Tell No One

by Jeff Vrolyks

  “He’s not all that wrong,” Theo said through a mouthful of fish. “Their offense is amazing, and our defense isn’t bad, but our secondary was a poor match-up to their receivers. They played their hearts out when it mattered though.”

  “They sure did,” she agreed. “I told Doctor Gerhart that Stanford would win because they have the best quarterback in the country.”

  Theo smiled at her, wanted to reach over and steal a kiss in spite of her earlier warning.

  “He said it wouldn’t matter, Stanford wouldn’t put enough points on the board to match what Oregon would do to your mediocre defense. So we made a bet. Only a dollar, but it was the sport of it that mattered. He had to pay up when you beat Oregon.”

  “Good for you,” Theo said.

  “Of course I didn’t tell him I knew you. He probably wouldn’t have believed me if I did. I don’t think anyone in town knows you come here to fish.”

  “Well,” Theo reflected, “I don’t think that’s the case anymore. I can think of one man who does know, and a couple others he will tell. I bought some junk at The Mercantile and the checker recognized my name, was excited to meet me, said he wanted to tell a couple friends.”

  “Oh really? Was it Steve?”

  “Uh, yup.”

  “Yeah, he loves college football. A lot of people do around here. Not many women, though. My dad raised me as a boy, you know.”

  “And I love him for it,” Theo said. “I’ve never dated a girl who cared about football. Or who fished.”

  “Or who can shoot a bow and arrow, probably,” she boasted.

  “That’s right!” Theo said. “We shot a bow and arrow and your parents’ house once, I remember.”

  “As do I.”

  A cell phone rang at the coffee table. James excused himself and ventured over to answer it, undoubtedly Lea asking how things were between Theo and Carmen. Carmen waited for James to speak to the caller before leaning toward Theo, and in a low tone said, “There’s something I want to talk to you about, in private.”

  “Okay. We can go for a walk after dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  James returned to the table a moment later and the three resumed dinner.

  Chapter Six

  James swallowed a couple Ibuprofen, popped in an X-Files DVD and sprawled out on the couch. Theo said they’d be back shortly and left him to the brilliance of David Duchovny. They put on their coats and departed. It was dark outside, no artificial light for miles. The crescent moon lit the dirt road before them as they walked.

  “You know how I said I hear gossip coming in from the doctor’s office?”

  “Yeah.” Theo kicked a small rock out of the road.

  “I heard something shortly after I began working there, and didn’t think to tell you earlier today, at the river.”

  Theo’s heart sped up. He thought it might have something to do with the mine, and wondered how she would’ve forgotten to mention it earlier. “It’s about the mine, isn’t it?”

  “No,” she said noncommittally. “There was a man who lived in our community, a guy by the name of John Whitmeier. He ran a farm on the outskirts of town, raised pigs and sheep. He’d hire people to help him out around the property, shoveling poop and fleecing the sheep, that kind of stuff. He’d hire youngsters, some girls, mostly boys. One of the boys came to the doctor complaining of headaches and dizziness. Doctor Gerhart drew blood and sent it away for analysis, and it came back with some unsettling news, that he had narcotics in his system. He spoke with the boy’s father, and that man claimed the drugs found in the boy’s system weren’t present at their home. Another instance of the same thing happened almost a year later, and that boy also worked for John Whitmeier. The doctor ascertained that the boys were being fed those medicines from John. The doctor quietly asked around, spoke to other youngsters working under John, and found that a very disturbing thing was going on over there. One boy broke down in tears and confessed to what had happened. After having lunch at Whitmeier’s, he felt drowsy and was offered a guest room inside the house. He woke up as John was putting the boy’s shirt back on. He didn’t know what had happened, but suspected something had happened, but was too embarrassed to tell anyone. There was a town meeting, a quiet one, and that turned into an inquisition of John Whitmeier. He never did confess to doing anything wrong, but there was enough evidence against him that a court of law would have convicted him. But in our community we keep things private. We don’t rely on outsiders to handle our problems, we handle them ourselves. So John Whitmeier was banished from our town, evicted out of his property, property which was on loan to begin with. He was warned never to return.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, Theo, John had nowhere to go. He became homeless. People saw him wandering around outside the town. He lives in a tent, I hear.”

  “I’m not seeing what this has to do with anything.”

  “John chose a tent, but it could have been anything, anywhere. It could have been in an old abandoned mine.”

  “But this occurred recently, right? It couldn’t have been him.”

  “No, it wasn’t him. But John wasn’t the first man to be banished from our community. I imagine most of them move out of town, but not all of them. Not John. Who knows who else?”

  “So you think that maybe the man in the mine was like John?”

  “I think it’s possible, don’t you?”

  “I suppose. Interesting.”

  “I thought you’d like to hear that. I mean, it’s horrible what happened, but isn’t it better knowing that the man might have been a deviant or something? If a man was killed, I’d rather it be someone like John than a hapless man who had never hurt anyone in his life.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s good to hear, Carmen. Thanks for telling me. I wish I knew for sure, because if you’re right and we killed a pedophile or something, I’ll feel a lot better about it.”

  “Doctor Gerhart has been working in that office for twenty-four years. He’s heard it all. I’d wager he knows the names of everyone who has been banished from Cedar Hills over the last twenty-something years.”

  “If only we knew his name, huh?”

  She stopped, took his hands. “It still haunts me, Theo. What happened. It weighs so heavily upon my conscience. What medicine it would be knowing the man who died because of us was a rotten, evil man. I want to know. And I think it’s possible we can find out.”

  “How do you propose we find out?”

  “Return to the mine. His body is probably still there. If he has any identification on him, that would be all we needed. When I go to work I’ll mention the man’s name to the doctor and see what he says. I’ll have to come up with some reason to use the name, of course, but I’ll think of something.”

  “Why haven’t you done this already? What’s been holding you back?”

  “Are you serious? Do you think I’d walk down that dark mineshaft by myself? Knowing someone has lived there before and more might now? Bad men, possibly? A dead decomposing body? No thanks. But if you were with me, I would go. I’d feel safe with you.”

  Theo took a deep breath, turned and resumed Carmen’s hand in his, got on toward the cabin. “How well do you remember that day?”

  “Better than I’d like to,” she said.

  “I tried fooling myself into thinking he was already dead. That we struck a dead man.”

  “That’s not the case and you know it.”

  “I know it isn’t. I saw light before impact. Like he had a lantern or something.”

  “Yes. I noticed that, too.”

  “Why didn’t that asshole move out of the way!” Theo said.

  “The mine is narrow, only a couple feet on either side of the track. I suppose if he was at the wall he would have avoided it, but only narrowly.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t get it. He had to have heard us
coming. The cart was loud.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to move. Maybe…”

  “Maybe he didn’t care if he died,” Theo said for her.

  “Someone like John Whitmeier might not.”

  “When did you want to go?”

  “You won’t be here long, so how about tomorrow? After I get off work.”

  “I’ll borrow my dad’s truck. What time should I be at your parents’ house?”

  “Six-thirty. But don’t meet me there. I don’t live there anymore. I have my own place. The Beaumont’s have a guest house that they rent out. Cheap and pretty nice. I’ll write down directions for you.”

  Chapter Seven

  When they returned to the cabin James was doing the dishes. He said he drank half a bottle of Nyquil to ensure a good night’s rest and wanted to hit the sack early, wake up at five to catch some fish. Carmen thanked him for dinner and hoped to see him again before they went back to California. He gave her a hug, patted Theo on the back and said goodnight, retired to the cabin’s only bedroom.

  “Do you sleep on the couch?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Can you stay for awhile or do you need to be going?”

  “I can stay.”

  They meandered to the couch. Theo’s cell vibrated in his pocket. He extracted it and saw his agent’s name on the LCD screen. He put the phone back in his pocket. The menu-screen for X-Files was on the TV. Theo pressed play, not to watch the show but for background noise to mask their conversation. He sat first, at the corner of the couch. She sat closely to him, put her hand on his knee. He covered her hand with his.

  “Technically,” he said, “since this is my bed, you’re in bed with me.”

  She huffed, then laughed quietly. “You’re incorrigible. I’m not in bed with you, smarty-pants.”

  They gazed into one another’s eyes.

  “You really are beautiful, Carmen.” He expected a rebuttal but she said nothing. “It is such a profound what-if,” he said. “What could have happened, what might things be like now.”

  She nodded.

  “The answer still might be found. Not for the past, but the future. The present.”

  “We live in different parts of the country. I don’t think it would be feasible to find out.”

  “Love will find a way. Isn’t that the saying?”

  “Sounds good in a novel or a movie, but that’s not how real life is. In real life thousand of miles distancing two people means love will not find a way. And what love? There is no love.”

  “You’re depressing me,” he said.

  “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you? Big shot athlete.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “Had you pursued me in the years leading up to now, I probably would have given you my heart. It was already yours to be had.”

  “And now?”

  “I’ve moved on. A heated heart will cool over the years. I met Matthew.”

  “Yet your hand is in mine. What’s that mean?”

  She looked down at their entwined hands. “I don’t know.”

  “You haven’t tried to free it.”

  “I don’t want to. I feel comfortable with you.”

  “Is it just comfort?”

  “I don’t know, Theo,” she said pettishly. “How do you go ten years avoiding me, not returning my letters, to this? I don’t get you. When you saw me this afternoon it felt like you were distraught by my sight, like I was the last person on earth you wanted to see. Now this? Now you’re playing games with me? What if’s? What is it you want from me? Are you wanting a fling? Something more? This doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Theo took his hand off of hers, stood. “Forget it. Maybe I was just seduced by the idea of being with you after all these years, I don’t know. I’ll be at your place at six-thirty tomorrow. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  She stared up at him for a moment before nodding. She followed him outside, got inside her car and started it, rolled down the window. Theo stood beside the window, arms folded, staring down at her.

  “I envy you, Theo. You can simply forget my existence and go on living fine without my memory. It’s not so easy for me, unless I stop following sports and refuse to converse with anyone about sports. Next year when you’re a pro football star, you will be a household name. How easy do you think it will be for me to forget you? I never will. I’ll never be able to. Good night.”

  She rolled up the window and drove off.

  * * *

  Theo took a beer out of the fridge and cracked it open, sat on the couch, muted the TV. He listened to the voicemail from his agent Scotty. “Call me,” was all it said.

  Theo switched to the home phone, which had better reception, and called him back.

  “Hey, Scotty, it’s Theo. What’s up?”

  “My man, how’s Wyoming fishing treating you?”

  “Montana. Good. Caught a couple trout today. What’s up?”

  “I was finally able to get a hold of Bill Hanesworth. He wouldn’t give me a definite, but what he gave me was pretty damned close to a guarantee that Tennessee would be taking Dante Allister. We suspected it, but now it’s more of a sure thing. St. Louis will be taking Williams, that’s a no-brainer. Their franchise needs him if they hope to win three games next season.”

  “Why are you calling me with this? I’m on vacation and I already figured as much.”

  “Because I saved the best for last.”

  “Oh…?” The bait excited Theo.

  “I spoke with Jim Harbaugh today.”

  “Talk to me, Scotty, what did he say?”

  “He’s got the owner’s ear, and has been pushing to draft you. If it were strictly Jim’s decision, you’d be wearing a Niner’s jersey this fall, but as you know it isn’t. They’re already three-deep in QB’s.”

  “Yeah, but look who they have.”

  “They have Farrier, a first-round pick two years ago. But he’ll never become a franchise quarterback; he’s done horribly in the few games he’s started.”

  “One touchdown and four interceptions,” Theo reminded him.

  “Right. And it’s no secret that Smith is looking to be traded. The people in Frisco have had enough of him. That would leave it wide open for you, my man. Harbaugh said he thinks they’ll draft you.”

  “Fantastic.” Theo’s heart was pounding hard as he pictured himself wearing the uniform.

  “And Frisco is light-years away from the salary cap. They can afford you.”

  “Music to my ears, Scotty. What was Farrier’s signing bonus and salary, do you know?”

  “It’s my business to know. Nine million to sign, twelve more million over three years.”

  “Nice. I could live with that.”

  “Fortunately for you, you’ll have to live with more than that. Farrier went sixteenth overall in the draft. He was the fourth QB selected. You are arguably the best pure passer to enter the draft since Peyton Manning and Tom Brady.”

  “Oh geez,” Theo said and chuckled. “I guess it’s an agent’s job to blow smoke up his client’s ass, eh?”

  “I’m not kidding. Sure Aaron Rodgers is a great passer, and Breeze is phenomenal, but those guys built a reputation once they were in the Bigs. There are high expectations out of you coming in. If you don’t make the Pro Bowl your rookie year, people will see that as a disappointment. You will be a franchise QB and Frisco knows it. They also know, thanks to yours truly, that you are a huge Niner fan and would happy to wear their jersey for fifteen years. You can be for Frisco what Brady is for the Pats, Manning is for Indianapolis. Or was for Indianapolis. San Fran knows that it ain’t cheap to secure that kind of future. They shelled out twenty-one million for Farrier, and Farrier had baggage. Two DUI’s and a fight resulting in an arrest. Clubs don’t want that kind of negative publicity. And with you they’ll get an A student, clean record. I’ll be asking for twenty million to sign you, buddy. Twenty large. Twenty-five million over three years.”

  �
�And we’ll be lucky to get half that.”

  “Have some faith in me, brother. I don’t expect to get you forty-five million, but we’ll get thirty-five. Play like I know you will, and that number will go way up from there when your contract is up.”

  “Thanks for calling me with the good news, Scotty.”

  “It’s my job. Enjoy the rest of your vacation in Montana. How are the women out there?” He said and snorted.

  “Better than you might think.”

  “Are you serious? You already found yourself a little slice of heaven?”

  “Something like that. A girl I used to know from my childhood. Maybe I’ll send you a picture, see what you think. She’ll make you blink.”

  “I look forward to it. Tell your father I said hi. He’s a good man, James.”

  “The best. I’ll tell him. See-ya, Scotty.”

  Chapter Eight

  It was a cold Monday morning, with low gray clouds stretching across the sky. With each gust of wind it felt cold enough to snow. James said it didn’t get any better than this for fly fishing, and brought down to the river his fly rod instead of bait rod. He swallowed an extra pill before leaving and had a few in his pocket. They were amid the throws of an invisible sunrise, dark enough out that they had to do a lot of guessing where they flies were reaching. James recalled his twenty-three incher, said that the weather was exactly like this. As if to prove his point he hooked on to a trout almost at once. Theo got the net ready. He couldn’t see the trout even as it was at the surface before him. He felt for it and scooped it. Fifteen inches of brown. Theo went to put it in the basket and noticed his father didn’t have it.