Martin dressed Kirby in a Bart Simpson diaper and blue baby t-shirt under the sleeper. He wrapped him again in new blankets. The radio emitted: You have to walk that lonesome valley; you have to walk it by yourself. Bill drove in such cramped quarters that he feared he would never walk again.
At last, after midnight, Bill parked in front of Martin’s house. Inside the car all was silent though no one slept. He felt Sandra shuffling around in the back seat. He saw Crook in the rear-view mirror looking across Sandra toward the house. Beside Bill, Martin sat still as a statue while holding Kirby on his shoulder. Bill knew the beds were not put together, but he could not stay to help.
On his way home, Bill decided that he could not tell even Tillie about this day, certainly not about Kirby, maybe not about Sandra. Tillie was still up when he walked inside the kitchen door.
“How did it go today?” Tillie asked. “Tell me the highlights for now.”
“I’m guessing you want a brief reply so you can go back to sleep. Well, forget that,” Bill said. Before either of them slept again, Bill told his wife every detail of the longest day of his life.
Chapter Thirteen
Two weeks later on a breezy, warm Saturday morning, Martin worked alone. He wore a mask and swung a large hammer into the plaster walls of the downstairs master bedroom. After some internal debate he admitted the necessity of removing the wood work and clearing the walls and ceiling to the lathe and replacing it with studs and sheetrock.
He felt peaceful working by himself. Bill had left his cornfields to take Crook to the state park fishing. Sandra returned to her parents’ home last Thursday in time to begin basketball practice, late but not too late. He would see her at their Wednesday meeting of the Revenge Club.
Anxious as he was to hear how her homecoming went -- what was said, what was believed -- he could wait. An earplug sat snug inside his ear. The cord ran in a lazy line from his ear to the baby monitor attached to Kirby’s portable crib. The crib sat in the kitchen beneath a net tent and on Kirby’s nose nestled a tiny oxygen mask to protect the baby from the plaster dust.
Even with the precautions, Martin knew he would be wiping fine plaster dust from Kirby’s ears and hair. This made Martin smile. At two weeks of age, Kirby loved his bath. Swinging his hammer, stepping, swinging, listening to baby breaths and slurps he did not hear the pounding on his front door until a strong, male voice shouted from the kitchen. “I know you are here.”
Martin stopped dead still, set his hammer down and followed the black cord through the short hallway, passed the small family room with the bricked up fireplace and into the kitchen. Kirby fussed in his ear as he walked in long, quick strides with his heart thumping because Kirby was in the kitchen.
Once inside the kitchen, seeing Kirby as he had left him, Martin checked the big shouldered, thick-necked man in uniform who stood with his legs apart. One hand rested on his firearm. Martin thought with relief, You do not scare me.
Martin made no effort to hide his surprise though he did hide his disgust. Not time yet to warn the sheriff that he was in serious trouble.
“What do you want, Sheriff?” he asked as he bent to look at Kirby.
“I heard you brought your baby to church,” Hauk said. He pulled a chair from the table and sat down.
Martin said nothing.
At the door stood a deputy who looked so much like Barney Fife that Martin did a double-take. He stood with his arms across his chest, guarding the door as though Martin would run from his own house. Upon his narrow face sat such a smug, arrogant expression that Martin did what he immediately knew was the wrong thing. Martin laughed out loud. He wiped his laughter away with his hand when he saw the surge of rage cross the deputy’s face. Apparently the deputy did not see any humor in himself, the sheriff, or the task at hand.
Hauk ignored this. He allowed a near minute of silence. Martin assumed the silence was intended to put fear into Martin’s heart. Martin felt no fear. It wasn’t there. He waited through the silent treatment. Martin stood a few feet from where Hauk sat.
“Do you know why I am here?” Hauk asked with a slight, thin-lipped smile.
Martin thought it could be Sandra. It could be Crook. It could be Kirby. So he answered, “Extortion.”
Hauk laughed but his eyes were mean.
Martin removed the earphone. It was Kirby in stereo and annoying. He waited both for Hauk to say what he wanted and for the thin black circle to form in his peripheral vision. Stress still caused the blackness to gather. As neither happened for a few seconds he used the time to consider telling this big bully that he knew about him. He resisted because Kirby was too close and he did not want to stir up any biological vibes. The big, bulky man appeared totally unconcerned about the infant other than as leverage for his evil plans.
When Martin said nothing even though Hauk tapped his weapon with his fingers, Hauk said, “I heard you are plum crazy and I don’t think you should be caring for a baby. I think I will start paperwork with social services to have this baby removed from this filthy house.”
Martin’s chest tightened. He pulled his notebook from his pocket and printed the word “lawyer.” Even as he felt a hovering fear for his son, he thought with relief, He does not know about Crook. As long as Hauk did not know about Crook then Hauk would not bother Crook and Crook would not have to hurt the bastard. Plus it felt good to have Crook as a secret weapon. Martin smiled.
Then Martin focused on the brute sitting on Bill’s chair and in his kitchen. He wanted to ask him if he had not received his notification from Dr. Durksen. Instead he shut his lips tight and put his fingers to his lips to lock them. He had to be careful not to give any hint of Hauk’s impending doom.
“Nothing to say, you dumb ass?” Hauk’s face was turning pink.
“No,” Martin said.
Hauk kept drumming his weapon. He turned his menacing stare toward Kirby. Martin wished he had left the oxygen mask on Kirby’s little face because the infant bore a remarkable resemblance to his father. Now Martin couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, even if he had words. Outright fear froze his tongue.
Abruptly Hauk stood. He knocked his chair backward with a crash to the floor which startled Kirby and the baby began to wail. Martin bent down to lift the infant into his arms with tenderness. Hauk sneered.
“Five hundred dollars a month will keep that paperwork in the drawer. Carl will be out to collect on the first of every month.” Hauk’s voice was contempt defined.
“Can’t,” Martin said.
Hauk unhooked the flap from his holster and circled the grip with his beefy fingers. “I think you will,” he said. “I will shoot you and no one will be the wiser.”
In that second Martin understood what Sandra had heard and believed. Martin looked down at his spiral notebook lying in Kirby’s bed. He wanted to write something but he couldn’t think of any words. Then he thought that he could add extortion to his list, but he could not reach his notebook.
His hold on Kirby tightened and the black circle began to form. Hauk was framed like an old-fashioned oval picture. Martin said the only words that came, “Get out.”
Hauk reached over and grabbed another refinished chair belonging to Bill. He threw the chair, flinging it across the room. Martin watched the chair hit the wall and bounce on the floor and roll one time. He was relieved when the chair did not break.
“Good workmanship on that chair,” Martin said though his stomach churned, and he felt vomit in his throat.
Veins stood out on Hauk’s neck as he shook his pistol toward Martin in silent rage. Martin knew the safety was on. If Hauk’s fore-finger released the safety he would have to drop Kirby. He turned his body while his eyes watched Hauk’s finger.
Finally, Hauk said, “Be ready with cash on the first. I think I will collect personally from you.” He then called Martin some vicious names not fit for infant ears and stomped out followed by Carl who had remained silent and motionless throughout.
Martin
carefully laid Kirby in his bed. Then he ran up the back stairs and into Crook’s room where he grabbed a book from Crook’s shelf. He could not unsay the harsh words used in anger by Hauk. He could not undo the ugliness Hauk radiated. All he could do was dilute them among other words spoken with loving intent. Martin again picked up Kirby and began to read. Big Bird sat on the steps of 123 Sesame Street.
He babbled as he fed Kirby. He babbled as he changed him. When Kirby slept so soundly that his little head lolled on Martin’s arm, Martin finally returned him to his bed. Calmness returned to Martin. The blackness had retreated to invisibility. He was quiet on the inside. “We will have to do something about Hauk,” he told the sleeping baby, “sooner rather than later.”
Then he hooked up the baby monitor and the oxygen mask, put the earphone in his ear, layered the fine net over Kirby’s bed and returned to work. He thought, Only if all else fails will I tell Crook. I will not tell Crook that Hauk called his immaculate kitchen filthy or that he threatened to take Kirby, not unless I am prepared for what Crook would do.
Martin sang softly as he worked, I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot the deputy.
Chapter Fourteen
On the following Wednesday night, Martin presided over the third weekly meeting of the Revenge Club. Martin sat at the beautifully varnished table in his kitchen. He faced Sandra and could not keep from looking at her. She was home with her parents, back in school and back at practice, but she did not look happy. If anything the lines around her eyes were tighter, her full mouth set in a tight edge.
Wednesday nights were Church nights. No school activities were scheduled on Wednesday, not even basketball practice. Most students went to religious education class. So Wednesday worked perfectly for the four of them to meet and plan revenge. Tillie sent cookies with Bill. He munched on one now.
Kirby lay tummy down on Martin’s knee. Martin jiggled his leg in a nearly constant motion until Bill told him to stop. So he gently patted Kirby’s back as he tried to focus on the meeting. He was finding it difficult to concentrate. The truth was he had begun a bathroom project to create a master suite and had run into difficulties. The old house was not square. Should he custom build a vanity to fit or level the wall? He could not quite force his thoughts away from his work.
Bill said, “The trouble with you, Martin, is you have no judgment.” He sounded annoyed with Martin about something that Martin had not heard.
Crook said, “He has judgment. He doesn’t judge other people. There is a difference. That’s why Sandra could tell him her secret. That’s why he has Kirby. He isn’t normal that way.”
“I am right here,” Martin said. “Stop talking about me.”
Sandra looked at him, tilting her head, examining him. She said, “As I was saying before, Martin, you do not understand.” It was not panic in her voice as much as urgency. “He will kill me. He absolutely, positively will. I am sick of nightmares and looking over my shoulder and living a lie with my parents.”
Martin said, “I understand exactly what you mean.”
Sandra rolled her eyes.
“Why?” Crook asked her. “Why would he risk killing you?”
“There’s no risk to him at all to kill me. He told me he would, and I believe him.” Sandra turned her hard gaze on Crook.
Bill said, “Do you believe Hauk murdered Allyson or that her death was a suicide? It is important to know how far he has escalated in order to predict his behavior. We need to know his history.” Bill addressed Crook to bring him up to speed so to speak. “Hauk didn’t look for Allyson so much. She was not like Sandra. I mean, she was not important to the community like Sandra is. People whispered at the time about foul play, but it was ruled accidental exposure by our county coroner.”
Martin said, “I don’t think he intended for Allyson to die but once it happened he felt all right about it. I believe he believes the same thing could work on Sandra if she became a problem.” He looked up and saw eyes staring at him. “What?” he said.
Crook said, “Priors. Hauk’s done this before. He’s hurt women before. He did not turn lethal overnight.”
Sandra said, “We need a plan tonight.”
Bill said, “We just don’t know how to do this.”
Martin nodded. “We need to know more about him, about Hauk. We need to find his weak spot.” He reached to tug his hair and discovered again that his barbershop hair cut, which seemed out of place on his head, did not allow for tugging or twisting. His friends nodded.
Over the three Wednesdays since Lincoln, this suggestion to research Hauk had been said before along with other suggestions. Now it felt more tangible, but still not concrete. How exactly did they research Hauk?
Crook said, “We know two weak spots and that is enough to work with.”
Now all eyes were on Crook. “He has a weak spot with power, specifically power over Sandra. He has a weak spot with greed, specifically extortion. We need a plan to draw him to a trap.”
Bill did not like that idea. He again suggested going to the law in Sioux Falls. To this oft-repeated suggestion Crook again stated how the law in Sioux Falls would want to know about Bill. It was Bill, not Hauk, they would investigate. How did Bill know about Hauk? What had he done? Where was the baby?
Bill looked crestfallen. Martin said, “Not easy is it, Bill. When we most need the law, it is of no help.”
When Crook suggested outright killing the bastard, Martin and Bill backed off. It was not in them. Martin said, “To do that we need immediate pressure.” He thought of Hauk threatening to take Kirby. The way his gut tightened he thought that could be immediate pressure if it came down to it.
Sandra said, “When he tries to kill me that will be immediate pressure.” Her tone was dry.
No one answered her, but Martin caught a slight smile on Crook’s lips. Not a happy smile but a cunning smile.
Martin said, “We must be careful. Our first priority is to allow nothing more to happen to Sandra,” he paused, “or Kirby.”
Upstairs in his locked box lay an envelope containing a birth certificate and a social security card. Kirby was real. Kirby was his. It said so on the birth certificate. Martin saw a look of surprise in Bill’s eyes. The older man turned in his chair to look at Martin. Martin looked at his hands.
“Martin, has Hauk threatened Kirby?” Bill asked.
“His existence is a threat to Kirby,” Sandra said.
Since Sandra answered Martin felt that he did not need to. He was not willing to share his worry. He said, “We have to find if Hauk’s other victims and gather a body of evidence.”
Crook said, “We have all we need.”
But again Sandra answered, “We do not have time for evidence gathering, unless you want to hold a town meeting and ask everybody, ‘Has Hauk assaulted you? Do you pay protection money to your local fat and ugly sheriff? Are the streets quiet enough for you?’” The natural rasp of her voice combined with the urgency she exuded made her sound angry.
“We all want to help,” Bill assured her.
Crook looked at her closely. “Sandra, if something happens, bring him out here to the barn.”
“I won’t have time for that.” She spoke in a tone of hopeless acceptance that sent chills around the table.
“You will.” Crook’s voice held an edge, an excitement. “He will want to see fear. He will toy with you. When he does, do not show fear. Mention the money.”
Silence. No one wanted to ask what money. They waited for Crook to explain. When Crook did not appear to know an explanation was required, Martin finally asked, “What money?”
“The make-believe money Sandra saw in the barn,” Crook answered.
Bill nodded his understanding. “If it comes right down to it, Sandra, that is something to do,” he told her. “Not that Hauk will actually try to kill you. He is crazy evil but not self-destructive. We will protect you.”
No one asked how. The four of them remained silent until Martin said, “When Hauk
tries to hurt Sandra, she will lead Hauk to the barn, and Crook will ambush Hauk.”
Sandra said, “If I disappear it will not be as shocking as you think. No big search this time. What happens if Hauk doesn’t care about the money, or he decides he doesn’t need me to find it?”
Bill said, “We are assuming that Hauk will at some point try to harm Sandra.”
Martin said, “Yes, he will. He hasn’t conquered her yet.”
“What does she do once she gets Hauk to the barn?” Bill asked.
“Stall until I get there,” Crook said.
“He doesn’t know that you exist,” Martin said. “
That could be useful.”
Bill nodded. “I think you are right with that, Martin. If he knew, Hauk and his buddy Carl would have been for a social call.” He paused. “Have they been for a social call, Crook?”
Crook shook his head.
Martin said nothing. The social call had not been about Crook. He had until his first scheduled payment on October 1st to decide what he had to do. He would wait and see what happened between now and then.
That was it. The informal revenge meeting adjourned. Martin wanted to research and plan and compile. Crook wanted lethal. Bill wanted legal. Sandra wanted quick. Martin walked with Sandra through the cool September night to her car. He asked about school and her mom and her dad.
“Fine,” Sandra said.
Then Martin took a few minutes to show her how to use her feet under the basket on defense and on offense. Under the yard light with hovering, buzzing insects, Martin moved with an invisible basketball. For the first time, Martin caught a genuine smile from the girl. He stopped and handed her the pretend ball. She copied him.
“You have to practice that move,” Martin told her, “but it always works.”
Sandra nodded.
“Drive careful,” he said as Sandra shut her car door. She drove an old black Mazda. Hauk knew this car.
Crook approached the car until he stood three feet away. He gestured for Sandra to roll down her window. “Martin has a big social gathering on Saturday.”
Martin, Crook, & Bill Page 10