The Grove by John Rector

By John Rector

Spare and evocative as a cornfield in autumn, The Grove marks the arriving of a haunting, strong new voice in modern fiction. John Rector writes with misleading grace, spinning out impossible to resist prose with a dismal pulse among each line. this can be mental suspense at its such a lot seductive. I enjoyed it.-Sean Doolittle, award-winning writer of airborne dirt and dust, Burn, Rain canines, The Cleanup, and Safer.--The final time farmer Dexter McCray went off his medicine, somebody wound up useless. So, after waking from an alcoholic blackout to find his tractor caught in a ditch and the physique of a teenage woman within the cottonwood grove bordering his cornfield, issues glance worryingly standard. without alibi and a creeping suspicion that he may certainly be to blame, Dexter comes to a decision to enquire the crime himself. He can’t inform anyone. now not his good friend, the sheriff, who retains supplying to assist him winch his tractor out of the trench. Nor his estranged spouse, whose love he’s eager to win again. and definitely no longer the Tollivers, his redneck pals. thankfully, Dexter’s no longer totally on my own. He has a few aid. within the form of the lifeless woman herself.

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I put it back and reached for another. A collage of makeup and clothing advertisements, meaningless articles about sex and love. Nothing in any of them made sense. I flipped through the magazine faster, then put it down and tried another. Then another. They were all exactly the same, and the pages blurred. I heard someone whisper, and turned around. The kid behind me had pomegranate red hair that spun off his head in ringlets. He had his mother’s coat sleeve in his hand and he was whispering to her and staring at me.

They’d eaten through the deer in an afternoon. But here, no damage at all? I felt the twinge again, and this time I pushed it out of my mind. We were lucky, that was all. I heard Jessica come up behind me. “It could’ve been a lot worse,” I said. She didn’t speak. She moved up slow, and when she saw the body she turned away, hysterical. I tried to calm her, but nothing I said did any good. In the end, I stood behind her and let her cry. After a while I put my hand against her back. “They’re gone.

I’d startled the kid, sure, but I hadn’t terrified him. With a father like Frank Tolliver, it would take a lot more than me yelling to terrify him. This I knew firsthand. ” “Yeah,” I said. ” She stopped pacing and sat on the dirt with her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. ” I took another drink. ” “What can we do? ” She shook her head. ” I didn’t answer. My mind was somewhere else. She watched me for a moment. ” I looked up. I wanted to tell her what I’d heard, but the words wouldn’t come.

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