by Lee Thompson
“What?”
“Nothing.” I waved a hand at the man. “Thanks. I hope she’s all right.”
The orderly’s lips parted, eyebrows bunched, the look on his face saying, I doubt you wish it at all.
I let it go and walked down the hall to where Mike waited, leaning against the wall, tapping his fingers against his thighs. Stopping alongside him, eyes averted from the closed door, I shook my head, coming to grips with what I really feared. That Cat had left because of how I had been acting lately. Stepping into her shoes and taking a hard look at myself, I leaned farther into that assumption. It didn’t explain the drops of blood. I chewed on it. “You seen Cat here?”
“You haven’t introduced me to her yet. I don’t even know what she looks like. Is that why you’re up here?”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ve been busy the last couple of days.”
Mike shrugged. “You’re not the only one.”
“Have you been in to see your mom yet?”
“No.”
I wanted to ask him why not, what son stood outside his mother’s door as she neared the end. Looking back at our childhood, I glimpsed fragments of a deeper sadness—Mike left to tend to himself by his mother’s distractions. It reminded me of Father and all he’d preached and failed at. As a parent, as a husband, as a man. “I understand. You’ll go in when you’re ready. I couldn’t find you last night. What did you need to tell me?”
Mike pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket. “I’m not so sure I want to. You wanna take a walk?”
I looked at my watch and realized I had a pistol strapped to my hip. It brought back Pat’s house. I smelled cordite, burned flesh. “I have to meet a state boy. Wylie had a bad situation earlier. If you’re going to be around later…”
“I’ll ride with you.”
I considered it, not sure if I could fill Mike in on the girls, the forest, my brother, Rusty—all of the pieces that lay like shards at my feet—in the five minutes it would take to drive back to Pat’s house. A shiver broke through me, a sickness at the thought of me and Wylie in prison. “I’ll be out a while. I might not even come back.”
“I need some fresh air. And we need to talk about some things.”
Angela whispered in my head, snippets of our conversation earlier, something about Mike’s secrets, lies, fate. I shook my head as if to clear it and stuffed my hands deep into my pants pockets. Mike slapped my arm. “There is so much I need to tell you. But I’m afraid that you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
I cleared my throat again, my body tense. “I’ve been feeling that way about myself for the past couple days. Now I think…” I couldn’t complete the sentence, afraid to look into what I most feared. Inside, my heart struggled against the easy path. “Cat is wonderful, but I think she’s gone. I think she left me. I’ve been a bit loopy lately. If she did, I can’t say I blame her.”
Mike touched my shoulder and we stood there in the hall as people moved like ants, carrying out their duties, eyes glazed by sorrow, compassion, numbness. I wondered if Mike felt the same, wondered if feeling numb and ignorant was sometimes easier. My oldest friend kneaded the sore muscles above my collarbone. “I’m sorry to hear about Cat. If she’s smart, she’ll come back. If not, you don’t need her. Trust me. You’ve met Angela, right?”
“A few times. I just dropped her off at your place.” I rested my hand on the butt of the pistol and shifted my weight to my left leg. “She’s been following me around. She was there when the madness broke loose at Pat’s.”
Mike looked at his watch. “The clock is ticking, there’s no stopping it.” He turned his head, left, right, and lowered his voice. “We’re getting into something I wish you weren’t part of.”
I nodded. “She’s not normal. I’ve noticed that.”
“Nope.”
“I’ve been seeing things every since Mark died. Cat says I’m sleepwalking a lot. She wants me to seek professional help.” I dug my fingernails into my palms unsure why it made me so angry to admit it. “I don’t know where she went if she’s not here. Part of me is afraid she met someone here, someone she works with and she’s with him. And Angela… she’s messing with me, I think.”
A nurse walked by, shoes squeaking on glossy tile. She smiled at us and Mike raised his hand in a half-hearted wave. Once she was out of ear shot, Mike said, “You can tell me everything while you drive. I’ve got a lot you need to know, too. But I don’t have all the answers. Only assumptions, a little experience.”
I scratched my chest, felt a bit of scab break free. I jerked my thumb at the door. “Do you want me to go in with you, so you can see her before we leave?”
“No. And I don’t know if I will at all. It feels like I should, just out of obligation, because she’s my mother, but she’s caused me a lot of pain. I’ve spent my whole life trying to forgive her. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”
“I understand.”
“Because of your dad.”
“Sure.” And because of Mark. “We better get going, even though I’m not looking forward to showing a cop where his daughter is buried.”
Mike raised his eyebrows, slapped me on the shoulder. His surprise passed, a smile on his face. I had never understood how Mike’s attitude could change so quickly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too. Sometimes I fear we’re not the same little kids we used to be.”
“We’re not. It’s been too long though. I’m sorry I’ve never called. I’m not going to be able to leave now. Not with Angela here, not with the veil tearing.”
“What veil?”
“Come on. We’ve got a lot to do.” Mike took off at a brisk pace, headed for the emergency room doors, always the one to take the first step where weaker men hesitated. I caught up to him, my guts tied in knots as we stepped into failing daylight.
“I hope Cat comes back tonight.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
We looked left and right, crossed the parking lot. “I don’t want to think about that. Either way, I’m gonna sleep like the dead. I’m so exhausted my bones ache and my arms feel like jelly.”
Mike stopped at the Jeep’s passenger door. “You aren’t going to get much rest, man.”
“I will if Duncan arrests me.”
“The State cop we’re going to meet? For what?”
I walked around to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. I rested my hand on the keys in the ignition for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts, figure out where to start.
Start at the beginning.
Mike pulled his seat belt on.
I turned the key and the motor started. Tears stung my eyes and I opened my mouth and couldn’t shut it for the life of me. “My brother used to touch me.” A sick dread swelled inside my chest with the admission. “When we stayed up at your house. On top of that, my dad cheated on my mom with several women from his church, girls really. He baptized us in the river and we were all supposed to be made new. When Mark came around last week, after being out west forever, he told me he was sorry, but he wouldn’t say for what. But I knew what he was talking about. He was drunk in the canoe, I guess that’s what it takes to pour your sins out at God’s altar, at your broken brother’s feet.” I ran my hands back through my hair. “I hit him in the head with the paddle and he fell out. He drowned because he tried to apologize, and because I couldn’t accept it. My dad has never apologized to anyone. He carried his self-righteousness around like a banner. I think they both fucked me up. I know they did my mom. She never calls. I guess she’s moved on. But I’m left with an ache that never ends. I thought Cat was going to change it, fill it, something, I don’t know.”
I wiped my eyes and stared at the dash, the hood, where pieces of Pat had hardened. “Uncle Red tells me not to blame myself. But he doesn’t know the rest of it. I’ve seen Mark’s ghost. And someone butchered four teenage girls and left a message out by the Devil’s Garden. For me or for someone else,
I don’t know. But this was left in place of one of their hearts.” I pulled the onyx key free of my shirt and held it out. It cast a shadow over Mike’s hand like a brand. “Pat, the mayor, Rusty Wallace, they buried the girls, claiming to protect my family name because they thought Mark did it, because of this fucking key. I let them bury the pieces. Didn’t stop them. Then I watch Pat shoot his wife in the face and Wylie in turn blow a hole the size of a baseball in Pat’s head. I didn’t want Wylie to go to prison so I told the state cop that I shot Pat. But Wylie had already told him the truth. Then Angela brings out this book a while ago, at Pat’s house, and it’s got these girls’ photographs in it. The cop’s daughter is one of those some monster left written in blood and bone on the forest floor. And Brandy was attacked. I feel torn in a dozen directions. I want to believe that Pat did it all. But that leaves a lot left unexplained. And my gut tells me that there is a lot more to this.” I popped the glove box and grabbed a napkin and blew my nose. I wondered if my friend saw things in a new light, saw me as a different person. When I met Mike’s gaze, I couldn’t hold it, and part of me felt shattered.
Mike tapped the gun at my hip. “I hope you’re not thinking about eating that.”
I shook my head. “I’m not a coward. I’m just lost. Overwhelmed. And now I don’t know what the hell is happening between me and Catherine. A week ago we planned on getting married. Now, she thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am.”
“You’re not the only one who hides secrets, John. But you’re doing the right thing. Let’s go show this cop where his daughter is. At least someone will have some peace. We can work everything else out together.”
Hearing him say it brought a glimmer of hope, a lightening of the endless burden. I nodded and threw the Jeep in reverse, backed out of the parking space. I wiped my eyes again, sick of crying, sick of talking, sick of feeling so weak. But it’d felt good to talk about it even though my lips felt swollen, numb. “Do you know who Angela really is?”
“I don’t know who. But I know what.”
“And whose side is she on?”
“The side of redemption. That’s her burden.”
* * *
I watched Duncan tremble, standing next to a woman in an olive skirt, white button up shirt. A black attaché dangled from her left hand, Morgan from her right. Mike went quiet as I parked behind the state boy’s car in the drive. The man, woman, child, all stared at us with tight faces. Morgan held a doll—the same one Angela had kept her distracted with—pinned beneath her right arm and ribcage. I got out and Mike sat there a moment, studying everything.
I hope you don’t judge me for what I told you.
I couldn’t be sure of what Mike thought, how things had changed between us in the years we’d been apart. The ones who knew your secrets were the ones who could hurt you the most. Mike opened the passenger door and looked at the hood, then the house. I nodded to Duncan as the woman moved away, pulling Morgan’s arm as the child cried, “I want my mom!” Duncan stared at her, grief plastering his face, maybe thinking about his own child, lost now forever. His brow knitted. The big cop strode over to Morgan, picked her up, and squeezed her to his chest. She buried her head in his shoulder, gulping air, lips trembling. He stroked her back and cooed, “It’s going to be okay, it will.” Maybe for both of them. I looked away. The woman stared at her shoes, eyes glimmering with a responsibility I wouldn’t wish on anyone, yet knew was necessary. Mike looked at his watch.
Duncan set the girl down, gently rubbed her shoulder with a meaty hand and nodded to the social worker. She led Morgan to the car and opened the back door, slid her inside. The child laid the doll’s head on her shoulder like Duncan had done with her a moment before. My eyes burned, hot and wet, and I clenched my hands. Her parents had done this to her with their insecurities, their selfishness, their rage.
Mike pulled something from inside his jacket pocket and held it out. I shook my head. “I don’t smoke.”
Mike shrugged and offered it to Duncan. The big cop stared at it a moment and shook his head as well. Mike smiled. “You guys need some vices.” His smile turned into a frown as he lit up. He said to Duncan, “What’s going to happen to the kid?”
“Who are you?”
Mike offered his hand. “Michael Johnston.”
“You think it’s wise bringing other people into this, McDonnell?” Duncan pulled a pack of gum from his shirt pocket and popped a piece of Juicy Fruit onto his tongue, took a step to the side, out of the smoke trailing from Mike’s cigarette. “Well?”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Mike is my best friend. I trust him.”
Duncan sighed. He opened the passenger and back door of his cruiser. I saw Pat’s photo album in the middle of the front seat. Duncan’s voice had a click in it, like there was a broken valve inside his heart. “You guys can ride with me. Move your Jeep out of the way.”
Mike frowned. I hesitated, unsure what to say, how to go about driving my Jeep without making Duncan angry, or untrusting. I wanted to ask Mike what he thought we had to do after, but didn’t want to bring it up in front of the state boy. One thing at a time. Advice Father had always offered but seldom followed.
“I’ll drive my Jeep, sir. Mike’s right, we’ve got to do some other stuff as soon as we leave the forest.”
“Stuff that has to do with my daughter and what happened to her?”
“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”
“You’re going to tell me everything.” He turned his head to Mike. “You, too. Whatever you know.”
Mike tossed his cigarette on the ground and twisted the ball of his foot over it. “You wouldn’t believe everything.”
“We’ll see.” Duncan slammed the passenger doors. “Let’s go.”
* * *
John pulled to the curb in front of Red’s Hardware. Mike rolled down the passenger window and waited for John to get out. “I’ll go back and talk to him for a sec while you run inside.”
Moving with a lethargic gait, John crossed the sidewalk. Mike stepped out of the Jeep. Duncan had a book in his lap, tears in his eyes, fingers working a picture free from the album. Mike tapped his knuckles against the glass. Duncan hit the button and the window went down in a soft whir. “Yes?”
“I wanted to have a word with you.” Mike squatted down on the sidewalk and scratched his knee. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”
“Me, too.”
“John didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m sure your gut is telling you that. He’s a good guy. But he told me that the mayor and the coroner knew. I think after we deal with this, you might want to question them. Did he tell you about them?”
“He told me about the mayor. Wallace is the coroner, right? I’ve dealt with him before, a few times. I always thought he was a nice guy.” Duncan shook his head, worked his fingers against his temples as the wind blew soft along the back of Mike’s neck. “Did McDonnell tell you why he thinks they covered this up?”
“No.”
Duncan lifted the book. “The man who was probably responsible for all this heartache is dead. I feel like I need someone to blame. Somewhere to direct my anger, my grief. It’s a helluva thing.”
“If you want we can go talk to Rusty while you pick up the mayor.”
“I want to see my little girl first.”
Mike nodded. “I understand.”
“You have kids?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t understand. Not completely.” Duncan looked out over the street. Mike turned his head, saw John come out of Red’s with three yellow-handled shovels. “McDonnell doesn’t have anything to worry about. I don’t blame him. Even though he should have stepped forward when he found them. I want to know it all. Do you think he’s going to tell me?”
Mike stood as John threw the shovels in the back of his Jeep. “He will. You’re going to have a hard time believing it all though.”
“Believeable or not, I need to hear it all.”
“I agree
.”
“I ran your name.”
Mike tilted his head and John looked back, his hand on the Jeep’s door. “I see.”
“You’ve got a record. I can’t crack the information though. The CIA has a red flag on it. You wanna tell me about that?”
“No. That’s all a long time ago.”
Duncan pulled the CB receiver free and sat it on the floorboard, slid the picture of his daughter into the bracket screwed to the dash. He wiped his eyes. “I never thought I’d lose her like this. Old age maybe, or a car accident with a bunch of drunk and stupid friends, but not like this.”
Mike thought of his mother, rotting away, fighting a slow death, wrapped in the arms of a lifetime of bitterness. The gates holding his emotions in check felt like the hinges were buckling. “I am really sorry. It’s got to be the hardest thing any parent ever faces. All the little mistakes your kids make are just minor annoyances, right? But there’s no chance left for them now. No chance to hold onto disappointment, or those proud moments when they impress you.”
Duncan sniffled, ran his hand under his nose. “They make you smile and break your heart. It’s life. You deal with it, take it in stride. Her mother is going to be a wreck. I’m going to have to take some time off work to help her and get my own head on straight again.”
“You seem like a good man. I’ve known your kind before.”
Duncan snorted and chuckled through a sob. “I’m going to miss her so much. It seems unreal.”
“Allow yourself to grieve.”
“It’d be easier to grieve if I had some way to dispense this pain. Someone to blame. Someone alive.” His lips trembled, eyes wandering over the dash, coming to rest on the picture. “You’re right. After this, we’re going to drag the Mayor and Mr. Wallace out into the woods and let them fill us in on all their secrets.”