Hermit_s Peak kk-4
Page 27
Gabe's shrink had him keep a daily journal of his thoughts and feelings. Gabe didn't write down anything about his dream, and not much about how he felt, for that matter. He just didn't have the words for it. He doubted there were any.
In his sessions, the shrink kept pushing him to talk about his grief, anger, and pain. Although he felt empty and drained, Gabe faked it well enough to get a green light to return to duty.
He sat on the living room couch, bit into the sandwich, chewed mechanically, and stared at the television.
Tomorrow he was due back to work. Yesterday, Theresa and her boyfriend had come up from Albuquerque to cart away some of Orlando's things as keepsakes.
After they left, Gabe had packed up everything else-Orlando's clothes, books, old toys, the stereo, the TV, the linens and pillows from the bed, even the baseball card collection-and had taken it all to the dump.
Then he'd cleaned the room from top to bottom and locked the door.
He put his half-eaten sandwich on the plate and went to the kitchen.
All his thank-you notes for the sympathy cards were ready to be mailed.
Chief Kerney wouldn't get his note until he got back from his honeymoon in Ireland. He gathered them up, took them to the mailbox outside the public library, and dropped them down the chute.
This was the first night that he wasn't being watched like a hawk by some cop pretending to keep him company.
It felt good not to bullshit people that he was doing all right.
On his way back to the house, Gabe looked at the moon and saw two bright stars nearby. He didn't know much about stars, constellations, or astronomy. Maybe they were satellites. But satellites weren't supposed to flicker.
Orlando would have known whether they were stars or not, Gabe thought as he stood in his front yard. But Orlando would never be around to tell him such things again.
He placed the muzzle of the pistol in his ear, but couldn't pull the trigger. His hand shook so hard the weapon banged against his cheekbone. He lowered the gun and stared at the house his grandfather had built, wondering why he'd put all his time, money, and effort into restoring it. His family was shattered and his pride in what the house once represented no longer mattered.
He leveled the gun at the living room window and pulled off a round.
The lead glass shattered. He kept pointing and firing at every window in the front of the house until the handgun emptied. Lights went on inside the neighboring houses. As the growing sound of a siren pierced the night, Gabe walked to the porch step, sat, and stared at the ground. Glare from a spotlight washed over him, and Art Garcia's voice came out of the darkness.
"Toss the handgun, Gabe."
The weapon felt heavy in Gabe's hand.
"It's empty."
"Please, Gabe, lose the gun," Art said, almost pleading, as he came up the walkway.
Gabe flipped it onto the grass and started crying, unable to hold back the sobs.
Art sat on the porch step, put an arm around Gabe's shoulders, and waited for the crying to stop.
When Gabe opened his eyes, he saw Russell Thorpe, Ben Morfin, Captain Garduno, and several state and city patrol officers standing in the front yard.
Embarrassed, he dropped his head, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"What am I gonna do, Art?" he asked softly Art patted Gabe's shoulder.
"You'll get through it."
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Document ID: fbd-580cd2-1014-4842-718b-dbb4-e3b5-98787a
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Document creation date: 10.03.2011
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