We Begin at the End

by Chris Whitaker

  There was no bed, just a mattress on the floor. No furniture in the room, no paintings or television or books.

  Just a single photo, taped to the wall.

  A photo that took her breath, for the girl looked just like her. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Sissy Radley.

  She left the house and walked the mile, climbed the trails that rose high above the town lights. She stopped halfway, every muscle ached, air pained her chest like her body did not want her to go on amongst the living.

  As she crested the final hill she saw the light, the late service. She had been once before, sat with the half dozen for no other reason than she could not sleep.

  Little Brook Episcopal.

  She walked up the road, alongside the picket fence, came to the door and listened to the heavenly music. She dropped her bag for a moment, leaned against the wood, the long day almost over. With nowhere left to go she made her way to the small grave where her mother lay, beside Sissy, in the part of the cemetery reserved for the most innocent. Duchess had asked they be together again.

  She stopped dead.

  He stood there, tall against the precious night. Behind him the land fell away, the sheer cliffs and endless sea.

  * * *

  At Ivy Ranch Road Walk headed up the path and knocked.

  Brandon looked like shit, said nothing, just stepped aside as Walk went into the house. It smelled bad, takeout cartons everywhere, beer cans, thick dust on every surface. A stack of fitness DVDs, Rock Hard, Brandon sucking in his stomach on the cover.

  Brandon’s eyes looked glazed as he sat down at the kitchen counter. Walk thought of Star, how she’d knocked him back one too many times, and maybe that was why Brandon had let his fist go that night.

  “I know what you did,” Walk began.

  And that was all it took.

  Brandon cried, the dam burst, he cried till his shoulders shook. Walk watched him, the confusion building.

  “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. You have to believe it, Walk.”

  Walk said nothing, just listened as the story broke between sobs.

  “I reached out, like you said. I offered to take him out on the boat. Fishing or something, whatever. I wanted an end to it. But then I thought about it, how he scratched the Mustang. I knew it was him. Who else would do that? At first I was going to report it, but then everything with Star happened. It was supposed to be a joke. To get him back. We weren’t even far from shore.”

  Walk breathed, the confusion passing, just sadness left. “You pushed him in. Milton.”

  Brandon cried more, coughed like he was retching up the memory. “I waited for him back at the dock. I just wanted to show him. Make him swim back. Just a joke. And then he didn’t show, so I went back. But he was gone, Walk. He was gone.”

  Walk sat with him, called Boyd and waited, told Brandon what to say. Be honest. You’ll sleep better at night.

  He watched them take him, Brandon doing the walk with his head bowed low, only breaking once more when he glanced up and saw Milton’s old house across the street. It might’ve been karma, the cosmic forces Star used to talk about. Walk didn’t have long to think it over, because Dee Lane called his cell, and she told him she’d seen someone break into the King house.

  “Did you get a look at them?” Walk said, breaking into a run.

  “It looked like a girl.”

  He ran all the way to Sunset, with the weight gone he moved light and fast. He was sweating when he made it to the door and hammered it hard.

  Round back he saw broken glass.

  He traced her steps, her counterstroke, he knew he was too late for what would come. On the mantel he found the photo, barely recognized the boy he was, but in Vincent and Star he saw only smiles, a snapshot of time he could no longer call back, no matter how hard he tried.

  And then up the stairs. And he too stopped still when he saw it.

  Maybe Vincent could move on from the cell, the warden, the men and the chain-link fences. But he’d never leave the little girl behind.

  * * *

  She watched him a long time before she took those steps.

  “I was waiting for you,” Vincent said.

  Duchess stepped nearer, slowly set down her bag and pulled out the gun. It was heavier than she remembered, right then she could barely hold it up.

  He looked at her like she was the last child, the last good thing in his world. She saw he had laid flowers on the graves, like he had a right.

  He saw the gun but did not seem alarmed, instead his shoulders dropped and he breathed out steady, like he had been waiting on the final end to a lifetime of endings.

  He stepped back as she stepped forward, again and again, until she planted her feet and watched the moonlight behind him.

  Music from the old church carried.

  “I like this song,” he said. “There was a chapel … at Fairmont. I always liked this song. Earth’s joy grows dim, its glories pass away.”

  “Change and decay in all around I see.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to talk.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want you to tell me what happened, I don’t want to know.”

  “Okay.”

  “People say it’s not fair.”

  “It never is.”

  “That day when you gave me a gun. You said it was your father’s gun.”

  “Yes.”

  “I cleaned it like you showed me. Respect it, right? But then I hid it in the closet, even though you told me to use it to protect myself.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you—”

  “So that’s what I’m doing. Hal said you’re a cancer. Everything you get near … you just kill it all dead. He said you don’t deserve to live.”

  “He was right.”

  “Walk stood up in court and told a lie. Star said he was all good.”

  “I’m sorry, Duchess.”

  “Fuck.” She reached up and fixed her hat, her breath left her. Her voice barely held but she steadied her hand and reached for the trigger. “I am the outlaw, Duchess Day Radley. And you are the murderer, Vincent King.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” He smiled gently.

  “I know what I have to do. Justice. Vengeance. I can handle it.”

  “You can still be anyone you want, Duchess.”

  She leveled the gun.

  His tears fell but still, he smiled at her. “I came here to say goodbye. This isn’t on you. I won’t let you carry me with you.”

  She gasped when he stepped back, his arms out as he took flight.

  She ran and screamed and stopped at the cliff edge as the darkness took him.

  The gun fell by her side. She dropped with it, her knees in the dirt as she reached a hand out, over the cliff, and grasped at the air.

  Behind, her mother lay, and Duchess used the last of her strength to crawl over to the grave. She pressed a cheek to the stone and closed her eyes.

  Part Four

  Heartbreaker

  46

  BLAIR PEAK BORDERED THE ELKTON-TRINITY National Forest and the Whitefoot, the kind of town where Walk could have spent the day just staring out at the sprawl of wilderness, at trees so tall it was as if they were reaching up for God’s hand.

  He’d made the drive, past the barren hills and dead grass of a dozen haunted communities, more than a hundred times over the past twenty years, Star beside, counting off the miles in quiet thought. And then, after, as happy as he ever saw her. What demons lived in her soul were exorcised by a man named Colten Sheen, a counselor who worked out of a room above a store that sold second-hand pianos.

  In his hand was a small urn. The service had been brief.

  The last will of Vincent King had been clear and vague enough. The forest spanned six counties and two million acres, Walk figured here was as good a place as any.

  He crossed the street and dropped down, trod the dead leaves to towering sugar pines, and then scattered the ashe
s over the forest floor. He said nothing, no grand goodbyes, just allowed himself a moment to remember a time finally beginning its fade.

  After, he walked up Union Street and found the door, the shop closed up but a light burned against the winter’s day. He buzzed up, heard the door give and headed into the small lobby and up narrow stairs. He’d been in once before, the first time, just to make sure she didn’t bolt.

  “I’m Chief …” Walk stammered. “Sorry, I’m Walker. Just Walker. I used to be Chief of Cape Haven PD.”

  Walk was not surprised when Sheen drew a blank. The man that stood before him had aged nicely, full head of gray hair, an inch off six feet. He extended a hand when Walk mentioned Star Radley.

  “I’m sorry, it’s been such a long time,” Sheen said. “I have someone due in ten minutes, so I can give you those, but that’s all, I’m afraid.”

  They sat, Walk falling into the soft chair, smiling at the serene prints on the wall. Beside was a large window, opening up to a view of the Elkton-Trinity and the white-capped alps.

  “I could lose a day staring out.”

  Sheen smiled. “I often do.”

  “I’m here about Star.”

  “You should know I can’t tell you anything. I’m bound—”

  “Yes,” Walk cut in. “I just … I’m sorry, I found myself in town again, just thought I’d stop by. You see … she died.”

  Sheen smiled, compassion emanated. “I saw it, I followed the story in the news. It’s tragic, really. But still, even in death …”

  “I’m not even sure why I’m here, not really.”

  “You’re missing your friend.”

  “I … yes. I’m missing my friend.” It hit him then, out of all the feelings, all the chasing leads and battling theories, he hadn’t thought about just how much he missed his friend. It was easy to see her troubles, her beauty, everything but the real, sweet person he had known a lifetime.

  “I guess I just wanted to know why she stopped coming. She did well, for so long she did so well. And then it all stopped so suddenly. And she never really came back from it.”

  “There’s a million reasons why people turn back, or choose a different path. Even if I could tell you, it’s been so long. And I only saw her the one time.”

  Walk frowned. “I’m sorry, it is Star Radley we’re talking about.”

  “Yes. I remember you now. It’s not often a patient gets brought in by a police officer.”

  “But, I drove her every week.”

  “Not to me. I did see her though, often. The view, I’m always at the window.”

  Walk leaned forward. “Where exactly did you see her?”

  Sheen stood. Walk followed him to the glass.

  “Right there.” Sheen pointed.

  Outside the cloud swept in as Walk stood on the sidewalk. There was only one bus that ran through Blair Peak and Walk got on, same as Star had, once a month for a dozen years, the bus stop facing Colten Sheen’s picture window.

  He sat at the back, the bus half empty as it climbed the steep hillside and dipped into the valley. Trees rose and shadowed the road.

  A while till they cleared the woodland, California opening up, the plains vast. He got up and walked to the front, stood beside the driver and looked out.

  He didn’t see it till they made the last turn, and then, suddenly and without warning, he realized where he was, and what he stood in front of.

  The bus stopped and he got out, he looked around as it passed. There was nothing else for miles in either direction, just long track road, the razor fence twenty feet high, and the low buildings that made up Fairmont County Correctional Facility.

  He waited an hour, sat in the room alone, held his hand up and watched the tremor. He’d slipped a little, missed medication, life in the way, not his but Vincent’s. It was bad now, the pain sometimes, the fear always. He set his alarm an hour earlier, allowing time for a battle that was getting harder to win. The future was a frightening thing, but then he reasoned it always had been.

  There was a half smile when Cuddy came out. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the stars. I’m finishing up if you want to walk with me.”

  Walk fell into step with the big warden, stayed close behind him at the gates as they opened and locked. A life of it, order and not, keeping the bad inside and good out. He could not imagine such a toll.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t make the service,” Cuddy said. “Not all that into goodbyes.”

  They walked along the fence, towers like silos.

  “There’s things I don’t know,” Walk said.

  Cuddy breathed deep, like he’d been waiting. Walk did not know what they were doing, walking the perimeter, maybe Cuddy just liked the free air after pulling ten hours.

  “Star came here,” Walk said.

  “She did.”

  “But her name, I checked the visitor logs. I checked everything I could.”

  They passed a guard in a tower, Cuddy raised a hand.

  “I like dusk,” Cuddy said. “The end of astronomical twilight. The sun, degrees below horizon. I let them out sometimes, to watch a sunset. Five hundred men, killers and rapists and pushers. They stand together and stare at the sky, it’s the only time we don’t have real trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “The beauty, maybe. It makes it harder to deny higher power.”

  “Or easier.”

  “Don’t lose your heart, Walk. That would be the real tragedy.”

  “Tell me about Star.”

  Cuddy stopped, the furthest point from the prison, between two towers and guards ready to end life just as quick as any jury.

  “I liked her. I got to know her plenty over the years. Vincent King was as decent a man as I ever met. And I got to see it, the change. Scared kid, fearless for a while, and then he got to be okay with it.”

  “What?”

  “His own skin. Okay, but not good. And Star, she helped him. He caused her the pain, and he was the only one that could take it away. He had purpose again.”

  Walk watched the first stars burn, heavenly from out there.

  “He needed her, to feel something again, more than who he was when he wore orange and walked in chains. It played like a marriage, over twenty-odd years she’d come. Sometimes they didn’t speak, at the start, just watched each other, she was all fire, burning up, and he’d look at her like she was placed on this earth just for him.”

  “What about the other prisoners?”

  “Oh, I didn’t let those two in the common room. I mean, at first, of course, but I saw right off she was too young for it, the men were too cruel with their words, promises and threats. Vincent got it bad after, guards broke it up in time but once the others knew his weak spot they’d run with it. There’s another room, an apartment we had. Conjugal, it was to be earned. Just us and three states now.”

  “You let them alone like that?”

  “Vincent needed it … to feel human again. Shit, I needed to see him human again. And Star, the two of them. Cosmic forces and all that. Not a prison on earth could cut that kind of pull.”

  Walk smiled.

  “I couldn’t put it through the logs, not strictly allowed. I watched her, the shape, nine months, that glow, you know. Twice. Two miracles born from despair.” Cuddy smiled.

  “But she didn’t ever bring them—”

  “He wouldn’t have it. Not caged like that. And he didn’t want them to know. Can’t really blame him. He said there’s not a kid out there that wants a father from Fairmont. We talked about it, it gave him resolve. Live life for someone else. That’s not wasted, right.”

  Walk closed his eyes and thought of Duchess and Robin, their blood, that unknown.

  “He asked me not to tell. I said I wouldn’t volunteer it, but also that I wouldn’t lie if someone came asking. I’m a man of my word.”

  “Right.”

  Cuddy laughed softly. “Not many of us left.”

  “I think maybe Star told Darke.”
/>
  “Why?”

  “Just something he said at the end. The things people do for their own, right? They saw that in each other. Vincent and Star, they couldn’t keep it going.”

  “And then it was changed, they pulled the apartment down to make way for the new Cat-5. Vincent wouldn’t have her in the common room again, not after the last time. I mean, these are men that’d make promises, that they’d go look her up when they got out. Empty, but still. Vincent didn’t want that, not for her, not for his children.”

  “So he cut her off,” Walk said sadly.

  “Just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Turning her away like that. He told her move on, find someone else. She still came, a year she waited, in case he changed his mind. And then nothing. I figured she’d found a way to move past.”

  “She did. Not past, just a way to feel nothing.”

  Cuddy said nothing but he knew. There wasn’t a tragedy of any kind he had not witnessed or seen the fallout from.

  “So you didn’t know any of it?” Cuddy said.

  “No. Star knew what I would’ve said. That she needed to look out for herself. That it wasn’t helping, dwelling on the past. Like I know. Like I’m one to talk. Maybe they needed something just for them. Their small family, broken, but theirs.”

  When they reached the gate Walk shook his hand. “Thank you, Cuddy. You did a good thing.”

  “Can I ask, why now? What brought you back?”

  “Chance. Vincent wanted me to scatter his ashes in the Elkton-Trinity. I’m not even sure why.”

  Cuddy smiled, then took hold of Walk’s shoulder and pointed. “That’s Vincent’s cell up there. Eleven-three. Thirty years looking out. You see what it faces.”

  Walk turned.

  And there, above the ranging hills, he saw the two million acres of freedom.

  47

  IT WAS A FINE FALL morning, bright sunlight crossed the mountain behind.