Jerry snorted back laughter. “WalMart? Fuck man, you’re in worse shape than I am.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, Jerry,” Danny began, trying to sound somewhat intelligent and together. He’d held his WalMart job for ten years and prior to that he’d held a series of dead-end jobs that paid little in both personal satisfaction and salary. He guessed Jerry had been through the same drill, and realized their lives had taken such a dramatic turn for the worse because of what they’d been through. He’d heard Jerry had been a straight A student before Raul was killed; Danny himself had gotten very good grades up until the tenth grade. “I...I don’t want you to think that I’m going to...say anything.”
“Well, what the hell was I supposed to think, man? I mean—shit, you come here and you’re all freaked out and shit. What the fuck?”
“I just wanted to make sure they hadn’t gotten to you,” Danny explained. “And if they hadn’t, I had to warn you.”
“It isn’t fair this shit is happening,” Jerry said, pacing the living room. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong, Danny.”
“I know.”
“We were just kids.”
“I know.”
“Rudy Valesquez was asking for it. If he hadn’t started this shit, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Yeah, but I just thought of something else,” Danny said.
“What’s that?”
Danny looked at Jerry. “If what happened back then hadn’t happened...things might have been worse.”
Jerry was silent.
“You know what I’m talking about, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what are we going to do about it?”
“We’re going to deal with it. Same as before. You know that old saying...repeat a lie often enough, you start to believe it.”
“I know that one. And to tell you the truth, I’ve repeated the same story over in my head so many times it’s like an alternative memory.”
“You hear from Bobby’s parents at all?”
“No.” Danny sighed. “We kept in touch for a little while. After it happened, you know. His mom got real depressed...got hooked on pills. Katie...she became a fucking druggie for awhile, than snapped out of it. Bobby’s dad took it real bad. He quit his job, moped around the house a lot, then they just moved out.”
“Yeah, I remember that.”
“Bobby’s mom gave me her number,” Danny continued. “And every year my mom would send them Christmas cards. When I graduated high school, mom sent them my graduation photo. Bobby’s dad called around then. He sounded real proud of me. Said he was glad I’d gone on with my life and he made me promise to make something out of my life.” He looked down at the floor. “Some promise I made him.”
“You haven’t heard from them since?”
“No.” Danny sighed. “Last I heard from them was maybe twenty years ago, after they moved to San Diego. I have no idea where they live now.”
Jerry sighed. For the first time since Danny arrived, Jerry seemed to relax. “Maybe that’s a good thing then. There were only four of us that day, and you and I are the only ones left to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” Danny said, almost adding, I wish that wasn’t the case though. God, I wish that wasn’t the case. Instead, he asked, “Listen, you got anything to drink?”
“I got beer in the fridge.” Jerry headed to the kitchen and Danny followed him.
“I thought you don’t drink anymore.”
Jerry opened the refrigerator. “I keep a bottle or two around the house just in case somebody needs one.” He pulled out a bottle of longneck Bud and handed it to him. “And you look like you need one.”
Danny took the bottle and opened the twist cap and drank deep.
Jerry pulled another bottle out of the refrigerator and opened the twist cap. “I’ve only got two more,” he said, handing it to Danny. “You want to kick back for a few before you split?”
“Yeah,” Danny said.
They went to the living room. Danny finished the first beer in one hearty gulp and took the second beer. Jerry poured himself a cup of coffee from a freshly brewed pot and took a sip. Then, with the afternoon sun casting its rays between the drawn blinds, they stepped tentatively around the subject of Raul Valesquez and brought each other up to date on their lives over the past twenty-three years.
JUNE, 1977
Danny Hernandez’s mother was a divorced woman raising two kids by herself in the heart of the beast that was suburban Los Angeles.
During times of retrospection, usually when he was stoned or drunk and his mind happened to go back to those hazy days, that was the one thing Danny thought about—that his mother worked her ass off to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Their father pitched in with child support payments and little else. Danny’s responsibilities at home were greater than most kids his age. He would race home from school to beat Tina home, who usually got a ride from a friend’s mother. Danny would ride his skateboard to Anna’s house, pick up Tina, then escort her home. Once there he would start dinner and keep her occupied until their mom got home from work, usually around six p.m.
But if it was a day he had to deliver the paper, things worked differently.
He had pestered his mom for the paper route. She didn’t want him to deliver papers, even for a weekly rag like the Gardena Valley News. But he wanted to help out at the house, wanted to prove to her he could earn his own spending money and still have time to study and commit to his other responsibilities. After all, he was thirteen for God’s sake. Mom laughed at him when he mentioned this. “Okay, you win. We’ll try it out this summer and see how it goes.”
He kept his word and it went well. On school days, he rode his bike to the newspaper’s office, where he picked up enough copies for his route, taking only enough time to fold them and place them in the canvas bags he kept stashed in his book bag during the day, which would drape around the handle bars of his Schwinn Strand Cruiser (which his dad bought for him as a Christmas present). Then he’d head toward home and begin his route, finishing in thirty minutes. When he was finished, he would pick up Tina at Anna’s house and escort her home, as usual. On Saturdays, his mom would drive him to the newspaper headquarters to pick up the Saturday edition, helping him fold them on the front porch, then he’d head off on his route. The money he made wasn’t extravagant by any means, but it was his and it felt good to earn his own money, through his own efforts. It made him feel grown up and responsible.
He could tell his mom was proud of him, but he also knew she worried. Sometimes late at night he’d lie in bed, the radio tuned low to The King Biscuit Flower Hour or something, and he’d catch snatches of conversation she would have on the phone with a friend. Tina was almost always asleep in her room, and Danny would lie on his stomach in bed, listening to his mom talk about everything from work, to her kids and how proud she was of them, to things that began to veer to the embarrassing, after which he would turn away and move the radio closer to his ear so he wouldn’t hear what she was saying. He didn’t want to listen to his mom talk about things that were so private, especially things that were personal to her.
One night, shortly after school let out for the summer, Danny was sitting in bed reading a Karl Edward Wagner novel and Tina was in her room playing with her dolls. He could hear mom in the kitchen on the phone. He mostly tuned her out—nothing could tear him away from the exploits of Kane—but on this night something she said caught his attention.
“—I just think of something like that happening to Danny and it just scares me to death.”
Danny paused, listening. There was silence as his mom listened to whomever it was she was talking to, than she replied back. “They don’t know who did it. The poor kid’s body was found in a trash bin practically behind our house.” Beat. “No, I don’t think Danny knows about it.”
It was true. Danny had no
idea what mom was talking about, but he was interested now.
“We were away that night, at the game.”
Danny nodded. Last Saturday night, mom had taken him and Tina to a company softball game. It was a game comprised of people at mom’s work. Mom had played centerfield. They’d had a good time and gone to Shakey’s Pizza afterward. The next day they’d gotten up early and, after his paper route, gone to Simi Valley to visit Mom’s sister and her family. They’d spent the night there and returned Sunday morning.
“Well, yeah...I didn’t know anything about it until it was in the paper. It was in the Gardena Valley News.”
Now Danny’s mind tracked on it; he remembered the headline of last week’s paper of some kid’s body being found in a trash dumpster, but he hadn’t really read it. He’d wanted to get his route done and meet up with Bobby to go skateboarding.
“Obviously some freak did it,” his mom said to whoever it was she was talking to. “Kid was ten years old for God’s sake. Ten!”
Danny felt a shiver and he put the book down.
“Yes...beaten...I guess that’s how she died. And...I suppose she was...you know...”
The silent implication of what that unknown thing was, was scarier than how the kid died. Because it was that unknowable thing, the fact that it was too hideous to describe, which scared Danny so bad.
“It’s just...stuff like this happens, you hear about it and it makes me wish I could just pack the kids up and move the hell out of this city. Just take them back to Colorado or something. I mean...the money Jim kicks in helps, but it’s just not enough. If I only didn’t have to work—"
And then Danny felt a little twinge of guilt at hearing this, knowing that it wasn’t his fault his mother had to work to support them, but he felt it anyway. He listened in a growing sense of despair as she rattled on about how inadequate she felt as a parent, how she was never home to be with her children, how she worried about them and yet how proud she was of Danny for taking such responsibility, and that made Danny’s heart swell with pride.
“I guess I just have to not think about it,” Mom said, and judging by the sound of her voice she was heading toward the living room. “Awful things happen to kids all the time and they happen to adults, too. Danny knows to always come straight home, and he knows to not talk to strangers. He’s a smart kid. He’d no more get into a car with a stranger than he would sneak a puff on a cigarette.”
Danny smiled. That was true. He knew all about perverts. Don’t talk to strangers, and if a stranger asks you if you want a ride home, don’t take them up on it. No adult in his right mind would offer a ride to a child. If they do, they’re perverts, so don’t get in the car with them! Run away!
As for cigarettes, they were gross. Why would he want to smoke a cigarette? Much less get in the car with some strange guy he’d never seen before?
Still, listening to his mother carry on about her worries and hopes and dreams to her unseen friend on the phone was uplifting to Danny. It conveyed that his mother was more than just a mom to him. She was a flesh and blood person, a human being with emotions and feelings, and that she cared and loved him and Tina deeply, and that she worried about them and felt occasional twinges of guilt for her financial situation. It made Danny all the more determined to do as good a job as he could on his new paper route and to continue to help out at home whenever he could. It also gave him a sense of stability, made him realize that his help was contributing to the overall well being of the family. Mom contributed the bulk of the money for them to live on, but Danny pretty much ran the house. The fact that he was hearing from his own mother in an off-handed sort of way that he was doing a good job made him proud.
He was determined not to fail her.
With mom’s voice fading into the den, Danny turned on the radio and went back into the world of Kane. He felt good, and for the first time that year he truly felt he was grown up and mature.
Five
THE LAW OFFICES of William Grecko were located in a corporate office park in Irvine, California. They took up a quarter of the tenth floor of a twenty-story building overlooking Jamboree Road. The view from the conference room provided a breathtaking view of South Orange County, almost all the way to Newport Beach.
Robert Valesquez wasn’t looking at the beach as he stood at the window, gazing out at the smogscape of Orange County. The city stretched out below, a vast sea of unbroken gray intersected by the arteries and veins of major streets and thoroughfares, all clogged with traffic. If Los Angeles and the communities of Orange County were the cardiovascular system of California, the state would have died years ago. As it was, medication in the form of the California Department of Transportation helped widen the roads a bit, but the patient still suffered from heart disease and was in dire need of an angioplasty.
Behind Robert Valesquez, the others waited for the arrival of Douglas Archer’s sister, Jessie, who was footing his legal bills.
“How was your flight, Mr. Valesquez?” William was seated at the head of the conference table, legal briefs spread out before him. He was of medium height, with graying dark hair that was rapidly fading along the top of his head, and he favored dark suits. One of Orange County’s top criminal defense attorney’s, Grecko was far more subdued than his gold cufflink and ring-wearing colleagues. His leggy assistant, Jennifer Something, was seated to William’s immediate left.
“Flying sucks these days after nine-eleven,” Robert said. The more he looked outside, the more disgusted he was becoming with the view. Robert Valesquez was forty-four years old, his black hair speckled with gray. He was built like a linebacker, with a well-developed chest and upper arms from weight training, and the waist and legs of a distance runner. He was wearing tan slacks, a white polo shirt, and a pair of dark loafers. He caught Jennifer glancing at him and he glowered at her until she turned away. He knew he was a handsome man, and twenty years ago he would have taken her up on her subtle vibes and wrangled her into his bed, but he had no time for such games these days. He’d been there, done that. He was retired from the military, had a lovely home, a wife he adored and kids he loved more than the world. He’d really made a good life for himself. He turned around, regarding the other three people in the room, nodding at each of them: William, Jennifer, and Douglas Archer.
Douglas Archer was sitting three chairs down from Jennifer. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a beige shirt. His balding pate was as shiny as a cue ball, and his face was lined and weathered. With his spectacles, he looked like he could be a college professor. At least he didn’t look nervous now. The first time Robert met him three weeks ago, Douglas looked at him as if he was expecting to be sucker-punched, which had been a distinct possibility.
After all, three weeks ago, when Robert was subpoenaed for questioning by both the District Attorney and the Defense Team for the reopening of Douglas Archer’s murder case, he was still of the opinion that Archer had raped and murdered his little brother, Raul.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
“I really hate it here,” Robert said, returning to the conference table. He sat down across from Doug. “Even Orange County is getting congested and full of smog. No wonder I haven’t been back in over fifteen years.”
“And it gets worse every year,” William said. “For every person that leaves California, ten more take their place. It’s incredible.”
“It’s even shittier now than when I was growing up,” Robert said. He picked up a pen that was sitting on the table and twirled it around his fingers. “Sometimes my wife will ask me why I never want to come back, and if she could only be here this week, she’d see why.”
“Jennifer loves it here,” William said, nodding to his assistant, who smiled at Robert from across the table. “Don’t you, Jen?”
“What’s not to like? It’s sunny almost all the time and the beach is so close!”
“Yeah, and there’s too many people clogging the streets and there’s gang shit all over the place.” Robert le
aned back in his chair. “No thanks. I like it where I’m at, thank you very much.”
Where Robert Valesquez lived now was a quiet little town in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where he lived with his wife, Sandra and their two children, Nick and Virginia. Robert was a retired Navy Captain. Thanks to his generous pension, he really didn’t have to work, and he devoted much of his time now to wildlife conservation. His children were teenagers, and he and Sandra spent as much time helping them through their homework and social lives as possible. Robert figured it was the least he could do to be involved in his children’s lives. His parents hadn’t been involved in his that much, especially toward the end. But that was another story.
The door to the conference room opened and a slim, attractive, auburn-haired woman in a blue power suit with a briefcase walked in. She appeared to be in her early forties. She nodded at them all, smiled at Doug, who smiled back, and sat down next to him. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, placing the briefcase on her desk. “Traffic on the 405’s a mess, but what else is new? Did I miss anything?”
“Not a thing, Jessie,” William Grecko said, turning to his paperwork. “We were just waiting for you so we could get started."
Robert sat up and brought his own legal pad close to him so he could begin taking notes if he needed to. There was something about Jessie Archer that got to Robert—he knew she was a very successful businesswoman who wielded enormous power, but she also displayed a sense of elegance. In short, Jessie Archer was the type of woman that made other women pause and immediately think she was a power-hungry bitch, and she made men either lust for her or cover their genitals and hope she wasn’t carrying a club.
“Robert,” Jessie turned to him. “How are you? Did you have a good flight?”
“It was okay,” Robert said.
“I thought we would start today,” William began, “by bringing you all up to date on the police investigation.” He shuffled some paperwork and regarded the Archers from across the room. “And when we’re finished here I’d like to see you two alone.” He nodded at the Archer siblings.
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