The Weight of Living

by Michael Daigle

  “I tried to,” she said, words leaking from a twisted mouth. “Tried to make him ... safe. Safe. Nothing is safe.”

  “Let me...”

  “Nothing is safe, Frank. Nothing! Nothing is safe from this family. He’s already used me up.”

  Then she spun from his grasp and ran past a row of idling trucks onto the edge of the westbound highway and into the darkness.

  Nagler watched then turned to find a state trooper. “His name is Alton Garrett,” Nagler told him. “He is an Ironton police officer.”

  ****

  Nagler had barely sat at his desk when Ramirez called.

  “Someone just called Dennis Wilson’s phone. One ring and a hang up,” she said. “How weird is that?”

  “Where’s his phone?”

  “In an evidence bag. That’s why it’s weird. I’m looking at it. Oh, crap. Better get down here.”

  It was video. Randolph Garrettson was standing next to a tree with a rope around his neck. “You fucking bitch,” he croaked out, teeth clenched.

  His head jerked up and he was pushed aside and Calista Knox’s face appeared. Her eyes were black and her face blank.

  “I figure he’s got about an hour, Frank. I told you there was one last thing. You know where I am.”

  “Call Captain Mangan in Jefferson,” Nagler yelled to Ramirez as he turned to leave. “Tell him Calista and Garrettson are at the elephant sheds. Ask him to send a couple officers, but not to act, unless, you know. I want them both alive.”

  Siren and lights on, Nagler bullied his way through the early morning traffic. God, she’s flipped, he thought. I guess watching your brother run in front of a truck would do that.

  He arrived at the golf course to find Mangan with an ambulance crew, parked some distance away.

  “I figured it would be better if it was just me,” Mangan said. “We’ve just been watching.”

  “You’re right. Thanks.” Nagler said.

  At the same tree that he had used to stage the fake hanging of Lauren Fox, Nagler saw a filthy, naked Garrettson with his hands tied behind his back and a rope looped over an overhead branch and around his neck, pulling his jaw upward. He was just far enough off the ground that he was jumping from foot to foot to maintain contact.

  “Calista!” Nagler called out. “Cut him down. I want him alive.”

  The rope jerked up and Garrettson gagged.

  “No!” Nagler yelled. “Damn it, Calista. Lower the rope and talk to me.”

  The rope relaxed and she stepped out from behind the tree.

  “He’s mine, Frank. I get him first. There’s a lot of payback.”

  Jesus. “No, I mean, yes, there’s a lot of payback, but it’s not just yours to give.”

  “But that’s all that matters to me, Frank. My payback. That’s all that mattered to him — his self-gratification.” And she slapped Garrettson’s face. “This horse shit delusional notion that he was greater and more powerful than anyone. You’re just like me,” and she grabbed at Garrettson’s stubby hair that had grown out. “Used. They used you, so you used me. You had no right,” she cried and covered her face with one hand, then screamed closely into his face, “You had no right!” Then she smiled crookedly and twisted her head to one side. “I should have cut your balls off weeks ago.”

  Nagler took two steps forward.

  “Where did you find him?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Find him? I’ve had him for a week or so; forget how long. Me and Alton. Brought him up here and put him in a hole just like he did to those girls. But we didn’t rape you, did we? We told him we had the girl and to meet us. Such was his lust, he fell for it, Et voila, here he is. I mean that thing with the girl was supposed to be a test for Alton to uphold the family tradition, but he couldn’t do it. Then Sister Katherine convinced him that we should put her on the street because the cops would find her — the cops being you, Frank — and she would be saved. But Alton was weak, and even though we had Tank tied up in a hole in the ground, the bastard kept talking, and Alton got weaker. He was going to get her and bring her to this asshole, but I talked him out of it. Next thing I know we’re along the highway and Alton is drunk and crazed. I loved him, Frank. My brother, my broken brother.” She swirled and whacked Garrettson hard across the head; he groaned. “And you broke him, just like you broke me!” She stood and pulled on the rope, lifting Garrettson off the ground kicking. “I should just fucking hang you. Everyone would be better off if you were dead. It’s the family’s favorite method. Can you feel her, Tank, can you feel Sarah Lawton? This is where she died, killed by your stupid great uncle for, what? a hundred bucks? Her life was worth more than a hundred bucks. My life is worth...” Calista closed her eyes and coughed. Then weakly: “Leonard’s life was worth more than a hundred bucks.”

  Nagler had moved several steps closer.

  “Calista, put him down. Leonard’s not dead.”

  She looked at Nagler, hesitated, then let loose the rope and Garrettson thumped to the ground, flailing and gasping for air.

  “No. I saw him, Frank, saw him ... bleeding... Frank ... saw him fall and Dom, and Del and, and Bobby ... they all fell ... and Alton told me that McCann was trying to kill me and that’s why Alton shot him ... and Leonard cried out and the screams...”

  Nagler reached her side and signaled for Mangan and the ambulance crew. He took the rope from her hands and tossed it aside. Garrettson rolled on the ground, gasping. Then he stopped and laid face down in the dirt, eyes closed; a fitting end, Nagler thought.

  “Leonard’s alive, Calista. He’s hurt, hurt badly, but alive. He’s going to need you to help him live. Can you do that for him, Calista? Can you help him live? The man who loves you?”

  She collapsed into Nagler’s arms, wailing, the veil, the crazy actor’s veil dropped. Wailing for the empty years, calling down the heavens for those lost, for the souls of the broken, the used and the forgotten.

  Nagler gently cradled her and softly stroked her burning red hair.

  “Could you tell Leonard something for me, Frank?”

  “Sure,” he said. “But you’ll see him soon. You can tell him yourself.”

  She smiled, a little girl’s smile, the smile of a little girl with a secret that only her best friend could know.

  “Tell him that she left a note for him with Sister Katherine. A secret for him that she wanted Leonard to know. Tell him,” she paused and bit her lower lip. “Tell him that her name is Anna.”