Chapter Three
Danny
LIFE WAS PAINFUL and different without Mary Alice, but Danny wasn’t the only one hurting. A week after the verdict, he heard a rustle inside his sister’s bedroom. He found his mother standing in front of Mary Alice’s closet, skimming her fingers over the pink prom dress.
With a sad smile, she turned to Danny. “It’s so soft and pretty. I remember when your sister bought this. She was so excited.”
Danny’s heart dropped. Unable to speak, he swallowed past a lump in his throat. His mother and sister had been as close as a mother and daughter could be. They’d shared a lot. Mom had to miss her.
He wished he could erase that sad lost look from his mother’s face. It stabbed his heart.
He bent and placed his hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“As right as I’ll ever be,” she said, blinking back a tear and turning toward the closet.
With a helpless feeling, he left his mother and stepped into the living room, where his father sat in front of the television. In that world, violence was make believe. As Danny joined him, Dad didn’t even glance up. With a bitter feeling, Danny realized that his family existed, not lived. He wanted his parents back. He wanted his sister. Both were impossible.
Tucking the Sun Times under his arm, he retreated into the bedroom. He’d gotten into the habit of checking for articles about the trial. The day of Mary Alice’s death, Sylvia Stewart, a wealthy socialite, had been kidnapped. With the paparazzi focusing on Sylvia, they hadn’t doled out much attention to Mary Alice. Since then, only dabs of news escaped.
He lay with his head against the head rest and scanned the paper. Today there was a profile of Kevin. The reporter speculated about whether being ostracized because of dyslexia had contributed to Kevin’s criminal personality. Danny didn’t believe it. Other people suffered from disabilities, but didn’t resort to brutality. The truth was Kevin had no soul. He was evil at heart.
The end of the column caught Danny’s attention, making his head jerk back and his heart pound fast. In Illinois, prisoners’ sentences were cut short by the equal number of days spent in “good time.”
That wasn’t right. Why should Kevin get out earlier? Why should he even be alive? Mary Alice hadn’t deserved to die, yet she had.
That did it. He clenched the paper as his resolve hardened. He would not allow the person who’d killed his sister to walk the streets. Kevin must die.
After he’d made the pact with himself, Danny spent hours speculating about the best method. What should he use? A kitchen knife, or was that too messy? What about a revolver? Or maybe a brick? That should be hard enough to bash in Kevin’s skull.
Those and other desperate thoughts crowded Danny’s mind. Time passed in a dark blur. Happiness was a thing of the past.
He hadn’t realized Labor Day had come until his buddy, Tony Vanetti, called. “How about you, me and Ritchie meet over at Chase Park for a game of horse?”
At Tony’s words, a feeling of melancholy washed over Danny. His eyes stung. If only he could go back to when his major concern was basketball.
It had been a long time since he’d seen his friends. He could use some support. His secure world had crumbled and he teetered on the edge, ready to fall into an abyss. He had to do something. He couldn’t go on this way.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”
A long-forgotten surge of excitement filled him as he laced up his shoes. It seemed forever since he’d played.
He set off on the five-block trek from Magnolia to Clark Street. The night breeze had a cool edge to it, reminding him that summer had fled. Breathing in the crisp air, he felt alive. Was it wrong to feel so good? As he drew near, his steps quickened.
At the basketball court, he found Tony passing to Ritchie Corcoran, their high school buddy. Ritchie lobbed the ball to Danny. Danny dribbled, enjoying the familiar knobby texture against his palm. Thunks echoed off the cement.
He threw himself into the game. Sweat bathed his body, yet he ran and played, concentrating only on the sport, blocking out everything else.
As he toweled himself afterward, a revelation hit him. Through basketball, he could work off his anger and stay in shape for Kevin’s release. It would be his salvation.
IN SENIOR YEAR, the three friends gravitated to Senn High School’s basketball team. After a particularly intense practice, coach said, “That’s a wrap.”
Danny dashed to the shower. Soon all he heard was the bacon-sizzle of water hitting tiles.
He waved to Ritchie and Tony as they left for cheeseburgers. With steely determination, he threw on his sweat suit and headed to the workout room. He pulled out the seventy-five pound weights and yanked them high. He was not like his friends, no matter how much he wished he were.
That December, Dad’s arthritis grew so bad most of the time he couldn’t get out of bed. Money was short. Danny hired on at Dean’s Computers. When he wasn’t ringing up customers, he was absorbing knowledge from the technical support team.
Mom put in for overtime at Jennings Groceries, where she was already a checker. The rent increased, as did the utilities. It was hard to get by.
Danny felt sorry for his father, who’d prided himself on being the family’s provider, but now was forced to sit at home. Danny knew something of the mental torture his father experienced. He himself had to keep busy because pain and bitterness lurked deep inside of him like a cancer ready to spread at the slightest provocation.
Thank goodness he had basketball. Through will power and natural coordination, Danny excelled. The scouts noticed and hung around the games.
“Danny, you lucky son of a gun. How’d ya pull that off?” Tony asked as the three friends walked side-by-side down Clark Street after an early May practice. He was referring to the coach’s announcement Danny had just won a DePaul University basketball scholarship.
Danny grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t do anything special. You guys should’ve gotten them too.”
Ritchie jabbed him playfully on the shoulder. “Hey, lucky, while you’re coasting through college, think of us poor slobs sweating over our full time jobs.”
Danny took the ribbing in stride, not mentioning he had little time for loafing.
TO FINALIZE THE first semester’s registration at Lincoln Park Campus, each DePaul class was designated a separate area of the Schmitt Academic Center. Not far from Danny’s group stood Larry Murphy and the sophomores.
Larry’s eyes flickered briefly at Danny in recognition before he turned away. Who could blame him? Seeing Danny had to make him uncomfortable. If not for fate, Mary Alice would have been Larry’s wife by now.
Danny sighed and turned his attention to picking classes. He chose a computer course. Since he’d started at Dean’s, his interest in the field had intensified. Computers were more predictable than people.
That afternoon, he attended his first college basketball practice. There he encountered another form of discipline. Coach Jagierski, the crew-cut taskmaster, glared at the hopefuls. “If you’re here for a good time, you may as well leave. Before you play one game, you’ll do the drills. This is the tip drill. Richard, tip the ball against the basket four times. On the fifth tip, jump, grab it with both hands, come down and pass to Danny. Danny, do the same, and down the line. Okay, go.”
At the next session, Coach Jagierski primed them with individual drills. Danny learned the sliding drill. He stood at the free-throw line facing the coach and slid where directed.
He knew the fundamentals would help in the long run, yet Danny itched to play a real game.
As the season progressed, a pattern seemed to develop. Danny and a few others were allowed more playing time. The players came to depend on each other and melded into a unit. Often when Danny was taken out to rest, not long afterward the coach shouted, “Dan, get back in there.”
Eager to do more than his share, Danny gave it his all. No one could suspect
that deep inside him swelled an overpowering rage, which dogged him daily. When he ran, the devil nipped at his heels, prodding him on, making him move faster and faster, daring him to forget.
For two years, Danny focused on schoolwork and basketball, though in the back of his mind, his goal remained intact. He had a lot of time left for that. Too much.
A chilling reminder brought him up short a few months after the start of junior year. A crowd had gathered by the bulletin board. When Danny made it to the front, he found the picture of a missing co-ed named Dawn Neilson. His heart lurched at the sight of the blonde, wavy hair and sweet features. The resemblance to his sister was uncanny. He prayed that the girl was safe.
Three days later, as he entered study hall the normally quiet room buzzed. He spied Tony and walked over.
“Let’s get out of here,” Tony said, leading Danny into the hallway.
Mystified, Danny followed.
“I hate to tell you this, but you know that girl, Dawn?”
Danny nodded. His heart hammered.
“The cops found her in an alley four blocks from here. She was molested and beaten to death. They’re calling it a copycat killing.”
Oh, God. Danny shut his eyelids tight, but couldn’t block out the image of Mary Alice’s body. As the familiar helpless rage consumed him, he clenched his fists. Kevin may be imprisoned at Heartland, but he was as much responsible for Dawn’s death as Mary Alice’s. He’d influenced another sick soul to follow in his footsteps.
Two Wrongs Page 3