by Matt Shaner
We sat down in the room. He shut the door and turned on the art-deco lights. A painting of a swamp landscape framed him on the wall as he sat at the table. He produced a rolled up newspaper under his arm and threw it down in front of me.
“You want to tell me about this?” He asked. I unfolded the paper. The cover story was about the report of two missing men, both involved in a DUI death of a young child, and the suspected chance of foul play.
“You live there right?” I looked closer. My name, along with Shawn and Drew, was in the article as neighbors, and the reporter wondered if we would be questioned.
“I do. Val and I were the guy’s neighbors.” I tried to measure my words.
“You know,” he said, “we care about your lives here, and you can talk to us whenever something is going on.” I mentally pictured him reading that out of the company handbook under what to say in a bad situation.
I was skimming through the article when I read something disturbing. It said they were questioning people surrounding the disappearances. I heard a knock at the meeting room door and looked out through the window. A security guy stood there with a guy I didn’t recognize in a bad suit. Kevin nodded to them and they came into the room.
“This is Detective Williams.” He looked at the security guy and the detective, “Take as long as you need.”
The detective shook my hand. After the door shut, he sat down and looked at me.“ Now don’t get worried or anything; we are asking everyone in the two developments about the situation, and this is all routine,” he said.
“Shoot,” I said. “Ask me anything.”
“Well, tell me what happened. We’re trying to get a feel of the situation,” he said.
I went through everything and stuck with our story. I told him about the accident. I told him about Bryan walking out with our planned explanation. He didn’t ask about Travis, and I was surprised but let it go.
“Look, things have been rough for us and our neighbors. My wife is upset. I’m on my last nerve. Things are surreal, but we are making it somehow.”
“Thanks for your time and here’s my card,” he said and flipped it to me on the table. “Call me if you think of anything else.” I said I would and he left.
The rest of the day dragged by as I considered the situation. The conversation in the morning just landed another criminal count on my resume of lying to the police, but I didn’t care. This was a game of survival now. We played to win. I called Shawn and Drew at work. They both had the same conversations with other officers. They both kept the storyline. The survival game ran through all of us. I felt better after talking to them.
Chapter Seventeen
The Evening News
I went home that night and had dinner, like usual. We settled down in front of the television. I told Val about the detective, and she said she was called at work. Nothing to worry about, I thought, he was just making the rounds. We turned on the news.
After the national stories covering the war, economics, etc., they moved on to local news, and the face of the lawyer across the street filled the screen. He stood behind a row of microphones. He still wore a bad suit. His sound bite stated he had been contacted by the family of the missing man, his neighbor, and had taken up their cause to investigate the item fully. He vowed to not rest until an answer was discovered. I wondered what movie he pulled that from. A knock sounded at the door, and I half expected to see the swat team lined up to take me down. I opened it to see Drew standing there.
“I need to talk,” he said.
“Okay,” I said as I stepped outside. “Look, I know everything that happened and about being contacted. Don’t worry though, they have nothing.”
“You don’t get it. I don’t want this anymore,” he said. He looked into my eyes, and I noticed a tear forming in the corner of his.
“It will be fine. Trust me.” I tried to sell this to myself.
“He really went after me today,” he said.
“Who?”
“That lawyer. The guy on the news.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he knew we were close over here. He knew I knew something. He would take away everything I valued, charge me with accessory to murder and put me away for years.” The tear in his eye finally rolled down his face.
“Think for a second. They can’t press charges without evidence. No one has found any signs of the body.” I looked back to Bryan’s house, while I spoke. It stood there mocking us. I saw the children playing catch in the yard. I saw Bryan and Julia talking in the kitchen. Now the place was just there, an empty tomb, waiting to be entered again and for the truth to finally come out.
“I don’t know man. You remember how he sounded?” I didn’t have to ask whom he was talking about.
“Every night,” I said.
“I need to get this off my back.”
“Just give it some time. I’ll come up with something. I’ll talk to Shawn. Things will be all right,” I said. I had no idea what to do next. Drew turned around and went back to his house.
Chapter Eighteen
Time to Do Something
The nightly news carried updates every other day or so concerning the case and the announcement that the investigation was widening to include Bryan and his family. People were sure that the disappearances had to be connected. The word murder, started to float around. One night, looking haggard, Julia appeared on television standing next to the lawyer. The reporter asked for her opinion, and she said she didn’t have one. She was done with Bryan, and she just wanted to start over, away from the pain of it all. She turned to cry on the shoulder of the lawyer, and he smiled for a second.
We agreed to keep watch on Bryan’s house and property. Shawn, Drew and I were all approached by police and made sure to stick with the stories. One morning, coming up out of the dawn, Bryan’s house was shrouded in police tape. Two cars sat out front, one a marked cruiser and one a SUV with the words Crime Scene Unit across the back in yellow lettering. As I pulled out of the driveway, three other vehicles passed me on the way into the development. I recognized Detective Williams driving one and holding a cup of coffee. He glanced at me and kept driving.
When I arrived to work, I brought up the news on a streaming Internet site, and sure enough, the breaking story told of a turn in the investigation. Now, the missing men were considered as involved in foul play. It was now a double murder case. I clicked off the site and picked up the phone. Shawn answered in his office.
“We may have an issue,” I said.
“I heard. Did you see the crowd this morning?” he asked.
“I saw the start of it. They taped off the entire place.”
“Did anyone go into the yard or,” he paused, “the forest?”
“I don’t think so. Either way, we need to do something tonight.” I didn’t like the resolute sound of my voice. I looked out of my door to make sure no one was standing near. People walked around in the morning haze, but no one paid any attention to my conversation. I love office anonymity.
“Agreed,” he said. I heard a door shut in the background. “Let’s burn it.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, but it was a good idea.
“Yeah. Tonight. Go in, hit the fireplace, and light the entire thing.” We agreed to meet, like we did the last time we were there, later that night.
Chapter Nineteen
The Fire
I watched Bryan’s house from mine after work to attempt to get an idea of the police presence. A single Crime Scene van remained out front, and at ten, two guys emerged from the house and drove off, leaving it alone and dark. The police tape was still draped across the door.
I told Val I couldn’t sleep, and that I was going for a walk. We communicated the plans earlier to Drew, and he met us just on the edge of the shadows by Bryan’s house. We noticed gas cans in
the garage before, and the simplest idea seemed to be to spread them out, light it from there, and let the fire marshal blame it on wiring or something of the sort.
We didn’t have a key, and even though Bryan never locked his door, the police probably kept a crime scene sealed up tight. We walked, staying to the woods, around the back of the house, and Shawn made his way to the row of garage windows that looked to our area in the forest. He balled his fist up in his shirt and jabbed the one window by the inside lock. It broke in a neat piece that fell on the garage floor, and he reached in to work the lock. In five minutes we all were standing inside the garage. Two gas cans were stacked against the wall. I grabbed one and Shawn grabbed the other. Drew watched to make sure no police came down the drive.
After the first floor was covered, and the gas trailed to the garage, I pulled out a pack of matches, struck one, and dropped it. We ran out to the forest before the place could go up.
The flames spread quickly. One thing about the new bigger houses was that they sacrificed the quality of the historical home construction. They had time back then and patience that we don’t have. The fire consumed the wood, and within twenty minutes, the place was nothing but cinders. We stood there watching, the heat rolling over our faces. Some of the trees above us caught a burning ember and started to smoke, dropping the ashes from leaves down in a perverse snowfall. The dry night pushed everything through fast. We watched, satisfied with the results.
Just as we were turning to go home, I heard Drew let out a whimper. Shawn and I looked over and saw him kneeling on the ground. A figure, dressed in black, pointed a gun at the back of his head. I recognized the face in the reflection of the firelight, it was the lawyer. Before I could react, I was kicked in the back of my leg, and Shawn was also hit. We fell to the ground. I swiveled my head and counted three other guys. Each held some form of a weapon. The only one with the gun was the lawyer.
“Smart,” he said. “Burn it down and hide the evidence of your murder.”
“You don’t know anything,” I said. He looked at the guy behind me, and I felt another sharp kick to my back.
“I’d like to say, explain that to the police, but they are worthless around here,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” I said. I received another kick to my back. The pain sent sparklers up over my eyes. “I swear, one more time . . .”
“What will you do?” he asked, waiting for me to act. When I didn’t, he asked, “Did you know they were related?” We didn’t say anything. I felt the darkness threaten to overtake my perception. The statement hit like the bullet that was coming. “Of course you didn’t.” Drew started to cry. He edged the gun further into the back of his head.
“They were brothers. Do you want to know something else? Julia is my sister.” It all made sense to me. “I’ve seen the results of the investigation so far. The basement has been declared a crime scene. Well, it was until you burned it. You won’t get away this time.” He pulled the hammer back on the gun. I noticed another set of lights, red and white, against his face. He looked down the road. A pair of fire engines raced towards us. The group looked at each other. He pointed the gun at me.
“Don’t think this is over. I’ll see all of you in court,” he said, and they ran off in the darkness.
We needed to physically drag Drew to his house. We spent that night not knowing what would happen or where we would end up. More police and fire vehicles arrived at the house, and the sound of the hoses put me to sleep that night.
Chapter Twenty
Lunch Break
I drove to work replaying the night in my head. The news cameras were there. The early morning reports were starting, and the road before the remains of Bryan’s house had a handful of well-dressed reporters running their live feeds. Two vans from national stations were parked in the road. The police shifted their investigation across the street, and the lawyer enjoyed every second of his face time.
I arrived at work and went into my office. I shut the door and started up the computer. It was only seven in the morning, but my email was filled. I breezed through the usual business give and take until I arrived at the last email. The sender line was blank, not a trick that impressed me considering the IT guys did it all the time to send around chain letters that made fun of the supervisors. The message was short.
“Rick’s Diner. Lunch.”
Rick’s Diner was a small grease pit about ten minutes away from work. The guys would go there on Friday’s lunch hour to blow time and generally come back half drunk and late. It wasn’t Friday so I could be sure, minus the lunch crowd, that no one would recognize me.
My mind asked the usual questions. Was it a sting? Would the cops be waiting? Was Drew finally giving up? I pictured myself on an episode of COPS. That would go over well with any future children Val and I wanted to have. On Thanksgiving we could break out the family films of daddy being arrested. I thought about Drew and Shawn. We decided to keep our calls to a minimum to avoid any suspicion. I wondered if it was from one of them. My eyes watched the clock and imagined if this would be the last free morning in my life. A boring meeting and training session later, the clock turned to noon, and I left for lunch.
Rain started to fall lightly on my walk to the parking garage, and I thought it was fitting. The gang of smokers stood outside. I waived to the ones in my department. I looked for any police cars, undercover cars or anything out of the ordinary and came up with nothing. What would I do if I did see something? What would I do if Detective Williams arrested me right here? Would they give me a personal day for that? I reached the garage with these thoughts circling in my head.
The entire ride to the diner, I followed someone who appeared to be 106 years old and four feet tall. She went about ten miles an hour, and I hoped that whoever was waiting wouldn’t mind a little lateness. I finally passed her on a double yellow line after looking for any police. The last thing I needed was, “Hey do you know why I pulled you over? Oh, by the way, you’re wanted for murder.” I arrived at the diner at 12:17.
The usual lunch crowd sat in the booths, and I scanned the room. A woman in a blue power suit sat in the corner, alone. She looked at me and then looked away. I sat in the opposite corner and opened up one of the menus on the table. Before the waitress came over, a shadow fell over me, and I looked up; the blue suited woman sat in the booth.
“For God’s sake, are you a moron?” she asked. I recognized the voice and finally the appearance. It was Julia. She had changed her hair and a few other things.
“Nice to see you too,” I said. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get me in by being here?” Her arrogance annoyed me.
“We need to talk.” The waitress arrived at the table. Julia ordered a coffee, and I had water and a sandwich. If she wasn’t taking advantage of the location, I would.
“How are you doing?” I asked, trying to play the sympathy card. She looked straight into my eyes.
“How do you think I’m doing? My entire fucking family is going to kill each other. My husband and his brother are dead. My brother is organizing a lynch mob. Other than that, I’m doing fine,” she said.
“He wasn’t well liked in school, was he?”
She chuckled. “No actually, he wasn’t in high school or law school.”
“Why didn’t you two tell anyone about them being there?” I asked.
“That night, that guys’ night or whatever he called it, what do you think we were fighting about in the kitchen? I hated the entire set up. We were close, and I think, my brother moved out to watch over me.”
“The house burnt down, you know.”
“Of course, didn’t you see the paper?” She pulled a copy from her purse and threw it on the table. It was folded to page 5, and a black and white picture of the remains of the house graced the top half of the page.
“Why did you call me here any
way?” I asked.
“The police have been in contact with me every five minutes,” she said, “and it’s starting to get tiring.” I felt a drop of sweat on my forehead. The air conditioner in the place was kicking, but it didn’t help.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I know he was good friends with you. I thought you might know where he is. I mean, walking off in the night like that, not like him at all,” she said and she looked down at her hands. I felt a weight off my shoulders. She didn’t know. A part of her face darkened, and she looked up to me. “I actually have a proposal.”
My sandwich arrived, but I wasn’t hungry. I looked at her. Her lips seemed to be moving in slow motion.
“Can you find him for me? Find him and make sure he doesn’t come back,” she whispered the last part.
“What? Are you serious?” I asked. I tried not to be loud.
“Fifty-thousand. Half now and half when you prove he’s finally gone.” I couldn’t move or say anything. “Fine, one hundred, and that’s all I’ll go.”
“You must be mistaking me for Steven Segal,” I said. “I’m no killer.”
“I thought you might say that. I also talk to my brother every day. He has an eye on you and your other friends. You don’t do this, and I’ll tell him you killed them both and you won’t see daylight outside of a cell until you’re a senior citizen. We can help or hurt each other here. It’s your call,” she said. She sat back and looked satisfied.
I debated my options. The money would help. The job was already done. I, we, were in far enough and nothing could make the situation any better.
“Fine.” That settled it all. She handed me an envelope from her purse.
“This is money and my contact information. I want an update in a week. You slip up at all, and the word is out. Understand?” she asked, and she stood up to leave. I shook my head.