Borderlines Read Online Free PDF

need if you like.” Fox nodded. “Thank you.” He escorted us to the door, his small family mute behind him.
    Greta suddenly marched up to the woman called Dandelion.
    “Do you know where Julie Wingate is? Has she been hidden someplace?” All four of them looked at Fox. “You may answer.” “No,” the woman said. “Christ.” Greta stormed out.
    “Would you like to see the basement?” Fox asked politely. I could hear a slight inflection of victory in his tone. Rennie patted his arm as we filed by, pretty amused by the entire proceeding by now. “I think we’re outta here.” The Wingates were standing outside with Greta.
    “Better luck next time, Bud,” Rennie called over to Wingate. “My name’s not Bud.” The sheer hostility in his voice caught us all off guard. For some reason, it made me think of when the light gets strangely yellow, just before a big storm hits from out of nowhere.
    Rennie heard the menace in Wingate’s voice clearly. “Hey, look, “I’m not your problem. If you can’t keep your shit together, don’t lay it on me.” Greta looked from one to the other. “Never mind, Rennie.”
    But Bruce Wingate seemed to have found an outlet for his anger and frustration. He was like a stove glowing cherry red. Rennie stared at him for a moment, typically unwilling to walk away and let the situation cool. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” “You people make me sick.”
    The words slipped out between unmoving lips.
    Greta tugged at Rennie’s sleeve. “Drop it, Rennie, the man’s upset.” “I can see that. What I don’t see is why he’s pissed at us.
    Seems to me we put up with enough bullshit from these assholes-them and their fucked-up daughter.” Wingate hit him with his fist hard across the face, making him stagger back. Rennie’s mouth was open, his expression stunned. Buster and I instinctively caught him by his arms and held him. But he didn’t attempt to react. He just watched as Wingate stalked off, stiff-legged, with his wife in tow. Buster patted Rennie lightly on the back. “You okay?” Rennie straightened and shook us off.
    “Yeah. Fucking dink.” He walked away in the other direction, rubbing the side of his face.
    The three of us, Greta, Buster, and I, were left standing in the dark street. “Christ almighty,” I muttered. “What’s been going’ on around here?” Greta looked at me for a moment, and then left us without saying a word.
    As I stood there in the evening chill, I knew one thing: The violence and frustration buried deep inside all of us was working its way to the surface in Gannet, building up slowly, like the sweat of exertion n a hot summer day.
    Buster and I stood quietly for a while, watching Greta’s stumpy figure receding up Atlantic toward the Inn.
    He sighed gently, the vapor from his nostrils caught in the light from the moon and the blanket of brilliant icy stars overhead. I sensed n him a resignation of sorts, not just about tonight’s behavior, but about the causes behind it. He was one of life’s observers, and the social integration I sensed in this town must have been a focus of his tension for years. I felt the sadness emanating from him like the heat from dying embers.
    Buster shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You going home?”
    I hesitated. “I don’t think so, not yet. I thought I might go back to the Inn. I would like to talk to you about all this, though.” He nodded. “I’ll walk with you. I’m stiffening up.” I let him hit his stride in silence for a couple of minutes, knowing he hadn’t forgotten my request. He wanted to give it some thought.
    “You know anything about this group here?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Rennie told me they’re headed by a guy who calls himself The Elephant. They’ve spent a lot of money making friends.” “Right.
    Edward Sarris. Well, Greta and I are still Selectmen, along with Renie Cutts. About five years ago, this guy Sarris comes to one of