Gone to war.
Like Matt—sprinting down the stairs in his red boxers as if he were going to war.
Meryl Lee suddenly stood straighter.
Sprinting down the stairs in his boxers as if he were going to war.
As if he were going to war.
Across the field, the Blank disappeared. Stars shone through where it had been.
She knew suddenly with an absolute and complete knowing that Matt was not going to run.
She began to sprint across the soccer field.
Matt was going to war.
* * *
Matt sat on the porch steps as the stars began to prick through the darkness. The wind blew high through the pines, and they bowed their heads to one another slowly and shed their scent beneath them. The sounds of the waves chucking the chins of the sharp rocks down on the shoreline. The shrieks of the late gulls swooping down for mussels. The slosh and splash of the water pulled out by the tide, receding from around the rocks, leaving the clam holes quietly popping.
The absolutely dark house looming behind him.
The moon not yet up, and some clouds coming in like gloves wiping the stars away.
And Matt thought about all those he had left behind, and who had been hurt because they had cared about him.
He couldn’t keep leaving people behind to get hurt.
He began to count them, starting with Georgie.
And Pastor . . .
But he didn’t have time to go through his list. It was too late. He stood at the shadow that came toward him.
“I know why you’re here,” Matt said slowly.
The shadow coming closer.
Matt waited.
“I know why you’re here too,” said Meryl Lee.
Matt’s heart stopped.
“What are you doing?” said Matt.
“You just said you knew.”
“You have to get out of here,” he said.
“It’s a free country,” she said.
“You don’t understand. He’s coming. He’s coming and he doesn’t care . . .”
“Who’s coming?”
Matt took a step toward her. “Listen, I’m not kidding. You have to get out of here.”
“He’s been coming ever since I’ve known you, hasn’t he?” She reached out and took both of Matt’s hands, and Matt closed his eyes. It felt so good to hold her hands.
But Leonidas Shug was coming.
He took his hands back.
“Get away from me,” he said. “Just, get away from me.”
“No,” said Meryl Lee.
“Listen, this guy, he kills people, Meryl Lee. He killed . . . Georgie. He killed him. And whatever happened to Mrs. MacKnockater, he did it. He wants me back, and the only way he’s going to stop is if I go with him. And if he comes here and finds you . . .”
Meryl Lee turned toward the shadows. “Here I am,” she hollered. “Meryl Lee Kowalski. Right here.”
Matt grabbed her in an agony. “Shut up!”
“Anybody out there who wants Matt, you can’t have him!”
“Meryl Lee!”
“He belongs here. It may be weird that he’s a student at St. Elene’s, but he is. He’s not going anywhere.”
Matt spun her around.
“I’m not going to stop, Matt. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I’m—”
And Matt put his hands upon her cold cheeks, and his mouth upon hers, and he kissed her. He kissed her for a long time. And when he pulled back a little, she said, “Did you do that to shut me up?”
“Maybe,” he said.
“You really are a terrible liar.”
“And you,” started Matt—but he did not finish. He looked over her shoulder at the moon rising over the islands, and the pale light it threw from behind the thin clouds hit the silhouette standing not far from them underneath the pines.
He drew Meryl Lee behind him. “Run,” he whispered.
She looked at the silhouette, stepping toward them quickly.
“Run,” whispered Matt again.
She hesitated only a moment. Then she ran.
He felt her go out of his life—again.
“Good to see you, Matt. It’s been a long time.”
The air around him grew colder, even frosty. The moon rose higher to backlight the silhouette, as if this were all a play, carefully staged.
“I’m coming with you,” said Matt. “You don’t need to do anything. I’m coming with you.”
“Smart,” said the silhouette. “Real smart. I knew it from the beginning. ‘That one, he’s smart,’ I told my associates. ‘We may have to kill him someday, he’s so smart.’ That’s what I said.”
“You killed Georgie.”
“He wasn’t so smart. You still have what you took from me?”
“Most of it.”
“Where is it?”
“Inside.”
“You know I’ve already cut the phone lines.”
“And the power line, too. I figured that.”
The silhouette nodded. “See what I mean? Always one step ahead.” Then he looked at Matt. “But you made a mistake with her. A boy going to a girls’ school. You had to know that would get around.”
“Maybe I wanted it to get around.”
“No,” said the silhouette slowly. “It was a mistake. You probably let yourself care, right? Always a mistake. You can’t let yourself care. Look where it got you. Cornered, Matt. You’re cornered. That’s what giving your heart away will do to you every time.”
* * *
Captain Hurd hung up the phone. Three times, and no signal at all? Maybe just a problem with the line. But maybe . . . He looked through the trees toward Nora’s house. No lights, either?
He put on his coat. Those high clouds meant a cold front. Maybe he’d walk by Nora’s house one more time, just to see that the kid was okay. Then, before he left the house, he almost made one more phone call. To Lieutenant Minot. But no. No reason to get people all riled and upset. Probably the phone line. And maybe a fuse. He’d fix it in no time.
* * *
“I told you I’d go with you,” said Matt.
The silhouette shook his head. “I don’t need you anymore, Matt. I’m legitimate. I work for the freaking Secret Service. No kidding. Didn’t I teach you how important it is to keep friends in high places?”
Leonidas Shug took a step toward him and drew something out from his pocket. He opened it. It glinted even in the moon’s light.
“But times being what they are, I need to keep my options open. You understand. I can’t go looking soft. So, first things first. Where’s the money?”
“First things first,” said Matt. “I need to know that once you get the money, you’re gone. Forever.”
Shug took a step closer. “You know, Matt, I did Georgie myself. That’s why it was a little bit messier. Those guys I hired, they’re professionals. They can stick a knife into you and pull it out, and hardly a drop of blood shows. That’s professional. That’s high class. But they watched when I did Georgie, and even though I’m not high class, they were impressed. The kid couldn’t even scream because of where I stuck him first. He just sort of looked at me and gurgled the whole time I did him.”
“You—”
“Careful, Matt. Remember what I taught you? Bad language only draws attention to yourself. And you know, I’ve already given you a couple of passes. I didn’t stick the old lady, and I didn’t stick your girlfriend, did I? And I could have. You know I could have.”
“Yeah, you’re a real humanitarian.”
“That’s me: a humanitarian. But two passes is all you get, Matt. You’re going to have to buy the next one with what you stole from me. Understand? So let’s go find the money. Then we’ll talk about what happens next.”
But Leonidas Shug did not expect what happened next. Matt, either.
With a roar like the sea in his mouth, Captain Willis Hurd, of the lobster boat Affliction, smashed into Shug’s back. It w
as like a rogue wave catching a boat hull up, and Shug fell to the ground like a drowning man. The Captain lifted his fist and brought it down once, twice, on Shug’s head.
“Get out of here!” the Captain screamed to Matt.
* * *
Meryl Lee had reached the main road to St. Elene’s—and with all the wind sprints she had done, she reached it quickly. She ran to the first house with lights on, pounded up the porch, pounded at the door, and, when it opened, pounded out her words: “The police. Call the police.”
* * *
Matt did not get out of there. The slash of Shug’s knife through his upper thigh took him down before he could do a thing.
“No!” cried Captain Hurd.
Then the Captain was on his back in the grass, suddenly quiet.
“Get up,” said Shug.
Matt felt himself about to throw up.
Shug grabbed Matt by the hair and forced him to his knees, then his feet.
Matt held his hand to his upper thigh, already sticky with blood.
“Inside,” said Shug.
They went into the house.
“The Captain,” said Matt.
“The money,” said Shug.
The darkness inside made everything close, as if even the ceiling could topple down upon them. Not even a glow from the wood stove. So Matt moved with one hand held out in front, and he followed the thick hall carpet to the stairs and began to climb, with Shug right behind him; he could almost feel the knife at his back. They climbed the stairs that Matt had once bounded down in his boxers—twelve steps, Matt counted, then a turn to the left and two more—and Shug so close behind him he could hear his breathing.
“How is the old lady, anyway?”
“Like you care,” said Matt.
“I don’t,” said Shug, “but it’s good to keep account of what resources I have available.”
Down the hall, and Matt stopping to open his door. He listened to the familiar catch of the hinges, and walked in slowly.
Then suddenly swung around.
Kicked as hard as he could where he figured Shug’s left knee would be.
Connected. Almost unplugged the kneecap.
Shug screaming and slashing ahead with his knife.
Matt slamming the bedroom door and Shug slumped in the hallway, howling.
Matt reaching for the lock, reaching for it, feeling Shug’s sudden weight against the door, reaching for the lock until he found it and twisted the bolt across.
The heavy thump of Shug’s fist against the door panels.
* * *
Lieutenant Minot had decided to stay close to Harpswell that night. He was pretty sure what happened to Dr. MacKnockater had more to it than a fall.
He was just cruising past the Gate of St. Elene’s when the report came over the radio.
* * *
The bedroom door strained against the terrible pounding as Matt pulled out the bottom dresser drawer. He grabbed the hatchet and slipped it through his belt loop. Then he went to the ladder and began to hoist himself up through the darkness of the chute, one hand on the rungs, the other clutching his thigh. Below the skylight, he opened the cabinet and took out the pillowcase. He held that clenched in his teeth.
Splintering behind him.
* * *
On the single-lane ridge road, Lieutenant Minot came up behind August Haviland’s 1952 Ford pickup, which, under August’s foot, traveled about fifteen miles an hour. Lieutenant Minot put on his siren and every single light in the car, but there was no room for August to pull off.
Then August slowed down to ten.
* * *
Matt fumbled for the latch to the skylight.
More splintering below.
He pulled the latch back and scrambled up the ladder. With the pillowcase and the hatchet, he didn’t seem to have enough hands.
The sound of the bedroom door below being slammed open against the wall.
Matt climbed out onto the level roof and closed the skylight. It was darker than he thought it would be. The stars had all succumbed to the thickening clouds, and though he could hear the waves, he could not see them cracking white below him—probably because he had no intention of leaning out too far.
“You think you’re going anywhere?” he heard Shug yell. “You think you can get away?”
Matt stood on the level roof, knees bent a little. And when the skylight popped up, Matt drove his heel down onto the frame, forcing it down.
It didn’t matter.
The glass shattered, and Shug reached through, swinging the knife.
Matt, as hard as he could, threw the hatchet down into the chute. Then he crossed the level roof and reached the sharp angle that led up to the dormer.
And that’s when Matt’s leg gave out.
He fell to the roof, holding his hand to his thigh—aflame with pain. His hand filled with the stickiness of blood.
He looked back at the smashed skylight and saw the frame jerk upward.
Crawling, Matt hefted himself up onto the angle of the dormer and started up, grasping where he could, sliding back a bit, and then struggling up again. But the slickness of the slate gave him nothing to hold on to, and he slid straight back onto the level roof, and there was Shug, standing close, the knife in one hand, the hatchet in the other.
“Bingo,” Shug said.
* * *
Lieutenant Minot curled off the ridge road, figuring that he’d see the lights of the MacKnockater house—but they were all off. They were never all off. She always left the downstairs lamp by the front window on.
But now the house was dark.
He took the drive onto the property and scattered the gravel well into the woods. What he did to the rhododendrons was not something that Nora MacKnockater would let him forget.
The siren screamed at the house.
* * *
Shug pointed to the pillowcase. “That my money?”
Matt stood up—it wasn’t easy. “You know what that siren’s all about, right? You don’t have much time.”
“I have enough.”
Matt hobbled to the edge of the roof and held the pillowcase over the edge. Far below, the rocks and the waves and the sea.
“Be smart, kid. You know you’re in trouble. Hand it over and maybe you’ll come out of this okay.”
“You’re a really bad liar.”
Shug held up his knife. “Then go ahead. Drop it. After that, I’ll drop you. Looks like a pretty long fall. Then I’ll go back down and pick up my money. But I won’t go away. Maybe I’ll go visit your girlfriend.”
“I can throw it past the ridge.”
“Nice try, kid.”
“Go down and I’ll throw it to you. Otherwise it goes into the sea.”
“No deal.”
Matt pulled the pillowcase behind his back and cocked his arm. “Think again,” he said.
And Shug threw the hatchet.
* * *
Lieutenant Minot ran up the front porch steps. The door swung loosely, and he could tell immediately that the lock had been forced and the doorjamb wrenched away. He drew a flashlight and went inside. “Matt,” called Lieutenant Minot. “Matt Coffin, you here?”
* * *
Matt lay on the slate roof, holding his shin where the hatchet had clipped him. He could hardly see, it hurt so much.
Shug took a step toward him. “I always liked you, Matt. I was going to let you come with me. I really was. It could have been like the old times used to be. But look at you. Pathetic. You’re about to start bawling. So just hand over the money. Do it now, and maybe I won’t visit your girlfriend after this.”
“Go to hell.”
And Shug shifted his knife to his left hand, and lunged in the darkness.
But he stepped against the sharp angle that led up to the dormer.
His left foot twisted on the slick slate, and his leg folded, and he fell heavily on the level, rolled, and started over the edge of the roof, clutching at air.
; Matt heaved out the pillowcase and Shug grabbed for it, holding on as the rest of him slid over into the air.
“Don’t let go!” cried Shug, but with his weight, the pillowcase began to tear.
Flat on the roof and his hand twisted in the pillowcase, Matt began to slide to the edge.
And money spilled out from the pillowcase. Hundred-dollar bills blew past Shug and out toward the ocean. Dozens of bills, and dozens of bills, and Shug watched them. Dozens.
And he reached for them. Dozens.
“No No No,” yelled Matt.
But Shug reached anyway, and the new angle tore the pillowcase even more, and more, and as the hundred-dollar bills came out in a rush and covered Shug before they flew off, the pillowcase gave way entirely.
Leonidas Shug fell, striking the granite ridge, then tumbling over and over and over down to the rocks and the waves, as surprised seagulls, disturbed from sleep, rose up into the air, screaming, screaming, screaming their anger and fear.
And then the night was dark—night darkness so deep that only God could see Matt Coffin lying on the slate roof, crying.
Thirty-Seven
For three days there were police reports with Lieutenant Minot.
There were police reports with agents from New York City.
There were meetings, many meetings between Lieutenant Minot and the New York City Police that ended with a decision to rule any involvement by Mr. Matthew Coffin (minor) in the death of Mr. Leonidas Shug as “accidental” and not subject to indictment.
There were phone calls—lots of phone calls—to New York and Philadelphia, with long accounts to anxious Kowalskis.
There were explanatory visits to Mrs. Connolly, acting headmistress of St. Elene’s Preparatory Academy for Girls.
There was a visit by Mrs. Connolly and Mrs. Kellogg to Ashley Higginson, and later, a visit between Mrs. Connolly and Ashley’s aunt and uncle, who took Ashley home with them, “until arrangements could be made.”
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