Spilled Blood (28 page)

He retraced his steps to his pick-up and shot north. He made random checkerboard turns, keeping his eyes on his mirror. No one followed him. He glanced at the backpack and wondered if there was a tracking device inside. Was that it? Maybe it didn’t matter where he went or how fast he drove; maybe they were behind him, watching him like a blip on a screen. He pulled onto the shoulder and dumped the contents of the backpack onto the seat and sifted through the money. He saw no obvious
electronic devices, but he knew that meant nothing. The feds were clever.

He waited in the middle of nowhere. The roads shot like arrows in every direction. The fields were empty. When ten minutes passed, and he was still alone, he decided that the sirens weren’t coming. Whatever the trap was, it hadn’t closed around his neck yet.

So what was it all about?

Maybe his prey simply wanted to know who’d been taunting him and put a face to the childish voice on the phone. If so, he’d succeeded. He’d stripped away the mask, and they were both at risk now, both exposed. They could each destroy the other’s life, but only by giving up their own.

Kirk’s mouth curled into a sour frown. He didn’t like not knowing.

What happens now, Daddy?

Hannah put her arms around their daughter when Chris brought her home from the hospital. Olivia was six inches taller than her mother, and the girl bowed her head to rest on Hannah’s shoulder. There had been awkwardness between them for three years, but mother and daughter had both declared a truce. When Olivia went upstairs to her bedroom, Hannah’s teary eyes followed her. He sensed his ex-wife’s flood of relief at having her safely back home.

He waited until Olivia closed her door upstairs. ‘The counselor says she’s strong,’ he reported. ‘She takes after you.’

‘I don’t feel very strong,’ Hannah said. She wiped her eyes, as if she felt guilty about letting her emotions overrun her.

‘She’ll be okay. Really. It will just take some time.’

‘I know.’ Hannah reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. With her, the simple touches went a long way. ‘Do you want me to make breakfast for us?’

‘That would be great.’

She glanced down at herself. She wore a plain terry robe, and her face was without makeup. Her feet were bare. ‘I need to shower and dress first. Can you wait?’

‘Sure. I’m sorry I kept you up late.’

‘No, I’m glad you called. It was like old times.’

‘Take your time,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait.’

‘Why don’t you come up and talk to me?’

She padded up the stairs. He followed behind her. Her bedroom was at the end of the hall, and she went into the bathroom to
start the shower, leaving the door ajar. Her voice carried over the noise of the water.

‘Are you staying at the Riverside Motel?’ she asked.

‘That’s right.’

‘It’s a dump, isn’t it?’

He laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not so bad. The owner’s a decent guy. He tries hard.’

Hannah poked her face around the door. ‘Why not stay here with us, Chris?’

He was so surprised that he had nothing to say. Hannah picked up on his hesitation.

‘I’m sorry,’ she added. ‘Please don’t feel obligated.’

‘No, I’d like that. Are you sure I wouldn’t be getting in your way?’

‘Of course, you would,’ she said, smiling again.

Her face disappeared, and he heard the shower door open and close. He studied the bedroom, which was nothing like the modern room they’d shared in the suburbs. The furniture was second-hand oak, its stain fading. The queen bed had a hand-made quilt thrown casually across the duvet cover. She had pictures of Olivia on her dresser at every stage of the girl’s life. There were other, older pictures, too. Hannah’s parents. Her brother in Ohio. There was even a picture of himself, but it wasn’t one he found particularly flattering. He was younger, unshaved, wavy-haired, with a grin a mile wide. That was the man she’d chosen to remember.

The pipes of the shower went silent. He heard Hannah’s voice again. ‘What do you want for breakfast? Bacon and eggs, I suppose.’

He stood beside the door and called to her. ‘I’ve been steering clear of the good stuff lately. Some cereal and fruit would be fine if you have it.’

‘I have homemade granola.’

‘Great.’ He added, ‘What does Olivia usually have?’

‘Bacon and eggs. Who does that sound like?’

‘She’s lucky she got your skinny genes,’ he said.

‘You’re getting pretty skinny these days, too, Chris. I told you that you looked great, didn’t I?’

‘You did. Thanks.’

‘I admire your willpower. I suppose it’s a lot easier without me nagging you about it.’

‘I don’t recall that,’ he said.

‘Liar.’

He laughed.

‘I hope Olivia makes a more understanding wife than I ever did,’ Hannah added.

‘Oh, I don’t know. She’s a lot like you. That’s a pretty good start.’

‘Remind me to warn her future husband,’ she said.

‘I said Olivia would make a good wife,’ Chris replied, chuckling, ‘but I never, ever said you would make a good mother-in-law.’

There was no reply from inside the bathroom. He was afraid she had taken him seriously.

‘Hannah?’

He still heard nothing. Seconds ticked by.

‘Hannah, it was a joke.’ Chris nudged the door open but remained on the threshold. ‘Are you okay?’

She was there, but she was silent.

‘Hannah, I’m coming in.’

He took a step into the bathroom. Steam hung in the air, making the small space warm and close. Hannah stood in front of the pedestal sink, holding it with both hands. She was naked. Water droplets clung to her bare skin. She’d removed the wig she used in public, and her skull was bald and smooth, paler than the rest of her body. Her back was familiar to him, her curving spine like train tracks. He saw the scar on her shoulder from a childhood burn and the inside of her knees where she liked to be kissed.

She sobbed quietly.

She stared at her face in the mirror as if it were the face of a stranger, and she cried, with her shoulders trembling. Tears ran like shower water. He came up behind her and said nothing; he laid cool hands on her neck and eased her backward into his chest. Her mouth fell open as she tried to breathe. He caressed her bare head with a gentle touch, and he turned her around and gathered her up in his arms and felt her cling to him and pour out her despair.

‘I’ll never see it,’ she murmured, her words barely audible. ‘I won’t be there.’

He knew what she meant. Olivia married. Thanksgiving dinners. Grandchildren. The future.

‘You will.’

She stared up at him, her eyes laced with red. ‘Look at me.’

‘I am. You’re beautiful.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I don’t lie. I’m a lawyer.’

She laughed through her tears.

He tilted her head with a finger on the underside of her chin. He cupped her neck with his other hand. He leaned in and kissed her, a kiss lasting only a second, a kiss that was like thousands of other simple kisses they had shared together in their lifetimes. And yet it was different. It was like their first kiss. It was their most important kiss.

It made her cry harder and push him away. ‘You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to pity me.’

‘Are you kidding?’

He pulled her to him and kissed her again. He was conscious of her bare skin under his hands and her wet torso trapped against his chest, and he quickly grew aroused. She responded, too. They didn’t lose themselves in their passion; they knew who they were. They weren’t kids, and they weren’t newlyweds. They were a not-quite-young divorced couple in the middle of a world going crazy, and for a moment, they needed an escape.

She helped him peel off his clothes, which were wet now, too. She led him to her bed, guiding him with an arm around his waist. They didn’t hold hands. She was saying she needed him; she wasn’t necessarily saying she loved him. It didn’t matter. They lay in bed together, and he let her lead, descending on him, pinching her mouth shut to keep her cries muffled. That was the way parents made love, in hushed silence behind a closed door. She bent forward, her petite hands on his chest, her small breasts swaying. Her face was different without her long hair caught in the sheen of sweat on her cheeks, but her mouth was just as he remembered, forming an oval as it fell into a breathless smile. Her eyes were the same, too, wide open as she neared climax, not letting his stare go. It had always been the most intimate, erotic sensation of his life, making love to Hannah with open eyes.

When they were both spent, when she lowered herself onto him with her face in the crook of his neck, he had a fleeting thought about what would happen next between them. She must have had the same doubts, but neither wanted to spoil it by talking. Her breathing grew steady as she drifted into sleep. He was content to hold her. He tried to stay awake to treasure the sensation, but he realized he was weary to the point of exhaustion, and he slept, too. It was the most restful sleep he’d had since he arrived in St. Croix.

Olivia lay on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. She was conscious of all the places where her body hurt. When she moved, she was reminded of what they’d done to her. Her skin bore their marks. Even so, she refused to think about it. She didn’t care about herself or about the ugly bruises. Those would fade and heal. Instead, she thought about Ashlynn in the park. That was the injury that would always be with her. That regret never went away.

She imagined Ashlynn on the corner of the bed, alive, luminous, still maddeningly beautiful, the way she would have been right now if Olivia had driven her home.

‘You left me,’ Ashlynn reminded her, with sadness in her voice.

Olivia said nothing, because Ashlynn was right. It didn’t matter that she was angry and jealous at this girl for taking Johan away. It didn’t matter what secrets Ashlynn had kept. She’d asked for help, and Olivia had rejected her. That was what Olivia had to live with. That was the person she’d become, someone who deserted a girl who desperately needed her help.

‘You left me,’ Ashlynn said again.

She never said anything else. It was always the same.
You left me. You left me. You left me.

Olivia closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Ashlynn was gone. Her guilt tunneled a mile deep, as if it could reach to China. All she could think about was ways to make it stop. Stupid ways. She went to her open closet, staring at the clothes arranged neatly on the rod. On the far back of the closet shelf, she spotted a slim gold box. She brought it to the bed and removed the top. The box contained a silk men’s tie. Three years ago, she’d bought it as a gift for her father, but in the wake of the divorce, she’d never given it to him.

She draped the tie over her fingers, stretching the soft fabric. She pushed her pink lips together with such force they turned white. She looped the tie around her neck, just to see how it would feel. Taking both ends, she pulled it tighter, until the pressure began to hurt. It would have to be much tighter. She would have to knot it so she couldn’t pry it loose with her fingers. A knot on one end. The other end tied to the clothes rod.

Olivia went to the full-length mirror on the closet door. The flaps of the navy blue tie hung down her T-shirt.

You left me.

She took the fat end of the tie in her hands. She stared at her face and imagined it purple, her tongue swollen, her eyes bulged out like a boxer dog. Hideous.

She heard Kimberly’s voice in her head, and she knew what
her friend would say. ‘Don’t you dare, Livvy.’

Olivia sighed, knowing that Kimberly was right. She couldn’t do it. She wrapped the fat end over the skinny end and pushed it over the loop on her neck. She tucked the flap back into the knot and adjusted it so that it was perfect. It was just a tie now, not a noose. She stuck out her tongue at herself, and then she stripped off the tie and threw it back in the closet.

Olivia heard a sharp
ping
on her bedroom window. Sometimes a bird flew into the glass. Sometimes the wind blew acorns against it. She glanced toward the river, and as she watched, it happened again. A rock struck the window and bounced away. Someone was down there, throwing stones to attract her attention.

She knew who it was, and her heart raced. She ran to the window and saw him hiding in the trees on the river bank, waving at her.

Johan.

Olivia threw open the window, but she thought better of calling to him. She didn’t think her parents would want them talking to each other. Instead, she made her usual escape, clinging to the gutter, jumping to the ground. The fall hurt this time. She ran for the trees, and before she could say a word, he pulled her toward the river bank, where they were invisible from the house. He reached out and held her fiercely.

‘Those bastards,’ he whispered. ‘Are you okay?’

She could feel him quivering with rage. When he took her elbows, she had a chance to look at him, and he wasn’t the Johan she knew. It wasn’t just the cuts and welts on his face. His eyes were different. She didn’t recognize him.

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

‘You’re lying.’

She was, but he didn’t need to hear the truth. ‘Don’t worry about me. How are you?’

He shrugged, as if his own injuries were nothing. ‘It was Kirk,’ he said. ‘Him and the others. They did it.’

‘Big surprise.’

‘I made Lenny tell me.’

Olivia looked at his hands, where the knuckles were bloody. ‘Johan, what did you do?’

‘Nothing compared to what I’m going to do.’

She’d heard that hatred in the voices of other St. Croix boys, but never from Johan. ‘Don’t take this on,’ she told him. ‘Please. It’s not your fight.’

‘Yes, it is. I’ve listened to my father for years, but he’s wrong. You can’t just take it. You can’t lie down and let them kick you. Sooner or later, you have to fight back.’

‘You’ll get hurt or you’ll get in trouble. That won’t change what happened.’

‘I don’t care. I can’t take doing nothing. Look at what they did to you! Look at what they did to Ashlynn!’