Cory discovered that even though he couldn’t talk, his legs could move. He turned and ran across the parking lot, all the way to Rebecca’s car. By the time he was safely inside with the door closed, the TT was screeching out of the lot. Cory struggled to put the keys in the ignition. The car started. He tried to put it in gear, but couldn’t do it.
And then he spewed sweet potato fries all over Rebecca’s white vinyl seat.
LUSTER, OR.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
48
It was a process Cory knew too well. He stopped at a carwash to clean up the mess, then bought a pair of pants and a shirt at Walmart. It gave him time to think and gather his nerves, but it was time he didn’t have. He dreaded finding out what the repercussions of what had just happened would be, and he imagined they were already set in motion. That was probably why Ty had texted three times, and phoned once. All Cory gave him was a three-word text in all caps: IT WASN’T TONY.
To which Ty replied with three letters.
TY
WTF!!!!!
Cory arrived at Bravo twenty-two minutes late and had an excuse lined up for Rebecca. That proved to be wasted mental effort because Harvey’s white Lexus was parked in his reserved spot, three spaces from the door. When Cory walked in, Rebecca nodded gravely toward her office and said, “He’s waiting for you. Whatever stirred his coffee, make it quick. The drive-through is slammed.” He handed her the car keys to her Ford Escort. As he walked past her she wrinkled her nose.
Cory said, “I bought you an air freshener.”
She headed for the exit.
Harvey was behind Rebecca’s cluttered desk, glasses on, studying a spreadsheet. He put the sheet down, smiled at Cory, walked up, and put his arm around his shoulder as if he were greeting a long-lost brother. Cory knew what Harvey knew—Mott Enterprises had security cameras in all the offices. He wasn’t sure if they had audio. Odds were that Harvey would not spare that expense.
“Someone’s been busy,” Harvey said, giving his shoulder a little squeeze.
“I could say the same thing about you,” Cory said.
Harvey’s arm dropped. The smile stayed but lost some of its wattage. He pointed to Cory’s backpack. “Is your camera in there?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been interested in photography?”
“It’s a recent investment.”
“I see. Is it a hobby, or is it a passion?”
“I’m still in the information-gathering stages.”
Harvey nodded, seemed to study Cory in a new light. Cory backed away, walked to Rebecca’s office window and looked out. She had a view of the front counter and the main dining room. Tables were starting to fill.
Harvey said, “Speaking of passions, do you know the origin of the Bravo Burgers name?”
“No. It wasn’t in the employee manual.”
“I had three older sisters. The youngest died five years ago. A brain tumor. When we were kids our family had a Christmas tradition. The four of us would team up to perform one Christmas carol of our choosing for our father while our mother played the piano. We continued to do that until I graduated from law school. After every performance, no matter how bad, our father would always clap his hands and say, ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ So every time I see that sign over the door, I think about that memory.”
Cory didn’t know what to say. Other than that he wished he had just one memory like that.
Harvey said, “But back to the subject of your hobbies and passions. There’s a key distinction between the two. Hobbies come and go. But passions, they consume you. And they can be very, very expensive.” Harvey chuckled to himself. “For example. I bought a nine-foot bamboo rod last week from a dealer in Brazil. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say I paid more for that rod than that hostess will earn in an entire year. And you know what the sad thing is?”
Cory shook his head.
“That rod will never have the pleasure of flexing its tip under the weight of a fighting fish.”
“That is sad,” Cory said, thinking that this man valued an old fishing rod more than his employees.
Harvey turned from the window, leveled his eyes at Cory. “Here’s what you need to know about passions. They use valuable resources that might be better served on more…worthy pursuits.”
Cory hesitated. Rebecca waved to them from the counter, then shook a menu at them.
Harvey said, “I think she needs her office. Let’s continue this conversation on the deck.”
“Okay.”
They walked through the dining room. Harvey stopped to chat up a couple of customers at their tables; then they exited via a patio door into the outside dining area. It was a little windy and the sun was barely a blush of orange as it sank below the horizon. Harvey headed for a table in the far corner by the fireplace, but he didn’t sit. They were alone and unwatched.
Harvey said, “Before we dig into this situation, I would like to apologize for my outburst. You caught me with…” He paused as if searching for the perfect word. Cory thought he was going to say my pants down. But Harvey said, “Without the benefit of context.” And then with surprising force, he said, “My initial response to your stunningly deceitful action was unprofessional. Are we clear on that point?”
Stunningly deceitful? Cory said, “Yes.”
“Now let’s cut through the bullshit, shall we? What you did, after everything that we have done for you and your brother since we welcomed you into our home, is a heartbreaking disappointment. I gave you a job, a phone, a computer. Let you drive one of our cars! Then you do this? You betrayed our trust, my trust.” Harvey sighed heavily, shook his head.
Cory thought, What about Kayla and Charlene’s trust that you broke?
Harvey said, “But that history can’t be revised, so here we are. I’m assuming Ty is involved?”
Cory considered saying no. He doubted Harvey would believe him. “Yes.”
“Have you shared the pictures with him?”
“No.”
“Have you shared the pictures with anyone?”
“No.”
“Have you copied the pictures?”
“No.”
“Good. Then containment is possible.” Harvey smiled. “We can rebuild those bridges of trust.”
Cory thought, What happened to cutting through the bullshit?
Harvey said, “What you saw, or you think you saw, will not happen again.” He extended one manicured finger. “That is my first promise to you. Now on to the second.” He raised a second finger; this one displayed his wedding ring. “I’m aware that you’ve been researching a culinary school in Seattle.”
“How did you—”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t been snooping through your email. You told Charlene and she told me. We think that’s great. You have genuine talent. And it promises a much, may I say, brighter future than your misguided interest in photography.” Harvey’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to Cory. “If you give me that camera right now, I will fund your first year at the culinary school. In fact, you can keep the camera. All I want is the memory card. Plus, I will still honor the ten-thousand-dollar commitment I made in Sunriver, assuming you continue to meet the conditions per the agreement.” Harvey reached out with his right hand, palm up.
Cory backed away a step, almost tripped over the leg of a chair. He was trapped by a wall. There was no exit, except through Harvey.
“If that offer doesn’t appeal to you, there is a different path. As a judge I have access to channels of justice that are not available to the public at large. Case in point, I researched Ty’s violent history in Portland. What he did to that unfortunate youth, a Francisco Alvarez, I believe, was clearly first-degree assault with a deadly weapon. The prosecuting attorney asked the judge, a personal friend of mine, to remand him to criminal court so Ty could be prosecuted as an adult. I saw the pictures, and a jury will too. He’d be looking at five to fifteen years in a state prison. But the tr
ial didn’t happen. A certain individual with suspected ties to unrestrained acts of violence stepped in and suddenly the victim realized that he provoked Ty, and POOF! The charges were dropped. But don’t think that double jeopardy applies. The case never went to trial and the statute of limitations has not expired.” Harvey scratched his head, as if trying to remember another detail. Then he smiled. “Ah, yes. Let’s not forget about the matter of your father’s untimely death. The murder weapon has been found, but there were no witnesses to date other than Ty. Combine that with his history of assault and the evidence is very compelling. All it would take is one call from me to the right person and your brother’s future prospects as a pitcher would narrow considerably. Of course, that path is not my
preference.”
Cory didn’t know how much of that was true and how much was a bluff. He remembered a conversation between Benny and Tirk about the possibility of Ty being charged as an adult, so Harvey obviously knew enough to be dangerous. Cory glanced at the door. Where was Rebecca when he needed her?
Harvey said, “My patience is not a bottomless well.”
Cory glanced down at his hands, then risked a direct look in Harvey’s eyes. “You’re really done with Kayla?”
“It’s over. I give you my word.”
“And you won’t hold any of my actions against her?”
His voice softened. “I wouldn’t do that to her.” For once he sounded sincere.
Cory slipped off his backpack, removed the camera. Harvey reached for it. Cory pulled it away.
“Don’t fuck with me,” Harvey said.
Cory felt the man was one second from taking the camera by force. He said, “Ty can’t make the three point oh. I need that to go away.”
After a beat, “If I set the bar at two point five, is that low enough?”
“Okay.” Cory had problems opening the side compartment on the camera because his fingers were too sweaty. He needed several tries to pull the memory card out of the slot. But finally, Cory dropped the card in Harvey’s outstretched hand. Harvey slipped it into his pants pocket. Then he said, “I’m sorry this happened. I truly am. We all make mistakes. You did the right thing
here.”
Harvey left.
Cory watched the door close behind him.
Then he collapsed into a chair and cried.
LUSTER, OR.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
49
Ty picked up Cory after he finished his shift at Bravo. Before heading for the ski lodge, Ty wanted Cory to show him the exact route he used to follow the TT. They drove past the house where Harvey and Tony made the switch. Then he parked in the same spot that Harvey used when Cory showed up like a paparazzo from hell and ruined his little party.
They sat on the hood of the Volvo, facing the empty tennis courts. Ty asked Cory to review the conversation at Bravo, particularly the one on the patio. Cory covered everything except the part where Harvey threatened to revisit Ty’s fight in Portland.
Ty asked, “You really didn’t copy the pictures?”
“Not a one.”
“So we live at the ski lodge till we graduate? Then collect our twenty grand and leave?”
“On the first bus out of town.”
“We’ve survived worse.”
“No doubt.”
Ty studied his brother’s face. “So why am I not believing you?”
“I’m worried about Kayla. What he did to her is wrong. No, I can do better than that. It was sick.”
“You said he was finished with her.”
“There’s more to this story.”
“Of course there’s more. But he promised it was over. You did a good thing. End of story.”
Ty jumped off the hood. He flung a rock at the construction sign. It clanged off the metal, ricocheted into the street.
Cory said, “You didn’t see what I saw.”
“And that’s a good thing. Otherwise the judge would be wheezing through a tube right now.”
Cory thought that might have been the truest thing he’d heard all day. He pulled Kayla’s necklace out of his pocket. Watched it shine under the glow of the streetlamp.
Ty asked, “What are you going to do with that?”
“What I should have done in the first place.”
“And that would be…?”
“Give it back.”
STUMPTOWN
NOW
50
Her scream pierces my sleep and sends my heart racing a mile a minute.
I say, “Astrid, it’s okay. You’re all right. You had a nightmare.” I don’t know that for sure. The space is completely dark.
What happened to the candle?
“Someone is in here!” she hisses.
“What?” I grope blindly for the headlamp.
“He’s…he’s at my feet!”
She struggles. I hear her kicking, grunting. Then another sound. Scratching? And a foreign smell. Earthy, wet. My fingers wrap around the strap to the headlamp. I fumble for the button and push.
The beam hits the roof, slides down to the door, then across to two yellow-green eyes framing a narrow snout, brown fur, four legs. The animal stands only two feet from the bottom of Astrid’s sleeping bag, tail down, eyes locked on me. Its ears press back against its head, and the lips curl up, exposing sharp white fangs. A snarl rumbles from its chest. Without moving my eyes from those teeth, I grope behind me for the hammer. Just as I squeeze the wooden shaft and swing it around, the animal turns, slinks through the flap, and is gone.
Astrid and I stare at each other, the vapor clouds of our breath joining in the beam of the headlamp. She is sitting up, her splinted arm exposed above the bag. “Was that a wolf?” she gasps between breaths.
“That was a coyote. Wolves are bigger.”
“It smells the death on me.”
“That’s not it. A coyote had died in here. It was behind the stove. I hauled it out yesterday before you woke up. This must be their den.”
“Will it come back?”
“Probably not. I think we scared it as much as it scared us.”
Her body sags. She leans back. I hold up the top of the sleeping bag while she tucks her bad arm inside. Then I light three candles, mad at myself for only lighting one before. The only reason that coyote came inside is because there wasn’t any light.
“More pills, please.” Her words barely rise above the sound of the candle flames.
“Is the pain bad?”
She nods. “The pills probably don’t help. But I pretend they do.”
I open the bottle, shake out four, put them in her open hand. “That leaves four for the hike out. You can finish the water. I’ll be getting more soon.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll have the sludge.”
She drains the bottle.
I lie down beside her. We stare up at the roof, at the chicken mesh and plastic holding back the dirt. I’m too wired to sleep. She’s in too much pain. It feels like dawn is just around the corner. I hope so because neither one of us can take much more of this.
She says, “Are you sure about this?”
“Hell yeah,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel. “It’s just a walk in the park.”
“He has a gun. And an ice ax.”
“We have a hammer. And a saw.”
She doesn’t smile. “Wake me before you leave.”
It sounds like her last breath.
LUSTER, OR.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
51
After he left five increasingly desperate messages on her phone, Kayla returned Cory’s calls the following morning with a terse message: “Flat Top. Six fifteen a.m. You’re late, I’m gone.”
Flat Top was the biggest of three hills on the outskirts of town. There was a hiking trail with switchbacks that took an hour to climb if you didn’t rest, or a road up the back side offering a three-minute drive, which was what Cory took. Tony had brought them up there on their third day in Luster t
o give them a bird’s-eye view of their new home, to hear as much of their story as they were willing to tell, and to let them know that they got the mother of all lottery picks with the Motts. “Treat them well,” he said, “and they will do the same for you tenfold.”
There was a small parking lot at the summit, a cell tower, two concrete picnic tables with a view of Luster, and trail signs indicating a path that led to the south side of the mountain. Cory saw the yellow VW first, then spotted Kayla sitting on top of a picnic table gazing out at the town below. It was always windy up here and today was windier than normal. It flung her black hair back in waves and made the cell tower hum. No one else was up here.
Cory sat next to Kayla and handed her the necklace. She smiled at him, which made him feel like he had finally done the right thing. Then she stood up, pulled her arm back, and launched that piece of jewelry into the wind. He watched it disappear over the lip and into the bushes somewhere below.
Cory said, “Now, that’s a first. Is this a tradition in Luster that I don’t know about?”
She sat, took a sip from her water bottle, then spoke slowly while they looked out at a sleepy town on the cusp of dawn. “He makes me wear my hair in a ponytail. No braids, never down. He sets his phone alarm for eight minutes and puts it on the dash. He checks my phone and deletes the text he sent me. Then he tells me to take my top off. Never my bra, which must be black. I don’t take off anything else. He never touches me. Sometimes he doesn’t even look at me. Most of the time we just talk. He asks about my mother and her disease and school and last time even about you. But sometimes we do more than talk. Sometimes he’d ask me to do what Donna did. He told me I can say no, but I know I can’t. Sometimes he takes pictures with his phone. Once after I finished he cried. When his alarm goes off I leave.”
Deadfall Page 24
