Countdown to Killing Kurtis

by Lauren Rowe

  Sylvia’s staring at the screen. “No, he’s not showing up in the prison population.”

  “Well...” My mouth is hanging open. “Was he transferred or something?”

  “No, he’d show up in the system, even if he were at another facility.” She twists her mouth, thinking. “Hang on. I’ll check another database.”

  My heart’s gonna burst out of my chest. This can’t be happening. I’ve lost my daddy again? I’m about to throw a conniption fit.

  “Ah, I found him.”

  I exhale. Oh, thank goodness. It was just a computer error. I can’t help but chuckle in relief. Good lord, I almost went off half-cocked right there.

  “Well, gosh, I’m sorry to tell you this, but it looks like Charles Wilber’s dead.”

  I feel the color draining from my face. If I weren’t already sitting down, my legs would give way underneath me. “What?” I ask feebly, tears pooling in my eyes.

  Sylvia clicks a button on her computer. “Well, let’s see what happened.” She squints at the computer screen. “It says Charles Wilber was stabbed by another inmate last month. That’s all it says.” She shrugs. “Another one bites the dust.”

  A sob lurches out of my throat.

  Sylvia’s face turns bright red. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Jackman. I shouldn’t have said that. That was insensitive of me.” She grimaces. “I wasn’t referring to your husband.”

  I shake my head, unable to reply. My heart is shattering and my head is spinning. Daddy died last month? Lord have mercy, Kurtis must have grabbed the knife from Daddy after Daddy stabbed him. There must have been a scuffle of some sort. I clutch my chest. My husband and father killed each other!

  The prison lady shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jesus lord, my daddy gave his life to finally do right by me. He died trying to make amends. He sacrificed his life for my happiness! I cover my face with my hands and let out the longest wail of my life. My daddy was a goddamned saint.

  “I’m really, really sorry for your loss, Mrs. Jackman.”

  Chapter 48

  20 Years Old

  Killing Kurtis Day + 231 Days

  Where the fuck is it? I’m positive I kept it in my underwear drawer, right underneath my necklace from Kurtis, but it’s not here. And neither is my necklace from Kurtis, for that matter. My eyes are bugging out of my head. I’ve got to find that letter. I’ve opened every drawer in my dresser, but it’s not there.

  It takes all my might, but I yank the heavy dresser away from the wall, shrieking hysterically as I do. Maybe the letter somehow slipped out the back of the drawer and got wedged against the wall? But no, when I’ve finally gotten the dresser pulled out, there’s nothing back there except a gosh-dang sock. Where is it?

  I’m shattered with grief about my poor, sweet Daddy. The man gave his life to deliver me a happily ever after! The man made the ultimate sacrifice just so I would have the very best things in this life!

  The whole drive back from the prison, all I could think about doing when I got home was lying on my bed with Wilber, clutching Daddy’s letter to my heart, and sobbing my wretched eyes out. But now I’m home and the letter’s nowhere to be found!

  I’m turning into a certifiable maniac, opening every drawer in my dresser a second and third time. I know I kept that letter in my underwear drawer. Where could it be? It’s the only thing I have to remember my daddy by in the whole wide world.

  I fly around my room, opening every drawer in my desk and nightstand, even my jewelry drawers—even the drawers where it couldn’t possibly be. But it’s nowhere. I fly into my closet and start rustling through my clothes and shoes, my mind racing and reeling. Where on earth could it be?

  I careen back into my bedroom, panting. My heart feels like it’s been stampeded by cattle and then chewed up by coyotes and shit into a ditch. I can’t breathe. I need that letter! My daddy died to make things right with me—and now I want to lie on my bed and touch his swirling handwriting and read his sacred words and grieve ’til my eyes are swollen shut.

  I am Charlie Wilber’s Daughter and Charlie Wilber died trying to give me the very best things in this life. If I had his ashes, I’d scatter them into my fountain with the naked ladies and cherubs and little cupid with wings. The perfect tragedy of it all just shatters my heart.

  Did I put the letter into Wesley’s underwear drawer by mistake? Or did I leave it lying around recently and Wesley mistakenly put it away into one of his drawers? It makes no sense, but I start opening Wesley’s drawers and throwing his clothes around the room. I’m grinding my teeth. My chest is heaving. Where the hell is it?

  I race into Wesley’s closet and rifle through his clothes, shoes, fishing gear, comic books. I’m about to leave when I glance up and notice a small box on the tippy-top shelf. I don’t recall ever seeing that little blue box before—and the minute I see it, I stop dead in my tracks.

  My Daddy’s letter is inside that box. I can feel it in my simmering bones.

  A strange calmness oozes over me as I suddenly realize exactly why Wesley took my daddy’s letter from me: he’s jealous my daddy got to kill Kurtis for me, instead of him. He’s jealous my daddy wound up giving me the greatest valentine of my life. He wanted to be the one who gave it to me.

  Oh, how it hurts my heart to realize Wesley begrudges me finally getting something good and kind from my daddy, even though he knows I waited my whole life for it. Honestly, finding out Wesley isn’t happy for me to finally get what I deserve is devastating news. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive Wesley for such a horrifying betrayal, to be honest.

  I race back into the bedroom, grab a chair from my desk, and drag it into the closet, just underneath where the box is sitting on the highest shelf. Damn it. Even standing atop that chair, I can’t reach the box, so I grab a hanger and try again, maneuvering the hanger to poke and coax that dang box within reach of my outstretched fingers.

  Once I finally have the box in my hot little hands, I grip it with white knuckles and sprint back into my bedroom, my heart raging in my ears. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the harbinger of doom in my hands, my cheeks flushed and my eyes bugging out.

  Wilber jumps up onto my lap and I shoo him away. I love my kitty more than life, but I can’t pay him any mind right now. My life’s about to change, and probably not for the better. I know for a fact that when I open this box and see my daddy’s letter inside, I’ll never see Wesley in the same light again, and the thought makes me want to cry buckets.

  Part of me doesn’t want to know for sure what’s inside the box—I’d rather just suspect Wesley’s not happy for me than know it for sure.

  But that’s just the romantic in me talking. Come hell or high water, I’m gonna look inside the box.

  Well, this is it.

  I take a deep breath and open the box.

  Chapter 49

  20 Years Old

  Killing Kurtis Day + 231 Days

  Daddy’s letter is sitting inside Wesley’s little blue box.

  Damn it to hell. Now I know the truth.

  Wesley wasn’t happy for me when I got my special valentine from daddy—he’s been pea-green with envy and spite this whole dang time. I thought Wesley was crying tears of joy along with me—and the whole time his tear ducts were squeezing out drops of jealousy. How am I ever gonna forgive Wesley for this betrayal? The man values his petty jealousy more than his wife’s happiness. Dang it, that’s a tough pill to swallow.

  I shift the contents of the box around with my finger.

  Well, damn. The necklace Kurtis gave me is in here, too, coiled up at the bottom—but that doesn’t hurt my heart like Daddy’s letter does. I reckon I can’t blame Wesley for being jealous of Kurtis. After all, Kurtis got to be the first man ever to conquer my sacred places, and then he got to kill Bettie for me, too. I can’t blame Wesley for feeling like a second banana there. Poor Wesley.

  I poke around the box again. Besides Daddy’s letter and Kurtis’
necklace, there’s also a green bandana, a white strip of plastic, a black comb, and something wrapped in white tissue paper at the bottom of it all. I reach into the box, intending to pull out the white-tissue-paper something, when a sound in the doorway makes me look up.

  Wesley. He’s standing in the doorframe, his arms bulging, his muscles taut, his eyes smoldering at me.

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

  Wesley raises his muscled arms and grips the doorframe, his eyes blazing. “You found it,” he says. He nods toward the box.

  I’m frozen in place, unable to breathe.

  “Go ahead,” he says. He crosses his muscled arms over his chest and leans against the doorjamb.

  I grab ahold of the little square of folded tissue paper at the bottom of the box, and the minute I unfold the paper, the entire room warps and buckles around me. Holy Baby Jesus, I’m holding a heart-shaped pendant in my hand—a heart-shaped pendant covered in diamonds.

  I look up at Wesley, stunned.

  “That fucker hardly even touched her,” Wesley says, his voice steely. “Kurtis barely gave that girl a scratch.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Kurtis was a coward—yellow as mustard but without the bite. When that girl begged and cried and went all weepy on him, do you know what he did? Nothing. He went soft and couldn’t finish the job. Not even to keep you.” Wesley’s eyes have turned dark and hard as granite. “Kurtis left her to cry on her pillow with nothing more than a fucking black eye and a nosebleed.” He narrows his eyes. “So I finished the job for him.”

  I can’t wrap my head around what I’m hearing. It’s not bad news, necessarily, to find out it was Wesley who killed Bettie for me—it’s just mindboggling, is all. My sweet and gentle Wesley pulverized that girl ’til her eyeball popped out of her head?

  Wesley makes a scoffing sound. “I went down there to plant that pill bottle like you asked—and then I hid in her closet and waited.” His lip curls. “When Kurtis got there, I saw everything.” His eyes are as cold as a witch’s titties in a brass bra. “Every fucking thing,” he says slowly.

  Holy shit on a shingle. The way he just said that last bit made my stomach drop into my toes. Is Wesley implying he saw Kurtis having sex with Bettie that night? Oh lord. Yes, I do believe he is. Which would mean Wesley saw for himself how well Kurtis’ man-parts actually functioned, contrary to what I’d told him. Oh, sweet Jesus. I can only imagine how watching Kurtis plow Bettie enraged my poor Wesley—I’m sure he figured out right quick just how well Kurtis had been plowing me, too.

  “Wesley, come here,” I say, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Come here, baby.”

  Wesley’s eyes are dilated. He doesn’t even look like himself right now.

  “Come sit down on the bed, sugar,” I say.

  He waltzes into the room like a panther, his eyes flickering. When he reaches me, he grabs the necklace out of my hand and holds it up in front of my face. “I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who did what had to be done.” He’s practically spitting the words at me. “Me. Not pussy-ass Kurtis. Me.”

  My stomach is twisting. “Wesley,” I breathe. I can see his monster coming out right before my eyes.

  Wesley bends down and kisses me deeply, and the minute his tongue slides into my mouth, my crotch ignites. Wesley grips my shirt like he’s trying to take it off, but I push him back. I’m turned on by this revelation, it’s true, and making love to Wesley is the exact balm my grieving heart needs right now, but I’m too determined to uncover the truth about Wesley’s green-eyed monster to jump into the sack just yet.

  “I told you—I’m always gonna protect you,” Wesley says, his jaw tight. “You need something to be done? I’ll do it. Someone makes you cry? I’ll make them cry. Someone lays so much as a finger on you, then they gotta to answer to me.” His nostrils are flaring. He reaches into the box and pulls out the green bandana. “That fucker Thomas said it was you who opened the safe? Well, he had to answer to me—with his goddamned head.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  Wesley reaches into the box again and pulls out the plastic comb. “That fucker Christopher kept jawing about how much he wanted to fuck you? How he was gonna take your virginity, whether you liked it or not? He said he was gonna stay behind from school one day when you were all alone doing your home study and give it to you good? Well, I guess I beat the crap out of him so hard he forgot all about that fucking idea right quick—and then, imagine that!—two weeks later, Mr. Clements’ Yogi Berra card made its way under Christopher’s fucking mattress.” He clenches his jaw. “That fucker had to answer to me, too.”

  My entire body is tingling. “Wesley,” I breathe. “Oh my.”

  Wesley reaches into the box and pulls out the diamond-cross necklace Kurtis gave me. “Oh, and this fucker takes the cake. He thought he could beat you up, when you’re half his size and as sweet as the day is long? You were his goddamned wife and he thought he could treat you like that? Well, guess what? That fucker had to answer to me, too. He thought he was going to meet his maker, but he went to meet Wesley Miller, instead.”

  I furrow my brow with confusion. Wait just a cotton pickin’ minute. Wesley’s saying he killed Kurtis? Well, that’s just plain crazy-talk. Kurtis was in prison when he died. It was Daddy who killed Kurtis for me. “Wesley,” I say, shaking my head. But that’s all I can muster to say.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you about this one,” Wesley says, his face softening. “I would have liked to let you think your daddy finally came through for you.” He exhales. “I know how happy it made you to think it.”

  I shake my head again. How on earth could Wesley have managed to kill Kurtis? It had to be Daddy. There’s no other way. “But, Wesley, no. Daddy killed Kurtis, remember? I told Daddy to be on the lookout for Kurtis Jackman. I told him, ‘Remember the name Kurtis Jackman.’”

  Wesley shakes his head. “No, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “But...” My brain feels like it’s melting. “How could you possibly...?”

  He can’t suppress his grin. “I told you, I made some true-blue friends in jail.” His grin widens into a beaming smile. “Those fellas in jail were nothing like the pussy-ass whiners at the group home, that’s for sure—they were real men with honor and integrity, guys who know right from wrong. It’s a brotherhood. I’d do anything for them, and they’d do the same for me.” He chuckles. “And it certainly didn’t hurt that you’re my girl—you’ve got some pretty big fans on the inside.” He winks.

  My mind is reeling. I sit for a moment, shaking my head in disbelief. It feels like a knife in my heart to think Daddy wasn’t the one who came through for me—but at the same time, it’s like sliding down a rainbow to realize Wesley picked up Daddy’s slack. And not just Daddy’s slack—but Kurtis’ too! Holy hot damn! My Wesley killed both Bettie and Kurtis for me. Ain’t that the berries. Ha! Well, boy-howdy, Wesley truly is my knight in shining armor. “Oh, Wesley,” I cry. “You’ve given me the best valentine ever.” I throw my arms around him and attack him with kisses.

  Now it makes perfect sense why Wesley stole Daddy’s letter. He was just jealous Daddy was getting all the credit for killing Kurtis! Poor Wesley. Anyone would feel rankled to think they didn’t get credit for killing their wife’s husband. That’s perfectly understandable. I lie back down onto the bed, inviting Wesley to ravage me. All this time I thought Wesley was a mouse, and it turns out he’s a lion. My head is spinning and my crotch is throbbing. If all this doesn’t turn a girl on, I don’t know what would. “Wesley, make love to me,” I say. I want him to make me scream so I can forget all about my shattered heart.

  Wesley puts his hand between my legs and when he feels how wet I am for him, he moans. Wilber jumps up onto the bed and I shoo him away. I love my kitty, but it’s my pussy’s turn to get stroked right now.

  Wesley begins devouring me with kisses. His fingertips are making me squirm and moan. I’m feeling that filling-up-with-warm-Jell-O feeling between my legs.<
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  “It was me who killed Kurtis,” Wesley whispers into my ear, his fingers slipping in and out of me. “Me.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. I’m feeling as hot as the hinges of hell. “You made him pay.”

  He pulls my underpants all the way off and starts unbuttoning the fly on his jeans ’til his erection springs out of his opened pants. “I made him pay. It was me. Your daddy was a pussy-ass. He never did a fucking thing for you his entire life.”

  Every hair on my body stands on end. I sit up. Wesley just said my daddy was a pussy-ass. But I haven’t mentioned my daddy’s demise.

  “Don’t waste your tears on your daddy,” Wesley says, gently pushing me back so he can crawl on top of me and get inside.

  I swat him off me and sit up again. I’m like a jack-in-the-box that just got cranked. It’s suddenly occurring to me: If Daddy didn’t kill Kurtis, then how the fuck could Kurtis have killed Daddy? I stare at Wesley, my eyes wide with horror. “Wesley?” I squeak out. “Who the fuck killed my Daddy?”

  Wesley pushes on my shoulders again, aiming for me to lie back down so he can mount me, but I swat him away again and burst into tears. I throw my hands over my face, sobbing. “Wesley, no! Not my daddy!”

  “Aw, shit.” Wesley tugs on my arms, but I won’t take my hands away from my face. “Come on, baby, don’t do that,” Wesley says. He pulls on my arms again. “Aw, come on, honey.”

  I shake my head. “My poor, poor Daddy,” I murmur through my tears. I let out a pained wail.

  “Aw, come on.” He yanks on my arms with fortitude and then grabs my wrists, preventing me from covering my face again. “Look at me,” he says firmly.

  My eyes are closed. I shake my head.

  “Look at me!”

  His tone is so forceful, I feel compelled to obey. I open my teary eyes.

  “You went on and on about ‘Lah-de-dah my daddy loves me!’ And ‘I am Charlie Wilber’s Daughter!’ And all the while, your daddy didn’t do shit for you! What did that pussy-ass ever do for you ’cept make you cry your whole damned life?”