“Of course I care. Where is she, Bobby?”
Bobby got up and fetched another beer. He sat down and drank. “She left me. She’s a cunt.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know, man.”
“Like everything else, huh? Maybe you didn’t call ’cause you just couldn’t remember who the fuck your friends were.”
“Okay. This has gone far enough,” Jared said. He got up to go.
Bobby rose with him. “Where you goin’? We’re not done.”
Jared stood silent.
“Sit down, Jared.”
Jared sat. “Okay, Bobby. I’m still here.”
Bobby drank. “She fucked off five years ago. Fucked my cousin and fucked off. I got drunk. Been drunk ever since. You know, like Big Brother.”
Judd’s drinking again? Jared thought. Jesus. I thought he’d finally beat it. Hoped, anyway.
“Christ, look at you,” Bobby said. “You don’t even know what’s going on with your own family. What’s left of it, anyway.”
Jared stood up, agitated. “Take that back, Bobby. Take it back.”
Bobby stood up. Anger filled his eyes. “Take it back? Like Kyle? Like Kyle?”
Jared stepped back. “Bobby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Where the fuck were you yesterday, Jared?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know damn well what I mean, you son of a bitch. What the fuck were you doing with my boy?”
“I was there, yes. But I—”
“So you were there. You saw my son die, and you didn’t even call?”
“I … I wanted to, I—”
“You were smiling? Smiling? Tom Greenwood told me everything.”
“No,” Jared said. “You don’t understand.”
“What did you do to him? What did you do to my boy?”
Bobby stepped forward. Like his father, he was a large man, as tough as rock. “You held his hand. You told him, ‘I know. I know.’ What did that mean?”
“I … I don’t remember that.”
“Liar. You did something to my boy.”
“I didn’t do anything! I tried to comfort him. I wanted to help him.”
“Tom said your eyes were all fucked up. Like you were in some kinda trance. Said you got a nosebleed. You did something to Kyle. And it cost him his life.”
“That’s not true. Jesus, Bobby! Why would I do anything to hurt him?”
“The ambulance came quick, you know. If you’d kept your hands off my son, the paramedics might have saved him.”
“I swear, Bobby. I didn’t do anything.”
“Liar!”
Bobby suckered Jared with a punch to the gut. Jared doubled over and slipped to his knees, winded. Bobby struck him again with a shot to the jaw. Jared crumpled to the floor in a daze.
Bobby snatched an empty and smashed it against the end table. He got down on one knee and held the jagged glass to Jared’s throat.
“One chance, Jared Cole. One. Tell me what the fuck you did to my son.”
“I swear, Bobby. I didn’t do anything.”
“Liar!” Bobby pressed the glass harder against Jared’s throat. “You’re hiding something.”
“You don’t want to do this,” Jared croaked. “Please, Bobby. Please.”
Bobby Duncan stilled. Finally, he drew the bottle back. He dropped it. Tears streamed down his face. He fell back and curled up on the floor. And sobbed.
Jared started to get up. Blood dribbled from his lips.
“Get the fuck away from me, you son of a bitch,” Bobby said. “Just … get away.”
Jared stood trembling, unable to speak. He stepped back, stumbling, and rushed out the door.
~ 12
Jared drove so fast he very nearly struck a parked car at the end of Hill Street. He had no idea where he was going, but knew he needed to be as far from Bobby Duncan as possible. Only when he stopped across from the theater did he realize where he was.
There was dried blood in the street. Kyle Duncan’s blood.
Was it true? Did the gateway cost Kyle his life? Maybe it sucked the last breath out of him—it certainly beats the hell out of me.
He didn’t really believe that, but what did that matter? Kyle was dead, and no matter what happened from here on, Bobby would hold him responsible.
“Hey!” someone shouted.
Jared turned to the passenger window. Tom Greenwood was standing on the top step of the convenience store, a broom in his hand.
“Jared Cole!” The assistant manager was coming down the steps now.
Jared panicked. He looked in the mirror. Blood on his lip.
He sped away.
~
Jared punched the HOME button on his GPS, followed the directions for a couple of turns, then braked hard and turned around. Five minutes later he parked outside the library, his heart still racing.
Merritt DeWitt met him at the front desk with all the warmth of a corpse. She said nothing, but her narrowed eyes spoke volumes as he hurried past her, clearly agitated. He searched aisle after aisle for Marisa, and when he found her, she rushed up to him, wide-eyed.
“Jared? What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he said. His hands were still shaking.
She led him to a vacant desk at the back and sat next to him. “What happened to you? You’ve got blood on your chin.”
He thought he’d cleaned up in the car. Maybe he hadn’t. He couldn’t remember.
“It was Bobby Duncan,” he said. “I went to see him.”
“Bobby did this? He hit you?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Kyle Duncan. He was killed yesterday.”
“Oh my god.” Then: “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I … I don’t know. I would have. I guess finding you here threw me off.”
“You’re shaking,” she said, and put her arm around him. She stroked his temple gently.
He steadied. “Thank you. That helped.”
“It always did,” she said. “Now tell me what happened to Kyle. And with Bobby.”
He told her about the accident, deliberately sparse with the details. It felt as if he were reading a news teleprompter. He hoped she didn’t notice. Or probe.
“That poor kid,” she said. “I remember that cute little smile he used to have with those braces. Adorable.”
Jared nodded. “He was so full of life. Used to run Bobby and Deb ragged.”
“She left him, you know.”
“He told me.”
“Bobby crumbled,” she said. “It wasn’t long before he lost his job. Now this.”
“I can’t even imagine what he’s been through. What he’s going through.”
“What happened when you saw him?”
Jared rubbed his eyes. “He just wasn’t Bobby, you know? He’d been drinking.”
“Why did he hit you?”
“He was angry. Angry at me for … for not keeping in touch.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” Marisa said, and Jared took it in stride. “But to hit you?”
“He was really out of it. Still in shock over Kyle, I guess.”
“I guess,” she said, sounding as if she didn’t believe him. “It’s sad, what’s happened to him. It all went to pot after Deb left.”
Her voice had trailed off. “Marisa?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“You were never a good liar. Spill it.”
“… I was just thinking about Judd, that’s all.”
“Did you know he’s drinking again? Bobby told me.”
“He was. But as far as I know, he’s not. I ran into him about nine months ago. He said he’d been dry for eight weeks.”
“That’s good. For Judd, that’s really good.”
“He’s had a rough go, too, Jared.”
“We both have.”
“You know I don’t preach. But you and I both know you should go to him.”
“I wouldn’t know how. I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy.”
“And if he told me to shove it?”
“Then you’ll know,” she said. “Better to know now than spend the rest of your life wondering.”
“You don’t understand. He’ll never forgive me.”
She took his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was.”
He pulled away. “Of course it was.”
“This guilt you’re carrying … you have to let it go.”
“… I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
He had to pause. “Won’t. Can’t. Either way.”
“Jared,” she said, the way she used to whenever she knew she was right.
“I could never win with you,” he chuckled. “You always made too much sense.”
“So you’ll see him?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Hmph.”
“That’s the best I can do right now. If I’m going to extend an olive branch, I need to be ready if it gets chopped off.”
Marisa rolled her eyes. “The melodrama is choking me. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I write horror,” he told her. “The worst always happens.”
“Same old Jared.”
His eyes fell.
“What is it?” she said.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“I know that look, Jared. You’re going to the funeral. You owe Bobby that.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But he doesn’t want me there.”
“Of course he does. You were his best friend. He’s hurting, Jared.”
Jared looked at her. It was all over his face.
Marisa sighed. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” She shook him when he didn’t respond. “Jared. Nothing’s going to happen.”
~ 13
The final viewing for Kyle Duncan was at noon on Saturday. Jared picked up Marisa in the Land Rover and parked down the street from the Westhaven funeral home. A dismal drizzle fell, and he walked with Marisa holding her umbrella. He felt as if he was walking into a mine field.
“Try to relax,” she said when they reached the doors. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Bobby and Kyle. Okay?”
Inside, Jared closed the umbrella and set it with several others. A few of the visitors recognized him. The assistant manager of the Eight-Ball, Tom Greenwood, regarded him with narrowed eyes. Sonia Wheaton, the wannabe reporter, approached him for an autograph. She had bold olive eyes that seemed to study his every move.
“Time and place,” Jared said.
Marisa gave the woman a disapproving glance.
Sonia placed a hand on Jared’s arm. “Can I ask one thing, Mr. Collado? I mean, Mr. Cole?”
Jared surveyed the lobby and glanced past her into the reposing room. A sign above the entrance read King Room. There were dozens of people present. Bobby had always had a lot of friends.
“Give it a rest,” Marisa said. “Honestly, Sonia, show some respect.”
Sonia Wheaton gave her a look. “It’s about Kyle’s accident,” she said to Jared. “Can—”
Marisa took Jared by the arm and led him through the lobby and into the reposing room. Family and friends were clustered here and there, the stylish room filled with the muted sounds of reserved chatter.
“Thank you,” Jared said.
“I hate that bitch,” Marisa said. “Everything’s a story with that one.”
Jared scanned the room. No sign of Bobby. Kyle Duncan’s body lay in a modest casket on the far side of the room.
“Relax. Please,” Marisa said. She took his hand. “You’re all clammy. Breathe.”
“I’m okay. We should pay our respects.”
There was a small line-up, and as they started for the line, a voice stopped them.
“Jared Collado,” it said.
Jared and Marisa turned. Jared paused at the man before him. The priest was gaunt, with deep-set eyes beyond black-rimmed glasses. His hair was cropped short, with a touch of black mixed with his grays. Jared had known him for years, but at the moment, the man’s name escaped him.
“Father Horn,” Marisa said, helping out. She put out her hand and shook. Horn shook with Jared next.
“Father,” Jared said. Everett C. Horn, he now recalled. He wanted to slap himself for forgetting. While he had been in a coma, the man had watched over him for days. He’d been a close friend of his father’s, had performed his parents’ marriage ceremony. Had baptized Judd and him. Had been the first person he’d seen when he’d stirred from that brain-hell back to the living.
“Ah, for a moment there, I thought you didn’t remember me,” Horn said jokingly. He raised a finger, waving it teasingly with a smile. “I thought I’d spotted the Falls’ favorite son coming in.”
Jared reddened.
Horn looked around. “It’s so good to see you both again. In spite of this tragic, tragic event.”
“Yes,” Jared agreed.
“So, Jared. How long has it been?”
“Seven years.”
“Seven years,” Horn repeated, surprised. “Where does the time go? The last time I saw you … oh … forgive me.”
“No, no,” Jared said. “You were there for me.”
“And your brother? Well, I trust?”
Jared glanced at Marisa. “Judd’s fine.”
“Is he here?” Horn asked.
“He couldn’t make it,” Marisa said.
“Unfortunate. He always had a way about him. He could always make me laugh.”
“Me, too,” Jared said.
“So tell me, Jared Collado. When’s—I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Do you prefer Cole?”
“Uh … yes. Cole.”
Horn nodded. “I hope you don’t mind me asking. I feel like a star-struck fan. But when’s a sequel to Luscious coming?”
Jared raised a brow. He didn’t know what to say.
“Oh, don’t be so surprised,” Horn said. “I watch The Walking Dead, too.” He winked at Marisa, and despite the somber atmosphere, she found a small grin.
Jared reddened. “I’m trying to picture you reading my books. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Horn squeezed Jared’s shoulder with a hearty grin. “I forgive you, my son. But your books, while wildly entertaining, are no match for the Good Book. Sodom and Gomorrah will curl your hair.”
Marisa blushed in embarrassment.
“So,” Horn said to Jared. “About that sequel.”
“I’m not sure there will be one.”
Horn pondered. “Shame. I think there’s more to that story. I really do.”
Jared was about to mention there would be a movie—eventually—but remembered where they were. He felt guilty talking about himself, especially with a man of the cloth—and especially the man who he considered was next of kin to his guardian angel. It just didn’t feel right. His eye wandered, searching for Bobby Duncan.
“Jared?” Horn said.
“Jared,” Marisa said. She tugged at his arm.
“Huh? Oh! Sorry.”
“Are you in town long?” Horn asked. “I imagine you’ve got to get back. New York, isn’t it?”
Jared was about to answer when a thirtyish woman in a plain black dress and matching pumps stepped beside the priest. She apologized for the intrusion and informed Horn that the service was in fifteen minutes.
“Well,” Horn said, shaking Jared’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again. And you as well, Marisa.” He turned to go, and turned back. “You know, I have Insanity at home. I’d be thrilled if you’d come by to sign it.”
Jared nodded. “Uh … yes. Of course, Father.”
~ 14
Marisa led Jared to the line-up. An elderly couple stood ahead of them in the line. A teenaged girl knelt at Kyle Duncan’s casket, weeping. Her mother stood beside her, and when Jared looked closer, recognized her. It was Ricky Cowen�
��s wife, Gwen. The girl was his daughter, Jennifer.
Jared looked around. No sign of Ricky. No sign of Jim Tate. They were here, he was certain. Most likely pall bearers. And most likely comforting Bobby right now.
That’s where you should be, he thought. Not standing here shaking in your boots looking over your shoulder.
He looked at the girl. He wondered whether she really knew just how deeply Kyle Duncan loved her. Love that hurt.
Jennifer Cowen rose to her feet, and her mother comforted her. They turned around and stopped.
“Jared,” Gwen Cowen said. “My God … Jared.”
“Gwen,” Jared said, hugging her.
Gwen smiled at Marisa.
“It’s good to see you,” Marisa said. She hugged Gwen, too.
“You, too. Both of you. I wish it were better circumstances.”
“I know,” Jared said.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Gwen said.
“A little wiser, I hope.” He chuckled anxiously.
“I heard you were there,” Gwen said. “At the accident.”
Jared nodded. He hoped her prying would end there.
“It must have been awful,” Gwen went on. “I can’t imagine.”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“I’m sorry. Of course you don’t.” Gwen motioned to her daughter. “You remember Little Jen?”
“Mom,” Jennifer Cowen said. She sniffled. Her mocha eyes were bold and teary.
“Not so little any more,” Jared said. “I’m so sorry for—” He caught himself. What was he thinking?
“Sorry?” the girl said. “Sorry for what?”
“Uh … like your mom said … for having to see you under these circumstances.”
Marisa gave him a look.
“Is Rick here?” Jared asked, trying to change the subject.
“Of course,” Gwen said. “And Jim, too. They’re going to be saying a few words at the service. They should be around in a few minutes.”
“Good. Great,” Jared said. He looked at Marisa. “Let’s pay our respects.”
“We’ll talk,” Gwen said. “After the service?”
Jared and Marisa nodded. Gwen left with her daughter.
The elderly couple paid their respects, and Jared found himself unable to step forward. He didn’t want to see Kyle Duncan again, not like this. He recalled the terror, the futility, in those dying eyes. The hopelessness.
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