A Blood Thing

by James Hankins

  For the next forty-five minutes, they ate and talked and even laughed a little, and they didn’t mention again the huge elephant in the room wearing striped prison garb. After wolfing down seconds of the chicken and three pieces of bread, Tyler stood and said, “I’m gonna go finish my game, okay?”

  “Sure,” Andrew said.

  He started for the hallway, then stopped, turned, and said, “Thanks for dinner, guys,” then hustled from the room. Before any of the others said a word, a huge explosion shook the walls, and a chorus of machine guns began barking.

  “Sounds like he’s taking heavy fire,” Henry said.

  “I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Rebecca said with a smile. Then she paused, and the smile slowly faded. They all paused, every one of them, and Henry figured they were all thinking the same thing: I hope that’s true.

  Because Andrew and Rebecca had done the cooking, it was left to Henry and Molly to clean up. And because the Fred and Ginger of the culinary world had left the kitchen looking as though they had ordered takeout instead of preparing a gourmet meal in there, the entire process would take very little time. Dishes, utensils, and glasses into the dishwasher. Napkins down the laundry chute. Easy. Which was why Henry didn’t feel guilty saying to Molly, “You mind taking care of this? I want to talk to Tyler alone for a little while.”

  “Sure.”

  He followed the sounds of battle and found his younger brother in his favorite chair, his legs drawn up and a video game controller in his hands. Knowing he’d get nowhere with Tyler during a game, Henry took drastic action, stepping in front of the TV.

  “Hey,” Tyler said. “Jack Smiley’s about to kill the bad guys’ captain.”

  “Can you pause it, buddy? I want to talk for a minute.”

  Tyler looked like he wanted to protest, but instead he paused the game.

  “Thanks.” Henry sat down in another chair. “I need to ask you a few things, okay? Things you might have talked about with the detectives last Friday.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that stuff.”

  “I know, but it would really help if you did. Okay?”

  Tyler looked away from Henry, toward a dark window on the far wall. He shrugged.

  “Did you know Sally Graham, Tyler?”

  Tyler shrugged again.

  “Listen,” Henry said. “You can trust me, you know that.”

  “Rachel said I shouldn’t talk to anyone about any of this stuff. Especially the police. And you’re a policeman.”

  “Your lawyer’s very smart. You should definitely listen to her. But I’m your brother before I’m a police detective. Always. I’m on your side in this. The detectives who interviewed you? They’re on the other side. But not me. You can talk to me.”

  After a moment, Tyler nodded.

  “Good. Great. So, did you know Sally Graham?”

  Tyler hesitated, then nodded. “I met her last week. She came into the shelter. I showed her a puppy and two cats. She was really nice.” He stopped talking.

  “Then what?”

  “A little while later, my hours were over, and I left . . . and she was in the parking lot, waiting. She asked if I wanted to go for a ride. So I did.”

  “Why did she want you to go for a ride?”

  Tyler shrugged. “She didn’t say. But she was really nice, so I went.”

  “And what happened?”

  Tyler stared at the blackness out the window and said nothing for a long moment. “Nothing happened. We went for a ride. She brought me back to my bike a while later.”

  “Where did she take you?”

  “I don’t know. Around.”

  “You just drove around?”

  “Yeah. Drove around and talked.”

  “That’s it?”

  Finally, Tyler looked Henry’s way. “That’s it,” he said, his voice rising a little. “We drove around and talked. Okay? She was really nice, like I said.”

  He looked out the window again. Henry was on the verge of losing him.

  “Did you see her after that?”

  “What? No.”

  “She ever call you? Or did you call her?”

  “She didn’t give me her phone number, and I didn’t give her mine. She didn’t ask for it.”

  “How about her apartment? Did you go there?”

  “What? Her . . . for what? Why would I go there? All we did was drive around, like I said.”

  He was getting agitated.

  “I meant later,” Henry said. “Did you go there later? After you drove around and she dropped you back at your bike.”

  “I don’t even know where her house is, Henry. She could live in Florida, for all I know. Or Hawaii. Okay? Can I get back to my game now?”

  Henry was unlikely to get anything more from him at that moment. “Sure, buddy.”

  A mortar round shook the room before Henry had even reached the doorway.

  He found the others in the drawing room. Andrew and Rebecca were sitting side by side on the Victorian sofa, the one piece of furniture in the room that Henry found almost tolerable to sit on. Molly was in an upholstered side chair, and Henry was forced to sit, reluctantly, in an identical one on the other side of the cold fireplace.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t sell this stuff,” he said, “and buy some leather armchairs, maybe an electric reclining sofa with cup holders?”

  “Mom wanted us to maintain the Victorian charm of the place,” Andrew reminded him. “Remember?”

  “Yeah, but she’s been gone awhile. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she’s up there wishing she had told her kids to be more comfortable and not worry about Victorian charm.”

  “What did Tyler have to say?” Andrew asked.

  “Not much.” He filled them in.

  “Did you believe him?”

  Molly glared at Andrew. “Why wouldn’t he believe him?”

  “He wasn’t telling me everything,” Henry said, “but I don’t think he’d been to Sally Graham’s apartment.”

  “Of course he hadn’t,” Molly said. “You guys sound like you’re doubting him.”

  “Relax, Molly,” Andrew said. “We all know he didn’t kill Sally Graham. I’m just wondering what he might not be telling us.”

  “Me, too,” Henry said, though what he was really still wondering was whether Sally Graham might have somehow let Tyler know that she sometimes did things for guys, special things in exchange for money. It didn’t seem likely—not Tyler—but as innocent and even childlike as he often seemed, he was, after all, a twenty-nine-year-old man. And he had been alone in a car with a young woman who—

  A soft ding came from Molly’s direction. After throwing Henry a glare that convinced him she had been on the verge of unleashing a scolding, she checked her watch and said, “Almost nine o’clock. Time for Tyler to check in.”

  Saved by the bell, Henry thought. “He’s not gonna be happy. I already interrupted his game.”

  “He’s going to have to get used to it,” she said.

  She left the room, and Henry furtively checked out her chair to see if it looked more comfortable than his, even though it was the twin of the one on which he sat. It didn’t. The walls abruptly stopped shaking as the sounds of battle disappeared. Tyler was checking in, his ankle bracelet telling the base device that he was home, right where he was supposed to be. Of course, if the system was working properly, and there was no reason to believe it wasn’t, the folks at WatchPro already knew Tyler was home because he had never left the property. That would have sent an alarm to the company. So would tampering with the ankle monitor. But Tyler had to check in, so he did.

  “This is terrible,” Rebecca said into the sudden silence.

  “At least he’s home,” Andrew replied.

  After several moments, during which they sat, each in their own thoughts, Rebecca asked, “How are you boys doing?”

  “You said it pretty well,” Andrew replied. “This is terrible.”

  Henry added, “It sucks.”


  “I honestly do think he’ll be all right,” Rebecca said. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure of it. Not Tyler. He couldn’t have.”

  They fell into another silence until, moments later, the Vietnam War exploded out of the past again, straight back into the room down the hall. Seconds later, Molly returned.

  “While you were gone, Rebecca asked how we’re doing,” Henry said. “Time for you to chime in on that.”

  “Me? I’m peachy. The past week has been great. Maybe the third best of my life.”

  Henry nodded. “I’ve had some great weeks, so this one doesn’t crack my top five, but it’s definitely in the top ten.”

  “I’m sorry, guys,” Rebecca said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Ah, don’t sweat it, Becks,” Henry said. “We didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “It wasn’t directed at you,” Molly added. “We’re just stressed.”

  Rebecca nodded. Andrew reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “So what’s next?” Molly asked.

  “The cops keep looking for evidence,” Henry said.

  “The state keeps building its case,” Andrew added. “And our lawyer finds us an expert who, for a fee, will say the right things for Tyler’s cause.”

  “And what are the right things?” Molly asked.

  “Whatever Rachel Addison thinks they are. She’s good.”

  Suddenly, Andrew stiffened. Rebecca looked over at him, frowning slightly. Henry saw him pat his left pants pocket and knew that the mystery phone had vibrated.

  Andrew rose and said, “I’m getting a call. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Henry was sorely tempted to follow but figured it would look suspicious. They hadn’t shared anything about their dickhead caller with Molly; and, to Henry’s knowledge, Andrew hadn’t done so with Rebecca, either. So he’d wait until he could steal a moment alone with his big brother.

  When Andrew returned a few minutes later, he looked shaken. He sat beside Rebecca without a word.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “State business,” he replied—unconvincingly, in Henry’s opinion.

  Rebecca stared at him for maybe three seconds. “Bullshit,” she said, surprising Henry.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Andrew sighed. He looked at Henry, who shrugged. What the hell?

  Andrew frowned and seemed to be carrying on a debate in his mind. Finally, he began, “There are things I haven’t shared with either of you. That Henry and I haven’t shared with you.”

  Molly narrowed her eyes at Andrew, then turned Henry’s way.

  Thanks a lot, Andy, Henry thought.

  “Spill it, guys,” Molly said. “What things?”

  Andrew took a deep breath, then started talking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  With occasional help from Henry, Andrew told them almost everything. He started the story where it began, with Alexander Rafferty giving him a cell phone and a warning before disappearing. He talked about the caller admitting that he’d framed Tyler for Sally Graham’s murder, and that he wanted Gabriel Torrance released. As he spoke, Andrew watched the emotions and reactions shuffling across the faces of his wife and sister—confusion, anger, shock, indignation, disbelief, even greater anger. When the narrative required Henry to jump in, Andrew was thrilled not to have the entire focus of the animosity in the room directed toward him. Molly and Rebecca were obviously beyond upset about what the blackmailer had done to Tyler, but they were also angry at having been kept in the dark about it. Henry filled them in on Torrance’s details. They interrupted a few times—Molly, mostly—but Andrew asked them to hold their questions until he was finished.

  “This isn’t one of your press conferences, Andy,” Molly said.

  Andrew conceded that but said it would be easier if they allowed Henry and him to get through it all before the question-and-answer period began. For a moment, he worried that Molly might bound across the room and put him in some sort of dangerous chokehold she’d learned in the army, but she managed to control herself.

  So they told their story, and they each played the recordings they had made on their phones of the calls with the blackmailer. When the women were fully up to speed, Molly took a long moment before finally saying, “So you knew that Tyler is innocent, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Didn’t think we had to, sis,” Henry said.

  “Low blow. And you know what I mean.”

  “Sorry, Molly,” Andrew said. “You, too, Becca. But we wanted to learn all we could before sharing this.”

  “Well, we women sure do appreciate you sparing us all of that nasty stress,” Molly said.

  “That’s not it. You know that. We just wanted answers so we could give them to you.”

  “Bullshit,” Rebecca said. She’d said that earlier, too, and her language had surprised Andrew both times.

  “We figured it would be best to—”

  “Whatever,” Molly said loudly, cutting him off. “It’s over. It’s done. Now we know. The question is what to do about it. And to me, there’s no question at all.”

  “No?” Andrew asked.

  “This guy Torrance? Give him his ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

  “Molly, Gabriel Torrance is—”

  “Someone who has no record,” Molly interrupted, “except the one offense. He panicked and left the scene of an accident, one he didn’t even cause. And he has only five months to go on his sentence anyway? Who cares if he gets out a little early? What? You worried about him being a repeat offender? Worried that maybe he gets his rocks off by having other drivers smash into him so he can flee the scene?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Andrew said.

  “To me, it is. If there’s a video that proves Tyler’s innocent, we need it. And if Torrance isn’t a threat, let him out. Who cares?”

  “I do,” Rebecca said, and all eyes landed on her. “I understand why Andrew doesn’t want to give in to the blackmailer’s demands. He’s built his entire career on integrity. On staying clean in dirty professions. He’s not like your . . .” She hesitated a moment, then said, “He’s not like your average politician.”

  She’d been about to say, He’s not like your father. Andrew was sure of it. And he was glad she hadn’t. Because as he knew—and as he’d told his wife—the others didn’t feel quite the same way about Patrick Kane as Andrew did. And there really was no need for them to.

  She trudged on. “I remember Andrew coming home and talking about the crap other lawyers pulled, and how the judge in some case or other lacked the impartiality the law required of him. I remember Andrew resisting requests to run for governor. He was worried about even dipping his toes into those waters, yet he did. For the sake of the people of this state, he dove headfirst into the muck. And now they’re even talking about him running for president one day. And if he wants to do that—”

  “You plan to run for president?” Molly asked, mild surprise evident in her voice.

  “Really, Andy?” Henry said. “I had no idea.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Hold on, I’ve never said I want to—”

  Rebecca cut him off. “The point is, he cares about the people of this state, so he let them push him into this, hoping he could do some good, despite his initial misgivings. And through it all, somehow, he’s remained clean. And he’s made so much progress. He’s cleaned up a lot of Barker’s mess . . . he’s cleaned up the state police . . . and I forget which government agencies, but there’s more than one he’s fixed. And through it all, he’s maintained his integrity. It’s what his campaign was founded on. It’s everything he is. He can’t do what that man wants. He can’t free that prisoner. Not without betraying the people of Vermont . . . and himself.”

  Wow. She knew him so well. It was everything he’d been thinking.

  “Don’t hold back, Becks,” Henry said. “Speak up and let us know how you feel.”

  “Henry . .
.” Andrew said.

  “I’m kidding. I get it.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Molly said. “No offense, Becca, but Tyler’s not your brother.”

  “And that means I don’t love him?” She seemed disgusted by the suggestion.

  Molly shook her head. “It’s not the same,” she said unconvincingly.

  “Bullshit.”

  That time, Andrew wasn’t surprised at all about his wife’s choice of words. He was a little surprised, though, that she and Molly were butting heads. Then again, emotions were running hot. “I see both sides of this,” he said, stepping in. “I really do. For the record, Henry agrees with you, Molly.”

  “I haven’t said that,” Henry said.

  “You don’t have to. I can tell. But Rebecca sees the other side of this, which you refuse to see, Molly. And maybe you don’t really, either, Henry. Of course I don’t want to see Tyler on trial for a heinous crime he didn’t commit. But I can’t let myself be blackmailed. Where would it end? What if I did it, and word got out?”

  “Your reputation means more to you than family does?” Molly asked.

  “That’s offensive. What I meant was that if word got out that I could be blackmailed, or bought like Barker, I’m finished. Maybe I could hang on for a while, but I wouldn’t get any important work done. I’d have lost the trust of the people and everyone in my administration. And there’s so much more I want to accomplish. Not for my legacy, but for Vermont. For the people. There are still pockets of corruption I need to address. There are civil rights laws to broaden. There’s a bill we’re drafting to toughen the laws against racketeering and the distribution of drugs. There’s—”

  “There’s our brother facing a first-degree murder charge.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Damn it, Molly.”

  No one said anything for a few seconds. Andrew welcomed the silence. But there was more to say, he knew. They had told the women almost everything. There was one item left to cover.

  “Listen, everyone. The call I received a little while ago? That was him.”

  “The blackmailer?” Rebecca asked.