tightened.
“I've got business to handle.”
He turned toward Annie.
“You've had another notice.”
Annie's face went pale.
“Vernon—”
“Final notice.”
“I paid the taxes.”
“Not the new assessment.”
“You raised it again.”
“County raised it.”
“Your company performed the assessment.”
Vernon smiled.
“Then maybe your building isn't worth what you think it is.”
Martha watched them.
“What assessment?”
Vernon turned.
“Not your concern.”
“No,” Martha said. “But apparently this building is.”
He leaned toward her.
“Listen carefully, old woman. I don't know what story you're carrying around in that bag, but Red Hollow isn't the place it was forty years ago.”
Martha's eyes narrowed.
“That's obvious.”
“Then leave.”
“No.”
His smile vanished.
He turned and walked toward the door.
But before leaving, he looked at the photograph again.
“Russell Cross should've stayed dead.”
Martha stood.
The chair scraped against the floor.
“What did you say?”
Vernon opened the door.
“You heard me.”
Then he left.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Martha slowly sat back down.
Annie whispered, “You need to go.”
“No.”
“He's dangerous.”
“So was my husband.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“It is if he was the reason my husband marked this place.”
Annie looked toward the blue door.
“My father died without ever telling me why Rook kept coming here.”
Martha folded the photograph.
“Then maybe tonight we find out.”
Caleb stepped closer.
“Mom.”
Annie shook her head.
“No.”
“But—”
“No, Caleb.”
Martha watched the young man.
“Your son knows something.”
Annie sighed.
“He knows Vernon has been trying to buy this place for two years.”
Caleb spoke quietly.
“He offered us half its value.”
“And when we refused?”
“They cut our liquor delivery.”
“Then what?”
“Health inspector.”
Martha nodded.
“Anything else?”
Caleb hesitated.
“Last week someone broke the back window.”
“Police?”
“Sheriff said there wasn't enough evidence.”
Martha looked at Annie.
“Sheriff's name?”
“Dale Mercer.”
“Does he work for Pike?”
Annie didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Martha stood.
“Show me the blue door.”
Annie hesitated.
Then she reached beneath the bar.
A key came out.
It was old.
Very old.
She placed it on the counter.
“My father told me one thing about this key.”
“What?”
“He said that if someone named Rook ever came back, I was supposed to give it to him.”
Martha looked at the key.
“Then he knew Rook would return.”
Annie shook her head.
“He died in 1997.”
Martha picked up the key.
“Maybe he didn't mean Rook.”
She looked at the photograph.
“Maybe he meant whoever came after him.”
The Blue Door
The blue door opened into a narrow hallway.
Dust covered everything.
Old shelves leaned against the walls.
Boxes were stacked almost to the ceiling.
The smell was a mixture of mildew, motor oil, and paper.
Annie switched on a bare bulb.
“Dad never let anyone back here.”
Martha walked slowly.
Her knee protested with every step.
Caleb followed.
At the end of the hallway was a small room.
There were no windows.
A workbench stood beneath the wall.
Above it hung an old photograph of motorcycles lined up outside the Blue Lantern.
Dozens of them.
Martha recognized Rook immediately.
He was twenty-nine.