Blood on My Hands

by Todd Strasser

I’m back in the car and driving down the thruway. Mom’s going to have a fit when I don’t bring the car back. The police are going to go ballistic when they figure out I’ve left the county, but I don’t care. I have to find him.

  Chapter 45

  Saturday 8:37 P.M.

  IT’S DARK AND the rain is coming down hard. My hair is soaked. As I walk across a parking lot, water drips down my neck and sends chills as it runs down my back. My feet are soaked and cold from stepping into puddles. The smell of fish and ocean is in my nose as I pull open a door. This is the twelfth bar I’ve gone into. The odor of stale beer is in the air. Yellowish light inside illuminates half a dozen grizzled men hunched over drinks. TVs on the walls at either end show a baseball game.

  I peer through the gloomy shadows at the booths along the walls, expecting the same result as I got at the past eleven places. But there’s one person sitting in a booth by himself, wearing a baseball cap. It’s dark in here and I can’t be sure, but it could be him.

  A moment later I’m standing beside the booth. On the table are an empty shot glass, a half-finished beer, and a laptop computer with a ragged piece of tape where my photo used to be. Feeling a presence nearby, he glances up casually, then does a major-league double take. He looks utterly astonished as I slide into the booth, across from him, then reach over the table and take his hand in mine.

  “You … you remembered,” he says.

  I nod. “That night you called, so excited.”

  He lifts the baseball cap off his head, then replaces it, as if he needed to let the heat out. “They let you go?”

  “Uh-huh. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  He looks surprised, than squeezes my hand. “Oh, yeah! I mean, yes, of course I’m happy about that, Cal. It’s just …”

  “Just what?”

  Instead of answering, he changes the subject. “I heard they were trying to get you to claim it was self-defense.”

  “I would have … for you. But they didn’t press charges.”

  Slade’s eyes go blank. I thought he’d be happy to hear that, happy to see me, but now his forehead bunches. “You … didn’t agree to say it was self-defense?”

  “I just told you I didn’t have to. Aren’t you happy? Slade, I don’t understand what’s going on. Why did you leave? I thought you said you were going to stay.”

  He gazes at me with eyes that turn sad, then places his other hand over mine. Now both of mine are in both of his and he leans over the table and presses his forehead against my knuckles. It seems as if he’s just realized something. What is it he’s not telling me? I wonder. What is it that I still don’t know? But now that I’m with him, I don’t have to press. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. “So that’s the deal. It’s okay. I’m glad you came. Really, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

  “You don’t sound happy,” I tell him.

  He leans back in the booth, takes a deep breath, and lets it out, then finishes the beer in one gulp. “Come on, Shrimp, let’s get out of here.”

  When word of a kegger began to circulate, Mia called up and asked me to go with her. I said I didn’t think I’d feel like it.

  “You can’t hide forever,” she said.

  “I’m not,” I said, although that wasn’t true. I’d been going to the library every day at lunch.

  “So why haven’t I seen you in the cafeteria?” she said. “Listen, Callie, I want you to come to the kegger. I want people to see us together so they know I’m on your side.”

  Slade and I spend the night in his motel room. I’m so happy to feel his arms around me, to feel his lips on my neck and face and mouth, to hear him tell me he loves me, to be able to tell him I love him and know he believes me, and finally, to fall asleep with my head on his shoulder.

  Chapter 46

  Sunday 5:09 A.M.

  BANGING ON THE door. “It’s the police! Open up!”

  My eyes burst open. Beside me, Slade’s are already wide. Thin shafts of sunlight seep in around the curtains.

  “Come on, open the door.” I recognize the voice. It’s Chief Jenkins.

  “Don’t try to go out the bathroom window. We’ve got a man back there.”

  Slade’s staring at me with a startled look. I slide my arms around his warm body and give him a hug, but he’s as frozen as a statue. “It’s okay,” I whisper to reassure him. “I knew this was going to happen. They tracked the ankle monitor, but at least I got to see you.”

  “Ankle monitor?”

  “Yeah, they made me wear it, but I cut it off in the bathroom last night. I didn’t want to freak you out.”

  “Slade, Callie, we know you’re in there. Open up!”

  Slade goes limp. “Oh, Shrimp.” He sounds so sad.

  This isn’t the way I want it to be. I want him to squeeze me in his arms and tell me that he’ll love me forever. “It’s okay.” I kiss him on the lips. “Really, Slade, you can relax. Everything’s going to work out.”

  “Slade! Callie!”

  But it doesn’t seem as if Slade can respond. It’s like he’s in shock. Like he can’t believe this is really happening.

  Louder, more insistent banging on the door. “Open up!”

  “I’m coming,” I call, then give Slade one last kiss and whisper, “I love you. And no matter what happens, I’ll always love you.” As I get out of bed, I turn to the door and say, “Just give me one second.”

  “Come on!” Chief Jenkins demands impatiently.

  I pull on my clothes, then turn to Slade. He’s sitting up now, on the edge of the bed, his head hanging as he stares at the floor. “Listen,” I whisper, “it’s going to be okay. I swear.”

  The banging on the door grows louder. “Come out now or we break it down!”

  “Okay, I’m coming.” I go to the door and open it. The sun is just rising and some clouds overhead are pink. Chilly ocean air flows in and I have to shield my eyes from the brightness. Chief Jenkins and a police officer in uniform are standing there. The police chief stares at me, then past me at Slade, who’s still on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I know I wasn’t supposed to leave the county, but I had to. You can take me back now. It’s okay.” I even turn around with my hands behind me so that he can put on the cuffs.

  But that’s not what happens. I feel him step past me, followed by the uniformed officer, as they go to the bed where Slade sits.

  “Put on some clothes,” Chief Jenkins orders.

  Slade reaches to the floor and starts to pull on his pants.

  The police chief recites, “Slade Lamont, you are being arrested for the murder of Katherine Remington-Day. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

  Mia picked me up and we went to the kegger, parking in the dark lot beside the baseball field. “I’m glad you’re doing this,” she said. “I mean, I’m glad we’re doing this. You won’t be sorry you came. We’ll have fun.”

  The truth was I was starting to believe her and was looking forward to the party. It had to be better than spending another night at home. We walked into the woods, following voices and glimmers of red cigarette embers. There were probably forty or fifty people there. It was dark and they were mostly just silhouettes, but almost instantly I saw a group of girls. Brianna and Zelda, being tall, stood out. And their presence meant the others no doubt included Katherine and Jodie.

  I stopped, turned to Mia, and whispered, “I thought you said she wasn’t going to be here.”

  “I—I didn’t think she would,” Mia stammered.

  I rolled my eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most unconvincing liar ever?”

  She grinned sheepishly. “Okay, I didn’t want you to stay away because of her. I want you to stand up to her with me.”

  At that po
int it no longer mattered. Thanks to peer mediation, I’d be not only standing up to Katherine, but face-to-face with her the following Monday.

  Not that we really stood up to her at the kegger anyway. We just didn’t cross paths. After a while, Mia went off, but by then I was hanging out with other kids. She was right. I did have fun … until later, when Dakota came up and said Katherine was missing.

  Standing near the motel-room door, I feel my entire body go rigid. The air leaves my lungs and I can’t seem to find a new breath. I feel a chill all over, then pins and needles, then cold sweat. What are they talking about? What’s going on? I don’t understand. They’ve made a mistake. Slade isn’t the one they want. It’s me they want.

  “Yes,” Slade answers to the police chief’s question about his rights, but he’s not looking at Chief Jenkins. He’s looking at me, his skin pale, his hands shaking as he buckles his pants.

  He pulls on a shirt, but before he can even begin buttoning it, the uniformed officer spins him around and applies handcuffs to his wrists, then takes him by the arm and starts to lead him toward the door. But I can’t let him go. It makes no sense. It’s all wrong! “Wait!” I cry, blocking their path and sliding my arms around Slade’s waist and pressing my cheek against his bare chest. “You’re wrong! He had nothing to do with it!”

  “Let go of him, Callie,” Chief Jenkins says calmly.

  “No!” The cry that leaves my throat comes from the deepest depths of my soul. They can’t arrest Slade! It’s a mistake! I won’t let them! I look up at him, imploring him. “Please! They’re wrong! Slade, tell them!”

  But with his hands cuffed behind him and my arms around him, Slade doesn’t move or speak. For a moment, everything is still. Then Chief Jenkins gently says, “Let go, Callie.”

  I’m still looking up at Slade. Tears have begun to roll down his cheeks.

  And that’s when I know it’s true.

  Chapter 47

  THERE WAS A boy who lived with his mother and father and older brother and sister. They were a happy family until one day when his mother was too tired to get out of bed. And then everything began to change. No one spoke about it in front of the boy, but the mood in the house became tense and sad, and his father’s and older brother’s and sister’s faces were always grim. His mother went to the hospital and his sister cried when she made the boy his breakfast and packed him off to school the way his mother used to do.

  And the boy felt sad.

  His mother came home a few weeks later and soon lost all her hair and took to wearing scarves and hats. She started making his breakfasts again, but often by dinnertime, she was too exhausted to cook. At first there were still moments when she was happy and full of energy, but gradually they were outweighed by days when she was exhausted and the house was gloomy and quiet.

  It went on that way for a while, and then one day his mother went back to the hospital. A few days later the boy’s father took him to the hospital and the boy saw sad faces on the nurses and doctors when he went down the hall, holding his father’s hand. The boy and his father went into a room and there was his mother in bed, only she looked more like a grandmother and was now wrinkled and pale and thin. She held his hand and cried and the boy knew something very bad was happening.

  Then the boy’s father walked with him back to the car and it was the first time the boy had ever seen his father cry. And the boy felt very, very sad.

  At the funeral, with many crying people, the boy watched his mother’s casket go into the ground, but it was hard to believe that she was really inside it.

  For a while the boy lived in his house without a mother, and his father and sister and brother tried to do the things his mother had done, but of course, they could not do any of them as well. And then a new woman started to come around, and after a while, the boy was introduced to her children, and then one day there was a big party and the woman and her children moved in with them.

  At first things seemed better again. His father was happier. The new woman wasn’t the same as the boy’s mother, but by then the boy understood that his mother wasn’t coming back. So he tried to pretend that the woman would be his new mother and he tried to get along with his new brothers and sisters. Then the new woman had a baby and suddenly the boy had a half sister named Alyssa.

  A few years passed and then his father wasn’t happy anymore and there was yelling and fighting—things the boy had never heard at home before.

  And then the new woman and her children left, and while things at home once again became melancholy and quiet, at least it was peaceful. The boy and his sister and brother grew older and made friends and spent more time outside the family. The boy never stopped feeling sad, but slowly he built a wall against the memories and tried to stay on the other side of the wall as much as he could. Sometimes he would think of his mother, and an invisible door would open unexpectedly and he would be pulled back through it and into the gloom, but after a while, he could always go back through the door to the other side.

  Then the boy met a girl and everything changed. For the first time since his mother had died, he truly believed that he might be able to stay on the good side of the wall forever. And even when the invisible door opened, as it still did now and then, he found that thanks to her, he could usually grab the doorframe and pull himself back out.

  By then his brother and sister had moved on, leaving him with Alyssa and his father, whose life was drywall, and the EMS squad, and the television, and a bottle. Deep down the boy had always known that drywall and the EMS squad would be his life, too. That his father was depending on him. That he was the tape and mud that held the gypsum boards of his father’s life together. That without him it would all collapse in a heap.

  And the boy believed he had no choice in this matter. His deepest, greatest fear was that if Lamont Drywall and the EMS squad ended, his father would end, too. He had already experienced the loss of one parent and could not bear the thought of going through that again. Besides, now he had Callie, and as long as he had her, things would be okay.

  Then high school ended and it was time for him to serve in the armed forces, just as every Lamont had since the First World War. And this, too, he had always known he would do, regardless of whether he believed in it. But he had a secret, a bad knee he’d carefully exercised to keep strong but had started to neglect, hoping that it would grow weaker and eventually get him sent home.

  So he did the things he didn’t want to do, went far away from home to train for a war he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he believed in. And he was homesick and missed Callie horribly and counted not only the days but the hours and minutes until he could go back home and see her again.

  And then, just a few weeks before he was supposed to go home, she called one night and, out of what felt like nowhere, said they were through and she didn’t want to see him again. It made no sense. He felt as if he’d been blindsided. Suddenly the wall he had built collapsed and the sadness came rushing at him and enveloped him and he had nothing to grab on to. He flailed helplessly in the dark, went into shock, and became numb with disbelief. He called and wrote to Callie, but she didn’t answer. It seemed unspeakably cruel and heartless for her to have broken up with him so abruptly and unexpectedly, without giving him a chance to respond.

  And then, to make everything even worse, he learned that his unit would be sent overseas, to support the troops at war. He stumbled through the final weeks of Guard training like a zombie and then went home, determined to confront Callie in person, but before he could, someone else appeared in his life. Someone familiar. And she told him what he’d both suspected and feared—that while he’d been away, the girl he loved had quietly begun to see someone else.

  The news was excruciating, like salt poured into a wound already too deep and painful to survive, and it produced an anger in him so extreme that he was not sure he could control it. And yet he wasn’t entirely surprised. He’d seen it happen to others in his barracks. Now it was his tur
n.

  Frightened by his own anger, and unsure that he could stand Callie’s lying to him about this other guy, he decided not to confront her. Instead, he followed the example his father had set: he tried to become numb and threw himself into work, meanwhile hoping that his bad knee might prevent him from being deployed. Like his father, he might have resigned himself to nights in front of the TV, but that other girl made it clear that she had more than gossip to share with him. In fact, she had something to offer that might save his life.

  Chapter 48

  Sunday 5:21 A.M.

  WITH TEARS OF disbelief and confusion running down my cheeks, I stand in the motel doorway while they put Slade in the back of the patrol car and lock the doors. Then Chief Jenkins comes back toward me. “Call your mom, Callie. She’s frantic.”

  I’m still so shocked that I can’t find the words to acknowledge him. He starts toward the patrol car, then stops and turns back to me. “I’m sorry, Callie. This whole thing … came as a huge shock … to everyone involved.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I hear myself whimper.

  He purses his lips, as if there’s more he could tell me but he has decided not to. “Go home.”

  He gets into the patrol car. In the back, Slade stares at me with tears running down his face. He nods. I mouth the words I love you, and he does the same. The police cruiser rolls away.

  Numb, I go back into the motel room. Slade’s cell phone is lying on the night table. I open it and there on the screen is a photo of me. And it just makes me cry harder.

  But finally, when I feel like I’ve gotten control of myself, I call Mom and tell her I’m okay and I’ll be home later. She wants to know where I’ve been and I promise to explain that, too.

  Then I sit on the unmade bed and try to make sense of it. But I can’t. Slade killed Katherine? It simply can’t be. The only explanation is that the police are as wrong about him as they were about me. And that means I’m still not finished. I’ve proved that I had nothing to do with Katherine’s murder, and now I have to prove the same for Slade. But how? Where do I begin?