by Matt Shaner
“He’s right. Let’s set something up. Catch her in the act,” I said. I couldn’t imagine how I would feel if it was Val. My own shot of fire hot anger welled up inside. The best way to handle it, though, was not to be out of control. We needed a cold, calculating way to catch her there before they spotted us and called the cops. Personally, and it scared me to realize this, I hoped we caught them in the act, and Travis could get all his anger out.
The plan we hatched that night we would end up regretting. We didn’t know it would get so out of control. Basically, we decided to do what was done in so many movies and books. Travis would pull the fake, off on a business trip, thing and double back home. We all agreed to be around. I told Val about the whole thing, and she supported our plan. She valued faithfulness in a relationship.
If he had the nerve to come into their house, we didn’t know if he did, but if he did all bets were off. If she went over there, we would need to coordinate a little better. We picked a date two weeks away and told Travis to hold on and tolerate what he could. We told him to stay strong and stay normal.
He planned his trip. We marked the date on our calendars and mentally prepared ourselves for what was coming. None of us were ready for what happened.
Chapter Eight
The Affair Part Two: Explosion . . .
In the time between that night and the confrontation, Travis started doing his homework and gradually checking in on Mya. I guess it was the journalist in him, and as he told us right before the day, he was mentally prepared for whatever would happen. Val helped us out on a few occasions when she watched the coming and going, and we worked out the part of trying to identify the other guy in the equation.
We met one last time before everything happened. We sat around the pool table again and covered all the bases.
“So I leave the house and drive into the office like usual tomorrow,” Travis said.
“You made sure she knows that you’re going on this trip, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, she thinks I’m gone for two weeks. Anyway, I’ll check in one last time, stay late at the office, and make my way around back near midnight. You all have my number, and I have yours. I really appreciate this.” Travis stopped, staring at an unknown point on the table.
“It’s something that you would do for any of us,” Bryan said.
“Yeah, but this is beyond a window and a few tires,” Shawn said. That seemed to snap Travis back to reality.
“That’s why I picked this up last week,” he said as he pulled out a handgun and laid it on the table.
Bryan jumped.
Everyone’s face turned gray. The air in the roomed felt a little heavier, and things started to melt away.
“Is she worth going to jail over?” I asked.
“Tell me something,” Travis said. “What if you had one thing you loved more than anything else in this world, and you watched it grow so distant. You start to ask yourself, doubt, and question if you’re actually a man. Then you find out that she’s being stolen from you. No one does that to me.”
“Is it loaded?” Drew asked.
“Six rounds. Three for her and three for him,” Travis said.
Walking home that night, it seemed that no one wanted to be anywhere near Travis. Shawn and Drew made conversation ahead of us. As I was shutting the door, Bryan leaned into me. “Try to talk him out of it,” he told me. I told him I would give it my best.
Death is a surreal thing. In the end, it’s just a choice. It’s an end result. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched one of those interviews on television with a killer. They all have this calm about them. If life is a never-ending stream of choice and staying on the right side of the morality line, these people chose to just give it up and react to whatever came in their way. On that walk, I saw the same calm in Travis. His eyes, usually bright with a devious joy in life, seemed gray and cold. I didn’t know what to say. How do you talk someone out of murder?
I listened to the sound of insects from the forest to our backs. Before I could talk, he turned to me.
“She doesn’t say anything to me anymore. We met in high school. Did I tell you that? I was a punk kid. She was in with the popular girls. I knew this would happen. Everyone told me it would. No one like her goes with a guy like me.” He stopped and let that thought go into the night air.
“You’re a good guy. Don’t forget that.” It was the best I could do at that moment.
“She doesn’t talk to me anymore. She doesn’t answer her cell phone. I sleep on the damn couch when she’s home. When she isn’t, most of the nights now, I can’t sleep.”
“Listen man,” I decided to go for broke, “whatever happens tomorrow, just remember that you have a future to think about, even without her.”
“I haven’t slept in three days.” When he said that, I knew he was too far gone. We reached the spot in the street where we needed to go our separate ways. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. I hadn’t seen him smoke before that moment. He looked up to the moon.
“Did you ever have someone betray you?” he asked. I did. I didn’t say it then, but I knew how he felt.
“Look, you trust me right? Give me the gun. Confront her, get mad, do what you need, just don’t do anything you’ll regret later.” I realized my tone betrayed my belief. He never heard a word.
“I can’t. This needs to be done. I’ll kill the motherfucker, and if she’s there, I’ll kill her too.” He threw the cigarette down. “Sweet dreams,” he said. He crushed the cigarette under his boot.
That night I couldn’t say anything to Val. I told her that Travis decided to handle it his own way. I said he threw her out, or that he would that night. I said he was okay and made peace with the whole situation.
After Val went to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing “sweet dreams” rolling over and over on a loop between my ears. I grabbed piece of paper and noted out my night. I wrote down what we said in case I needed it for the police. I hoped tomorrow wouldn’t come. Maybe time could stop that night or skip the day altogether. The thing is, time can’t restore love when it’s lost. It can’t erase betrayal. It sure as hell can’t change a mind running on no sleep and a gun.
Before I tried to sleep next to Val, I looked out the window and saw the lights on across the street. Travis told the truth. I guess, when you decide to kill, sleep doesn’t seem that important any more.
Chapter Nine
The Showdown
Work passed too fast the next day. I rooted for the clock to slow down. It never did. On the way home, the sun set low and hot over the field. Shawn was out in his yard, chipping back and forth. We met eyes before I walked inside. We realized we all were aiding and abetting a murder by not saying anything. But, what could we say? Call the cops and guess that something was going to happen that night? We didn’t want to sound like we knew anything.
The rest of the night passed, and I told Val I wasn’t tired and needed to stay up a little. A few minutes before midnight, Bryan came walking up the street and gathered each of us from our houses. Travis came home right at midnight. We were standing in the driveway. He turned off his headlights as they illuminated our faces.
“Are we ready?” he asked. He pulled the gun from his belt and checked the clip. We didn’t flinch. What could we do at this point? He walked, and we followed.
My mind started to calculate all the circumstances. I wasn’t ready to pick up the family and go overseas to live as a fugitive. Val wouldn’t be too up on the idea anyway. First, I promised I would step in if anything bad happened. Second, I knew I would run like crazy and try to forget about the whole thing.
The moment before we crossed the street, headlights crested the hill. Travis was halfway into the road and not going to stop. The car swerved around him with a trailing yell of “asshole.” He kept walking. We jogged to catch up.
He made it to the front door of the house. No dogs were being let out tonight. The darkness had certain calm over it that comes before every dramatic thing. The front door was locked. He backed up and leveled a shoulder into it. The rattle of the door seemed to shake through the entire house. He didn’t wait for a response. He threw his shoulder into it again, and we heard a sharp cracking of the door frame. He backed up and kicked a boot right next to the door, sending it flying open.
A security alarm sounded for two seconds until he punched some buttons on the wall panel. The alarm stopped, oddly having the same code as our own. The phone rang twice, and he picked up one on the table right inside the door.
“No. Sorry about that. I was letting the dog out and forgot to disarm the system. Thanks.” He replaced the receiver. None of us really wanted to go inside, but we did anyway.
On the kitchen counter, positioned similar to the ones in our houses, a line of liquor bottles led from the corner to the sink. From what we could see in the limited light, the place sat in disarray. Dishes were on the table and the kitchen counters. Trash overflowed from the can. The fridge door sat slightly open. A fly buzzed around it. Blankets covered the couch, and I didn’t want to know why. Travis scanned the rooms and started up the staircase.
Since we made it this far, I figured they had to be passed out. No sleeping person would last through a phone call or, especially, his or her front door being kicked in. Drew stayed at the entrance and kept watch outside. We followed up the stairs.
It wasn’t hard to find them. A string of clothes created a trail on the floor. A vase, or pieces of what was left, sat in the corner. Travis flicked a light on. I guess he didn’t mind being noticed. One of the doors to the master bedroom stood slightly open. A loud snore drifted out through the room.
Really, thinking about it now, it all seemed to be unreal. It felt like a replay from some action movie. This happened all in a minute or two.
Travis pushed open the door. The light from the hallway flooded into the room, and Mya, draped over the guy from the house, opened one eye and sat up.
“What the fuck?” she mouthed. She had nothing on and did not bother to hide that fact. The sleeper stirred.
“Your time to talk is over,” Travis said. I didn’t like his tone. By now the guy was awake and sitting up next to Mya.
He wasn’t handsome in the classical sense. He looked like the average guy but with close-cropped dark hair and an athletic build. He rubbed his eyes, and when he finally focused on the scene, a slow look of hate slid onto his face.
“Yeah, big man with the gun,” he said. Mya squinted at Travis and let out a yelp when she noticed the gun.
“I will put a massive fucking hole in the middle of your head if you don’t shut up,” Travis said and cocked the hammer.
“Honey, don’t. Let me explain.” She leaned up on her knees. The guy also went to get out of the bed. “Steve, stay here. He’s crazy.”
“Steve?” Travis asked. He looked at me. “Hey man, take that down. Make sure it’s on the tombstone.”
“Put that toy down, and let’s settle this like men.” Steve said. He was a little dumber then he looked, which was a challenge. This was not the time for any testosterone-fueled courage. The entire room smelled of alcohol and sex.
“What are you doing? He isn’t worth it.” Mya said. A tear fell from her eye tracing a streak of expensive mascara over her cheek. This exchange happened as Travis moved closer to the bed. The gun still pointed directly at Steve.
“Look at you, bringing other guys to do your work. What a pussy,” Steve said. The gun pointed at him, but Travis looked at Mya. Later he told me he was thinking of their wedding day. Travis flinched for a second, and then it all happened.
Steve lunged across the bed. Travis pulled the trigger, placing one bullet directly into his skull. His head wrenched back, and he fell to the bed. Some of his head landed on the bed, the rest streaked across the wall. A gunshot inside of a room that size sounded like nothing I had heard before. It destroyed the air, and the sound wave crushed into our heads. My hearing stopped for a few minutes, so the rest appeared like something from a silent movie.
Mya dropped to the bed, holding her head in her hands. The blood masked her face. She, Travis and Bryan wore the worst of the blood. Shawn and I were still partly in the hallway. Travis turned his head. He put his hand on Mya.
“Why? Do you see what you made me do?” He asked her. Cries racked her head and her back. If I could have heard anything more than ringing, I’m sure it would have sounded pitiful and beautiful at the same time. She looked up. Her face was peaceful.
“You crazy fuck. I’ll never be with you.” Before she finished the last word, Travis grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her head to the mattress. He grabbed a pillow, put the gun on top of it and fired twice. Mya twitched and stopped moving. A red pattern spread on the pillow. I remember smelling the gunpowder in the air. The ringing started to lessen. Bryan cocked his head.
“Sirens.” He said. As if to emphasize his point, we heard Drew’s voice from downstairs.
“Let’s go. Now. We need to move,” he yelled. We all turned to go. Bryan stood in the doorway. Over my shoulder I saw Travis wave him away with the gun. Bryan turned to follow us.
We ran across the street. All the lights in the other houses were on, and doors flew open behind us. By the time we reached our street, the first police car swung into The Holding and parked half on the street and half in the grass in front of Steve’s house. Two more followed.
That night I fell asleep around four and woke up at six like usual. The whole thing only took twenty minutes. It felt like a year. I thought about writing stuff down, but it didn’t make sense. How could I forget any of that? Some of the moments life gives us sit permanently inside our souls. I’ll never forget the look on his face. I’ll never forget seeing two people die.
It seemed like nothing worse could happen. I wish that was true. When a bad event happens in a place, it leaves an imprint there forever. That’s why you get a bad vibe walking through the battlefields at Gettysburg or the concentration camp remains or the grounds where the World Trade Center used to stand. A bad feeling settled over the houses and those of us still left in The Reserve. It waited and built up steam. Eventually it needed another outlet and found one on a normal winter afternoon.
Chapter Ten
The Showdown Postscript
The news vans, local and national, crowded the streets at The Holding. They interviewed the lawyer. He actually had the nerve to offer his services to defend Travis. I guess he didn’t realize that Travis was not alone that night.
We learned that Steve was Steven Morris. He worked as a personal trainer with some high level clients in the city and just opened his own gym not far from his house. He was thirty-two years old, single and had no family in the area. The other body, at the moment, had not been identified. The person arrested at the scene, who offered a confession to the police, was Travis Long. He worked as a journalist for a major East Coast newspaper. The television had a shot of Travis being led into the courthouse in handcuffs flanked by two detectives and three uniformed cops. I recognized the one from Shawn’s house, and that day felt long ago and so trivial now.
The cops interviewed the other residents to see if they had seen or heard anything. The mother from the house with the customized car for her teenage son heard a rumor that people were running from the scene. The others didn’t say anything about that. I felt guilty and lucky at the same time. After a while you learn to live with the guilt.
Chapter Eleven
That Winter Night
My property and Shawn’s property border the road. A soft hill runs next to mine, and when the snow fell, it became the natural sledding choice for Bryan’s kids. We were far removed from any town, and I didn’t care if he brought them over to have some
fun.
The house that was owned by Travis stood vacant for some time. I felt cold every time I looked at it. I still saw his face in my dreams and replayed the killing over and over in my mind. We vowed that what we had seen would be kept between us. The police came and interviewed our families, and we sat in the background, saying the usual yes and no and giving the same opinions. No one went any further with the claim of the woman about seeing people running from the crime scene.
It was a mix of emotions for a while. A little bit of power comes with a secret. A secret as big as witnessing a murder charged us with a large amount of power. We walked around like kings, and we knew that peace finally descended over the land.
The first storm of the winter season covered the ground with a mix of snow and rain, giving a level of ice over the powder. It was perfect for packing and sledding. That night Bryan and his boys made their way over to the hill, throwing around a football and some snowballs. Val and I walked outside to watch, holding two mugs of coffee. They were close enough to the house for us to hear, but far away enough that they looked small on the horizon. The moon cast an eerie white glow from the reflection on the hill.
The boys stopped sledding, and Bryan started a game of catch with each of them in a triangle, him closest to our house and them near to the road. He started sending them into patterns across the snow, back and forth, probably betting on an early bedtime. He sent one towards the road, and the ball skipped over the snow and slid into the non-plowed road.
“Be careful!” Bryan yelled. Just as his son picked up the ball, the headlights crested the hill.
This played out, like Travis with the gun, in slow motion. The headlights belonged to a pickup truck, modified with a plow. I recognized the one from the other development at the end of the drive. The driver tried to turn it into The Holding but was going too fast and started to slide. One second Bryan’s son stood in the street holding the football; the next second he was gone. Val screamed. I told her to go call 911, and she ran into the house. I went out to the street, but Bryan beat me to it.