The Guilty (2008)

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The Guilty (2008) Page 21

by Jason - Henry Parker 02 Pinter

with my good hand, pressed my palm against her bare skin,

  ran it up toward her bra, then underneath, cupping her warm

  breasts in my hand. Amanda sighed, reached behind and

  unhooked the clasp, letting the clothing fall free.

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  She stood up, giving me a moment to gaze at her body. A

  moment later my pants and her skirt were undone and she

  managed to slip off my boxers. Amanda eased on top of me

  again until I was inside of her. We both groaned and began to

  move back and forth, up and down.

  “I want to be so close to you.” She sighed, her movements

  growing faster and faster. “I love you, Henry.”

  “I love you, too,” I managed to gasp, as we rocked violently for another minute before collapsing onto the couch,

  Amanda’s sweat-glistened body rising and falling against

  mine. Our lips found each other one more time, and then we

  fell asleep intertwined, as all the pain faded away.

  34

  Jack O’Donnell sat at his keyboard, fingers flying as he

  typed away on the only story that currently mattered to him.

  When he told Wallace he was going to write it for the

  Gazette— they had to cover it, after all, as the crime was committed by a man who’d already killed four people—there was

  no argument, only a solemn nod and an assumption that the

  most accurate and unbiased story would be written. Wallace

  did point out that the Gazette would have an exclusive—the

  only paper in town to interview the victim, Henry Parker. All

  the other news organizations would simply have to credit

  Jack’s piece when they quoted from it.

  Jack had arrived at the hospital less than ten minutes after

  the ambulance arrived with Henry. He’d watched them unload

  the stretcher. He saw Amanda leap out, doing her best to hold

  back tears. Jack offered a terse hello, then asked how Henry

  was doing. She said they didn’t know, that he needed a CAT

  scan and that his hand was hurt something bad. Amanda

  looked at Jack in a way that made his stomach feel hollow,

  like somehow he’d been responsible for the attack.

  He waited as they made sure there was no cranial bleeding,

  no fractures. When the tests confirmed a grade one concus- The Guilty

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  sion Jack sighed in relief, said goodbye to Amanda, and left.

  He went straight back to the office, locked himself in a conference room, pulled a flask of whiskey from his pocket and

  drank until his eyes were ruddy and the tears of frustration

  were sufficiently dammed up.

  A year ago, when Henry had recovered after being shot,

  Jack had viewed him merely as a young reporter with potential. It was a professional relationship, nothing more, one that

  could be severed at any time for a multitude of reasons. Over

  the past twelve months, however, Henry had become more.

  For a man in his sixties who hadn’t spoken to his own offspring in more than a decade, Henry Parker was the closest

  thing to a son Jack O’Donnell had ever known.

  Jack was a legend. He knew this, but did not brandish his

  legacy like some vulgar bayonet. Instead he cloaked himself in

  it, remembered it every time he began a story, every time he

  followed a lead. Jack had torn through three marriages because

  he simply could not perform the duties most women expected

  of a husband. He would not come home when they pleased. He

  would not offer comfort or solace with any regularity. He stayed

  out late, drank often, was surly and emotionless depending on

  how a story was evolving. Every relationship was a bell curve.

  Passion and romance rose to a peak, then fell into a trough until

  they flatlined. And when that happened, it was time to move on.

  But it made him a great reporter. He devoted himself to

  the craft, and in doing so became something more than just

  a newsman. Within Henry, Jack could see the same potential. He would have to make sacrifices. Sacrifices ordinary

  men could never make. Family, friends, even some happiness. But by doing so Henry would become what Jack

  believed he could be: someone who made a difference.

  Someone whose work lived on.

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  Amanda seemed like a nice enough girl, yet every loose

  thread a man had was one that could be pulled. One that

  could be leveraged. If a man had nothing, he risked nothing,

  and would stop at nothing. A woman could hold him back.

  Love could make him soft. Jack was unsure if he’d ever truly

  been in love, though if he had he would have retired ages ago,

  spent his elder years in some pastel retirement community,

  flitting about in golf carts and wearing pants with shameful

  plaid designs. Eating lunch at “the club” with the other

  retirees before they went out and shot a hundred and fifty on

  the back nine. That was no life for him. That was no life at

  all.

  He gulped down another hot sip of coffee, laced with just

  enough Baileys to give it a little kick, keep his blood pumping.

  He typed in his byline and got ready to send it off. It would

  be in tomorrow’s national edition. He knew many people

  thought this killer was some sort of twisted hero, knocking

  off people whose deaths would somehow benefit the common

  good. They didn’t think about the monster beneath, just what

  it took to pull a trigger and end someone’s life. The families

  shattered. The soullessness of it all.

  Jack was too old to go chasing villains. That was a job for

  a younger man, one ready to claim the mantle for his own.

  And Jack knew that if Henry kept his head on straight,

  snipped off any loose threads, the story would be fully told.

  And he could only hope it was told before the next victim fell.

  35

  I tossed and turned the whole night, every position bringing

  a new bolt of pain. Whether it was my hand, my head, or

  Amanda accidentally kneeing me in the groin, I would have

  had a better night sleep covered in honey and stuck in an ant

  farm. Amanda didn’t wake once. I tried to be jealous, but

  watching her sleep soundly, all I could do was smile.

  After making love we fell asleep for an hour. When we

  woke, I threw on a pair of boxers, Amanda slipping into

  cotton underwear and one of my T-shirts that came down to

  her knees. We fell into bed and wrapped our bodies around

  each other, my head on two pillows and numbed by two

  aspirin, my hand stretched above my head to prevent undue

  pressure from ripping the stitches.

  When the sun came up, I blinked the crust from my eyes

  and went to the bathroom. After peeing for what felt like an

  hour, I turned the water on for a shower.

  “You’re not supposed to shower for forty-eight hours,”

  Amanda mumbled from the bed.

  “Crap, I forgot. Good thing I’m all sweaty from last night,

  I’ve always wanted to smell like a hobo at work.” Though

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  Amanda’s face was mushed into a pillow, I saw the edge of

  a small smile.

  I got dressed, and pulled out the note Agnes Trimble had


  written me yesterday. My stomach clenched as I wondered if

  the killer was watching me from the window. Watching

  Agnes. Watching Amanda.

  I took out my cell phone and called Curt Sheffield.

  “Hey, Henry, how’s the noggin feeling?”

  “Feels like I went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson circa

  1989.”

  “Damn, that’s bad. Don’t worry, give it a few years and you’ll

  be biting off ears and threatening to eat people’s children.”

  “Those are some nasty side effects.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Listen, Curt, I was wondering if you could get someone

  to watch Amanda. Just while I’m gone during the day.”

  “Bro,” Curt said, laughing. “Look out your window.”

  Confused, I pulled open the window with my good hand

  and poked my head out. Below me I could see the sidewalk

  and the building’s entrance. Parked right in front was a blueand-white squad car. I could see two officers inside. And I

  swear I could make out the outline of a donut.

  “They’ll be on your ass every morning and night for the

  next week. You got a private escort to and from work, as does

  your ladyfriend. You decide to shop for groceries, go to the

  Chinese laundry mat during the day, that’s all you.”

  “Thanks, Curt, I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t thank me. Orders came down from Chief Carruthers’s office. Guess there are people who want you to

  stay alive.”

  “I’ll be sure to send Carruthers a fruitcake.”

  “No fruitcake. His in-laws send one every Christmas and

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  he chucks it. Later, Henry, give me a ring if you need

  anything.” I hung up, then dialed the number Agnes Trimble

  had given me for Largo Vance. Hopefully Vance was an early

  riser. The phone picked up on the very first ring.

  “Yes, who is this?” a high-pitched voice croaked out.

  “Hello, is this Professor Largo Vance?”

  “If this is Jehovah’s Witness, then no. If it’s anyone else,

  depends who’s calling.”

  “Mr. Vance, my name is Henry Parker. I’m a reporter with

  the New York Gazette and I was given your name by Professor Agnes Trimble—”

  “Agnes! I haven’t seen that minx in years.” There was a

  moment of silence as I tried to think of what to say. “Oh, come

  now, Mr. Parker, don’t be offended. I mean that with the

  highest compliments. Agnes is a randy little minx, she and I

  go way back.”

  “That’s, um, wonderful. Anyway, Mr. Vance, if you have

  a few moments today, I’d like to talk to you about Brushy

  Bill Roberts.”

  This time the silence came from Largo Vance’s end. His

  response came sputtering out. “How fast can you be here?”

  “Um, I don’t know where you live, Mr. Vance…”

  “3724 Bleecker. Be here in half an hour.” He hung up.

  “Who was that?” Amanda asked. She was sitting up in bed,

  clutching a pillow in her arms.

  “A potential source Professor Trimble gave me yesterday,”

  I said. “An old professor. I think he has some more information on the Billy the Kid lead.”

  “Henry,” she said, “please…be careful. Just yesterday you

  were in the emergency room and…”

  “I know that.” I went to the bed and sat down next to her.

  I took her hand in my good one, raised it to my lips and

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  kissed her fingers. “I promise I’ll be careful. There are policemen downstairs who are going to watch you, just to make

  sure this lunatic doesn’t come after us again. If you go

  anywhere other than work, you know Curt’s number. Call

  him.”

  “This lunatic killed four people,” she said. “If he wants to

  kill, he’s going to get them.” I let that sink in, knew she was

  probably right.

  “Call in sick today. Just this once. I have to go talk to this

  guy Vance. I have to.”

  “Then go,” Amanda said. “The sooner you go, the

  sooner you get back, the less time I have to spend worrying

  about you.”

  “Listen, that guy wouldn’t have attacked me if he didn’t

  have something to hide. He has an entire city police force

  looking to draw and quarter him. A newspaper reporter

  doesn’t pose that much of a threat, comparatively.”

  “If he was willing to break into our apartment and do what

  he did, it must be something awful he wants to keep a secret.”

  “That just means I’m going to find it,” I said. “I’ll call a

  locksmith, have him change the locks and get a security

  system installed.”

  “This apartment?” Amanda said. “That’s like getting rims

  on a 1987 Yugo.”

  “Now that sounds like one crunked-up car. Don’t worry

  about me,” I said. I was having trouble pulling a shirt over

  my head, so Amanda came over to help. “I’m Mr. Incredible.”

  “Well, please ask Mr. Incredible why he needs help getting

  dressed. In the meantime Lois Lane would like it very much

  if he looks both ways before he crosses the street.”

  “Surely will. Besides, you’d make a sexy-ass Lois. My

  phone will be on if you need anything.”

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  “Just remember not to open it with that claw of a hand.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And Henry?” Amanda said. I turned to her, smiled, but

  the smile quickly faded when I saw the look on her face. “Be

  careful. I can’t say it enough.”

  “I will,” I said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I left on that sentiment. I nodded to the cops parked

  outside. They gave half nods back but otherwise did not acknowledge me. As I walked, I saw one plainclothes follow

  about ten yards behind me while the other followed in a squad

  car. When I entered the subway, plainclothes followed,

  staying at the other end of the car, pretending to read a copy

  of one of those free newspapers that people toss onto the

  tracks and end up clogging the drainage systems.

  I got off at Bleecker Street, picking up and swallowing a

  cup of lukewarm coffee and two more aspirin on the way. I

  buzzed an L. Vance at the given address, an elegant brown

  brick town house with a rusted front gate.

  The buzzer granted my entrance, and I took a recently

  painted elevator to the third floor. When the elevator door

  opened, a man that had to be Largo Vance stood in the

  doorway. He’d been waiting for me.

  “Henry Parker,” he said. “Largo Vance. Get inside. Now. ”

  Vance had a long gray beard, gray hair swept back in a lessthan-neat ponytail. His overalls were covered with dried paint.

  What looked like a pound or two of cat hair had dried in the

  paint. I could smell fresh—and some not so fresh—kitty litter

  emanating from inside.

  He ushered me inside, peeked around the hall (presumably

  to make sure no black helicopters had followed) and closed

  the door. A brown-and-gray striped cat snaked between my

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  legs, rubbed itself aga
inst my jeans. Soon he was joined by

  another cat, and one more to complete the whole set.

  “Don’t mind them,” Largo said. “That’s Tabby, Yorba Linda

  and Grace. Say hello, babies.”

  The cats did not say hello.

  I followed Largo through a hallway to a small living room,

  where nearly every square inch was covered in either cat

  paraphernalia or large well-worn books, history and a few paperback novels whose spines had given out long ago. Largo

  sat in an overstuffed La-Z-Boy and beckoned me to a leather

  couch across from him.

  I took a seat and minded the stench. Two more cats

  appeared. I couldn’t tell if they were the same ones, new

  ones, or the first three had simply spawned in the last minute.

  “So what brings you here about Billy Bonney?” Largo

  said. A cat leapt onto his lap and Largo began to scratch its

  chin absently.

  “Not Billy Bonney,” I said. “Brushy Bill Roberts.”

  “Same difference,” Vance said. “Now go on.”

  “I, uh…have you heard about the recent murders? Athena

  Paradis? Several others who were killed by a man using an

  old Winchester rifle?”

  Largo shook his head. “I don’t read the newspaper.” This

  was going to be harder than I thought.

  “Well, in the last week and a half, somebody has been—”

  “I’m playing with you, kid. I may not know how to do the

  Google but I don’t live under a rock.”

  “So you know that Billy the Kid’s Winchester rifle was

  stolen from a museum in Fort Sumner.”

  Largo paused. “That, I did not know.”

  “But you know of Fort Sumner and the legacy of the Kid.”

  “I’m very well aware of the history of that town, and of

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  Mr. Bonney. I’ve visited many times. I haven’t set foot in that

  museum in years, though. But I do recall having a fine conversation with the proprietor—Rex is his name, I believe. Unfortunately the last time I visited was over ten years ago, and

  I left under less than pleasant circumstances.”

  Suddenly the cat bared its teeth and jumped off his couch,

  leaving several red claw marks on Largo’s hand. He rubbed

  it, then noticed the tape covering my hand.

  “What happened to you there?”

  I held up the hand for him to see. “The man I’m coming

  to talk to you about, he came to see me yesterday.”

  “I take it he also left under less than pleasant circumstances.”

  “You could say that.”

 

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