Spilled Blood (17 page)

‘It’s already bad.’ He added, ‘Where were you on Friday night?’

‘There was a big plumbing problem in one of the motel rooms. Water everywhere. I was helping Marco until after midnight. He finally called a plumber. They didn’t need me sticking around, so I left.’

‘You went home?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did Olivia come to see you?’

Johan nodded reluctantly. ‘Yeah, she did.’

‘When?’

‘Late. After one. She came to my window.’

‘What did she tell you?’

‘She told me what happened in the ghost town. About finding Ashlynn there. About – the gun. She said Ashlynn told her that we had broken up, and she wanted to know why I hadn’t said anything. She wanted to get back together.’

‘What did you say?’ Chris asked.

‘It didn’t go well. I was furious with Olivia for treating Ashlynn like that. I couldn’t believe she left her stranded there. Olivia got upset, and she stormed off.’

‘What did you do?’ Chris asked, but there was only one thing that a boy like Johan would do. He went out there. He went to rescue Ashlynn.

‘I drove to the ghost town,’ he said.

Chris waited.

‘She was dead,’ Johan murmured, his face contorting in pain as heavy breaths squeezed his chest. ‘All I could think was: Olivia killed her. She left her there in the mud for me to find. I hated her for it. I didn’t know what to do.’

‘What time was this?’ Chris asked, dodging the boy’s emotions.

‘Between one-thirty and two, I guess.’

‘Did you see anyone else around?’

‘No.’

‘Did you touch anything on the scene? Did you move the body? Did you touch her car?’

‘No, no, nothing like that.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I left.’ He added, ‘As bad as it was, I didn’t want to tell anyone, Mr. Hawk. I didn’t want to do that to Olivia. I’d already hurt her enough. I couldn’t believe she would do something so horrible, but I was willing to keep it a secret. I still am. I won’t tell a soul.’

‘It’s too late for that,’ Chris said.

He didn’t tell Johan the truth, because the truth was cruel. Keeping silent until now was the best thing the boy could have done to help Olivia. Keeping silent was what guilty people did. Lying to the police was what guilty people did. When Johan told his story now, he established for the whole world that there was someone else who had been in the park with Ashlynn
after
Olivia. Someone who knew her, who had been involved with her, whose heart she had broken. Someone of deep faith whose child she had terminated in her womb. Someone who hadn’t been tested for gunshot residue that night.

Another suspect.

Johan.

Chris was drowning.

He felt himself carried on the shoulders of turbulent waters in his dream, surrounded by debris, caught in an undertow that sucked him down like a whirlpool. Each time he broke through the surface, gasping for breath, he spun in circles. He wasn’t alone. Hannah was with him in the water, reaching for him with her hand in the gesture that had always said
I love you
. They were sinking together, dragged down by the sheer muscle of the rapids. The river carried them toward a bridge, where Chris flailed for the steel I-beam over his head like a lifeline. He held on, and Hannah held onto him, but the water wrenched his fingers away and washed them downstream. As the bridge vanished behind them, he saw the silhouette of a man on the span, watching the flood overpower them. His voice boomed like the voice of God.

‘
My name is Aquarius.
’

Chris bolted upright in the motel bed. He checked the clock on the nightstand and saw that he had slept for two hours. It was nearly ten in the morning. Sunshine streamed through a crack in the curtains, and dust floated in the light. He blinked, shaking off his dream. He got up and turned on the shower, and the hot water revived him. When he was dressed, he stepped outside into the motel parking lot and found a beautiful day. The rain and clouds had moved east. The temperature was still unseasonably warm. It made the previous night seem almost unreal.

He stopped at the office to pour a cup of weak coffee from a silver Thermos and grab a powdered donut from an open Little
Debbie’s box. That was Marco’s idea of a continental breakfast. He ate two donuts and wiped the white sugar from his mouth. He spotted the local newspaper on the motel counter, and he picked it up to read the Barron headlines. To his dismay, he and Olivia were on the front page. A reporter had snapped their photo coming out of the courthouse after the detention hearing. They both looked wet and guilty. In contrast, Ashlynn Steele’s yearbook picture, which the paper printed next to the courthouse photo, was perfect and pretty. The accompanying article speculated on the likelihood that Olivia would be tried as an adult for Ashlynn’s murder. It was more poison for the jury pool.

Michael Altman was on the front page too, but he was talking about a different investigation. The county attorney offered details of a recent arrest in the Twin Cities suburb of Hugo, in which a police search related to embezzlement by a city worker had unearthed a trove of child pornography. The stash included a flash drive of videos mailed with a postmark from the Minnesota town of Ortonville, which was an hour northwest of Barron. Altman sought the public’s help in identifying those involved in trafficking child porn in Spirit County.

Chris thought about Hannah:
This isn’t Mayberry.
No, it wasn’t. The idyll of small-town life was an illusion.

‘Mr. Hawk.’

Chris put down the newspaper. Marco Piva stood behind the counter, his fleshy Italian face grim. ‘Mr. Hawk, there are no words.’

‘Thank you, Marco.’

‘How is your daughter?’

‘She’ll be okay. I’m going back to the hospital to see her now.’

‘When I heard the news, I fell on my knees and prayed for both of you,’ Marco said.

‘I appreciate that.’

‘Do the police know who did this terrible thing?’

‘They’re investigating. Sometimes you know who did it, but you
can’t prove it. I’m worried this could be one of those times.’

Marco studied Chris long and hard across the counter. His black mustache twitched as he frowned. ‘I see something in your face, Mr. Hawk.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Anger. It is a dangerous thing.’

‘I’m just tired.’

‘No, no, that’s not it. I understand, my friend. I know anger. I’m still angry about losing my wife, but for you, it’s your child, your own flesh and blood. Something has been taken from you, and you don’t know how to get it back. You want to rage against the world.’

‘Banging my head against a wall gives me a headache,’ Chris said.

‘I know, but we’re men. We bang our heads anyway.’

He managed a smile. ‘You’re a wise man, Marco.’

‘Wise men can be the most foolish. We ask: is it better to do nothing in the face of injustice or do the wrong thing?’

‘I don’t like doing nothing,’ Chris said.

‘That’s what worries me. I like you, Mr. Hawk. You seem like a solid man, and that’s the highest praise I can offer. Doing nothing is like surrendering for men like us. However, it’s one thing if you’re alone in this world like me. You – you have a daughter. Remember that.’

‘I do.’

‘You remind me of a friend in San Jose,’ Marco told him. ‘He had a daughter like you. Married. Two kids. Beautiful girl. Unfortunately, her job took her to one of those Indian casinos in the desert. Those gaming places, they prey on people. This girl started gambling, and it took over her life. She lost her job. Her house. It broke up her marriage. Terrible.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Chris said.

Marco wagged a finger at him. ‘My friend banged his head against the wall until it was bloody. He wanted justice.’

‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ Chris said, ‘but what did he do?’

‘He drove out to the desert, and he waited in the parking lot for two of the tribal leaders to come out. Then he shot them both in the head.’

‘That was a bad choice,’ Chris said.

‘Yes, it was. He’s in jail, and he’ll never get out. But I think when he sleeps, he still sees those bodies on the ground, and I bet you he smiles about it.’

‘You sound like you’re defending him.’

The motel owner shook his head. ‘Oh, no, no, don’t think that at all. I’m saying I understand him. I know what he went through. I know what you’re going through, too, Mr. Hawk. Sometimes choices are easy. Sometimes they are hard.’

Marco slid open the top drawer of the desk behind the counter. Inside was a revolver with a wooden grip and a two-inch barrel. He removed the gun from the drawer and laid it on the counter next to a scattering of reservation forms and a glass jar stocked with spiky white candies. ‘We all have to be careful these days, don’t we?’ he asked.

‘Yes, we do.’

Marco took a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants and carefully wiped the surfaces of the gun, rubbing them clean with firm buffing of the cloth. The butt. The barrel. The hammer. The revolver was fully loaded, and he opened the cylinder and wiped each cartridge, too, before replacing them. ‘I keep a gun for safety,’ he said.

‘People don’t often get robbed here, but you never know. There are vagrants everywhere who make a point of seeking out deserted motels like this. A loaded revolver gives me peace of mind.’

Chris said nothing.

Marco opened the drawer again, placed the gun inside, and replaced the handkerchief in his pocket. ‘Of course, guns have been known to be stolen. Who knows, a guest sees what I keep in my
drawer, and I turn my back, and it’s gone. Things like that happen. What can I do?’

He slid the drawer shut. His eyes were dark and meaningful.

‘I will keep praying for you, Mr. Hawk,’ Marco told him. ‘When you see your daughter, you hug her to your chest, okay? Keep her safe, and make sure she always has her father to look after her.’

Marco disappeared into the living room behind the office and shut the door, leaving Chris alone. The only noise was the hum of the old house fan, rattling as its blades turned.

Do nothing or do the wrong thing.

Chris was shocked by how quickly he made the decision. Some choices are hard, some are easy. He leaned his chest across the counter, opened the drawer with his long arm, and took Marco’s gun.

‘I don’t remember being in the train car,’ Olivia told him. ‘I was in the back of a truck, and they were holding me down. Then it’s like the film stops, you know? I woke up here.’

Chris sat beside the hospital bed and stroked her hair with the back of his fingers. He remembered caressing her that way when she was a child, as she sat on his lap and he read to her from Curious George books until she fell asleep on his chest. ‘It happens that way sometimes,’ he said.

She stared at him, and her eyes were dead serious. ‘So what am I blocking out?’

‘An assault you didn’t deserve,’ he said.

‘The doctor said I wasn’t raped. Is that a lie? I don’t want anybody protecting me like I’m a kid.’

‘Doctors don’t lie about that kind of thing.’

‘I want to remember what happened,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t like my brain hiding stuff.’

‘Well, when your brain figures it’s safe to remember, you’ll remember. Until then, focus on getting your strength back.’

Olivia nodded. ‘Sorry,’ she added.

‘For what?’

‘For sneaking out. Mom must be pissed.’

Chris took her hand. Her grip was firm, but her skin was clammy. The hospital room was uncomfortably warm. ‘The only thing we care about is that you’re safe.’

‘Can I get out of here now? I’m sick of being poked and prodded.’

‘Maybe tomorrow. The doctors want to keep you around for a little while.’ Chris added, ‘Your mother called a friend of hers in Mankato. A counselor. She’s going to drive up here and talk to you this afternoon.’

‘I don’t want to see a shrink.’

‘Give her a chance.’

‘I already said I don’t remember.’

‘Just talk to her, okay?’

Olivia shrugged. ‘Okay. If you say so.’

Chris wondered how much of her bravery was real and how much was an act. ‘After you get out, how would you like to go see my sister? Aunt Jennie has that great place outside Little Rock. You and she could hang out for a couple of months and spend some girl time.’

‘What about the murder trial?’ Olivia asked.

‘There’s a lot of legal stuff that has to happen first. Given what happened, I can get the court’s permission for you to stay with her.’

Olivia shook her head. ‘No. I won’t run away.’

‘That’s not what I’m talking about,’ Chris said.

‘Sure it is, and I won’t do it. I’m not going anywhere.’

Chris didn’t fight her. He would have preferred that Olivia stay far away from Barron, but he was learning what Hannah had discovered years earlier. His daughter was every bit as stubborn as her mother.

Olivia played with the steel railing of the bed, tapping on it with her chipped nails. ‘I suppose you know, huh?’

‘Know what?’

‘About me and Johan.’

‘I talked to him,’ Chris admitted. ‘He told me about you two. And about Ashlynn.’

‘How is he? Is he okay?’

‘He’ll be fine.’

‘Can I see him? Where is he?’

‘Olivia, it would be better if you didn’t talk to him for a while, until we get your legal situation straightened out.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means you’re both witnesses in a murder investigation, and witnesses shouldn’t talk to each other.’

Olivia’s lower lip bulged unhappily. ‘You think he was the one who killed her, don’t you?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Johan wouldn’t do that.’

‘If that’s true, why were you protecting him?’ Chris said.

‘You didn’t tell me that you talked to him that night. That sounds to me like you think he did it.’

‘All I know is Ashlynn was alive when I left her,’ Olivia said.

‘When I heard she was dead, I thought – well, I knew Johan would go out to the ghost town to rescue her.’

Chris nodded. ‘Yes, he did. He said she was dead when he got there.’