by Nick Adams
“They didn’t put up a fight?”
“My mom’s tougher.”
He laughed. “What’d you do with them?”
“Locked them in with one of their fighting dogs. Let him chew them up a bit.”
“Man, you are vicious.”
“Fair play isn’t vicious. They’re the ones who like fighting dogs. All I did was level the playing field for the dog.”
I went on to explain about the fire and my hope that the fire department would leak the truth discovered at the scene, even if the police tried to cover it up.
“Not bad,” Willie said. “Hopefully it’ll work.”
“It was the best I could come up with on the fly.”
“Do you think it’ll make the news?”
“Maybe. At least the paper.”
“What about Uncle Danny?”
“What about him?”
“You know he reads the paper every morning. What if he sees the story and guesses it was you?”
“Why on earth would he?”
“He knows damn well that you like dogs better than people.”
“Plenty of people are like that.”
“I guess. But the one he knows best is you.”
“In the off chance that he guesses, he’ll have to come right out and ask me. Then I’ll have to tell him the truth. I won’t lie to him. But really, I think he’s got bigger issues on his mind right now.”
“Like the missing girl.”
“Lucy Kurtz.”
Willie was quiet a moment. Just quietly driving. He looked thoughtful.
“I was just thinking,” he said. “You should swing by real early and steal Uncle Danny’s paper.”
I looked at him. He looked back.
“You kidding?”
“No.”
“That’ll just make him more suspicious.”
“It’s only a thought.”
“Not your greatest one.”
“I’m a center, not a general.”
“I don’t expect a war plan, Will.”
In a few minutes we pulled into his parents’ driveway and got out. He asked me what I was doing next.
“I need a shower and some food,” I said. “And I need to get in touch with Kendra.”
“What about tonight?”
“You’re pretty eager.”
He nodded.
“I need time to think about it.”
“Fine,” he said. “This is your gig. You’re the QB. But I’m just saying, don’t leave me out tonight. You know I haven’t done squat lately. I’m sick of riding the bench. This morning felt really good. Just doing something that needed to be done, you know? Like fixing a problem. It feels awesome.”
“We didn’t fix a lot,” I said.
“At least we did something. It’s better than nothing.”
“You’re a lot less likely to get in trouble with the video games.”
“Don’t give me that crap.”
I knew where he was coming from. Willie had a bachelor’s to show for his time away at school, but realistically his practical skills were limited. He was a football player at heart. A man of action no longer capable of the action he’d spent years immersed in. He barely graduated by the skin of his teeth. In the past year since then he’d only managed to hold one job. A nighttime security position at a prep school for about six weeks. He ended up becoming buddies with some of the jocks, spending his time hanging out in the weight room and playing Madden in the dorms late at night. Ten dollars an hour to stay close to his passion and hang out with guys he understood. Until he got caught one night and terminated.
Now, no one would take Willie seriously. He had that blemish on his record. He couldn’t get a job mopping floors at a prep school, let alone as a strength trainer or an assistant coach. Hence the rut he’d been sinking deeper into.
On top of all that was his family life. His older brother was Special Forces. An overachiever by most standards. A phenomenon by our little town’s standards. A living legend. My aunt and uncle took every chance to brag about Peter. And then there was Willie, just hanging around. Robbed of the one thing he was good at. Low on money and stuck in a bad spot. His parents cutting job listings out of the paper and taping them to the fridge. Wondering if he was going to sink so deep into depression that he might OD on ice cream and Doritos.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll call you later. Let you know what I’ve decided.”
“You do that.”
“And you think about it between now and then.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Do it anyway.”
“Fine.”
“It’ll be sneaky work. We can’t go breaking down doors and starting brawls. That’ll be absolute last resort.”
He nodded.
“And I’ve only got one vest.” I meant a bulletproof vest.
“Whatever,” Willie said. “Just keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
23
Back at home, my father came out to meet me in the driveway with Frank. Cameras overlook the driveway and the access road leading to the campground. They broadcast to a monitor in the living room, allowing him to keep an eye out for guests while keeping the other eye on his TV.
As usual, Frank greeted me like we hadn’t seen each other in months. We wrestled around for a minute before he settled down. A little friendly sparring.
“Where have you been?” Dad asked.
“Had to help somebody.”
“Help with what?”
“Dog training,” I answered after a second. “That’s why I left Frank.”
He nodded without satisfaction.
“Everything okay?”
“You tell me,” he said. “Laney Holt was here. She drove out to your cabin and then stopped here on her way out. Said she was supposed to meet you.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good grief,” Dad said. “Don’t tell me you’re sneaking around with some other girl. I’ll boot your ass from here to the store.”
“I’m not. I just forgot that Laney might stop by sometime today.”
“Your mother isn’t here, so don’t bullshit me.”
“There are no bulls shitting.”
“What are you up to?”
“Look, I was out playing with my guns. What’s the emergency?”
Dad kept quiet after I opened my windbreaker and showed him the pistols. I put Frank in the van and my dad came over to my window once I got in.
“You’re only twenty-six,” he said. “Got your whole life ahead of you. I know, I remember that feeling. But let me tell you something, boy. If you’re not careful, you’re gonna be thirty-six and Laney Holt will be who-knows-where married to some horse rancher. Once she’s gone, she’s gone.”
I said, “Wow, even when Mom isn’t here, she still has a voice.”
“Because she’s right about this.”
“Dad, Laney and I have been trying to figure things out since she got back from college. That’s like three years now. If we can find a way to live with each other, we’ll do it. No outside help required.”
He shook his head. Then he looked over at the road as a minivan came rolling up. It had a big cargo carrier attached to the roof. A family on their way out. Probably getting the jump on the gridlock of holiday traffic.
I headed for my cabin while Dad chatted with the campers. I drove slowly and thoughtfully. Parked and went in for a shower.
After, I made coffee and sat on the porch to smoke. Picked up my phone and called Kendra. Finally she answered.
“Did you sleep in?” I asked.
“Sorry,” she said, and I could tell by her voice that she wasn’t having a great morning. “I left my phone in my bedroom and I’ve been busy.”
“Everything okay?”
“Not really. This morning has been awful. And no, I haven’t heard a word about Simon’s reward.”
“You won’t be hearing anything from the Bensons. I’ve already met with them.”
There was a pause before she said, “You did?”
I told her everything she needed to know as quickly as possible. All the basics, few of the smaller details. She could hardly believe it when I told her someone I knew had bought Simon. When I was finished she was quiet for a spell.
“What now?” she finally said.
“We need to think, and we need to plan. But before that, you need to tell me what you were doing at a party in Saulsbury two weeks ago.”
“Okay,” she said. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Nothing much. It’s closer to lunchtime now.”
“Can you meet me in Trenton? I’ll buy you breakfast or lunch or whatever.”
I certainly could. It was a good idea. I wanted her to answer me to my face, not just over the phone. And the idea of some good food sure didn’t hurt.
“Where?” I asked.
“You know The Crossing? On Main Street by the old railway tracks?”
I knew it. It was an old railway station converted to a restaurant. I passed it every time I went to Walmart but had never eaten there before.
“Yeah.”
“Half an hour?”
“Deal,” I said.
The call ended and I got Frank loaded into the van and we headed right out. It wouldn’t take me thirty minutes to get to The Crossing. Maybe fifteen or twenty at most. But I don’t like being late. And I figured I’d have to hunt for a parking spot and walk a little bit.
That’s exactly how it went.
The restaurant’s little parking lot was packed. I found a spot up the street in front of a small jeweler. Frank had water and a few toys to occupy himself with. He’d get a snack upon my return for waiting patiently.
The drive through Franklin had felt strange. Supposedly many criminals have a tendency to return to the scenes of their crimes. The police would view me as a criminal at worst and a vigilante at best. I glanced down Bow Street on my way by. But I had no intentions of going by the house. Perhaps because I didn’t feel the slightest hint of guilt for my actions.
On Main Street in Trenton I locked the van and started up the sidewalk towards The Crossing. I passed the Catholic Church, a beautiful old stone building, and noticed a guy handing out flyers up ahead. He was dressed in khakis and a collared shirt. Standing in front of a smaller building beside the church. A private elementary school. My guess was that he was inviting people to church or an evening study group at the school.
I was wrong.
“Brother,” he said as I came near. “I see you have a nice beard started.”
I usually do have a beard to some degree. Sometimes I’ll trim every few weeks, and shave very rarely. Most often I just let it go. In the winter I let it go from Thanksgiving on. By March I look like I belong on a Viking dragon ship, sharpening my axe for battle.
“Sure,” I answered.
He had a neatly trimmed beard that was progressively longer at the chin. Nothing careless about it. It had been very carefully shaped. It looked sharp.
“Beautiful morning,” he said.
“Can’t complain.”
He handed me a small flyer. Which I didn’t read. Because he was already talking again.
“Have you ever found yourself feeling ostracized because of your beard?”
“No. Have you?”
“Indeed I have, my friend. The American workplace is becoming increasingly hostile to outward signs of masculinity.”
“I work for myself,” I told him.
“That’s always good. But plenty of men do struggle, both at home and at work, simply because they decided to grow a beard.”
“They struggle?” I said.
“Absolutely.”
“How so?”
“Against modern perceptions of what a man is supposed to look like. That’s why I’ve started this support group. We’ll be meeting here at the school on Saturday and Tuesday nights. But more than a group, it’s intended to be a gathering of friends who understand one another’s problems.”
I said, “You mean, your wife doesn’t like your beard, so you started a club?”
“Oh, it’s not a club. Anyone is welcome to join us. And there are no charges or responsibilities. It’s just a friendly gathering of likeminded men, celebrating our masculinity by bucking the trend of shaving. We’re tired of being bullied into buying overpriced razors in order to live up to an unnatural ideal. None of us were born as Ken dolls.”
I said, “I hope this doesn’t end with everyone wearing white Nike’s and drinking poisoned grape juice.”
He laughed. “No, no. I certainly hope not.”
“Ditto.”
“And you are …”
“Evan.”
“I’m Bradley. And you, Evan, are very welcome to stop by some evening. I promise it has nothing to do with avoiding our spouses or any sort of cult practices. We really are trying to take a stand against the popular trend.”
I said, “Dude, is this really about beards?
“Sure, sure. We’ve all got one.”
“Look, Bradley, you seem like a good guy. If you’re burned out with work and home, don’t just settle for a beard. Go beyond it. Make up your mind to be an alpha male and start living it. Stop worrying about what anyone else thinks.”
He opened his mouth.
“Quick story,” I said. “Once there was a young boy with a big dream. He grew up in Austria and—”
“Arnold,” he said quickly. “Arnold Schwarzenegger. Right?”
“Right,” I said. “So my point is, just think of Arnold. Do you think he waits around for permission to be a boss?”
Bradley smiled and shook his head.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“I guess you are.”
“Once your mind is made up, your ass will follow. Then its smooth sailing.”
“I take it you’re not a married man, Evan.”
“Wouldn’t change anything.”
He said nothing. Just extended his hand. I shook it. He looked at my gloves and smiled uncomfortably.
I said, “We’ve all got our issues, man. Hang in there.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I went on up the street. I was feeling damn good, hoping I’d inspired the guy. Wearing big boy pants is a good feeling. I turned into the restaurant’s parking lot walking briskly, feeling energized. Three hundred pounds just cruising along toward some good food. Kendra’s red Z was there. She must have found the last vacant spot.
I stepped up onto a wooden platform and entered the restaurant through a wide glass doorway. It was loud and busy inside. The interior was all nice woodwork and thick carrier beams and vintage signs. A nice atmosphere, apart from the noise. I looked around but didn’t see Kendra. Through the back windows and a double doorway I could see a patio section out back. I couldn’t see well enough to spot Kendra.
I went back outside and around the back corner of the old station. It was still cool out and only a few of the outdoor tables were occupied. Kendra was occupying one of the nearest ones to me. I could see her from the side. She looked tired and cold. Her posture was slouched and her hands were in the pouch pocket of her hoodie. A waiter was pouring her coffee. Once he stepped away she noticed me approaching.
“Hey, I was about to text you,” she said as I took a chair. “I literally just got here.”
“Hey, me too.”
She smiled weakly and stirred a container of cream into her coffee.
I said, “Good call on the outside table.”
“I figured we could talk easier.”
I handed her the beard club flyer. She looked it over. Then looked at me weird.
I said, “Keep it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want it.”
“You think I do?”
“It’s a gift.”
“I don’t even have peach fuzz on my chin.”
“Never said you did.”
She pushed it across the table, said, “I’m giving it back.
”
I pushed it back, saying, “I respectfully decline.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No.”
“Just tell me if it’s a joke. I’ll laugh.”
“Give it to the waiter when he comes back. Let him deal with it.”
She sighed and shook her head.
“Get any sleep?” I asked.
“Yeah, a little,” she said. “How about you?”
“Oh yeah.”
“This morning has been a nightmare. I started talking to my dad. I had to fill him in. It turned into hours of arguing.”
“What’s the problem?” I asked, though I was pretty sure what she was going to say.
“In a nutshell, he’s really freaking out about the whole thing. Having someone I barely know go after my stolen dog. He’s paranoid something’s going to happen to me.”
“That’s not paranoia.”
“Protective instinct.”
“He doesn’t know me.”
“I don’t know you very well.”
“Likewise.”
“That’s not the real issue,” she said. “Simon is. And it’s like you said yesterday, the only other thing I can do is keep raising the reward. You’re right. If we don’t do something, I won’t see Simon again.”
I was looking at the menu. It was getting late for breakfast, so I decided to have a House Special sub for an early lunch. It was a sixteen-inch sandwich with a little bit of everything but the kitchen sink stacked on it.
“Tell me what you were doing at that party.”
Without hesitating she replied, “I’m not a partier, if that’s what you’re thinking. I barely even drink. I’m into healthy living and dancing, not getting wrecked.”
“It shows. But I had to ask.”
“And I’ve never laid eyes on those brothers before. Never heard of them until my friend at work mentioned them.”
“Dodging my question isn’t helping your cause.”
“The night it happened, I was helping my friend Chrissy,” she said quietly. “She was drunk off her ass and trying to get away from the guy she’d gone there with. He was getting crazy high on something and she was getting scared. She had to get out of there.”
“Good move on her part.”
“She learned her lesson. She’ll be more careful who she gets involved with. At least she had enough sense to call for help before things got out of control.”