The girl spun, looking at the boys as if they were at fault. They stared at me.
No one spoke for the longest time. I wasn’t going to get them to admit anything, not without some work.
I balled the towel in my fist. “What did you plan to do with all that stuff at the Barn? Show the Administration how stupid it is by bombing New Haven?”
“It wasn’t ours,” Daniel said from behind me.
I turned. His face was impassive. If the stuff wasn’t his, he should have been shocked by my accusations. He wasn’t.
“We weren’t the only ones who used that place,” one of the boys said.
I didn’t turn toward him. I could tell by the tremble in his voice that he was lying.
This was between me and Daniel.
Daniel tilted his head ever so slightly. He looked almost bemused. “That’s right. We’ve been in the city since May. Someone else could’ve stayed in the Barn since we left New Haven.”
“So if I search this place,” I said, “I won’t find any bomb-making materials?”
“Of course not,” Daniel said, this time remembering to sound shocked.
“What about guns?” I asked. “Will I find any of those?”
“Didn’t say that,” Daniel said. “A man’s got to protect himself.”
“Especially from people just barging into his home.” The other boy stood. He was about half my size, but he knew how to hold himself so that he looked menacing.
I gave him a contemptuous look. “What are you going to do? Kick me so hard I have to go to the hospital?”
The boy flushed and glanced at Daniel. Daniel made a slight sound, almost like a growl, and I knew it wasn’t aimed at me. He was angry at his friend for failing to lie well.
“He didn’t kick anyone,” Daniel said.
“Oh, that’s right,” I said, turning toward him. “You did. Unprovoked.”
“I was provoked,” Daniel said.
“By the Establishment and the Yale oppression,” I said, letting all the contempt I felt into my voice. “Oppression most of us can’t afford for our own child. Oppression that has to be earned.”
“You don’t understand,” he said.
“I understand,” I said. “You’re angry because you don’t get special privileges any more. You’re no longer Daniel the Smartest Person in the Room, and it upsets you. So you try to get special privileges for being the darkest person in the room, and when that fails, you decide to become a victim.”
“Fuck you,” Daniel said, and shoved me.
I pushed him against the wall, then held him there with one hand.
“I’m not liking anything I hear about you, Daniel. I thought maybe you were decent last summer when you helped me find your brother. Then you come back here and nearly kill a kid for no reason. You scare a bunch of people at various places, and the last place I go to, I find stuff that scares me. You kids have no idea what you’re playing with. Revolution? Have you ever seen a revolution? Have you ever shot someone? Have you ever cleaned blood off a wall? Or carried a dead friend’s body two miles holding him by his hips and his shoulders because his back has been blown away? Do you know what bombs do to people? Innocent people?”
“No one’s innocent,” Daniel said. “Not in this world.”
It took all of my strength not to backhand him across the mouth.
“Your brother’s innocent. And so’s your mother. And so was that little boy we found murdered last summer. You set off a bomb, and people like that die. People who did nothing more than go to work or chose the wrong apartment. Do you really think that there’s going to be a revolution in this country? That people like me are going to follow babies like you?”
I let him go. He staggered forward.
“We never said that bomb stuff was ours,” one of the boys behind me said. “In fact, Danny said it wasn’t. You heard him.”
“Yeah, I heard him,” I said. “I just didn’t believe him.”
Daniel had a hand on his chest. My handprint was purpling his bare skin. “You want a tour, man?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do. Then I want Rhondelle.”
“Why?” Daniel asked.
“Because you haven’t been treating her well, either.”
“She makes her own choices,” Daniel said.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“Upstairs.” His voice was scratchy. “Sleeping.”
I looked from him to the other three. They all looked terrified. Maybe they’d never seen real violence before.
“You three sit down. I don’t want to hear a peep from you while Daniel’s giving me the tour. And if any of you threaten me, well, you’ve seen what I can do on a moment’s notice. Think of what I can do with a little time to plan.”
The boys backed toward their chairs. The girl grabbed the counter, and leaned against it, her lower lip visibly shaking as if she were about to cry.
“I don’t have to show you anything,” Daniel said, finally rising to his full height.
It was his last stand.
“Yeah,” I said as quietly as I could, knowing that Daniel heard the menace in my voice. “Yeah, you do.”
THIRTY-FIVE
The row house was a mess. Clothing was strewn everywhere, and dishes cluttered every available surface. The bathroom hadn’t been cleaned since Daniel’s group had moved in.
I looked through each and every cabinet as we walked through the house, examined every closet, opened every box. I found evidence of more than five people living in the house — if I had to guess, I would have suspected ten or more — but I saw no bomb-making equipment, and only one shotgun, which Daniel assured me was for protection.
Rhondelle was in bed on the second floor. She was naked, and as I entered the room, she pulled covers up to her neck. I flicked on the overhead light, mostly to see if she had new bruises, and she cursed me.
The room smelled of sex.
“She’s staying here,” Daniel said.
“Is that true, Rhondelle?” I asked her.
There was an emptiness to her gaze as her eyes met mine. “Do I look like someone who wants to leave?”
“You like getting bruises on your face?” I asked her.
Daniel flinched beside me, but didn’t move.
“We’re in a war, man,” Rhondelle said, and it sounded like the party line.
“The country’s in a war,” I said.
“We’re in the war,” Daniel said. “We’re trying to stop something unjust—”
“I’m talking to Rhondelle,” I snapped. Then I said, my voice softer, “I’ll take you with me. You don’t have to stay, no matter what he says.”
“This is my home,” she said.
“This is your grandparents’ home, and your friends are ruining it. Just like Daniel ruined your pretty face. Come with me. No one’ll hit you in New Haven.”
“You so sure of that, man?” Daniel asked me.
But I ignored him. Rhondelle looked over my shoulder at Daniel, as if she were asking his permission.
“Come with me,” I said again.
Slowly she shook her head, never taking her gaze off Daniel.
“I can keep you safe.”
“Sure, man,” Daniel said. “Like the government keeps us safe. Rhondi’s better off here.”
“Rhondelle’s better off making her own decisions,” I said.
“I’m staying,” she whispered.
I stared at her for a moment. She stared back. After a moment, she closed her eyes and lay back down.
I sighed. I wasn’t going to convince her to leave Daniel. So I searched the room.
I started with the closet. Then I looked under the bed, and even checked out the corner fireplace to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.
Rhondelle said nothing. Daniel watched me as if I were some kind of lunatic who had invaded his house.
We finished the upstairs. I made Daniel take me into the attic where I found lots of boxes of old books and clothes, some o
f which had become mice nests. But I found no gasoline or bottles or anything that looked like it might be the stockpile for a revolution.
Even the cellar was empty, except for a ringer washer and clothes lines that someone had strung between the beams.
“Satisfied?” Daniel asked me when he finally brought me back to the kitchen.
“No,” I said. “But I’ve done my job. I’ve found you. I’ve found Rhondelle. I told you both to contact your parents. I can’t do much else.”
“Damn straight,” Daniel said. “We’ve got a life. We’re actually fighting for something that means something. You can go back to your crummy apartment and dig through other people’s garbage, but we’re going to change this world. We’re going to bring it down bit by bit.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“What?” Daniel asked.
“When you tear down society, then what’ll you do?”
“Build a better one,” Daniel said.
“How?” I asked.
“You’ll know,” he said. “You’ll know tomorrow.”
I stiffened. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Partying.” Only when he spoke, his voice was full of sarcasm. Then he ran his fingers over the bruise I gave him. “You’re just like the rest of them, you know. You think just because you’re stronger than me, you’ve defeated me. Shows you don’t know a goddamn thing.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know how a good woman like Grace Kirkland could have raised a loser like you.”
“I’m not the loser,” he said. “I’m not the guy who drags his kid from place to place because he can’t hold a job.”
“No, you’re the guy who mooches off his girlfriend, and throws away his education.”
“You ever read about revolution, man? You gotta go underground before you take action.”
I studied him. “This isn’t some backward colony in the eighteenth century. If you take action, you’ll be arrested. Have you even seen a prison?”
“You think I’ll get caught.”
“If you don’t die first,” I said. “You’re playing with things you don’t understand.”
“You assume that what you saw in New Haven is mine,” he said. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
“Enlighten me.”
He studied me for a moment, as if he were considering it. Then he said, “It’s not my job, man. Now get the hell out of my house.”
THIRTY-SIX
I had no choice but to leave. I couldn’t do anything else—yet.
As I stepped out of the row house, Daniel slammed the door behind me. I could feel the reverberation through the steps.
The rain had stopped, but water still dripped off every surface. I thought I saw movement to my right, but when I glanced that direction, nothing was there.
My heart pounded. I was usually good at spotting surveillance. I hoped I hadn’t seen a cop. I hoped I was just being paranoid.
Still, I walked quickly away from the Whickam row house. About a block away, an expensive sedan with Connecticut plates was attempting a New Yorker’s version of parallel parking — hitting the front bumper of the car in the back, the back bumper of the car in the front, until the new car has squeezed into such a small space that no one could move.
Finally the door opened, and René Whickam got out.
He seemed overdressed for the neighborhood. His suit was light, but stylish, and even though he wore no tie, his white shirt looked formal and out of place.
He was the last person I wanted to see.
“Professor,” I said as I crossed the street to join him. “I thought I told you I’d call.”
He shrugged. “I have to get Rhondelle.”
“I was just there,” I said. “She doesn’t want to leave.”
“I don’t care what she wants,” he said. “She is coming home.”
He crossed the street, sliding slightly on the wet pavement. I hurried after him.
“There’s a lot of kids in that place,” I said.
“Then I will have them arrested,” Whickam said.
“We already discussed that,” I said. “I don’t think the police’ll listen.”
“My family used to have a lot of clout in this neighborhood,” he said. “The police will listen.”
Whickam was living in some kind of fantasy world, one I didn’t entirely understand. Still, I followed him as he strode down the block.
He took the stairs two at a time, then grabbed the doorknob and tried to shove the door open. The door was locked. He reached inside his suit coat and removed his keys, quickly unlocking the door.
I stood beside him. I couldn’t stop him, but I could protect him if he needed it.
The door swung open, only to reveal Daniel standing there. He pointed the shotgun at Whickam.
“Good evening, Professor Whickam.” Daniel said.”
Whickam took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as if that gave him strength. “Where’s my daughter?”
Daniel smiled. The smile was cold. His gaze never left Whickam, but I knew that Daniel saw me as well.
Perhaps he thought he could control me by ignoring me.
“You’re not welcome here, Professor,” Daniel said.
“It’s my home,” Whickam said. “I was born here. You have no claim to the place.”
“Your daughter invited me. Then you sent this thug in.” Daniel nodded toward me. “See what he did to me?”
He used one hand to show Whickam the bruise.
“There are scary stories about Mr. Grimshaw,” Daniel said. “He took on an entire gang once in a schoolyard, and won. You didn’t know that, did you?”
Whickam looked at me in surprise.
“So isn’t it understandable that I feel threatened?” Daniel asked. “Any good law student knows that when a man feels threatened in his own home, he has the right to defend himself.”
Whickam straightened. Daniel had obviously played the wrong card. “This is not your home. It is mine. So I can defend myself here as you say. Do you really want to battle this in a court? Because to figure out which of us is right would take a shot, and maybe a death.”
Daniel’s smile grew colder. He wanted Whickam to provoke him. I was beginning to believe that Daniel wanted to pull that trigger; he was just waiting for the right time.
“Daniel doesn’t want to take this to court,” I said, “because he doesn’t believe in the authority of the U.S. government, do you, Daniel?”
He glared at me. “Does my mother know how violent you are?”
“She certainly doesn’t know how violent you are,” I said.
Whickam ducked under the gun barrel and went into the house. “Rhondelle!” he shouted. “Rhondi, honey, it’s Daddy.”
Daniel started to swing the shotgun toward Whickam.
I grabbed the gun, and with one swift wrench, removed it from Daniel’s hand. Then I unchambered the shells and dropped them in my pocket.
Daniel gave me a look filled with pure hatred. He rubbed his right arm as if I had hurt it.
“Don’t play with guns if you don’t know how to hold onto one,” I said softly. I knew how. I made sure my grip on that gun was unbreakable.
The three white kids hovered around the kitchen door. They were staring at this whole thing as if they couldn’t believe what was happening.
Whickam hadn’t noticed the violence behind him. He was peering into the front parlor. “Rhondi, it’s Dad. Please come out.”
Daniel moved away from me. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, pretending that I hadn’t rattled him. He was watching me, as if he were trying to gauge how to get the shotgun out of my hands.
“Rhondi!” Whickam shouted.
From the upstairs landing, someone cleared her throat. We looked up. Rhondelle was staring down at us. She had wrapped herself in a blanket. Her face was in shadow, the bruise not visible.
“Rhondelle, honey,” Whickam said
, and started toward the stairs.
“Stay there, Daddy,” she said.
He stopped. I wondered if her tone chilled him as much as it chilled me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Daddy,” she said. “If you want us to move out of here, we will. But I have to warn you, if we have to leave you won’t hear from me again.”
Whickam held out his hands. “Rhondi, come home. We can talk there.”
“No,” she said.
“Your mother and I have been so worried. That’s why we hired Mr. Grimshaw here. That’s why we have been searching for you. We were so afraid that something bad had happened to you.”
“Well,” Rhondelle said, her tone flat. “Now you can see I’m fine.”
Whickam shook his head. “This isn’t fine, Rhondi. You have so many opportunities. Come back to school. You can go anywhere you want, and I promise, I will not say anything about your politics or…your boyfriends.”
Daniel snorted, but I was the only one who looked at him. His gaze met mine, and that cold smile had started to hover around his lips again.
“I don’t want to live that life, Daddy,” Rhondelle said. “I’m not some trained puppet who does what everybody tells her.”
That was true, I thought. Now she only did what Daniel told her.
“Rhondi, please,” Whickam said, but he didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to.
“Look at it this way, Daddy,” she said. “You don’t have to shell out for my college any more. You’re not responsible for me. I’m responsible for me. All I’m asking is some time to stay here while we find a place of our own. Then we’ll leave. We’ll even pay rent if you want it.”
Daniel rolled his eyes, but he was behind Whickam’s back. Whickam couldn’t see the contempt.
“No.” Whickam spoke with deep sadness. His shoulders slumped. “You can stay.”
Rhondelle gave him a bright smile. I had a hunch if Daniel weren’t standing right there, she would have run down the steps and hugged her father. But she didn’t move.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said.
He sighed, then looked at all of them. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”
“We’ve tried,” Daniel said. “You don’t listen.”
War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel Page 23
