“Hey,” Corbin said, getting a little aggravated as he re-sighted, “keep your drunk voice down and back off.”
“Wait,” Evan grabbed his arm, “we need to talk about this. If I’d have known it was Senator Grey—”
Corbin, infuriated by this interference just when he had the sight lined perfectly, pulled the rifle off the limb and struck Evan in the chest with the butt, knocking him to the ground. “Back off,” he whispered harshly, “and shut the fuck up or I’ll do you first. Stick to the script, goddamnit.”
Corbin, desperate now they might have been heard, placed the rifle back on the limb crotch and refocused. It appeared they hadn’t been heard. Barely audible music still played, and that probably helped. He had his target locked. It was a beautiful moment. His finger closed slowly on the trigger as he let out a smooth breath. It was the kill moment. “Bye-bye, you miserable …”
At first, it felt to Corbin like he’d been hit in the side of the head with a stone. That stupid drunk. But when he tried to turn, react, nothing went right. A flash of light, then circles of red, then darkness as he sank down, the rifle coming with him … then nothing …
7
“I’m no hero,” Evan said. It was five days after the event, after the statements, interrogation. Now he faced a national audience. He was the man who had risen to the occasion and killed the potential assassin, using the man’s own pistol.
“I really had to intervene, even as scared as I was,” Evan said in a protesting voice. “He had the handgun stuck in his belt, and I couldn’t let it happen. Not just that Senator Grey happens to be a very important politician, one of the few voices of reason in my opinion, but I just couldn’t let it happen. You sometimes have to rise above and beyond your normal self just for a moment. I’m not hero material. I just did what I had to do, which is refuse to witness the assassination this sick madman wanted me to watch. He kidnapped me for that purpose. He wanted to become famous.”
“Well, like it or not,” the CNN reporter said, “you took the risk, you grabbed that handgun, and you very easily could have been killed. You received two broken ribs when he swung the rifle around before you shot. In most people’s minds, that’s the act of a hero,” the CNN reporter said. “You prevented the killing of one of the most popular senators in America. Sorry, but you’ll just have to adjust. You can’t really hide from the label.”
Evan looked at the audience, imagined the millions watching on TV around the world, and understood perfectly well the label. And he knew exactly how to play it.
Play the narrative. “Everyone has a moment when they do the right thing. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of wrong-thing moments.”
It drew chuckles and nods.
“I’m this guy who went through a lot, got busted up pretty bad on assignment in Iraq. I went through rehab hell. Didn’t always do so well with the pain. It got the best of me for a long time. Pain killers and then alcohol. Maybe if marijuana had been legal—” Pause. Let the laughter fade. “But it wasn’t, and I got to be something of wreck. Ended up living on the street, then in a camper. One day, I’m sitting there in my lawn chair trying to relax a little when this guy comes up, points his pistol at me, and says we’re going for a ride. I knew him from talking to him in a bar a couple nights before. He found out I was a journalist, or had been, and he wanted me to do his story.”
“Was there ever a time coming across the country when you might have escaped? Called the police?”
“Yes. More than once.”
“And you didn’t because?”
Evan paused. This was his big moment. This is when the narrative had to be the strongest. “If I told you I was too scared, that I didn’t think I would succeed, I would be lying. My thinking was that if I escaped, I’d never know who the target was. He wouldn’t tell me. Let me ask you. If you were a cop and some wasted drunk who looks like me came in and said, ‘Hey, officer, my friend stole my camper and he’s going to assassinate an important politician,’ and the cop, or detective, asks who the target is? Well, I don’t know the answer. The most likely outcome is I’d spend the night in jail or a mental ward, and the next day I’d find out a senator was dead. The truth is, I had to know. What I was going to do about it, that I didn’t know. It really seemed the only alternative. What happened to me, to be honest, is I thought of some guy telling some reporter he was going to kill John Lennon, or JFK, and did he want to be the ride-along? The witness to history. The idea that they’d choose not to … well, crazy at it might be, that was my thinking. I had no choice.”
There was a moment of silence. And all of a sudden, people started standing, clapping. Evan felt a rush of blood, his heart rate rising.
I am a hero, he thought with joy. The world always needs heroes. And I’m going to make up for all that I’ve lost. Already, he could see the offers coming. Already, he could see his picture on front pages.
Three days after that interview, and with every talk show and network after him, he had something he wanted to do first. The would-be assassin was buried without fanfare on Friday in his hometown. Out of respect, Evan stayed away from the funeral. But two days later, he went to the gravesite. There were no flowers, no memorials.
He raised a toast to Corbin. “Thank you, my friend, for resurrecting my career and life. Yes, Senator Grey is a real son of a bitch. A cheating, lying bastard. But, maybe that’s what it takes to get the right things done these days. History will answer. If he gets to be president, I’m sure I’ll get an invite to the inauguration and the White House. So thank you for that. But what I don’t thank you for is how hard you cracked me. It did damage, you sonofabitch. I’m back on some serious meds. There’s even some rib bone fragments they’re afraid to go in after. So here’s to you, and enjoy your ride to hell.”
After pissing on the grave, Evan left and headed for the nearest bar. He’d get off the bottle soon, but he wanted to enjoy this moment in Corbin’s hometown. It had been one hell of a trip and he intended to drink all night to that, to true lies. Without dramatic narrative, the truth beneath can’t be revealed. At least not a truth worth revealing.
I’m back, Evan thought. He raised another toast to his friend.
the end
KILLING SUPERMAN
_______________________
1
Earlier that day, when Lee saw his mother for the first time in four years—saw her beneath the arbor, then head to the barn—she looked so thin and sad that he felt the stress not only of her, but of the ranch, the situation.
When his mom spotted his truck, she turned, a smile blossoming on her face. “Lee!”
They hugged, then she stood back a little to look at him, her hands on his shoulders for a moment as she shook her head in joy. “Jeremy said you were coming, but I thought it would be later.”
“I drove fast.”
“You always do.”
They walked to the house, arm-in-arm, and went into the kitchen, where she poured coffee for both of them. They sat at the old Formica table she’d inherited from her mother and talked, mostly her asking him about what was going on in his life now that he was out of the military.
He asked, but she didn’t want to talk about the problems the small ranch was having, though she knew that’s why he’d come home.
Later that afternoon, beneath the bloodied Arizona sky, Lee Vance stood with his younger brother Jeremy just outside the corral fence. Their mother, in her blue jean shorts, a loose red blouse, and riding boots, walked with the only two horses she still boarded. Beyond, the mountain range that had been so much of their life.
Jeremy said, “We’re going to lose this place.”
“It’s that bad?”
Jeremy turned his back to the corral and chewed with some anger on a piece of straw. “You have no idea what’s going on around here. It’s beyond bad. We got a real problem in the valley. Guy named Frank Speers. He’s gobbling up every small ranch he can get. But he’s not getting this place. I’ll stop him one way or a
nother.”
Lee didn’t like the sound of that. His brother had always been the hot wire and, in some respects, as volatile as the old man. He was twenty now but had the same demeanor he always had. Their friends liked to joke that Jeremy had the Old West, High Noon mentality.
Behind their spread lay the dry, yellowing hills under the fiery sky, the heat still down hard on the valley as twilight deepened.
“What’s going on?” Lee asked. “Mom won’t talk about it.”
Jeremy stood, fingers hooked down his belt. He paced about in the dirt, turned, glanced at their mother, then said, “You got no idea how bad it’s got around here since the old man left with that bitch of his. Things been downhill all up the valley. This guy Speers came in, bought the Miller place, he’s pushed everybody out. We’re next. He wants it all and I’m not sure why. Somebody said there might be some natural gas or something. Been some geologists in here a couple times poking around.”
“Do I know him?”
“No. Came in with his stepdaughter from Utah year and a half ago. Real bastard.”
“You dealt with him personally? Talked to him about what he’s up to?”
Jeremy tilted back his cowboy hat. He shook his head as he looked up the valley. “No. I got tight with the prick’s daughter. I mean strap tight.” Jeremy looked off, then kicked some dirt with his boot. “Man, she’s the best thing I ever been with. Dandy Mandy.”
“I’m sure every girl is the best thing you’ve ever been with.”
Jeremy didn’t laugh. “I’m serious. I want to marry that girl. But she made me keep everything a secret. She feared Frank might not like the relationship. He’s her stepdad. He found out about us and sent her away.”
“Away where?”
“Mexico. Probably had some of her Mexican relatives come up and haul her off. He does business below the border. Probably with the cartels for all I know.”
“He Mexican?”
“No. His wife was. Her previous husband, Mandy’s real father, he got himself killed. Not long after Frank moved in on her. They get married, then the mother dies in a fall a few years later at Bryce Canyon. Lot of questions in that family for sure.”
Lee looked at his younger brother. Already, he was seriously regretting coming home. He’d left for a good reason. Not just their father, but everything. Nothing changes in this damn valley, he thought. “How old is the girl that he could send her off like that?”
“Mandy’s eighteen, almost nineteen. But she was really afraid of the guy. She thinks he killed her mother.”
“Sounds like nothing much has changed around here,” Lee said. “Just the lead characters. That’s why I left.” He glanced over at his mother.
So much craziness had gone on growing up here, yet it was a great place if you got past the people.
“So what’s the deal with this spread? Mom’s in deep financial trouble?”
“Big time. Superman wants to buy her out before she goes into bankruptcy.”
“Superman?”
“That’s what Mandy calls her stepdad behind his back. That’s where his big bucks came from. Selling first editions of comics he inherited. I’m talking about real classics worth a fortune. Mandy says he sold one comic for a couple million. And he has these first edition Supermans for like half a mil apiece.”
“You never met the guy?”
“Once. He stopped me outside Harder’s Sporting Goods about a month ago. He told me Mandy left and I wouldn’t be seeing her anymore. Then, the bastard, he smiles at me—he’s a big guy, maybe six-five—and he tells me he’s taking over this place and we should start thinking about selling and getting out. I told him he’d get this place over my dead body. I got to tell you, he just gave me this look, nodded, like that was fine with him.”
“Comic books?”
“Yeah. Weird as hell. And that’s why there’s some serious doubt how Mandy’s mother died. It went down as a tragic accident up in Utah. She fell in Bryce Canyon. I read articles about it. She fell while hiking. Or maybe had a little help. No witnesses. The comic collection belonged to Mandy’s mother. They came from Mandy’s grandfather, who was a Texan.”
Lee stared off in the distance at the dry hills. He had always thought that without his dad around, everything would change. So much for that.
His brother was one of those determined, obsessive types. Always had been. Once Jeremy got something in his mind, you couldn’t argue with him. More than once, he’d gotten Lee into doing stuff that Lee knew was a mistake but couldn’t resist. Jeremy had that effect on people. But Lee wasn’t about to fall into that trap at this stage of his life.
Much as he loved his mother and the small ranch, Lee really didn’t want to get involved, but he knew, just by coming home, he was obligated to at least understand the situation and see if anything could be done to keep the ranch. You never escape family, somebody told him once.
“The thing is,” Jeremy said, “what are you going to do? Stick around or move on? It could get nasty.” He had a touch of bitterness in his voice.
Lee glanced at his brother’s angular cut face, a fighter’s face. “I’m here to help out. That’s why you called me, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. But it was out of desperation. Now I’m thinking, you see how screwed up everything is, you might just do what you did before and walk out.”
“That might happen,” Lee said. “But I’m not leaving until I know what the hell is really going on and what chances there are to save this place. What bothers me right upfront is you. You say you’re going to take care of things one way or another. What’s that mean?”
“It’s real simple,” Jeremy said, pacing around, then bracing his arms on the top corral bar. “He’s got everyone on the run in this valley. He sent my girl to Mexico. She probably a prisoner down there. And now he’s going after this place. Been four people sold out to him already. Things are very tight financially and everyone is struggling.”
Then Jeremy turned and faced Lee. “You know well as I do, if Mom loses this, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. You know how much she loves this land. The family’s been here forever. It’s our blood, our DNA. No fucking way I’m gonna let that bastard get this spread. He might have the bank with him, the sheriff, everybody who wants to be on the winning side of money and power. But he’s not getting it. His wife died of an accident, maybe that’ll happen to him. Who knows? Accidents happen.”
Lee saw beyond the deep anger in his brother that decisions and plans had already been made. And they weren’t good decisions.
“Jeremy, what the hell are you thinking of doing?”
Jeremy chewed a piece of hay, spit it out, and turned to Lee. “I’ll tell you right now, if I have to, I’ll take this bastard down. It’s as simple as that. I got a plan. But if things don’t go right, if I screw up, then you take care of Mom. And don’t give me any of your shit, Lee. This is a showdown. There’s no way in hell this guy can take my girl and our land. Not happening. Far as I’m concerned, this guy is a murderer and a thief. Simple as that. Maybe the law can’t reach him, but I can.”
Lee stared at his brother. They stood silently in the relentless afternoon heat, both of them showing sweat on their shirts, necks, and faces.
“I get where you’re coming from, but we can’t be stupid about it,” Lee said. “There’s always alternatives.” Their mother was heading their way. “We’ll talk after dinner.”
“You can think there’s an alternative,” Jeremy said, “but you’ll find out there isn’t.”
Lee agreed with his brother about one thing: if their mother lost this place, it would be a disaster for her. He couldn’t even imagine her anywhere but here. He hoped there was an alternative.
He knew his brother, and he knew if there wasn’t a good alternative, it would end with somebody dead.
2
For a time, right after dinner, the three of them enjoyed the evening listening to some of Lee’s stories, staying away from what was going on; it was n
ice. They avoided talk about their father, as well. He’d basically stolen a lot of money from this place, left with some bar girl, and was now in Colorado, leaving their mother with the ranch and the debts. Lee felt guilt at not being here to help.
After some great apple cobbler and vanilla ice cream, their mother released them, knowing her boys had a lot to discuss.
If Lee and Jeremy both agreed on anything, it was that their mother had stood between them and chaos all their lives. She had fought for them, stood up against their father when they were small, and now that she was in trouble, they would never let her down. That was a given.
They went out to the porch with beers, propped feet up on the rail, the moon bright and full over the valley.
“Let’s get something straight right off,” Lee said. “Killing somebody can’t be the way to solve this. There has to be another approach.”
Jeremy didn’t respond right away. But when he did, he said, “I have news for you, big brother. When I was a kid, you could give orders. You could tell me what was what. But that was then. You’re something of an outsider now. You forget when you were thinking about killing the old man for what he was doing. So let’s not get high and mighty. Plenty of days I wished to hell you had done it. He robbed us and humiliated her and left this place a mess. And you didn’t have to deal with that because you weren’t here. This is my turf now. Besides, I’m not going to walk up and shoot the bastard and end up in prison or dead. Like I said, there are other ways to handle it. But I’ll give you a chance to check the situation out and come up with an alternative. You do, maybe I’ll consider backing off. Fair?”
Lee nodded. “Fair. Your girl ever tell you what her stepfather was after besides the land? Gas, minerals, oil, water, what?”
Jeremy said, “She really wasn’t sure what he was up to. They didn’t talk about business.”
Lee stared up the valley, at the mountains dark under the night sky. He’d loved this valley. Riding horses all over the mountains, hunting and fishing, a life that was good but for their father. But right now, he understood his brother’s anger at him leaving at the worst of times. He’d protected himself by getting out, but in doing so, he’d abandoned them.
The Murder Option 2 Page 7
