Chapter 38
June 2004
“Put the gun down, Stan.”
Just hearing Ellis’ voice infuriated him, the liar.
“I’ll put it down after it’s a bullet lighter.”
“Stan!” Sara shouted. “Stan, you put that gun down right now! Why are you doing this?”
He was careful to maintain his aim as he pulled on a root and hoisted himself onto level ground. Feeling dizzy, he leaned against the tree that provided the root and closed his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. He cursed and peeked through tired lids a second later. Realizing that the gun was aimed at the Ellis on the left, he brought it to the central Ellis and held firm.
“Stan, you’re drunk!” Sara exclaimed. “You said you’d never drink again.”
“Lied I guess. Ain’t drunk though,” Stan slurred. “Just thinkin’ clearer is all.”
“Stan,” Ellis said calmly, “you’re clearly impaired…”
“Stop!” Stan shouted, pointing the gun fiercely at Ellis. “Do not tell me I’m—that. I’m not drunk. Who are you to drunk me—tell me I’m drunk?”
Ellis slowly put his palms out in front of him, attempting to calm Stan down. Stan took offense to this, however, and aimed a bit truer, the blurred vision making it difficult.
“Stan, I don’t know why you’re angry but we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk...”
“And screw,” Stan interrupted. “You screwin’ in the graveyard—on my father’s grave?”
“Stan!” Sara exclaimed. “That is enough!”
“Shut your mouth!” Stan screamed as he pointed the gun at Sara. He was angry, but even through his anger he realized this was wrong. He brought the gun back to Ellis. “You promised him,” he said to Sara. “You said Jake forever, but here you are with Ellis Barnes. Ellis said he didn’t want you, but here he is, too—laughin’ at me, laughin’ at Jake. Laughin’ like Leslie was laughin’. Not laughin’ now, though, are ya’?”
“Stan, I didn’t come back for Sara,” Ellis said. His palms were still angled before him in a friendly gesture. “I know what happened seven years ago. I know about Jake.”
“I do, too,” Sara said.
It pained Stan to see the tears forming in her eyes.
“Phil couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” he said. “Shut now, though.”
He looked over his shoulder to where Phil lay unconscious in the creek bed. Sara screamed and raced for the slope but stopped when Stan waved the gun in her direction.
“He ain’t dead,” Stan informed them. “I ain’t that far gone, not yet. Only one I want to disappear is you.” He pointed the gun at Ellis and the fire in his belly raged with a mixture of hatred and nerves. “One bullet and Sara’s with Jake, and I did my part.”
“Stan, you’ll go to prison,” Ellis warned him.
“What else I got to live for?” Stan asked angrily. He hadn’t considered the thought; but, now that he had spoken it out loud, he realized it was true. “Maybe I’ll save a bullet for me when you’re gone. That or prison, right?”
“I’m not here for Sara, Stan,” Ellis said angrily and Stan liked the sound of it. He was getting under the ever so perfect Ellis Barnes’ skin. “I came to tell her about Jake. Not to hurt you. And there’s more to why I came back. I brought a friend…”
“A friend?” Stan interrupted. “Someone to take my place when I’m gone?”
“You’ve not done anything wrong, Stan,” Ellis said, softly now. “Not yet. It wasn’t your fault. It’s wrong that you’ve lied all this time, but no one blames you.”
“I don’t blame you, Stan,” Sara said, looking him square in the eye, and he was almost inclined to believe her. “I’m angry, yes, but I understand why you did it. We can talk about it; but, please, just give us the gun.”
Stan shook his head and he could feel the tears running down his own cheeks.
“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t tell people.”
“You don’t have to,” Sara said. “I’ve already heard it from Phil, and Ellis spoke with Office Clem. You never have to say it; you just have to learn how to move forward, knowing that it isn’t a secret anymore. You don’t have to hide it now.”
“Who did it?” Stan asked angrily. He looked back and forth from Ellis to Sara. He knew the answer, but he wanted to see if what they knew was true. He repeated himself slowly. “Who—did—it? What’d Phil tell you?” Sara was crying, but Stan didn’t care anymore. He aimed the gun at her and shouted, “What do you know?”
“Alright, Stan,” Ellis said nervously, and Stan brought the gun back to him. “I know what Phil said, and I spoke to Office Clem, too. Their stories match up. If you want to know what they told us, I’ll tell you.” He paused long enough for sweat to bead on Stan’s forehead, and then he continued. “If you want it confirmed then fine. Here’s what happened on the night Jacob Ramsey was shot…”
Cicada Song Page 39