He picked it up, closed his eyes and slipped it into the pocket of his uniform. “How much did you find?”
“A few kilos.”
He sighed. “I thought about telling you, but I knew you’d give me grief.” He moved to the kitchen and opened a beer from the fridge. “Don’t freak out about it, okay? I’m not using it.”
She shook her head. “I know. That’s the problem. If I’d married an addict, that’d be one thing. But you’re selling it, aren’t you?”
He sipped the beer, drummed his fingers on the counter. “For now, okay? I’ll stop once we get on our feet. Unless you like living in a mobile home in the middle of the desert. I had my eye on a place in Vegas. Couple miles off the strip. Nice area. Good neighbors. You’ve been on me to get us into a better house since we got married, and now you want to judge me?” His voice took on a scary edge.
“I’m not judging you.” She tried to sound sympathetic instead of accusatory. Jason could be mean, especially after a few beers. And if he was using meth, he might turn violent.
He scoffed. “I’m not even in the door for a minute and you’re throwing my mistakes in my face.”
“I’m worried, Jason. If they find out, you’ll lose your badge. Then where will that leave us? I’m sorry I pushed you so far for a new house, but I’d rather have you here with me than to have a nice place in Vegas and you in prison.”
“They’re not going to find out,” he whispered. He drained the dregs of the beer and crushed the can. He breathed slowly while his face reddened. “Unless you tell.”
Aida took a step back. “I’m not going to tell.”
“Bull!” The vein over Jason’s left eyebrow throbbed and pulsed. He wasn’t angry. He passed angry seventy million miles ago. He cursed at her, hands fisted into hammers, and moved across the cluttered living room with heavy steps.
“You want to ruin me? Ruin my life?”
Aida backed up until she was pinned between him and the wall. “You’re using it, aren’t you?” Ice crusted her heart. “You’re high right now.”
“Swear to me.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his face crimson. “Drop it. Never speak of it again.”
Fear froze her chest. She thought of train derailments, of boxcars speeding down wet tracks, wheels squealing and slipping, punching into a pulsating, vibrating anxiety of fight-or-flight.
In the five years she’d known him, she’d never seen him like this. He’d turned into something other than Jason, other than her husband, other than a Nevada state trooper. He’d morphed into something evil and terrifying.
She tried to keep her voice calm and sensible, but fear and anger won her over. “You’re a cop, not a dealer.”
“Don’t test me.” Each word was accentuated with punch and punctuation. “I will end you.”
Aida couldn’t stop herself. “Who else? Mark in on this, too? The entire force?”
Her feet left the floor, and her husband’s grip clenched around her throat like the bite of a German Shepherd. His fat fingers clamped her trachea and separated her from air. His other hand pulled back in a fist.
This is how it ends, she thought.
Somewhere from beyond the grave, she heard the voice of her father. He understood how dangerous Hailey could be, and took care to prepare his daughters for the danger.
Eyes first and don’t stop.
She smashed her hands into Jason’s face. Her ferocity startled her. She thrust her thumbs into his eyes and felt them resist and then give way. Her thumbs slipped into the sockets as her husband’s tormented howl shook the walls of the small mobile home. He spewed curses, released his grip and brought both hands to his eyes.
Don’t stop. Drop them and make sure they can’t chase you. Whatever it takes. Don’t stop until you know they’re not getting up.
Jason kept his gun in the room down the hall. She’d have to fish it out of the dresser before he caught her. She needed insurance; she needed time.
Jason pulled his hands from his bloody eyes. He cursed between screams and lurched toward her.
Aida steadied herself, planted her left foot, and brought her right one straight between Jason’s legs. He screeched and dropped to his knees.
Don’t stop.
She kicked him again, this time in his face. His face crunched, and her foot stung like she’d kicked a rock. In a flash, he was up again, limping toward her, blood running faucet-like from his nose and eyes, his teeth rimmed with red.
Don’t stop.
She had no doubts now that he’d been taking meth. This kind of damage would stop any man cold, but still he staggered toward her, incensed.
Another good kick should slow him down enough for her to make it to the gun. But he’d collected himself, and Nevada had spent a lot of money to teach him how to subdue people who fought back.
Aida had no training, only cunning. She offered a silent, pleading prayer, closed her eyes, and kicked.
Jason grabbed her ankle and pulled her foot out from under her. She kicked her leg, but Jason had a solid grip. He yanked her close to him and drew back his fist.
She kicked again, this time with her left foot. His punch glanced off her knee. The force deflected her attack from his face to his throat.
He recoiled and clutched his neck, gasping raspy inhales. She kicked again and again until he fell backward. Free, she got up and raced to the bedroom. His livid cursing and heavy footfalls flashed down the hall after her. She fumbled to open the drawer, and pulled out shirt after shirt until at last she grabbed the heavy, black gun.
He stumbled through the door. His eyes locked on the gun, and he smiled. “It’s not loaded.”
He lunged.
Aida pulled the trigger.
The recoil knocked her back.
* * *
The officer walked toward the window of the pick-up.
The driver stared at Aida. “You shot him?”
“In his knee. Please, you have to go now.”
The officer knocked on the window.
The driver rolled it down. “Afternoon. Didn’t think I was speeding.”
The officer looked at Aida. “Make a habit of picking up hitchhikers, Mr. Becker?”
“Hitchhikers? This is my cousin.”
The officer knelt in the dirt, took off his 80s styled mirrored aviator’s glasses and stared in at Aida. “How’s tricks, Aiddie?”
Aida sighed. “Hi, Mark.” Of all the cops to find her, it would have to be Jason’s best friend.
“Nice haircut.”
She rolled her eyes. She wanted to run, but she had exactly zero chance of outrunning Mark.
He tilted his head awkwardly. “Looks like you got some nasty bruising around your neck there. Any idea how that happened?”
“Mouth gets me in trouble sometimes.”
The officer smiled. “Jason’s got a different story.” He paused, perhaps expecting a response from Aida, but she kept quiet, kept her eyes forward. “Looks like he got tangled up with some bad company. Know anything about it?”
She took a breath. Mark would have his belt recorder on, so anything she said would likely be used in court after her arrest. Telling the truth, of how she’d assaulted and shot a cop, didn’t seem like a wise choice, even if she only did it to protect herself. “Out to visit family. Been gone all morning.”
Mark nodded toward the driver. “Like your cousin here?”
“Yeah.”
“Your car’s parked near Henderson Mall. How’d you make it all the way out here? Wouldn’t have anything to do with that stolen Subaru down the road, would it?”
The driver spoke in a soft voice. “I picked her up. Met her at the mall. Been planning a bit of a get-together for a few weeks now.”
“I’m curious.” Mark stood u
p and put his hand on his holster. “What family you visiting? Parents are dead, and last I checked, Nadine was out in Colorado. Looks to me like you’re headin’ the wrong direction.”
“Extended family reunion. San Diego. Nadine’s meeting us down there.”
The driver sounded nonchalant as he answered, as if he didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. If things went bad, if Mark decided to protect his reputation and Jason’s, the driver could be charged on aiding and abetting.
“On my mom’s side,” Aida offered.
With a nod toward the driver, Mark said, “How much does your cousin know?” His finger tapped his pistol.
Aida’s heart shriveled. This wouldn’t end well.
“About what?” The driver looked at Aida quizzically. She wished she could award him an Oscar.
Mark slipped his glasses back on, his mouth straight. He flipped something on his belt—probably turning the recorder off. “I’m going to do you a favor, Aida. You’re going to do one for me, too. You weren’t supposed to be in this. I told Jason to be more careful, so I blame him as much as I blame you. But I always had a soft spot for you, you know that? So I’m going to tell him I haven’t seen you, and you’re going to keep on driving with your cousin. You can’t come back. Not to Henderson, Vegas, or anywhere in Nevada for that matter. If you do, I can’t say you’d be safe. And you can’t talk. If you do, Jason’ll be breathing down your neck again.”
“If it were just breathing, I could take it.”
With a stern look at the driver, Mark said to Aida, “Make sure you’re meeting your family. Pretty sure you wouldn’t want to meet Mr. Becker’s.”
All at once, revelation washed over her. Becker was an infamous name in Hailey, associated with darkness and fear, loathing and hate. It seldom came up in conversation, and when it did, it became a whispered warning, a presage of evil.
Mark grinned again. “Looks like you’ve got some talking to do. Best of luck with the reunion.”
He patted the door of the pick-up and walked back to his cruiser.
Chapter 13
Saturday, September 5th
At some point after thirty-something hours without sleep, time ceases to be measured in conventional ways. Aida’s story, for example, lasted precisely three cups of mean, caffeine-filled African coffee.
“I think, in a way, Mark let me go because he knew about Greg, and assumed that violence ran in the family. Probably thought he’d end up killing me or raping me or worse. When I heard the name Becker, I was terrified. Thought he was Greg and just about jumped out of the car into Mark’s arms.”
I leaned my head back, and my eyes slipped shut. “Out of the frying pan, so to speak?”
“Didn’t turn out that way.”
She snapped her fingers, and I started awake.
She had leaned back, even crossed her legs. Her body language suggested ease. “Don’t fall asleep on me now. I’m almost done.”
Sluggish, my mind tried to put the pieces together, tried to see the pattern. All these people who seemed good had some dark secret. Mason stole his parents’ car at one time and got his teenage girlfriend pregnant, which eventually led to her suicide. His brother beat a man to death with a baseball bat. Aida shot a cop in the knee and stole a car. It begged the question: is this the best Hailey has to offer? I wanted another cup of coffee, but my sour stomach said I’d had enough. I liked my coffee strong, but the acidity ate at the lining of my stomach. I started feeling nauseous and wondered how far off an ulcer was. Then, my mind drifted back to Nadine, sleeping peacefully, presumably, in the next room.
Weary, I thought of giving in, of crawling into bed next to her and napping until the sun no longer rose. Still, if I didn’t finish these articles, it might not, at least not for those in Hailey.
“She’ll be fine, Connor.”
“Will she?”
“She pulled through this morning, didn’t she? She’s a trooper, a fighter. Runs in the family.”
“I imagine it does.”
By now the cool of the morning evaporated with the wispy clouds. The sun shone in full force, streaming through the windows and elevating the temperature to uncomfortable levels. Aida flipped on a swamp cooler near the couch.
“Mason mentioned something about salvation.”
She nodded. “Thought he might. Guess that’s the point of all this really.”
“Salvation? For me? Is that what this is?”
Aida shook her head again. “Relax, Connor. Not everything’s an elaborate government conspiracy. I was thinking more about the salvation of the town.”
“So that’s what he meant? Getting a little Jesus in Hailey?”
Aida stretched. “Take it easy. You’re over tired and getting a little hostile. I mean we have to find the good that’s already here in this town.”
My mind moved like mud. “How’s your salvation play into that?”
I set my empty mug on the coffee table, making sure to put it on a coaster.
“It goes back to when I was a kid. Mom and Dad were saved. All Christian, all the time. Next thing I know, bam. They’re gone, and I’m left with Nadine in the middle of Hailey with no real escape. I wasn’t a Christian then. I was angry at God for taking Mom and Dad. I’d made up my mind if I ever found the guy who parked his SUV on the tracks, that he’d meet the same fate as my folks. I was going to kill him. I mean really kill him.
“No one has made me madder, not even when Jason was attacking me. It’s one thing when someone’s hitting you, but when they hit your family, that’s something else. That’s how I felt. I was going to kill him. Even today, if I ever found him …” She broke off suddenly.
I thought of Nadine and God. Was God hitting Nadine? Was that why I was so mad?
“That’s my battle now. Learning to forgive. I’ve forgiven Jason. Forgave him just before he died, oddly enough.”
“Wait. Jason died?”
“Few days before you and Nadine drove into town.”
“How?”
“How else? Deal gone sour. Paper said he was ‘undercover’ but Mark told me otherwise. Mark, he got out of it a few years ago. Had to move out of state. Lives in Oregon, now. Jason never could pull himself out. Don’t think he wanted to.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve made my peace with it.”
We were getting off-track. I rubbed my eyes. I wanted to finish up, grab a quick nap, and then get to writing so I could sleep for something more than an hour. “So. Salvation?”
“Right. I wasn’t a Christian when I married Jason. Nadine knew he was bad news and hounded me for years about getting Jesus in my life. Made me go to church, so I was exposed to it, but just never let it sink in. Then, when Jason hit me, choked me, I prayed, and, this was weird, I thanked God.”
She spoke of the brutality with such nonchalance she could’ve been talking about yesterday’s sports scores.
“I thanked Him for everything. My sister, the time with my parents, my friends, all that. And I heard this voice. It kept saying, ‘Don’t stop.’ Next thing you know, I’m in the bedroom, Jason’s lunging at me, I pull the trigger, my eyes half-open. I’m pretty sure I was aiming for his head. But here’s the kicker; Jason never kept the gun loaded. He laughed when he saw me holding it because he knew it wasn’t loaded.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t know where the bullet came from, or how it got in the gun.”
“Jason must have left one in the chamber.”
She shook her head. “He’s a cop, and he’s careful. I don’t know how long he was dealing before I found out, but he’d learned to cover his tracks. I found out by accident. His nephews would come over sometimes, and we’d watch them. He kept the ammo separate so there’d never be an accident.”
I rubbed my temples and sighed. “If he never kept the gun loaded, why’d you run for it? Voice or no voice, seems like a risky move.”
She stood and yawned. She kept her voice low with an eye to Nadine’s room. “When I was seven, a man broke into our house, into my room. I’m talking stepped right on my pillow, big black boot all caked in mud. I freaked out. Next thing I know, my dad’s in the room and has the man by the throat. He yells at me, ‘Go, don’t stop.’ And I run out and hear him yelling to Mom, ‘Get the gun!’”
“So it was your father’s voice you heard?”
“They were his words at least, but I’m not so naive as to think it was really him. I think God used that situation to help prepare me for the one with Jason. The more I think about it, the more it seems like the hand of God. No other way things could have played out the way they did.”
I stood up, dropped my notepad on the coffee table and began pacing. “That’s when you accepted Jesus then?”
“No, that part came later.” Aida leaned against the wall, arms folded. Her face seemed smug, as if she were challenging my disbelief. “Mason helped me with that. Took me back to church.”
“At church then?”
My frustration was mounting. Why was this even important to the article? Why was her account of salvation so important it needed to be recorded? Mason didn’t make me document the salvation experiences of him or of his brother. Why Aida?
“I called Nadine up a few weeks after everything happened with Jason. I’d been getting closer to Mason that whole time, closer to God, but it didn’t seem right to me. If I was going to give my life to Christ, I had to tell Nadine. I wanted her to be the one, you know, to pray with me. She’d done so much for me. I thought it would be best.”
“I remember that call.”
“You do?”
“I remember because we were supposed to go night skiing, Nadine and me. Had our lift passes ready, car was packed, then you called.”
“You must have been furious.”
“Yeah, at first, but Nadine came out of the room after you guys talked, what, for an hour?”
“Probably.”
The Bargain - One man stands between a destitute town and total destruction. Page 10