Spilled Blood

by Brian Freeman

  ‘Thank you, Marco.’

  ‘How is your daughter?’

  ‘She’ll be okay. I’m going back to the hospital to see her now.’

  ‘When I heard the news, I fell on my knees and prayed for both of you,’ Marco said.

  ‘I appreciate that.’

  ‘Do the police know who did this terrible thing?’

  ‘They’re investigating. Sometimes you know who did it, but you can’t prove it. I’m worried this could be one of those times.’

  Marco studied Chris long and hard across the counter. His black mustache twitched as he frowned. ‘I see something in your face, Mr. Hawk.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Anger. It is a dangerous thing.’

  ‘I’m just tired.’

  ‘No, no, that’s not it. I understand, my friend. I know anger. I’m still angry about losing my wife, but for you, it’s your child, your own flesh and blood. Something has been taken from you, and you don’t know how to get it back. You want to rage against the world.’

  ‘Banging my head against a wall gives me a headache,’ Chris said.

  ‘I know, but we’re men. We bang our heads anyway.’

  He managed a smile. ‘You’re a wise man, Marco.’

  ‘Wise men can be the most foolish. We ask: is it better to do nothing in the face of injustice or do the wrong thing?’

  ‘I don’t like doing nothing,’ Chris said.

  ‘That’s what worries me. I like you, Mr. Hawk. You seem like a solid man, and that’s the highest praise I can offer. Doing nothing is like surrendering for men like us. However, it’s one thing if you’re alone in this world like me. You – you have a daughter. Remember that.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You remind me of a friend in San Jose,’ Marco told him. ‘He had a daughter like you. Married. Two kids. Beautiful girl. Unfortunately, her job took her to one of those Indian casinos in the desert. Those gaming places, they prey on people. This girl started gambling, and it took over her life. She lost her job. Her house. It broke up her marriage. Terrible.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Chris said.

  Marco wagged a finger at him. ‘My friend banged his head against the wall until it was bloody. He wanted justice.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ Chris said, ‘but what did he do?’

  ‘He drove out to the desert, and he waited in the parking lot for two of the tribal leaders to come out. Then he shot them both in the head.’

  ‘That was a bad choice,’ Chris said.

  ‘Yes, it was. He’s in jail, and he’ll never get out. But I think when he sleeps, he still sees those bodies on the ground, and I bet you he smiles about it.’

  ‘You sound like you’re defending him.’

  The motel owner shook his head. ‘Oh, no, no, don’t think that at all. I’m saying I understand him. I know what he went through. I know what you’re going through, too, Mr. Hawk. Sometimes choices are easy. Sometimes they are hard.’

  Marco slid open the top drawer of the desk behind the counter. Inside was a revolver with a wooden grip and a two-inch barrel. He removed the gun from the drawer and laid it on the counter next to a scattering of reservation forms and a glass jar stocked with spiky white candies. ‘We all have to be careful these days, don’t we?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  Marco took a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants and carefully wiped the surfaces of the gun, rubbing them clean with firm buffing of the cloth. The butt. The barrel. The hammer. The revolver was fully loaded, and he opened the cylinder and wiped each cartridge, too, before replacing them. ‘I keep a gun for safety,’ he said.

  ‘People don’t often get robbed here, but you never know. There are vagrants everywhere who make a point of seeking out deserted motels like this. A loaded revolver gives me peace of mind.’

  Chris said nothing.

  Marco opened the drawer again, placed the gun inside, and replaced the handkerchief in his pocket. ‘Of course, guns have been known to be stolen. Who knows, a guest sees what I keep in my drawer, and I turn my back, and it’s gone. Things like that happen. What can I do?’

  He slid the drawer shut. His eyes were dark and meaningful.

  ‘I will keep praying for you, Mr. Hawk,’ Marco told him. ‘When you see your daughter, you hug her to your chest, okay? Keep her safe, and make sure she always has her father to look after her.’

  Marco disappeared into the living room behind the office and shut the door, leaving Chris alone. The only noise was the hum of the old house fan, rattling as its blades turned.

  Do nothing or do the wrong thing.

  Chris was shocked by how quickly he made the decision. Some choices are hard, some are easy. He leaned his chest across the counter, opened the drawer with his long arm, and took Marco’s gun.

  18

  ‘I don’t remember being in the train car,’ Olivia told him. ‘I was in the back of a truck, and they were holding me down. Then it’s like the film stops, you know? I woke up here.’

  Chris sat beside the hospital bed and stroked her hair with the back of his fingers. He remembered caressing her that way when she was a child, as she sat on his lap and he read to her from Curious George books until she fell asleep on his chest. ‘It happens that way sometimes,’ he said.

  She stared at him, and her eyes were dead serious. ‘So what am I blocking out?’

  ‘An assault you didn’t deserve,’ he said.

  ‘The doctor said I wasn’t raped. Is that a lie? I don’t want anybody protecting me like I’m a kid.’

  ‘Doctors don’t lie about that kind of thing.’

  ‘I want to remember what happened,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t like my brain hiding stuff.’

  ‘Well, when your brain figures it’s safe to remember, you’ll remember. Until then, focus on getting your strength back.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘Sorry,’ she added.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For sneaking out. Mom must be pissed.’

  Chris took her hand. Her grip was firm, but her skin was clammy. The hospital room was uncomfortably warm. ‘The only thing we care about is that you’re safe.’

  ‘Can I get out of here now? I’m sick of being poked and prodded.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow. The doctors want to keep you around for a little while.’ Chris added, ‘Your mother called a friend of hers in Mankato. A counselor. She’s going to drive up here and talk to you this afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t want to see a shrink.’

  ‘Give her a chance.’

  ‘I already said I don’t remember.’

  ‘Just talk to her, okay?’

  Olivia shrugged. ‘Okay. If you say so.’

  Chris wondered how much of her bravery was real and how much was an act. ‘After you get out, how would you like to go see my sister? Aunt Jennie has that great place outside Little Rock. You and she could hang out for a couple of months and spend some girl time.’

  ‘What about the murder trial?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘There’s a lot of legal stuff that has to happen first. Given what happened, I can get the court’s permission for you to stay with her.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘No. I won’t run away.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m talking about,’ Chris said.

  ‘Sure it is, and I won’t do it. I’m not going anywhere.’

  Chris didn’t fight her. He would have preferred that Olivia stay far away from Barron, but he was learning what Hannah had discovered years earlier. His daughter was every bit as stubborn as her mother.

  Olivia played with the steel railing of the bed, tapping on it with her chipped nails. ‘I suppose you know, huh?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘About me and Johan.’

  ‘I talked to him,’ Chris admitted. ‘He told me about you two. And about Ashlynn.’

  ‘How is he? Is he okay?’

  ‘He’ll be fine.’


  ‘Can I see him? Where is he?’

  ‘Olivia, it would be better if you didn’t talk to him for a while, until we get your legal situation straightened out.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means you’re both witnesses in a murder investigation, and witnesses shouldn’t talk to each other.’

  Olivia’s lower lip bulged unhappily. ‘You think he was the one who killed her, don’t you?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Johan wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘If that’s true, why were you protecting him?’ Chris said.

  ‘You didn’t tell me that you talked to him that night. That sounds to me like you think he did it.’

  ‘All I know is Ashlynn was alive when I left her,’ Olivia said.

  ‘When I heard she was dead, I thought – well, I knew Johan would go out to the ghost town to rescue her.’

  Chris nodded. ‘Yes, he did. He said she was dead when he got there.’

  ‘You don’t believe him.’

  ‘I don’t know, but it sounds like Ashlynn broke his heart. I think people, even good people, can do things they regret in the heat of the moment.’ He added, ‘You had a motive, too, Olivia. You should have told me about it. The police will think you hated Ashlynn because she took away your boyfriend, and that’s why you shot her.’

  Olivia sighed. ‘She did steal Johan from me. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t angry.’

  He didn’t like to hear her confessing emotions that made her look guilty, but he also knew that she was finally being honest with him. He needed more details. He needed the whole story. ‘Do you feel strong enough to talk?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. I’m okay.’

  ‘Tell me the truth,’ he said.

  ‘What really happened between you and Ashlynn that night?’

  Olivia lay back in bed. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, and he could see her mind retreating. Remembering. She was standing in the mud of the park, alone in the ghost town with Ashlynn. Her anger was raging. The gun was in her hand.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  The count went on in Olivia’s head – four, five, six, seven – but she couldn’t pull the trigger. It was like jumping from a bridge, where there was no going back once your feet left the ground. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go that far. She cursed under her breath and took a step backward. The gun felt like a foreign thing, ugly, heavy, and unwanted. She spread her fingers and let it drop to the wet ground.

  Ashlynn opened her eyes. Fear became confusion, then relief. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  Olivia didn’t want to look at Ashlynn. Seeing her perfect face brought back all of the envy, all of the loss. It was no mystery why Johan had chosen her. Who wouldn’t? The blond cheerleader over the nerdy brunette. The full, ripe breasts over the little-boy chest. The curves instead of skin and bones.

  ‘You were with him tonight, weren’t you?’ Olivia asked. ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. Honestly.’

  Olivia didn’t know whether to believe her, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything.

  ‘I know you think I took him away from you,’ Ashlynn went on, ‘but I didn’t. Really. I would never have let anything happen between us while the two of you were involved.’

  ‘You think that helps?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘I hate you both,’ Olivia snapped.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Olivia. I know I can’t change it, but I’m sorry.’

  ‘I don’t want your sympathy. I lost Kimberly, and I lost Johan. You don’t know what it feels like.’

  ‘I’ve lost something even worse.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s my problem, not yours.’

  ‘I’m leaving,’ Olivia said.

  ‘Please, wait. At least give me a ride home, okay? We don’t have to talk. Just drop me off.’

  It was the right thing to do. Olivia knew that. She thought about saying yes, but some favors went too far. Taking Ashlynn in her car. Chauffeuring her to the house where her father lived. Pretending that her own hurt meant nothing. ‘No,’ she said.

  Ashlynn’s voice cracked with despair. ‘Olivia, please, I need help tonight. It’s hard to explain, but I really need your help.’

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she said.

  She turned on her heel and walked away, then stopped in frustration. She knew she was being mean to leave her alone. ‘I’ll tell Johan you’re here. He’ll come get you.’

  ‘No! Don’t do that!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t see him.’ Ashlynn took a step toward Olivia, then grimaced and sat down on the swing. ‘I broke up with Johan a month ago. I told him I couldn’t see him anymore.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. He never said a word.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ she said. ‘Please.’

  Olivia wanted to believe her, but it was too easy to read the truth in her face. Ashlynn couldn’t hide how she felt.

  ‘You’re a liar,’ she said. ‘You still love him.’

  Olivia stalked away without looking back. When she reached the street, she ran for her car, which was parked in a corn field south of town. She left the gun where it was. She left Ashlynn alone.

  ‘We all make choices we’d like to take back, Olivia,’ Chris murmured.

  ‘I know. I was drunk, I was mad at her, I was mad at myself. If I’d just driven her home, she’d be alive.’

  He had nothing to say, because he couldn’t make this better for her. When she was younger, he’d been able to fix the things that were broken in her life. Not now. Not anymore.

  ‘What happened next?’ he asked.

  ‘I went home.’

  ‘Did you go see Johan?’

  Olivia shook her head. Her hair fell across her face. ‘Not right away. I went to bed, but I was too upset to sleep. I thought about driving back there to get her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.’

  Chris waited.

  ‘Tanya called me,’ she went on. ‘She was all freaked out, shouting at me, wanting to know what happened. I told her that Ashlynn was fine. She went on and on, shouldn’t we tell someone, shouldn’t we go back and help her. So I got dressed and went to the church, and I told Johan what happened.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He was angry with me for leaving her there.’

  ‘Did you ask him about the break-up?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Did he say it was true? Did he say Ashlynn ended their relationship?’

  ‘Yeah, but I could see it in his face, just like hers. They still loved each other.’

  ‘Why did Ashlynn break it off?’

  ‘He didn’t know. He looked crushed.’

  ‘Do you think he could have killed her?’

  ‘He loved her,’ she said with teary eyes. ‘More than he ever loved me. I can’t imagine him killing her. It makes no sense.’

  ‘What if she did something he could never forgive?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Like what? I don’t get it.’

  Chris watched her face, but she was genuinely at a loss. She didn’t know. ‘Ashlynn was coming home from having an abortion,’ he told her. ‘I think the baby was Johan’s.’

  Olivia turned ghostly pale. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes grew huge. ‘I can’t believe Ashlynn would do that. She was super-religious.’

  ‘She came to Hannah,’ Chris said.

  ‘She didn’t want her parents to know. She didn’t want Johan to know, either.’

  ‘Oh my God, I left her there. I just left her there. What did I do, Dad?’

  ‘You had no way of knowing.’

  ‘She needed help, and I walked away.’

  ‘Olivia.’ Chris grabbed her hand and cupped her chin with his other palm. ‘Listen to me. This is not your
fault. You didn’t do this.’

  He wished he could lift the guilt from her shoulders, wished he could change the past. Some mistakes couldn’t be corrected; they could only be endured.

  ‘I need to know something,’ he went on. ‘Did Johan give you any indication at all that he knew Ashlynn was pregnant?’

  She shook her head mutely.

  ‘What would he have done if she told him, Olivia? What if he knew she’d ended it? Could he have been desperate enough to kill her?’

  Olivia closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to answer, but she nodded her agreement. ‘It would have destroyed him,’ she whispered.

  19

  Chris bought a sandwich and strolled onto the footbridge across the Spirit River that connected downtown Barron with the park on the opposite shore. He stopped in the middle of the bridge and watched the brown water pushing south from the dam. He loosened the knot of his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. After two bites of a turkey sandwich, he decided that he wasn’t hungry and rewrapped his lunch for later.

  He heard footsteps on the bridge. A teenage boy shuffled from the town park, with his head down and his hands in the pockets of beige corduroys. The boy was small, no more than five feet seven, and wiry. He wore an oversized Lil Wayne T-shirt that was badly tucked in at his waist. His brown hair was unruly and hung below his ears. His face was long, dotted with pimples, with a pointy chin. On his right cheek, Chris saw two bandages taped together to cover all but the top and bottom edges of a long cut that was still red and fresh.

  The boy didn’t notice Chris until they were practically on top of each other, and when he finally looked up, his eyes widened and he froze, like an animal sensing danger. Before Chris could say a word, the boy turned and fled, sprinting toward the opposite side of the river.

  ‘Hey!’ Chris shouted.

  He charged in pursuit. His dress shoes slowed him down, and the kid was young and fast. The distance between them widened, but the teenager slipped as his sneakers hit a slick patch of grass. He flew into a somersault, feet over head, and landed on his back, splashed in mud. As the kid scrambled to get up, Chris stopped him with a foot on his chest. He collared him and marched him to a weathered picnic bench.