Life or Death

by Michael Robotham

  ‘You’re too young to be smoking,’ says Audie.

  ‘I’m eighteen,’ says Max, spinning around, trying to drop his voice an octave.

  ‘You’re fifteen.’ Audie takes a seat and opens a carton of chocolate milk.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do.’

  Max stubs out the cigarette and looks hard at Audie, trying to work out whether he’s someone who might know his parents.

  Audie holds out his hand and introduces himself, using his real name. Max stares at the outstretched palm. ‘You were talking to my mom this morning.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Are you gonna tell her I smoke?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why are you sitting here?’

  ‘I’m resting my legs.’

  Max goes back to looking at the shop window where the girl is putting a chunky necklace on the mannequin. She turns and looks out the window. Waves. Max waves back self-consciously.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘A girl from school.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Sophia.’

  ‘Is she your girlfriend?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But you like her?’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘She’s pretty. Ever talked to her?’

  ‘We hang out.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘We’re in the same group – sort of.’

  Audie nods and takes another swig of chocolate milk.

  ‘When I was about your age, I liked this one girl, Phoebe Carter. I was always too scared to ask her out. I thought she just wanted to be friends.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I took her to see Jurassic Park.’

  ‘Everybody’s seen that.’

  ‘Well, it was new back then and pretty scary. And when Phoebe got scared, she jumped into my lap. I don’t remember anything else about that film.’

  ‘That’s lame.’

  ‘I bet if Phoebe Carter jumped in your lap you wouldn’t think it was lame.’

  ‘I bet I would ’cos Phoebe Carter must be old by now.’

  Audie laughs and so does Max.

  ‘Maybe you should ask Sophia to see a movie.’

  ‘She’s got a boyfriend.’

  ‘So what? You got nothing to lose. I met a woman this one time and she had a really bad boyfriend. I tried to get her to leave him but she didn’t think she needed rescuing, but she did.’

  ‘What was so bad about him?’

  ‘He was a gangster and she was a slave.’

  ‘There ain’t no slaves any more. They were emancipated in 1865.’

  ‘Oh, that was just one type of slavery,’ says Audie. ‘There are plenty more.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I had to steal her away from him.’

  ‘Was he dangerous?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Did he come looking for you?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘I’ll tell you the story one day.’

  A uniformed cop is watching them from fifty yards away. He’s eating a sandwich. Finishing the last mouthful, he wanders over to the bench, brushing crumbs off his shirt.

  Max looks up. ‘Hi, Deputy Gerard.’

  ‘Where’s your old man?’

  ‘Working today.’

  The deputy looks at Audie with curiosity. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Max and me are just shooting the breeze,’ says Audie.

  ‘You live in the area?’

  ‘I just moved in around the corner from Max. Met his mother this morning.’

  ‘Sandy.’

  ‘She seemed very friendly.’

  The deputy agrees and tosses his sandwich wrapping in the bin. He touches the edge of his hat with his finger as a final salute. Audie and the boy watch him leave.

  ‘How did you know my name?’ asks Max.

  ‘Your mother told me,’ says Audie.

  ‘And why do you keep staring at me?’

  ‘You remind me of someone.’

  The teenager looks back at the shop window. Sophia has gone.

  ‘Remember what I said,’ says Audie, getting to his feet.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Asking her out.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ says Max sarcastically.

  ‘In the meantime – do me a favour and quit smoking. It’s not good for your asthma.’

  ‘How do you know I have asthma?’

  ‘I just do.’

  15

  Cassie punches Audie hard in the stomach.

  ‘You stole my car!’

  ‘I borrowed it,’ he gasps.

  ‘Don’t bullshit me, mister. It’s not borrowing if you don’t ask first.’

  ‘You were asleep.’

  ‘Let’s see how that holds up in court. Do I look stupid to you?’ Cassie flexes her hand. ‘Christ, that hurt! What are you made of, cement? Where did you go?’

  ‘I had to get my credit cards replaced.’

  ‘It’s Sunday. Banks don’t open.’

  ‘I had people to see.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My sister lives in Houston.’

  ‘Your sister?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why aren’t you staying with her?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her in a while.’

  Cassie isn’t buying any of this. She holds up the taser. ‘You want a dose of this?’

  Whatever softness Audie had once seen in Cassie has disappeared beneath a shell of anger and resentment, her natural defences. Turning away, she drags her suitcase onto the bed where Scarlett is lying on her stomach watching the Disney channel.

  ‘Come on, we’re leaving.’

  ‘But I like it here,’ says Scarlett.

  ‘Do as you’re told!’

  Cassie is collecting damp washing from the bathroom, shoving the clothes into a suitcase.

  ‘I’m really sorry about the car,’ says Audie. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Damn straight.’

  ‘Let me take you to dinner – we’ll go somewhere nice.’

  Scarlett looks at her mother expectantly.

  ‘Did you use all my gas?’ Cassie asks.

  ‘I filled up the tank.’

  ‘OK. Dinner and then we’re leaving.’

  Cassie chooses the restaurant. They drive to a Denny’s where the laminated menu has pictures of all the dishes. ‘I like seeing what I’m gonna eat,’ she explains, ordering a steak and jacket potato. Scarlett has spaghetti and meatballs and between each mouthful she colours in a drawing using a box of broken crayons. When they’ve finished eating and the plates are cleared and dessert is under discussion, Cassie seems to have mellowed.

  ‘What would you do if you had a million dollars?’ she asks Audie, as though this had been their ongoing conversation.

  ‘I’d buy my mother a new kidney.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her old one?’

  ‘It doesn’t work so good.’

  ‘How much would it cost to buy a new kidney?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘But you’d have some money left over, right? It wouldn’t cost a million – not just for one kidney?’

  Audie agrees and asks what Cassie would do with a million dollars.

  ‘I’d buy a house and some nice clothes and a new car. I’d open up my own salon – maybe a whole string of ’em.’

  ‘Would you go and visit your daddy?’

  ‘Only to rub his face in it.’

  ‘People say a lot of things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment.’

  Cassie falls silent, running her finger through a ring of condensation on the table. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Last night when you were sleeping, you kept saying a woman’s name.’

  Audie shrugs.

  ‘Must be someone. Your girlfriend?’

  ‘No.’

 
‘Wife?’

  Audie changes the subject and talks to Scarlett about her drawing, helping her choose the colours. After he pays the bill they wander through the night stalls, picking up trinkets and putting them down again.

  Back at the motel he goes to the bathroom, locks the door and studies his reflection in the mirror. He takes the hair trimmer from his bag and runs it back and forth across his scalp like he’s mowing a miniature lawn. Dark locks float into the sink. Afterwards, he stands under the shower, spreading his arms and turning his face to the spray. When he emerges he looks like he’s joined the army.

  ‘Why’d you cut your hair?’ asks Scarlett.

  ‘I wanted a change.’

  ‘Can I feel?’

  She stands on the bed and runs the palm of her hand over the short spikes, giggling. She stops suddenly. ‘What are thosth?’

  She’s seen the scars. They’re more visible now that his hair is cut so short. Cassie crosses the room and grabs Audie’s head in both hands, turning it towards the lamp. It’s as though his skull was shattered and glued back together like a busted vase. There are more scars on his forearms, flattened grey worms that wrap around his muscles. Defence wounds. Prison souvenirs.

  ‘Who did that to you?’

  ‘I didn’t get his number.’

  Cassie pushes him away and goes to the bathroom. She runs a bath for Scarlett and doesn’t come back until the girl is playing in the tub. Sitting on the opposite bed, she holds her hands in her lap, staring at Audie, who has put on a long-sleeve shirt to hide his forearms.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  Audie looks up at her, trying to understand the question.

  ‘You wear those dark glasses and the baseball cap and every time you pass a camera you lower your head. Now you’ve cut your hair. Are you a fugitive?’

  Audie exhales, almost relieved. ‘Some folks are looking for me.’

  ‘Are they drug dealers, gangsters, repo men, police?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Did you hurt anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you break one of the Ten Commandments?’

  ‘No.’

  Cassie sighs and puts one foot on top of the other as a little girl might. Her hair is so fair that her darker eyebrows look stark and painted on, rising and falling as she talks.

  ‘It’s bad enough that you lied to me and stole my car…’

  ‘I’m not a criminal.’

  ‘You act like one.’

  ‘It’s not the same thing.’

  Wrapped in a towel, Scarlett appears in the doorway of the bathroom. Steam has flattened her curls.

  ‘I don’t want to thleep in the car, Mommy. Can’t we thtay here?’

  Cassie hesitates and pulls her daughter closer, hugging her with her legs and arms as though clinging to a tree in a flooded river. She glances at Audie over the girl’s bare shoulder.

  ‘One more night.’

  16

  Ryan Valdez doesn’t usually drive the cruiser home. He prefers taking the pickup because it’s less conspicuous, albeit downmarket for The Woodlands where most of his neighbours are driving BMWs or Mercedes or luxury SUVs.

  Sandy says he looks like a redneck when he drives the pickup.

  ‘Maybe I am a redneck.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’ll never fit in.’

  Fitting in is important to Sandy, and Valdez sometimes feels that his wife is more embarrassed by his uniform than the car he drives. It’s not that their neighbours don’t respect the police and feel they perform a vital function, but that doesn’t mean they want to socialise with a county sheriff. It is one degree too close – like dining with your proctologist.

  Valdez had taken almost a year to get membership of the country club, and that was only after his uncle, Victor Pilkington, pulled some strings. Before then, Ryan and Sandy had hosted barbecues and wine appreciation nights and Sandy had started a book club, but it didn’t open doors or lead to invitations. Living in Woodlands was like being back in high school, but instead of nerds, jocks, band geeks and cheerleaders, now there were socialites, empty-nesters, country clubbers, Republicans (patriots) and Democrats (socialists). Valdez didn’t know where he fitted in.

  Pulling into the drive, he waits for the garage doors to open and glances at the glorious erection of shingles and brick that cost him more a million dollars. The tall arched windows are reflecting the afternoon sun and shadows spill across the lawn like pools of oil.

  Walking through the house, he calls out and thinks nobody’s home. He gets a beer from the icebox and steps onto the patio. That’s when he notices the boy doing laps, crawling down the pool with an easy stroke. Max turns onto his back and stares skywards as he backstrokes, water rolling off his shoulders. When he reaches the far end, he stops. Stands.

  ‘Hi.’

  Max doesn’t answer.

  ‘Where’s your mom?’

  He shrugs.

  Valdez tries to think of another question. When did talking to Max become so difficult? The teenager pulls himself out of the water and wraps a towel around his midriff, tying it like a sarong. The late sun is casting a yellow glow across the lawn. Max takes a seat on a lounger and sips on a luridly coloured can.

  ‘Did she mention dinner?’ asks Valdez.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘I’ll sort something.’

  ‘I’m going out.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Toby’s. We’re doing a biology project.’

  ‘Why can’t Toby come here?’

  ‘He’s got the stuff.’

  ‘Do I even know Toby?’

  ‘I don’t know, Dad. Do you know Toby? I’ll have to ask him.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  Max shrugs as though he doesn’t have a clue. Something snaps inside Valdez and he grabs a fistful of the boy’s hair, wrenching him upright. His vision has narrowed and he seems to be looking at the world through a stained-glass window.

  ‘You think you can talk to me like that. I put a roof over your head. I put food in your stomach. I pay for that phone you carry and the clothes you wear and that computer in your room. You treat me with respect or I’ll drown you in that fucking pool. Do you understand me?’

  Max nods, holding back his tears.

  Valdez pushes him away, immediately embarrassed and wanting to apologise, but the teenager is already walking to the cabana where he closes the door and he turns on the shower. Cursing himself, Valdez hurls his can of beer halfway across the lawn, where it bounces and foams at the mouth. The boy goaded him. He had no goddamn right! Now he’s going to tell his mother and cause even more problems. She’ll take Max’s side like she always does. If only the kid would just ease up. Show some more respect. There’s no common ground any more. They don’t watch Rangers games together or play Xbox or tease Sandy about her cooking.

  An earlier image of Max is summoned from his memories – a little boy dressed in a cowboy hat, holding the sheriff’s hand. They were best friends. They were father and son. They were partners in crime. They were close. His anger drains away. It’s not Max’s fault. He’s fifteen. It’s what teenagers do – rebel against their parents, test the boundaries. Valdez had a fractious relationship with his own father when he was about the same age, and his old man didn’t brook any backchat or smartass comments.

  According to Sandy it’s a stage kids go through. Hormones. Adolescence. Peer pressure. Girls. Why doesn’t Max just masturbate four times a day like every other teenage boy? Better still, Valdez could take him to a brothel – one of the cleaner places – and put the kid out of his misery. Sandy was always saying he should do more father–son stuff. He smiles to himself. She’d throw a fit if he got Max laid.

  He hears a sliding door open and turns. Sandy steps onto the patio and puts her arms around him. Her hair is tous
led and she smells of something sexy and sweaty.

  ‘Where you been?’ he asks.

  ‘At the gym.’

  Somewhere above them he hears a hawk cry out, or possibly an osprey. He raises his chin and shields his eyes, but can only make out the silhouette.

  ‘I tried to call you today. You didn’t have your cell turned on,’ he says.

  ‘I put it down last night and couldn’t find it.’

  Max emerges from the cabana and crosses the lawn. He kisses Sandy on the cheek. She rearranges his wet hair. How was school? Any homework? Toby’s? No problem. Don’t be home late.

  Later Valdez sits at the kitchen bench and watches Sandy prepare a meal. Her hair is cut short, curled at the ends, blonde, and her blue-green eyes have a mysterious quality that causes men to stare at her longer than they should. How did he ever convince her to marry him? He hopes it was love. He hopes it still is.

  ‘I thought I might take Max away camping next weekend.’

  ‘You know he’s not a big fan of the outdoors.’

  ‘Remember that holiday we took to Yosemite? Max must have been about seven. He loved that trip.’

  Sandy kisses the top of his head. ‘You have to stop trying so hard.’

  Valdez looks out the patio doors to where two ducks have landed in the pool. He doesn’t want to stop trying. If he could just reset the clock and go back to when Max was happy to kick a ball or play catch …

  ‘Give him time,’ says Sandy. ‘He doesn’t like who he is right now.’

  ‘Who do you think he is?’

  ‘He’s our son.’

  When the meal is finished they sit side-by-side in the porch swing. Sandy holds one brown knee in the crook of her arm and paints her toenails with a tiny brush held between her thumb and forefinger.

  ‘How was work?’ she asks.

  ‘Quiet.’

  ‘You gonna tell me about why you went all the way to Live Oak County?’

  ‘I was checking up on someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A prisoner was due to be released. He escaped a day early.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘That’s not the important thing.’