Spilled Blood

by Brian Freeman

  ‘You left me,’ Ashlynn reminded her, with sadness in her voice.

  Olivia said nothing, because Ashlynn was right. It didn’t matter that she was angry and jealous at this girl for taking Johan away. It didn’t matter what secrets Ashlynn had kept. She’d asked for help, and Olivia had rejected her. That was what Olivia had to live with. That was the person she’d become, someone who deserted a girl who desperately needed her help.

  ‘You left me,’ Ashlynn said again.

  She never said anything else. It was always the same. You left me. You left me. You left me.

  Olivia closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Ashlynn was gone. Her guilt tunneled a mile deep, as if it could reach to China. All she could think about was ways to make it stop. Stupid ways. She went to her open closet, staring at the clothes arranged neatly on the rod. On the far back of the closet shelf, she spotted a slim gold box. She brought it to the bed and removed the top. The box contained a silk men’s tie. Three years ago, she’d bought it as a gift for her father, but in the wake of the divorce, she’d never given it to him.

  She draped the tie over her fingers, stretching the soft fabric. She pushed her pink lips together with such force they turned white. She looped the tie around her neck, just to see how it would feel. Taking both ends, she pulled it tighter, until the pressure began to hurt. It would have to be much tighter. She would have to knot it so she couldn’t pry it loose with her fingers. A knot on one end. The other end tied to the clothes rod.

  Olivia went to the full-length mirror on the closet door. The flaps of the navy blue tie hung down her T-shirt.

  You left me.

  She took the fat end of the tie in her hands. She stared at her face and imagined it purple, her tongue swollen, her eyes bulged out like a boxer dog. Hideous.

  She heard Kimberly’s voice in her head, and she knew what her friend would say. ‘Don’t you dare, Livvy.’

  Olivia sighed, knowing that Kimberly was right. She couldn’t do it. She wrapped the fat end over the skinny end and pushed it over the loop on her neck. She tucked the flap back into the knot and adjusted it so that it was perfect. It was just a tie now, not a noose. She stuck out her tongue at herself, and then she stripped off the tie and threw it back in the closet.

  Olivia heard a sharp ping on her bedroom window. Sometimes a bird flew into the glass. Sometimes the wind blew acorns against it. She glanced toward the river, and as she watched, it happened again. A rock struck the window and bounced away. Someone was down there, throwing stones to attract her attention.

  She knew who it was, and her heart raced. She ran to the window and saw him hiding in the trees on the river bank, waving at her.

  Johan.

  Olivia threw open the window, but she thought better of calling to him. She didn’t think her parents would want them talking to each other. Instead, she made her usual escape, clinging to the gutter, jumping to the ground. The fall hurt this time. She ran for the trees, and before she could say a word, he pulled her toward the river bank, where they were invisible from the house. He reached out and held her fiercely.

  ‘Those bastards,’ he whispered. ‘Are you okay?’

  She could feel him quivering with rage. When he took her elbows, she had a chance to look at him, and he wasn’t the Johan she knew. It wasn’t just the cuts and welts on his face. His eyes were different. She didn’t recognize him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  She was, but he didn’t need to hear the truth. ‘Don’t worry about me. How are you?’

  He shrugged, as if his own injuries were nothing. ‘It was Kirk,’ he said. ‘Him and the others. They did it.’

  ‘Big surprise.’

  ‘I made Lenny tell me.’

  Olivia looked at his hands, where the knuckles were bloody. ‘Johan, what did you do?’

  ‘Nothing compared to what I’m going to do.’

  She’d heard that hatred in the voices of other St. Croix boys, but never from Johan. ‘Don’t take this on,’ she told him. ‘Please. It’s not your fight.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I’ve listened to my father for years, but he’s wrong. You can’t just take it. You can’t lie down and let them kick you. Sooner or later, you have to fight back.’

  ‘You’ll get hurt or you’ll get in trouble. That won’t change what happened.’

  ‘I don’t care. I can’t take doing nothing. Look at what they did to you! Look at what they did to Ashlynn!’

  ‘Nothing you do will bring her back or make this go away for me. You’re only going to make things worse.’

  Johan sank to his knees. When he spoke, his throat was tight with grief. ‘She was pregnant, Olivia.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘The baby was going to die. Our baby. She had to have an abortion.’

  ‘I heard. It’s awful.’

  ‘It’s their fault. All of them. Florian. Mondamin. Kirk. Barron. I have to do something.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘I’m going after Kirk tonight. With him gone, the feud will collapse. It’ll be over and done.’

  ‘No. For God’s sake, Johan, do not do that. I won’t let you.’

  ‘I’m doing it for you. And Ashlynn. And Kimberly, too.’

  ‘All you’ll do is throw your life away. I don’t want to lose you, too.’

  Johan got up and pulled her with him. ‘I tried peace. I tried turning the other cheek. Look what it got us. I’m not lying down anymore. I’m fighting back.’

  ‘I’ll tell your father. I’ll tell the police. They’ll stop you.’

  He grabbed her and shook his head. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Damn it, Johan, I will. This is crazy.’

  ‘If you still love me, don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell them what I’m going to do.’ He kissed her, as if he knew she couldn’t resist him, and whispered, ‘Please.’

  She tried to hold him, but he ran along the river bank without looking back. He was swallowed by the woods, but she could still hear his footsteps trampling the brush. She stood by the water, torn with indecision. She told herself that he wasn’t really serious about Kirk. He wouldn’t do it. Not Johan. He would be like her, thinking crazy thoughts and finally pulling back before it was too late.

  His eyes said something else. His eyes said murder.

  She had to stop him.

  33

  Chris awoke to a buzzing noise, like an insect flying around his face. He opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented. He was alone in Hannah’s bed, and the house was filled with the greasy, seductive aroma of frying bacon. The buzzing noise was his phone, vibrating in the pocket of his pants, which he’d tossed on the floor as he undressed. The slacks were now neatly folded on top of Hannah’s dresser.

  Naked, he climbed out of bed and retrieved his phone. He found a text message from Michael Altman on the screen.

  I need to see you. MA.

  Chris texted back to the county attorney. One hour in your office?

  He took a shower and dressed again. Downstairs, he found Hannah at the stove, with an apron over her work clothes. Olivia sat at the butcher-block table, pushing around a runny egg on her plate and chewing a piece of crisp bacon. His ex-wife nodded her head at Olivia and gave him a meaningful glance. He understood. What had happened between them was a secret from their daughter.

  He sat down at the table, and Hannah put a mug of coffee in front of him and a bowl of granola. Olivia’s face was dark, as if her mind were far away. Her leg drummed restlessly like a piston under the table.

  ‘You okay, Olivia?’ he asked.

  His daughter didn’t look at him. ‘Yeah, fine.’

  ‘You sure?’

  She gave him a smile, but it felt false. ‘I’m sure.’

  He didn’t push. She’d been through enough. If she needed time, he wanted her to have it.

  Hannah sat down between them. She gave him a tiny, embarrassed smile t
hat their daughter didn’t see. They ate mostly in silence, but he realized how much he had missed their morning routine since the divorce. It was like the old days in Minneapolis, each of them getting ready to go their separate ways. When he finished, he put his bowl in the sink and kissed his daughter on the head. She hugged him around the waist, and it felt good.

  ‘I’ll walk you out,’ Hannah told him.

  She accompanied him to his car. It was a gray morning, promising more rain. They lingered on the sidewalk, aware of the awkwardness between them and not sure how to make it better. He thought about kissing her, but he didn’t. They were acting like teenagers again.

  ‘That was nice,’ Hannah said finally.

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘It’s been a long time for me,’ she added.

  ‘For me, too.’

  Hannah smiled. ‘Oh, sure, likely story. What’s a long time for a guy? A month?’

  ‘A year and a half,’ he told her, ‘and even that was a stupid onetime bar fling.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked surprised, but then she shook her head, as if she were mad at herself. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business. I don’t know why I’m talking like this. I never expected this to happen between us.’

  ‘Neither did I.’

  ‘Everything that’s going on. The cancer. Olivia. I just—’

  ‘You don’t need to explain,’ he said.

  ‘It was a stupid mistake.’

  ‘Was it?’

  She looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not saying I regret it, but we don’t have to make a big thing out of it, do we?’

  ‘Maybe we should.’

  Hannah reached for his face, but she pulled her hand back. ‘Think about our situation, Chris. We have enough to worry about with Olivia. We don’t need to add more complications right now.’

  He nodded, but he wasn’t happy. ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, you’re right.’ He nodded at the house. ‘Do you want to rescind your invitation?’

  ‘About staying here? No, you should.’

  ‘What do we tell Olivia?’

  ‘We tell her that it will be easier if you stay in the house. She doesn’t need to know what happened between us.’

  Chris didn’t think it would be easier for him, being around Hannah after they’d made love again, but he didn’t object. He opened his car door, and before he climbed inside, Hannah embraced him. She held on longer than two friends would. When they broke apart, the flush on her face suggested that she was conflicted about their relationship too. He drove off without saying more, but he watched her in the mirror, and she followed him with her eyes until he was gone.

  Things were already complicated.

  He headed north on the lonely highway toward the courthouse in Barron for his meeting with Michael Altman. When he arrived at the grand old building on the hill, he found the county attorney waiting for him on a bench among the empty flower urns. Altman had his black trench coat draped over his arm and his fedora planted neatly on his head. His black glasses were pushed to the end of his nose, and he had his mobile phone extended at the end of his arm. He squinted, trying to read.

  ‘Mr. Hawk,’ Altman said. ‘I need coffee, do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Altman slid his phone into his suit coat pocket. ‘These little screens are a conspiracy of the young. I’m sorry I won’t be around to enjoy it when the current generation turns fifty and their eyes give out.’

  Chris laughed. The county attorney bounded off the bench and led him down the terraced steps toward the town’s main street. He struggled to keep up with Altman, and he was convinced that the older attorney would outlive most of the younger generation. Altman led Chris across the street to a dive called Jack’s that smelled of beer and stale smoke. He waved at the bartender and slid into a booth covered in torn red vinyl. Chris sat opposite. They were the only customers inside.

  ‘This place is old Barron,’ Altman said, laying his fedora on the table. ‘Pre-Mondamin. It’s been around since before I became county attorney. They water their beer so much they could sell it as Dasani, but I’ve got a soft spot for the place. That, and they make morning coffee so strong you can chew it.’

  Without being asked, the bartender dropped a steaming mug in front of Altman and stared at Chris with a question mark on his face. Chris shook his head.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ Chris asked, when the bartender was gone.

  Altman blew on his coffee. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘The sheriff says you dropped off bloody clothes belonging to Johan Magnus.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So Johan was in the park that night. I’m impressed. Do you think he killed her?’

  Chris thought about Glenn Magnus. I hope we’re both right. ‘I don’t know, but he had a motive. Ashlynn dumped him when she got pregnant. She had an abortion. He could have lost control when he found out.’

  Altman sipped his coffee and used a napkin to wipe the mug and the table. ‘I’m not sure a jury will see Johan as a killer. I’m not sure I do, either.’

  ‘There’s as much evidence to suggest that Johan killed her as there is to suggest that Olivia killed her. Your airtight case just sprang a big leak.’

  The county attorney smiled at him over the top of the coffee mug. ‘I’m used to defense attorneys blowing smoke, Mr. Hawk. You’re trolling for other suspects, which is fine, but the evidence still points squarely at your daughter.’

  ‘I reviewed the evidence the police gathered,’ Chris added. ‘Something else doesn’t make sense.’

  Altman lifted an eyebrow. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Ashlynn didn’t have a laptop. It’s not in the inventory of personal possessions, either in her car or her room.’

  The county attorney frowned. ‘That’s a little odd, I’ll grant you.’

  ‘I can think of a few reasons why the police didn’t find it. One, Ashlynn got rid of it herself before she arrived in the ghost town. Two, it was taken from her, either before or after the murder. Three, Florian and Julia removed it from her room prior to the police search.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘Maybe because there were things about Ashlynn they didn’t want anyone to find.’

  ‘Or maybe Olivia took the laptop herself,’ Altman said.

  ‘Now who’s blowing smoke?’

  Altman smiled. ‘Exactly what do you think was on Ashlynn’s laptop that makes it so important?’

  ‘I have no idea. E-mails? Calendar items? A history of web sites she visited?’

  ‘I’ll talk to Florian,’ Altman said. ‘There may be an innocent explanation. Her computer may be at school or somewhere else in the house.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Altman put his mug down and folded his hands together. ‘I understand your interest in conspiracy theories, Mr. Hawk, but let me explain something to you about the men and women who serve on juries in this county. They’re not fools. They’re solid, hard-working Christians with a lot of common sense. If you think you can misdirect them, you’re wasting your time. If you really want to help your daughter, tell her to come clean, and we’ll see what we can do for her.’

  ‘She didn’t kill Ashlynn.’

  Altman sighed. ‘Mr. Hawk, I don’t like to see a seventeen-year-old girl spend the rest of her life in prison, no matter what she did, but at the end of the day, my responsibility is to Ashlynn Steele. I knew that girl well. I’m not going to let her death go unpunished.’

  ‘There were other things going on in Ashlynn’s life. There are other possible motives for her murder.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Vernon Clay,’ Chris said.

  He expected another dismissal from the county attorney. You’re chasing ghosts. Instead, Altman pursed his lips with concern and eased back into the booth. He studied Chris with a new curiosity. ‘Why bring him up?’

&nbs
p; ‘I didn’t. Ashlynn did. She was asking questions about him before she was killed.’

  For the first time, Chris saw a tiny crack of doubt in the man’s eyes.

  ‘You’re sure about that?’ Altman asked.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Who was she talking to?’

  ‘I’d rather not give you a name right now, but my source is reliable. Ashlynn talked to him directly.’

  ‘Is it someone at Mondamin?’

  Chris said nothing.

  Altman gently drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Vernon Clay left town years ago. Do you have any actual evidence that Ashlynn’s interest in him had something to do with her death?’

  ‘No, but I don’t have her laptop.’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course. The mysterious laptop. I like how you tie things together. So what do you want me to believe? You think Ashlynn was poking around in her father’s secrets because of Vernon Clay, and she learned something that put her in danger?’

  ‘Maybe. If she kicked the hornet’s nest, who knows what flew out?’

  ‘Do you have any theories?’

  Chris leaned forward across the table. ‘You tell me, Mr. Altman. I get the feeling you know something you’re not sharing with me.’

  Altman shrugged. ‘This is your party.’

  ‘Is it? A few minutes ago, I was spouting conspiracy theories. Now you’re pumping me for information. I’d like to know why.’

  The county attorney fingered his coffee mug. ‘First answer another question for me, and then we’ll see. This reliable source of yours, did he mention anything about this man who calls himself Aquarius?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ashlynn said nothing to him about Aquarius?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I think he would have mentioned it.’ Chris studied Altman with suspicion. ‘Why? Did you discover evidence that Aquarius might have been involved in Ashlynn’s death?’

  ‘We’ve found nothing like that.’

  ‘Then why bring him up?’

  Altman’s face was pained. ‘Aquarius is a separate investigation, Mr. Hawk. I’m afraid I can’t share any information with you.’

  ‘It was separate. Now I’m not so sure. If you have any reason to believe there’s a connection between Ashlynn and Aquarius, you owe me the truth about it.’ Chris frowned, and suddenly he understood. Suddenly it made sense. ‘You think Aquarius may be Vernon Clay, don’t you? You found something to tie them together. That’s what this is about.’