Burying Water

by K. A. Tucker

  With a heavy sigh, he drops his hand to his side and then begins a slow walk around, his gaze roaming the ground, as if he’s searching for something. Finally, he stoops over to pick up the remnants of a cigarette butt, studying it for a moment before flicking it away. “Because this is where I found you.”

  “You found me?” My heart skips a beat as I take in the surroundings again. “Why did you lie?”

  “It’s a long story.” Jesse’s jaw tenses. “But you got your wish. You got to start over.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jesse

  then

  Lifting her limp body up in my arms as delicately as possible, I start plodding through the snow toward my car, trying to hold her steady, my muscles straining against her dead weight. “It’s okay . . . You’re going to be fine . . . It’s me, Jesse . . . I won’t let him hurt you anymore . . .” I ramble. I doubt she can hear me but I talk anyway. I need to hear these words as much as she does. I need to believe them.

  How the hell did Viktor find out? And exactly what does he know?

  As carefully as possible, I slide her onto the backseat, thankful for the car’s wide frame. I’m afraid to let her go but I have to, if she has any hope of survival at all. Wrapping the wool blanket around her broken body, I rush to the driver’s seat to crank the engine and blast the car’s heat. If the severe beating hasn’t done her in, the winter cold certainly will.

  My hands . . . I hold them up in the dim interior light. Like two slick red gloves, they’re coated in Alex’s blood. The front of my light gray hoodie—because I bolted out of my apartment too fast to grab a coat—is also covered. A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirms the crimson streaks smeared across my cheeks, where I wiped away my tears.

  And I’ve got a badly beaten girl with ties to Viktor in my backseat.

  Shit.

  I can’t just show up at the ER with her, can I? There’ll be too many questions that I can’t answer. What if she dies? I just . . . My brain is a jumbled mess. I know she needs helps, but . . . I just . . . I can’t think straight. My hands tremble as I reach into my coat pocket for my phone, to do the only thing I can think of, because I’m in way over my head this time.

  He answers on the second ring. “Jesse?”

  “Dad?” My voice cracks over that one syllable. “I really fucked up this time.”

  “What do you mean?” His tone immediately takes on that authoritative edge. Normally, I clam right up when I hear it. Not this time, though. “It’s Alex. She’s . . . hurt. Bad.”

  “What? Where are you?”

  “Near Black Butte. I have her in my car and I’m heading toward Bend.” I throw the car into gear and, pinning my cell to my ear with my shoulder, I maneuver out of the dead end and head back, struggling not to speed too much for her sake. “I don’t think she’s going to make it.”

  “You shouldn’t have moved her. Exactly where are you? Pull over. I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” he snaps.

  “It’s not that simple.” Fuck. Alex used those exact same words with me once. “Alex’s husband did this.”

  He exhales loudly. “Well then, we’ll have him arrested. But first we need to get her to a hospital.”

  “He’s Russian mob.”

  “What?” My dad seems winded, like he’s walking fast. “Jesus, Jesse. How the hell did you get mixed up with that!”

  “I’ll explain everything later. Right now I just need her safe.”

  “Did this happen because of you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Jesse!”

  “I don’t know! Just, please, Dad. Please help me.” I don’t know if he even hears that last plea, my voice is so hoarse, this engine so damn loud.

  “The old tannery. How far away are you?”

  “Maybe ten minutes.”

  Those ten minutes feel like an hour. I half-expect the entire Deschutes County police force and handcuffs when I get to the run-down building on an isolated side road, abandoned for years. A single set of tracks leads me around back, to where the white cruiser sits with a prominent green star emblem on the door. My dad’s marching toward me.

  “Holy . . .” He winces as he looks in the backseat.

  “I know.”

  “Shut your car off and pull her out. Lay her down here.” He points to the ground on his way back to his car.

  I’m not going to argue with him, so I push my seat forward and scoop her up.

  Another light, gurgling sound slips through her lips and I have to grit my teeth to keep the sob from tearing out of me as my dad calls our location in over the radio. “Just hang in there, Alex. Stay with me.”

  As much as I don’t want to, I lay her down in the fresh bed of snow.

  “Get out of here, now. Take this.” He pulls the blanket away from her body.

  “But it’s cold out here. She needs it.”

  “Does it have your DNA on it?”

  Both of ours. All over it.

  My hesitation answers him. He thrusts it into my hand. “Take it. Drive this car right into the garage. Bag everything on you, bag the rags, the blanket. Everything. And stay there. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over, Jesse. Go! Now!”

  With one last glance at her, I dive into my car.

  A blurry kaleidoscope of blue and red lights races past me about twenty seconds after I pull onto the main road. “You can survive this, Alex,” I whisper. “You’re strong.”

  I’ll take whatever’s coming to me, but only if she survives.

  “Your language skills aren’t too bad after all.” My hand runs through my damp hair. The small hot-water tank went cold long before I got out and now I’m sitting on my bed, shivering.

  I hear a soft “fuck” slip through Boone’s lips. “Bad?”

  “Yeah.” I don’t want to say much more over the phone. “I’m going to stick around here for the weekend. I’ll be back for work on Monday.” It’s the last place I want to be, but I need to face whatever’s coming to me. Me suddenly disappearing will only raise suspicions. “I don’t know what he knows.”

  “I’ll keep an ear out. Take it easy. And I’m sorry. I could see how much . . .” He drifts off, probably as paranoid as I am right now.

  I hear his unspoken words. “Yeah. I did. Thanks, Boone. For tonight.” If he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t called me . . . she’d already be dead. “Watch yourself, too.”

  I hang up with Boone and am left sitting on my bed, wearing only a towel, staring at hands that were covered in Alex’s blood only hours ago, my stomach a mess of nerves. I followed my dad’s instructions, stripping off my clothes and bagging everything, and then wiping up the small pool of blood in my backseat. Now all I’m left with is time. Time to play out how different things could be for her right now. I can’t be blamed for pulling over to help a woman out with her flat tire. That choice was a good one, an innocent one. But every choice I made after that . . . I could have told her that her muffler was damaged and walked out of that customer lounge. I could have parked my ass on the couch and watched baseball instead of going to The Cellar that second night. I could have said no to the Barracuda that Viktor dangled in front of me. I could have left her to Triple-A when her gas ran out. I could have not given her my number; I could have not gone to the hotel . . .

  So many choices, and I kept picking the wrong one. All because I let a faceless girl kiss me on the side of the road.

  Then again, maybe it never really mattered, what I did or what choices I made. Maybe the truth is that we were meant to find each other. A simple truth that would have kept finding its way to us, no matter which path I tried to turn down.

  No matter how deep I buried the feelings she sparked within me with one damn kiss.

  If you wait long enough, the truth always finds its way. Just like that stream. Just like water.

  Alex is my truth.

  I toss a few l
ogs into the woodstove and then fall into the pillows still scattered around it, watching the flames devour the wood. Trying desperately to remember all the things she wanted to do to this place to make it her home.

  She would have been so happy here.

  “Jesse!”

  My dad is crouching beside me. In the window beyond him, I see stars sparkling in the black Oregon skies. Nothing but glowing embers remains behind the glass in front of me. I’ve been staring at the woodstove all this time and I didn’t notice the fire go out.

  “How is she?” My jaw hurts from clenching my teeth the entire day.

  Silence hangs through the air, and I hold my breath against the answer I expect to hear.

  “She’s still alive. I don’t know for how long. I don’t know how, but—”

  Air sails from my lungs. “Can I go see her?”

  “No, Jesse.” He shakes his head to emphasize his point. It’s an old habit of his, and that’s when I know it’s serious. “She’s still in the OR. Your mother’s doing everything she can.”

  Jesus. My own mother is operating on her. “Does Mom know?”

  “All she knows right now is that it’s an attempted murder investigation and it needs to be kept confidential. I’ll have to tell her sooner or later, though. Especially if Alex survives. Your mother’s met her. She knows what she looks like.” He adds softly, “What she looked like.”

  “What do we do now?”

  He stands, and begins pacing around the room. Another Sheriff Welles tic. “We get rid of everything. Your clothes, the blanket, all traces from your car.”

  “Bleach?”

  “No, we need something with oxygen. Luckily your mother has an affinity for stocking hydrogen peroxide. We have a few bottles.” I guess there’s a benefit to having a sheriff for a father. Especially one intent on discrediting CSI. “And then you’re going to tell me everything, Jesse. From beginning to end. Every last detail. No lies. I need to know that I went against everything I stand for for a good enough reason.”

  I nod solemnly. “Thanks, Dad.”

  The muscles in his jaw tighten. “If she dies, he’ll get away with it. By moving her, we’ve lost evidence. The case has lost credibility. You will be the prime suspect if there are any links at all.”

  My forehead falls into my hand. “I know. I just . . . I saw her and I couldn’t think straight. I still can’t. I just want to hide her from him.”

  “Do you know how lucky you are that you were never booked and fingerprinted with that whole Tommy mess? If you had been, Crane would already be busting down the door.”

  That’s one complication averted. But it’s far from the only one. Viktor’s friend, Albert, would have driven out to Black Butte by now. He would have seen that she’s not there. What happens then? “Things may still get worse, Dad.”

  Encircled by a small ring of stones, with dark smoke swirling into a black sky for no one to see, my father—the righteous sheriff of Deschutes County—and I burn all evidence that I was ever near Alex.

  And I tell him every last detail.

  Including how much I love her.

  “Welles!”

  I try to hide my scowl as I peer out from under the hood of the Honda I’m working on. “What?”

  “Don’t ‘what’ me,” Miller barks. “Go outside. Mr. Petrova’s waiting for you. Now.”

  My stomach tightens. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I toss my wrench on the table—earning Miller’s sneer—and then make my way through the side door, feeling Boone’s eyes on me the entire time.

  I still don’t know what triggered the attack, or what Viktor managed to get out of Alex before he left her there. I’ve been waiting nine days, my heart pounding every time I step into my apartment or walk out to my car, expecting to find Viktor or Albert or some unfamiliar face waiting for me. Couple that with the agony I feel as Alex lies unconscious in a bed in St. Charles Medical Center—she’s defied all odds to make it this far, but she’s still not out of the woods—and I’m basically a disaster.

  When my father gave me a rundown of all her injuries—how Viktor raped her, how she lost her baby, how she’ll have an unsightly scar running down her face for the rest of her life if she lives—I sat in my car, ready to find and kill Viktor on sight with my bare hands.

  But I do know that Viktor thinks the evidence of his crime is gone. Boone went back to The Cellar with Rust the next night. Viktor was there, fingers twitching and eyes roaming. Definitely on edge. Boone kept his mouth shut and sucked back his vodka while listening to Albert confirm in Russian that, yes, he drove out in the morning to clean up.

  That a mountain lion had gotten to her body.

  And, yes, he cleaned up. Not a trace left.

  Boone’s certain he heard—and translated—correctly.

  The only reason Boone and I can think of that explains Albert’s lie to Viktor is that he assumes a mountain lion did in fact get to her but Viktor will lose his shit if her body isn’t burned or buried. Mountain lions are rare in those parts, but I’ll gladly take Albert’s lie if it keeps Alex hidden. So far, it seems to have worked.

  Still, as I approach the gold Hummer sitting outside and the murderous son-of-a-bitch standing next to it, those naturally cold eyes on me, I have to wonder if I’ll end up in a field somewhere soon, too.

  “Hello, Jesse.”

  “Viktor.” I make a point of pulling the rag from my back pocket and rubbing my greasy hands in it, to avoid any potential handshake he offers. In truth, as much as I hate this monster in front of me, I’m ready to piss myself right now.

  “I wanted to extend my offer to you once more. My friend’s car is arriving this weekend. He’s willing to pay well for the restoration.”

  What? That’s what this visit is about? It takes me a moment to gather my wits. “Not interested.”

  He smirks. “You like working all day in a garage, having that . . .” he says, muttering a Russian word, “bark orders at you? You could have what I have, if you make the right decisions now.”

  I did have what you have. Because I made all the wrong decisions. And it didn’t matter, because he still fucking stole it from me. “I like my eight-to-five job. Simple. No stress. That’s all I really care about. You should ask Tabbs or Zeke. They’re both good with engines. I’m sure one of them could help your friend out, and they’ve got mouths to feed.”

  I’ll bet he gets what he wants by being able to predict people. The way he’s sizing me up now, I don’t think he predicted a second rejection. He probably doesn’t know what to do with it. “And what if you lose this job?”

  Is that a threat? I shrug. “Then I’ll get another one. I was thinking of leaving Portland anyway. The rain’s getting to me. Thinking San Diego may be more my thing.”

  He offers a flat smile. “I had hoped you were more ambitious than this.”

  “I’m not.” I swallow hard and then force out, “But thanks for thinking of me.” The vile aftertaste burns in my mouth.

  “I will not be making this offer again.”

  “I understand.”

  His lips twist with disdain. “I wish you luck in your simple life.” He says the word with disdain, and I catch the light bruising against his knuckles as he reaches for his car door. Evidence, right there. Fading. Soon it will be gone.

  Why did you do it? What do you know, Viktor?

  The brief glimpse I get inside shows me Priscilla sitting comfortably in the passenger seat, her eyes sparkling as she takes in Viktor. She thinks she’s hit the jackpot. I never liked her, but I feel sorry for her now. She has no idea what’s in store for her.

  Not until the Hummer’s taillights disappear around the corner do I let out the breath that I’ve been holding. Maybe he doesn’t know about Alex and me. But, then, what else would have triggered such a violent attack? Did he find her note and figure out she was leaving him? There’s no way he’d do something so savage just because she’s pregnant.

  My phone begins vibrating in m
y pocket. I see my dad’s name on the display and Viktor vanishes from my thoughts in an instant.

  “Yeah?” I suck in my breath again and hold it, waiting for the words that I’ve been dreading for nine long days.

  “She’s awake.”

  “Seriously?” I stumble over to lean on the closest car, a mumble of “thank God” slipping through my lips. “And?”

  There’s a pause. “And right now she doesn’t remember a thing.”

  I feel my brow pull together. She doesn’t remember the attack? “I guess that’s good, right?” Nobody should have to live with those kinds of memories.

  “No, Jesse. You don’t understand. She doesn’t remember a thing. Nothing. She doesn’t even know her own name.”

  Alex sat in that very chair just over two weeks ago. Now my mom occupies it, her face drawn and dark circles hugging her eyes.

  Staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “You want us to do what?”

  “Don’t tell her.” It’s a simple request.

  “She doesn’t have a brain injury, Jesse. She’s going to start remembering things on her own soon enough.”

  “Then let her remember on her own terms. When she’s ready.”

  “We can’t just leave her adrift like that. The poor girl is completely lost! You should see the look in her eyes. She doesn’t even know her own name!”

  “And she also doesn’t remember being raped and cut up and beaten to an inch of—”

  “I don’t need the list. I’m well aware of everything that her husband did to her, Jesse,” she snaps. My mom didn’t take the news that I was having an affair with a married, pregnant woman too well. I could have lied and told them that the baby was mine, though I don’t know how much that would have helped. Luckily for me, though, she thinks Viktor should be executed on sight.

  My mom sighs. “Why did you two let it get this far? I mean, this man is obviously a maniac and I can see why she wanted to get away from him, but how is hiding all of this now any better? What if she wants to press charges?”

  “She won’t.”