Haley stands. “So you just fucking killed somebody else, Jordan? You didn’t think that was something we would maybe, like, want to talk over, first? What the fuck were you thinking?!”
Jordan ignores her. He’s looking at E. “That day on the boat. You said you were with me. Did you mean it?”
“I mean . . .” E hesitates. “Dude, I’m just trying to process—”
“Yes or no, E. It’s not a hard question.”
(It’s not exactly an easy question, though. Not with Haley losing her shit in the back of the cockpit, and Jordan so spookily calm, and E’s head spinning.)
“E. Do you trust me to get us out of this?”
(I mean, what do you say? E can’t exactly tell him no, can he?)
“I trust you,” E says, fast, before he can stop himself.
Jordan nods. “Good. Then I’m sorry this next part has to happen.”
“Wait, what?” E shakes his head. “No. What are you doing?”
Jordan reaches into the cabin. Comes out with a long piece of wood with a spike on the end, like for fishing—
(a gaff).
“I’m sorry,” Jordan says, and it’s not clear who he’s talking to. “I’m doing this for us.”
Then, before E can react, Jordan takes two steps across the cockpit toward where Haley’s standing in the stern. He swings the wood like a baseball bat and catches her in the midsection. She stumbles, and he hits her again.
The second hit knocks her off the back of the boat.
290.
E kind of blacks out.
(He’s pretty sure he’s screaming.)
E starts scrambling. Haley’s splashing in the water and yelling for help, and E’s looking around for a life preserver or a life jacket or some kind of life-saving device, a rope, anything to help her get back on board.
He’s thinking this is a joke, or some weird demonstration, that’s all, and now that Haley’s learned her lesson they can all go back to Capilano and, like, get stoned or something.
(He’s still not really registering what’s going on.)
There’s a life preserver on the sundeck, at the front of the boat. E’s crossing to the stairs to get it when Jordan stands in his way. “Leave it.”
“What? But we can’t just leave her out here.”
Jordan doesn’t move. “I said leave it.” He reaches for the controls. Pushes the throttle higher. The engine gets louder and the boat picks up speed, churning white water behind.
“What the fuck are you doing?” E tries to reach around Jordan for the throttle.
(Behind the Sundancer, Haley is still splashing, still shouting. Every time a wave comes, she disappears behind it. She’s coughing and sputtering. There’s nobody around.)
E makes another grab at the throttle. Jordan blocks him, shoves him down to the deck. E scrambles back to his feet.
(The Sundancer is like forty, fifty feet away from Haley now, and putting in distance. Haley’s hard to pick out in the waves.)
Jordan pushes E backward again. “Don’t test me, E.”
His voice is still calm. Way too calm. It makes E even more desperate.
He gathers all of his strength. Launches himself at Jordan, knocks him into the control panel. His back hits the throttle and pushes it to full bore. The boat surges forward. E and Jordan are both knocked off-balance.
Jordan recovers first. Pushes himself to his feet and picks up the gaff hook. Waves it around like he’s the leadoff batter. “I told you not to fuck with me,” he says.
Then he swings.
291.
E’s thinking three things as that gaff connects:
1. Haley is going to die,
2. I’m going to die, and
3. This might not actually be a love story after all.
292.
But Eric doesn’t die.
He wakes up in the cockpit of the Sundancer. Jordan’s at the controls. The engine is howling. The boat’s slicing through the water.
They’re racing the waves back to Capilano.
Eric is alive.
Haley is gone.
293.
Eric throws up.
He retches and pukes all over himself, and then he rolls over and pukes some more. He can’t stop seeing Haley in the water. Can’t stop hearing her scream.
“Oh, for god’s sake, E, grow up.”
This is Jordan. He’s still standing at the controls, but he’s looking back at Eric, his features are hard.
“Pull yourself together, dude,” Jordan tells him. “We’re almost back in town, and we have some serious shit to cover before we get there.”
Eric sits at the back of the cockpit and stares at his shoes, and tries not to puke any more. Tries not to think about Haley. Jordan slows the boat to an idle and ducks into the cabin, and Eric’s afraid he’s coming out with the gaff again, but he just hands Eric a bottle of Fiji water.
“We had to do it,” he continues. “You get that, right? The police were onto Haley. They have her picture. If they tied her to ’s murder, they know she’s part of the Pack. And that makes her a liability.” He looks at Eric, his eyes wide and earnest.
“I couldn’t let her lead them to us, E,” he says. “There’s too much at stake here. We’re not finished yet. You understand that, right?”
Jordan motions to the Fiji water, tells Eric to drink up, but all the designer water in the world isn’t going to make Eric feel better. He cranes his head above the side of the boat. They’re a few hundred yards from the entrance to the Capilano Marina. The city is spread out before them, the lights twinkling on as the day comes to an end, the mountains behind it turning purple in the evening sun.
(It still looks like paradise.)
“I did this for us,” Jordan’s saying. “I know it seems crazy, but I need you to trust me. If we stick together, we can fix this whole fucking town.”
294.
(As if that makes Eric feel any better.)
295.
Haley’s mom’s Porsche is parked in the shadows at the back of the marina lot.
“These next few minutes, hours, they’re important,” Jordan says. “We need to be smart, and we need to move quickly.”
Eric doesn’t answer.
Eric’s thinking, I don’t want to do this anymore.
But Jordan reads his mind. “I need you here, E,” he says. “And you need me, too. They’ll burn you for the movie star just like they’ll burn me. And then the Pack will be finished and this town will be fucked.”
“But that’s bullshit,” Eric says. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You think that matters? You were in the room when died. You were part of the plot to cover it up. Nobody’s going to care that you didn’t swing the vase. And let’s be honest, there’s no real proof that you didn’t.”
Eric doesn’t say anything.
“You were there with Mike, too,” Jordan continues. “You really want to face down two murder charges alone?”
E feels numb. This isn’t happening.
(Haley’s dead.)
(You’re his sidekick.)
“First thing we need to do,” Jordan says, “is ditch this car. Follow me in the Tesla.”
He holds out the keys. Eric hesitates. Jordan takes Eric’s hand and presses the keys into his palm.
“Hey,” he says. “Just do what I tell you and everything’s going to be fine.”
296.
Jordan drives the Porsche out of the marina. Turns east through Capilano and takes the bridge over the bay and into the city. Eric follows in the Tesla, up the arc of the suspension bridge and then down the other side, into the giant park that marks the city gates. It’s nighttime now, full dark, and as they cut through the black forest, the Boxster’s brake lights are the only thing Eric can really see. Eric follows the brake lights. There’s nothing else he can do.
Jordan drives out of the park and into the city. Bypasses the financial district, and drives toward Railtown. Eric follows him up Hastings
to Main Street, where he turns south, just before the Railtown Health Center. They drive a couple blocks, and then Jordan signals right and pulls into an alley across from the bus station.
He stops the Porsche in the shadows. Eric waits in the Tesla. He watches the brake lights extinguish, and then he watches Jordan wipe the steering wheel clean with the sleeve of his hoodie. Jordan wipes the rest of the car down too, the inside and the door handles. Then he steps out. Looks around once, drops the keys down a sewer grate. Walks back to the Tesla and climbs in.
“They’ll think she hopped a bus somewhere,” he says. “By the time anyone finds her, she’ll be unrecognizable.”
Eric’s stomach turns. He doesn’t want to think about Haley this way.
“They’ll all think she’s the bomber,” Jordan says. “As long as Paige doesn’t spoil it for us, we should be golden.”
He reaches across the car, takes Eric’s hand, squeezes. “So let’s go make sure Paige doesn’t spoil it.”
297.
Paige. Shit.
Eric drives. He’s pretty much on autopilot right now. His head is throbbing from where Jordan hit him with the gaff hook. Plus, it hurts to breathe. He might have a broken rib. And he’s probably in shock. The events of the past hour are still sinking in.
Jordan doesn’t seem worried at all. He turns on the radio. He looks out the window and watches the city go by, cranes his neck to look at a cargo ship passing under the bridge.
Paige is still alive. E told Jordan she was gone, but that was a lie. She’s probably still at home. She has no idea what happened to Haley.
She has no idea what’s headed her way.
Jordan picks up on Eric’s vibe. He squeezes Eric’s hand again. “I know this is hard for you. Haley was a good person. She died for the Pack. That’s the ultimate sacrifice, and we should respect it.”
(Run, Paige. Charter a fucking jet and fly to, like, Fiji. Get out now.)
“Paige is a liability,” Jordan says. “She’s a threat. For all we know, she’s the freak who’s been threatening to out us online. We can’t let that fly, E. We have to deal with her.”
Eric drives up the mountain. Turns onto Paige’s street. Creeps the Tesla down the block until they’re in front of her house.
There’s a light on in the upstairs window.
(RUN, PAIGE. GET OUT OF THERE.)
“Keep going,” Jordan says. “Park out of sight.”
Eric idles the car forward until they’re in front of the next house, hidden by a tall overhanging tree.
“Perfect. Kill the engine.”
Eric does.
298.
Jordan climbs out of the car. Eric climbs out too. He kneels down on the pavement and pretends he’s tying his shoe.
He takes out his phone.
(He could call the police right now. 911. Save Paige’s life. He could get back in the Tesla and drive until the battery died, leave Jordan here to get burned.)
(But if Jordan gets burned, Eric gets burned. And it’s all fun and games playing martyr to the cause when you’re facing a criminal mischief charge, but murder? No thanks.)
(Eric isn’t calling the cops.)
He finds Paige’s number. He texts her—
(RUN. OUT THE BACK DOOR. RIGHT NOW.)
—and presses send just as Jordan peeks his head around the front of the Tesla. “What’s taking so long?”
“Shoelaces,” Eric tells him, sliding the phone underneath the front tire. “Be ready in a second.”
“Well, hurry up,” Jordan says. “We can’t afford to waste time.”
299.
CUT TO: PAIGE
. . . who is trying to Google lawyers on her phone when she gets Eric’s text.
RUN. OUT THE BACK DOOR. RIGHT NOW.
Then she hears the voices in the driveway.
Shit.
It’s too dark outside to see who it is. The driveway lights are off, and there aren’t any streetlights. All Paige can see are shadows. She crouches as far away from the window as possible, and listens.
The voices come up to the front door. Then the doorbell rings. It’s LOUD in the silent house. Paige feels her heart jump.
(If it’s the cops, Eric can go screw himself.)
But it’s not the cops.
Paige figures this out quick.
(Just as soon as she hears the front window shatter.)
300.
Jordan breaks the front window with a patio stone. He reaches in and fiddles with the lock. Then he tries the doorknob. The door swings open.
“Let’s hope they didn’t set the alarm,” he says.
“Yeah, let’s hope,” Eric says, as loud as he can without sounding loud. “That would really be a shame.”
Jordan gives him a funny look, and then he disappears into the house. The front hall is dark. The whole house is silent. Eric listens, strains his ears for signs of life, praying he doesn’t hear any. He doesn’t, thank god.
(Eric’s not sure what he’ll do if Jordan really does find Paige. He’s hoping he can convince them both to stay calm, take it easy. Hoping he can:
a) keep Paige from finding out about Haley,
b) keep Jordan from killing Paige, and
c) keep Paige from calling the police.)
(Good luck.)
“Paige?” Jordan’s voice breaks the stillness. There’s no answer. Not a sound. Jordan pokes his head into the empty living room. “Guess they really did bail on this place, huh? Come on. Let’s check out the upstairs.”
He starts up the front stairs. Eric reluctantly follows.
(Run, Paige, run!)
Jordan and Eric reach the upstairs landing. They’re at the end of a long hallway. Doors on either side, bedrooms. Paige’s bedroom is the second on the left.
(Paige’s room is where the light was coming from. Eric knows this, but he doesn’t tell Jordan.)
Jordan creeps down the hall. Eric follows. He tries to act like he’s being quiet, but he keeps bumping into things. He steps on the creaky floorboard. He even tries to breathe loud.
Jordan looks back. “You gotta be quieter,” he whispers.
Eric shrugs and tries to look apologetic.
(Sometimes it pays to be a perennial screwup.)
They reach Paige’s bedroom door and pause. The door is half open. Eric fights the urge to scream something, give the game away.
(You warned her. If she’s still here now, it’s her own fault.)
Jordan looks back at Eric, checks that he’s ready. Eric nods.
Jordan pushes the door open.
(Eric holds his breath.)
(RUN!)
Then Jordan swears. “Damn it.”
Paige’s bedroom light is on, but the room is empty.
Paige is gone.
301.
Paige can hear Eric’s voice behind her as she hurries down the back staircase. Can’t make out the words, but she knows damn well it’s him. And that means Jordan’s probably with him, and maybe Haley, too. From the tone of Eric’s text, Paige is pretty sure why they’re here.
To keep her quiet.
Shut her up.
Maybe even kill her.
(They’re your best friends, dummy. They’re not going to kill you.)
But Paige thinks about Michael McDougall. And she thinks about Eric’s text. She hurries down the back staircase and into the kitchen. Creeps across the dark room as quietly as she can. Unlocks the back door and slips out into the yard, slides the door closed behind her.
She’s on the deck now, her heart pounding. Can’t hear the voices anymore. She hurries across the deck, down the little stairs onto the grass, and across the grass toward the back alley. Toward safety.
She’s almost there when she collides with something. Something dark, something hard and metal. It clatters away with a sound like a gunshot, startling the neighbor’s dog into a barking frenzy. Paige trips and falls, scrapes her knee. Her fucking mom’s garden furniture, a table and chairs. The real-estate
agent pulled it out for the viewings.
Shit.
It’s wrought iron and solid. It really freaking hurts. Paige touches her leg, feels the rip in her pants, the skin raw underneath. Then a light comes on behind her, the kitchen light. There are lights for the backyard, too. If they come on, Paige is toast.
She has to get out of here.
Paige half crawls, half stumbles to the back fence, the gate. Pulls it open and slips through, closes it behind her as quiet as she can. Staggers down the alley with her heart threatening to rip through her chest.
302.
CUT TO: JORDAN AND ERIC.
“What the hell was that?” Jordan peers out at the backyard. “Did you hear a noise back there?”
“Probably just a raccoon or something,” Eric replies. “Maybe, like, a skunk.”
Jordan frowns. “Sounded pretty loud to be a skunk. Let’s check it out.”
Eric opens his mouth to argue, but Jordan’s already halfway out the door. Eric follows him onto the deck. They look around. It’s dark, no moon in the sky. A dog barking next door, a car horn down the block.
“What’s back here?” Jordan says. “I can’t remember the last time I was at Paige’s house.”
“Just a backyard. There’s some grass and a garden.”
“And behind that?”
Eric hesitates. “The garage. And the alley.”
“Let’s go.”
They cross the backyard. Make the fence, and the gate. Jordan pulls the gate open, and he and Eric peer out into the alley. They can’t see anything. They can’t hear anything. “Let’s try the garage,” Jordan says.
They check the garage. There’s nothing in there but boxes and Paige’s dad’s motorcycle. The light from the open door casts a beam over the backyard, though, and Eric sees what caused that huge crash.
Garden furniture. A table and chairs, antique metal, pretty ornate. The table lies on its side, midway between the house and the back gate. It’s way too heavy for a skunk to knock over.
The Fixes Page 21