“You mean stalking?”
“No. Not really.”
“If he’s stalking you …giving you a hard time, you should call the police.”
Julia shook her head and said, “I can handle it on my own, Ben. But honest … I have never had any interest in Pete. Never.”
Ben suddenly felt like a colossal fool.
“And after all the trouble you’ve been having …” she said.
At first, Ben thought she was talking about his father’s dealings with Richie Sullivan, but then it flashed on him.
“You mean the slashed tires?”
“Uh-huh. That … and when you got jumped outside the Local. At first, I thought it must have been Tom, but I didn’t want to say anything if it was Pete. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to cause any more problems for you and your family.”
Her voice choked off, and her shoulders wrenched and collapsed inward as she heaved a deep sob and had to look away.
Ben was speechless. He began to put the pieces together and realized that Julia was telling the truth. Pete had been acting so hostile because he was pissed Julia had chosen his brother, not him.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to say. I … I had no idea. I’m really sorry.” He wished he didn’t sound so weak.
Tears were spilling from her eyes, carving glistening tracks down her cheeks. She sniffed loudly and, grabbing a napkin, dabbed her eyes and then blew her nose.
“You should have said something before now,” he said.
“I know.” Her eyes brightened as she looked at him and nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I should have, but I honestly didn’t want to cause you any more grief.”
She grabbed another napkin and wiped her eyes, harder this time. When she looked at him again, her lips were thin and bloodless. One corner of her mouth was twitching.
“I’m such an idiot,” Ben said, smiling weakly and hoping to relieve or reduce the tension between them. He wouldn’t blame her if she got up and walked away right then, but he prayed she wouldn’t.
“I guess we both have some personal issues to work on, huh?” she said.
It gladdened his heart to see a ghost of a smile light her face.
“Amen to that,” Ben said, his smile widening.
Both of his hands were clammy and trembling as he slid them across the table and took hold of her hands. He squeezed them tightly.
“Forgive me?” he asked, but Julia didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t blame her. She kept staring past him, looking over his shoulder into the darkness beyond their cone of light.
Tom turned off onto the dirt road twenty minutes before nine o’clock. The sun had set, but a cobalt blue glow lingered in the western sky. A chorus of frogs was singing in a nearby pond, and far off in the distance, a whippoorwill whistled its mournful song.
Using his training as a police officer, Tom parked so his car was facing toward the main road and angled so he could pull out quickly and drive away without having to back up.
He got out of the car and, leaving his headlights on, surveyed the surrounding area. He wanted to scope out every place Gillette might be able to park. Tom had no doubt Zimmerman would be with him, but Gillette always drove. It was one of his ways of staying in control. Tom was counting on Gillette being a creature of habit and parking in the same spot he had parked before with his car positioned so it was facing the woods. That would be perfect because he would have to back up and turn around before he could get out of there.
He paced off the distance, trying to guess exactly where Gillette’s car would be and what would be the quickest way for him to get the drop on them. If it came down to it, he wanted to get a few shots off before they knew what hit them. Once Zimmerman started shooting, Tom was pretty sure all bets would be off. He was positive the man would prove to be a dead-eye shot, so he would have to go for him first and then finish off Gillette, who had a reputation for never going armed. It would have violated the parole conditions from a previous arrest, but Tom was also sure Gillette wasn’t very good handling a gun. In fact, Tom was counting on that.
Once he was satisfied that Gillette would have no choice but to pull into the same spot, Tom got back into his car and waited. He kept fidgeting, checking the ammo in his revolver, which he kept tucked under his waistband in the small of his back. He hoped Gillette wouldn’t notice the bulge under his loose-fitting shirt. In the darkness, he probably wouldn’t, but after what had happened last time, both Gillette and Zimmerman would be fools to think he hadn’t come to this meeting armed.
Time moved slowly as he waited, listening to the night sounds of insects, birds, and frogs. The sky to the east was pitch black with not a cloud in sight. No breath of wind stirred. Tom jumped when an owl suddenly hooted in the nearby woods. When he leaned across the steering wheel and scanned the night, the bird launched itself from a nearby tree and drifted as silent as a phantom out across the nearby marsh.
“Happy hunting, compadre,” he muttered as he tracked the bird until it dissolved into the darkness.
He willed his racing heart to slow down as he looked at his wristwatch for what seemed like the hundredth time, took a few deep breaths, and stared at nothing. After an unaccountably long time, far down the road, the glow of approaching headlights lit up the surrounding trees. After touching his revolver one last time for reassurance, he sat with both hands on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead.
Happy hunting, indeed, he thought, smiling grimly as the yellow glow of headlights grew steadily brighter.
Julia hung her jacket in the hall closet. She asked Ben to stay the night with her, but he had said he couldn’t — Louise had moved out of Tom’s house, he said, and there was family crap to attend to. Julia told him about the phone exchange she’d had with Louise earlier, and they laughed. That — finally — broke the tension over the cell phone snooping.
“Tell Louise … tell her I …” Julia’s voice trailed off, remembering that Louise might not think too kindly of her.
“I’ll tell her you said ‘hi.’” Ben said. “Don’t worry about Lou-Lou. And call the house if you need anything, any time. ’Kay?”
“I will,” Julia replied, and they had clung tightly to each other for a long time on her porch. Then she watched Ben walk over to his car, get in, and drive away.
Now the house was empty for the first time since Julia had come to live here. She thought of her father, alone in the hospital. Tears welled in her eyes.
Maybe a shower and a nap, and then I’ll go back to the hospital and keep him company. I can’t stand to think of him being there alone, and I sure don’t want to be here alone.
The front door flew open with a crash. Startled, Julia whirled around, thinking … hoping for a split second that it was Ben.
But it wasn’t Ben.
“Pete? … What are you doing here?” Her voice was pitched high with astonishment and a sudden jolt of fear. “Ben just left.”
Pete nodded, and she knew he must have been watching and waiting. He stared at her mutely for a long time. His jaw and throat muscles knotted, looking like he was trying to swallow a handful of walnuts. Then his face flushed.
“Then you prob’ly know that my brother found your phone number on my cell.” He was visibly shaking. “And you prob’ly had yourselves a good laugh at my expense, right? Stupid old Pete! What was he thinkin’? Huh? You wanna know?”
Julia was incapable of reacting.
“Well,” he said, “I’ll tell yah what I was thinkin’!
“Hold on, Pete,” Julia began. “You can’t just burst in here —”
He cut her off by taking a step closer and raising a fist.
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Just shut the fuck up!”
Trembling, Julia nodded and took a step back. She eyed the doorway leading into the kitchen and the wall phone, but she calculated that she’d never make it if she made a dash for it.
“I’m finally gonna say what I’
ve been wantin’ to say.”
“Okay,” Julia managed.
Pete took a deep breath, but his posture was still wire-tight.
“You see, I was thinkin’ … when you came to The Cove … that I’d never seen a finer woman in my life, and I’ve been waitin’ for a chance to … to talk to you, maybe even take you out and … and treat you good. I was willing to wait ’till you got tired of my dipshit brother-in-law, ’cause I knew you would. He’s always been an idiot and not much good in the sack.”
How’d he know that? Julia thought irrelevantly.
Pete’s voice was steadily rising. “’N then Big Ben the war hero breezes back to town. And just like he’s always done all his fuckin’ life, he just takes what I want.”
“No, he didn’t. Listen to me …”
“I told you to shut the fuck up, goddamn it! Listen!” His eyes rolled ceiling-ward when he took a deep breath. His tanned cheeks were splotched with red. “I never got anything new in my life. Always handed down from him. Always shared with him. I stay here, help my old man, keep the family business goin’. I’m just good old Pete nobody gives a shit about, but he … he goes off to Iraq, shoots a couple desert rats, ’n he’s a Christless hero! Everyone wants to kiss his ass. And he goes and picks you up like you’re a fuckin’ nickel he found on the sidewalk.” He took another shuddering breath. “After I waited so goddamned long for you just to notice me … to fuckin’ look at me!”
The cords in his neck were strained, and his eyes were bulging. The corners of his mouth were flecked with spittle.
Julia could only shake her head no. She was trembling with fear and exhaustion.
“I tried to stop him, y’know,” Pete went on. “I was tryin’ to make him think twice … especially since he could have any girl he wanted. But no, the Gunner, he always gets the girl. And now it looks like you two are crazy in love.”
He snatched a heavy glass lamp from the end table next to her father’s easy chair and tore the beige shade from it. Ripping the plug from the wall, he brandished it at her like it was a club.
“I can’t stand it, goddamnit! No more of this shit! I’m not losing out to my fucking brother anymore! So you know what I’m gonna do?”
Julia stared at him, wide-eyed, and shook her head. She couldn’t speak.
“I’m gonna mess you up so fuckin’ bad that Ben and nobody else will ever wanna look at you ever again!”
Julia’s face contorted with fear, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. It was foolish to run and try to get to a phone to call 911. She certainly couldn’t defend herself. Pete was too big and strong. And she was dreaming if she thought Ben would come charging in like the US cavalry and save her.
But — somehow — she found the courage to stand there and stare into Pete’s eyes, willing him to look at her … really look at her.
I’m a person too, Pete … I’m just like you … I’m hurting … Look at me, Pete … Look at me …
“I’m sorry, Pete,” she sobbed softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Trembling and breathing hard, Pete looked back at her for what seemed an eternity. Then the red slowly drained from his face. His hand was shaking as he placed the lamp back on the end table and stood there, looking guilty and confused. Without making a sound, he went to Julia and put his arms around her. She leaned forward, sobbing like a child into his shoulder while he awkwardly patted her back.
After a time, he kissed her forehead and lifted her blotchy, tear-stained face to his.
“Goodbye, Julia,” he said.
Without another word, he walked away, closing the front door behind him.
Julia jumped when she heard the door latch click. It sounded like a gunshot. Then she ran to the door, locked it, and pressed her back hard against it. She stayed like that until she heard his car start up and drive away.
Then and only then did she let the tears fall.
Chapter Sixteen
Night Cruise
The car’s taillights flickered and glowed like flame through a swirl of dust as Gillette pulled to a stop in the turnoff. He stopped the car right where Tom expected he would and killed the engine, but he didn’t get out. Apparently he was waiting for Tom to make the first move. Leaving his keys in the ignition, Tom opened his door and stepped out. The dust was still suspended in the motionless air as he started walking slowly over to the car.
Keeping his gaze fixed on the rear window, he resisted the urge to reassure himself by patting the revolver under his belt in the small of his back. Only now did he realize he should have gotten a suitcase or a gym bag or something to make his ploy look more convincing.
As he approached the car, his feet crunching on the gravel, he discerned by the dim dashboard lights two silhouettes in the front seat. Tom was sure the passenger was Zimmerman, riding shotgun for security. He smiled as he approached the driver’s side of the car. Bracing both hands on the roof, he leaned down. The tinted automatic window slid down like a polished piece of marble that reflected the night.
“Evenin’ to yah,” Tom said, touching his forefinger to his forehead as if saluting. Gillette was wearing a pair of Wayfarers that caught and held a dark, distorted reflection of the dashboard lights.
Sunglasses at night, he thought. He really does work hard to maintain his image.
“We can dispense with the pleasantries,” Gillette said, sounding more irritable than usual, which was saying a lot. He raised the shades, perching them on his forehead, and squinted up at Tom. “You got the shit?”
“We gotta talk price first,” Tom said in a low, measured voice. “Meaning no disrespect, Tony, but after last time, I can’t say’s I entirely trust you.”
“You got paid a fair chunk of change for something that wasn’t yours in the first place,” Gillette sounded peeved. Tom wondered if he and Zimmerman had had an argument about something. “You wanna report me to the cops? Go right ahead.”
Tom leaned down and, placing one hand on the side panel of the car door, twisted to the right so he presented a narrower target if ole’ Zim started shooting. In the darkness, though, it didn’t look like Zimmerman. Tom bent down to try to see who it was.
“Who’s your new girlfriend?” Tom asked, nodding at the man, who sat there silently. His face was turned away slightly, and his features were indistinct in the darkness. His head was a black silhouette against the view out the side window.
“None of your goddamned business,” the man said with a gravely snarl that sounded put on to disguise his voice.
“Where’s your buddy Zimmerman … the Zimster … Zimmerrama?” Tom said, laughing foolishly at his attempt at humor.
Gillette glanced at his partner and then rolled his head around so he was looking straight at Tom.
“You can cut the comedy routine any time you want,” he said. “You got some shit to sell me or not?”
“’Course I do,” Tom said, but even as the words left his mouth, a tingling cold tightness filled his gut.
This is it … showtime, he thought, shivering as a rush of adrenalin filled his chest. He wondered if he really had the cojones to draw a gun on these guys and shoot both of them in cold blood. His beef was with Gillette, so this other guy — whoever the fuck he was — was nothing more than collateral damage.
It was unavoidable.
“It’s in my car,” he said. “You wanna come have a look-see?”
“Get it and bring it here,” Gillette said without moving a muscle to get out of the car.
Something set off an alarm in Tom’s head. At that exact instant, he was sure he was the one being set up. He glanced over his shoulder quickly to see if anyone was watching them. He was suddenly positive that Zimmerman was lurking somewhere in the dark woods with a rifle and scope, waiting to take his shot.
Tom reacted without thinking.
Reaching behind his back, he grabbed for the revolver. His right hand clasped the curved handle, and he yanked it free with a snap. Sucking in his breath, he swung the gun aroun
d and pointed it at Gillette. Without even thinking, he squeezed the trigger three times. The gun kicked in his hand as the barrel flared with yellow flame, but he never heard or registered the sound of any of the shots.
The first slug caught Gillette in the side of the head, an inch or two in front of his left ear. His head snapped back and to the side. The other two shots missed entirely. One of the bullets ricocheted off the dashboard and punched through the windshield, leaving behind a fist-sized hole with white spider-web cracks. The other took out the CD player.
Tom dropped to one knee so he’d have a clear shot at Gillette’s passenger, but in the sudden confusion, the mystery man snapped the car door open and was on the ground on the other side of the car. Tom got off one more shot, but he knew he missed when it ricocheted off something metal. Realizing he had to save his ammo, he dropped to the ground and pressed his back against the side of the car.
His heart was pounding, fast and hard as he considered what to do next. Panting heavily, he stared at his car parked by the side of the road less than fifty feet away. It might as well have been on the moon. That mystery man would gun him down the instant he made a dash for it.
“Yo! Can we call a truce here?” Tom shouted. His breath was burning his throat like he’d swallowed jet fuel.
There was no reply … only the steady chirring of insects in the grass and the croaking of frogs in the nearby swamp. No wind stirred the leaves overhead.
Tom’s shoulders throbbed with tension as he crouched beside the car with no idea from which direction the danger would come.
Gillette’s gotta be dead, he thought with equal measures of joy and amazement.
He knew at least one bullet had hit him.
And that’s all he’d been looking for. He had wanted Gillette to pay for cheating him out of that hundred thousand dollars, so as far as he was concerned, he was good.
“Hey!” he called out. “I mean it. I got no beef with you.” His voice echoed oddly in the night, sounding flat and empty.
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