by Joy Fielding
As if scared into action, the long line of cars and trucks began to move, gradually picking up speed as they drove past two badly mangled cars at the side of the road, a uniformed police officer taking statements from several of the people involved. “Learn to drive, assholes,” Tom called out when he was safely out of hearing range.
He transferred into the right lane, took the first exit, then spent the next ten minutes driving around in circles, trying to locate the Southern Comfort Motel. “Couldn’t stay at a Holiday Inn,” he muttered. “Had to stay at some stupid little place nobody’s ever heard of.”
You should get one of those GPS thingies, like I have, Lainey had once suggested. I use mine all the time.
“Of course you use it,” Tom said now. “You couldn’t find your ass with both hands.”
Although she’d known how to find Jeff easily enough.
“Where the hell are you?” Tom shouted as, overhead, a plane flew in low for a landing. And then he saw it, the glow of a neon sign halfway down the next block, to his left. SOUTHERN COMFORT MOTEL , the sign announced, a smaller sign flashing VACANCY directly below.
“No, thank you,” Tom said, glancing lovingly at the guns on the seat beside him as he guided his car into the left lane. “I already have a room.”
JEFF WAS SITTING in the brown upholstered chair across from the bed when he heard a car pull up outside the door. “Finally,” he said, releasing the air in his lungs and wondering how long he’d been holding his breath. What the hell had taken Tom so long to get here? He walked to the door, catching sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked scared, he realized, wondering—not for the first time—whether he could actually go through with his plan. Could he really gun down a man in cold blood?
More important, could he get away with it?
Yes, to both questions, Jeff assured himself. And now that Tom was finally here, everything could proceed according to plan.
Jeff pulled open the door. “About time you got here,” he said.
He didn’t even feel the punch until he was on the floor, didn’t know what hit him until he saw Dave’s fist coming at him again. “Where is she, you son of a bitch?” Dave was hollering, his knees straddling Jeff’s chest. “Suzy, get out here, unless you want to see your boyfriend beaten to a bloody pulp.”
“She’s not here,” Jeff sputtered, trying to regain his equilibrium. What the hell had happened? Where was Tom?
“The hell she isn’t. Suzy, I’m warning you. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
“I’m telling you,” Jeff cried. “She isn’t here.”
“You’re lying.”
Jeff couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sucker-punched, and he fought to clear his head as the room gradually came back into focus, although it continued to spin. It isn’t supposed to be going down like this, he was thinking. What the hell was happening?
Dragging Jeff by the throat, Dave lifted the bedspread and peered under the bed. “Where the hell is she?”
“I have no idea.”
“You might want to rethink that answer.” Dave hit him again, this time a powerful blow to the stomach that left Jeff gasping for air. “Now where is she? And please don’t tell me you don’t know. I’m a doctor, remember? I know just where to make it hurt.” He dug his fingers between two of Jeff’s ribs to illustrate his point.
“She left. About half an hour ago.”
“Where’d she go?”
“I don’t know.” Jeff screamed in pain as Dave Bigelow’s fingers dug deeper into his flesh. “She said she couldn’t go through with it, said she was going back home.”
“How convenient,” Dave said. “Why is it I don’t believe you?” Once again, his clenched fist connected with Jeff’s jaw. “Now I’m going to count to three,” he continued, as behind him the motel door swung quietly open, “and then I’m going to start breaking every bone in your body.”
Jeff’s head was spinning as he felt his jawbone shatter. His vision blurred; unconsciousness threatened. Where the hell is Tom? he wondered as darkness began filling the room a slow step at a time, the shadow moving ever closer.
“One . . . two . . .”
A shot rang out.
Dave’s back arched, his shoulders stiffening, his eyes widening in a combination of shock and disbelief, then clouding over, freezing in place as he lurched forward, then crumpled like a rag doll on top of Jeff.
“Three,” a voice said from the shadows.
It took all Jeff’s strength to push Dave off his chest. He knew Dave was dead even before he saw the blood seeping into the front of his shirt, creating a widening circle around his heart. Jeff’s eyes shot toward the figure standing in the doorway as he leaned his back against the bed and fought to catch his breath. “Tom! Jesus. What happened? Where the hell have you been?”
“You complaining?” Tom kicked the door closed behind him with the heel of his black leather boot.
“Shit, man, no way.”
“Where’s Suzy?”
“I sent her out for something to eat, told her to take her time, that I had a few things to take care of and I’d meet her back here in a couple of hours. I wanted her to have an alibi. She has no idea what’s going down.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
Jeff thought he detected a note of sarcasm in Tom’s voice but dismissed it as just a ringing in his ears.
“So what happens now?” Tom asked.
Jeff took several deep breaths before responding. It hurt to talk. His head was pounding, his jaw throbbing. He needed to think things through very carefully. The original plan had been to lure Dave to the motel by telling him that Suzy was there, something Kristin had pulled off with her usual skill and aplomb. Except instead of Suzy, Dave would find Jeff and Tom waiting when he arrived. They’d then force him to drive to the Everglades, where they’d shoot him and dump his body in some alligator-riddled swamp. But Dave had shown up early and Tom late, which had thrown everything off-kilter. “Everything’s changed,” Jeff said out loud, each word sending fresh spasms through his jaw.
“Meaning?”
“Well, for starters, we no longer have to dispose of Dave’s body.”
“How do you figure?”
“It was obviously self-defense.”
“You didn’t kill the prick,” Tom reminded Jeff. “I did.”
“It’s still a legitimate defense. You killed him to save me.”
“Except the bastard doesn’t have a gun,” Tom said, frisking Dave to make sure. “Police are gonna say I used undue force.”
“You’ve been watching too much television,” Jeff said, the words sliding from his drooping mouth.
“Don’t have a TV anymore, remember? I shot it.”
“But you have more than one gun,” Jeff reminded him, “and none of them is registered. Who’s to prove one of those guns didn’t belong to Dave? That he didn’t come here to kill me?”
Tom sneered. It was just like Jeff to make everything all about him. Jeff’s problem had been taken care of after all, felled by a bullet from Tom’s .23. And now Tom was expected to deal with the repercussions while Jeff rode off into the sunset with the girl of his dreams.
No way, Tom thought. Not this time.
“Besides,” Jeff was saying, “I’m sure someone heard that gun go off. We can’t just go sneaking out of here with a body. Odds are people are watching, that somebody’s already called the police.”
Tom digested this latest bit of information, thinking Jeff was probably correct. The police were very likely on their way. Which didn’t leave him much time to finish what he’d come here to do. “So, once again, you come out a winner. The once and future champion.”
“Is something wrong?” Jeff asked.
“What could possibly be wrong?”
“We should call the police.” Jeff reached for the phone, deciding to ignore the nasty undertone in Tom’s voice. “Tell them what happened before they get here. It’ll show we have noth
ing to hide.”
“I don’t know about that. I’d say you’ve been hiding quite a bit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeff was growing impatient. What was the matter with Tom? Yes, he’d probably saved his life by showing up when he had, but his tardiness was what had put Jeff’s life at risk in the first place. And now that he needed time to put his thoughts in order, to prepare his story for the police, now that everything was about to fall into place, Tom was being difficult for no reason. Clearly he was drunk. Quite possibly he was in shock. “Look. Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff said, ignoring his own pain. “You just killed a man. That’s never easy.”
“Easier than you think,” Tom replied cryptically.
“I’m gonna get you a glass of water. Then I’m going to call the police.”
“You’re not calling anybody.” Tom raised his gun, pointed it at Jeff’s head.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Okay, I’ve had just about enough of this—”
“When have you ever had enough?” Tom demanded. “Of anything?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact it’s not enough you’re fucking Kristin and Suzy, and probably half the state of Florida, you gotta go after Lainey, too?”
“What? Are you crazy? You think I’m fucking your wife?”
“You’re denying it?”
“Of course I’m denying it. You’re my best friend. For God’s sake, Tom, think about what you’re saying. You know I wouldn’t—”
“I know she was at your place.”
Jeff frantically searched his memory for the last time Lainey had been at his apartment. “She wasn’t . . . Wait a minute. Okay. Yeah. Kristin told me Lainey dropped by the other day. She wanted me to talk to you, but I wasn’t home. I didn’t even see her. Ask Kristin if you don’t believe me. Or Will. He was there. He’ll tell you.”
“He already did.”
“Okay, then—”
“Told me all about you and Lainey.”
“What are you talking about?” Jeff asked again.
There was a loud banging on the door. “Jeff . . . Tom . . . ,” Will called from the other side. “Please let me in.”
“Thank God,” Jeff said with relief. “There’s obviously been a giant misunderstanding. . . .” He was moving to the door when he felt a sharp pain tear through his chest, followed almost immediately by another. “What the . . . ?” he started to say as a third bullet from Tom’s gun burrowed deep into his flesh, spinning him around and lifting him off the floor with a dancer’s languid grace. A fourth bullet sent him sprawling facedown across the bed, his mouth and nose disappearing into the folds of its rumpled white sheets. Suzy’s scent immediately enveloped him, as if she were taking him in her arms.
“I love you,” he heard her whisper in his ear, her words silencing all other sounds.
“I love you, too,” he told her.
Jeff felt her lips soft and tender against his own.
Then he felt nothing at all.
WILL WAS STANDING outside the motel door when Tom opened it and beckoned him inside.
The first thing he saw was Dave lying facedown on the floor in a dark pool of his own blood.
The second thing he saw was Jeff stretched out across the unmade bed, his face half-buried in the sheets.
The third thing he saw was Tom, now standing in the middle of the room, a self-satisfied smirk on his stupid face, a gun at the end of his outstretched hand. “Look what you did, little brother,” Tom said as police sirens swirled around them.
Will’s eyes filled with bitter tears. His body swayed, his knees buckled.
“Okay. Drop your weapons,” he heard a voice cry out behind him, only then becoming aware of the raised .22 in his hand. “Police. Drop your weapons,” the voice repeated. “Now.” The sound of car doors slamming, of rifles being readied, of footsteps edging closer.
Will’s finger twitched over the trigger, his whole body aching to pull it. Could he do it? he wondered, thinking that no jury in the world would convict him for shooting the man who’d murdered his brother. Although he was guilty of a crime far bigger than that, he acknowledged silently, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Look what you did, little brother, he heard Tom repeat.
Tom was right.
It was because of him that Jeff was dead.
Will dropped the gun to the floor, raised both hands in the air in abject surrender.
“Now isn’t that a surprise?” Tom said, laughing as he raised his own gun and fired the remaining bullet into Will’s chest.
He was still laughing when the sound of rifle fire filled the room.
THIRTY-TWO
THE MIAMI AIRPORT was as busy as she’d ever seen it.
“God, where’s everybody going?” Kristin asked.
“They can’t all be going to Buffalo,” Will said, a slow smile creeping onto his lips.
Kristin put her hand carefully through the crook of his arm, helping him maneuver his way through the crowd toward the proper gate. It’s good to see Will smile again, she was thinking, however tentatively. It had been a long time since she’d seen even a flicker of a grin register on his sweet face. “How are you managing?” she asked. “Am I walking too fast?”
“No, you’re fine.”
Even so, she slowed her pace, listening for the soft shuffle of Will’s left foot as it dragged behind his right, the result of police bullets to his knee and thigh. The bullet from Tom’s gun had missed his heart by inches, knocking him to the floor and ironically saving his life when the police opened fire. Tom hadn’t been so lucky. He’d died instantly in the hail of rifle shots that followed.
Will had spent the better part of four weeks in the hospital, enduring several painful operations, followed by almost two months in a convalescent home. He’d lost weight, maybe ten pounds, and his skin was still very pale, almost translucent, although the faintest of blushes had returned to his cheeks in the last week. His mother had visited often, even staying with Kristin on several occasions. His father had managed the trip down only once, too busy with his new girlfriend and the baby they were expecting early next spring. “Looks like I might be getting a little brother of my own soon,” Will had confided during one of Kristin’s last visits.
“I wish you were coming with me,” he said now.
“I can’t,” Kristin said. “You know I can’t.”
They stopped walking.
“Why not?” Will asked, as he’d asked at least a dozen times already this morning. “There’s nothing keeping you here.”
“I know.”
“Then come with me.”
“I can’t.”
“My mother will be so disappointed not to see you get off that plane.”
“Your mother will be thrilled. She thinks I’m a bad influence.”
“Nonsense. She loves you.”
Kristin resumed walking, leaving Will no choice but to follow. “She tolerates me,” she corrected.
“And what is love if not just a higher degree of tolerance?” Will asked.
Kristin laughed, loud and long. “Careful,” she warned him. “The philosopher in you is starting to show.”
“Oh, no, not him again.”
“We can’t help being who we are, Will.”
“Now who’s the philosopher?”
Kristin smiled, stopped walking. “I’m going to miss you.” Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek.
“You don’t have to. Come with me,” Will said again, grabbing her hand with his own, placing it directly over his heart. “We could start fresh. We don’t have to stay in Buffalo. I don’t have to go back to Princeton. I can finish my dissertation anywhere.”
Kristin turned away, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t,” she said again.
“Because of Jeff?”
Kristin felt her body deflate at the sound of Jeff’s name, like
a tire punctured by a nail. She was losing air, she thought, struggling to remain upright. It hurt to breathe. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Even after almost three months, it was hard to accept that Jeff was really dead. That was never supposed to have happened. Kristin shook her head, her long ponytail slapping at the sides of her neck.
“I like your hair like that,” Will told her, trying to prolong their good-bye, still hoping he could find the magical combination of words that would make her change her mind and come with him. So what would you clowns wish for if a genie offered to grant you one wish? he heard his brother ask that fateful night in the Wild Zone. The night that had set everything in motion.
“Will?”
“Hmm? Sorry. Did you say something?”
“I said, I’m thinking of having my implants removed. Do you think I’d look all right?”
“I think you’ll look great no matter what you do.”
“You’re so sweet.”
“I’m not,” Will said.
“Yeah, you are.”
They approached the long lineup for security.
“Is all the hardware in your body going to set off a bunch of bells and whistles when you go through the X-rays?” Kristin asked, only half in jest.
“Probably. Maybe they won’t let me leave,” Will said almost hopefully. Then, “I don’t have to go, you know.”
“We’ve been through this.”
“I know.”
“You have to go, Will. You don’t belong here.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged.
“You’ll call me if there are any problems?” he asked.