“It scared the shit outta me. I mean, my little girl was there. It scared the shit outta her, too.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jared said. He wanted nothing more than to tell Rick how deeply Kyle Duncan loved his daughter. But that would have brought more questions than he cared to answer. Or could.
“Can you tell me something?” Ricky said. “Man to man?”
Jared gave him a look. “Of course.”
“What happened that day? At Kyle’s accident.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Jared said. “It was just one of those things.”
Ricky looked both ways, then lowered his voice. “Listen, man. I love you. Always will. But I was there that day.”
~ 103
Jared hoped he didn’t look as guilty as he felt. The way Ricky Cowen was looking at him didn’t help.
“I was just down from the theater when that Buick hit,” Ricky said. “It was crazy. I tried to get to you, but I couldn’t get through all them people. Anyway …”
“Anyway, what.”
“I saw the whole thing. Everything.”
“Look … Rick … whatever you think you saw, it was just an accident.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” Ricky said. “Not even Gwen.”
Jared glanced her way. Gwen was talking with a woman and her two children. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“People aren’t stupid, Jare. They’re still talkin’ about it. And what happened with you and Sonia Wheaton.”
Jared turned to him. “Nothing happened with me and Sonia. Bobby attacked me at the funeral, and that wasn’t enough. He attacked me during the interview. I didn’t know how to deal with it. End of story.”
“Jesus, man. I’m tryin’ to help you here. I saw what happened with you and Kyle. I couldn’t hear what you were saying … but sure as shit I could read your lips.”
“I was just trying to comfort him.”
“Bullshit. It’s all over your face.”
“So what do you think, Rick? You think I killed Kyle Duncan?”
“Of course I don’t. But there were a lot of people there that day.”
“I don’t see anyone else asking,” Jared said. “I’ve seen a few hundred people today, easy.”
“Hey, give us small-town hicks some credit. We’re not all busy-bodies and religious fanatics. Some of us are even respectable.”
“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You remember that last night at the bar? What I said to you?”
“No. Not exactly.” Ohhh, I remember, Jared thought. How could I possibly forget when everyone keeps digging it up?
“Don’t let ’em change you,” Ricky said. “I was never a told-you-so kind of guy, but hey.”
“I’m the same guy I always was. Why do I find myself saying this over and over?”
“Maybe you aren’t. It’s okay. People change.”
“So what do you want me to say? I’m as sorry about what happened to Bobby’s son as anyone. Yes, I was there when he died. Yes, you saw something. But I was in shock, okay? God knows what I said.”
“Listen. I believe you.”
“Thank you.” Jared glanced past him. Marisa had just turned from the refreshment booth and was heading his way.
“Can I ask you something, Jare?”
“Sure.”
“What the hell is going on in this town?”
“How should I know?” Jared snapped. He paused, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you.”
Ricky saw Marisa approaching. He nodded obligingly. “We’re cool, bro.”
Marisa made her way up the slim rise and hurried beside Jared. “You look like you’re burning up.” She handed him some bottled water.
“Thanks, Mar,” Jared said. He struggled to open it, fighting the throb in his hands. They were trembling.
Marisa took the bottle and opened it for him.
“Jesus, you gotta get outta this heat,” Ricky said.
“I’m all right,” Jared insisted. He slipped under the canopy and took his seat and some water. “I’m all right.”
“Do you want me to talk to Gwen?” Marisa said. “You’ve been out here for almost two hours signing books. I think you’re done.”
“I’ve still got the reading,” Jared said. He regarded the wide stage that had been erected beyond the booths. A handful of organizers and other guests were buzzing about with last-minute preparations. Mayor Campbell was on the stage with some handlers, prepping himself behind a lectern.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ricky said.
Marisa agreed. “I’m going to talk to Gwen.”
“No,” Jared said. “It’s fine. I just need to cool down a bit. Besides, I got a lotta ink left in this pen.”
“Still a mule,” Ricky said.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Marisa said. She checked her watch, then looked at the mayor before she turned back to Jared. “It’s almost time. After the mayor’s speech, you’ve got your reading. Keep it short.”
“I will.”
“And I’m going to tell Gwen that the next signings are the last. Thirty minutes. I don’t care how many books you have left. Or how many fans go home disappointed. Comprende?”
Ricky looked at Jared. “Never argue with a woman who uses Spanish.”
Jared raised his water bottle as if toasting the statement. He was about to drink when Everett Horn approached.
“Father,” he said, extending a hand that Horn shook. The man sported baggy khaki shorts and a plain green T-shirt. White socks and beige sandals.
“Please. Everett,” Horn said. “It’s too bloody hot for formalities.” He turned to Marisa. “You look lovely as always.”
“Thank you,” she said, brightening.
“Richard.”
Ricky shook hands. “Fath—uh, Everett.” He gave Jared a shrug with raised brows when Horn turned.
Horn tapped the thick book he had slung under his arm. “It’s disappointingly gruesome.”
Jared didn’t know what to say. Insanity was gruesome. And that was putting it mildly.
Horn’s grim expression turned to laughter. “Got you!”
Jared shook his head, relieved. “You did.”
Marisa and Ricky looked just as relieved.
“It’s anything but disappointing,” Horn said. “It’s one of your best.”
“You read this stuff?” Ricky said.
“You don’t?” Horn said. “I thought you were his best friend.”
Ricky looked tongue-tied.
“Got you!” Horn laughed.
Ricky chuckled anxiously.
Horn put a hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “You really should read his work. Especially his debut. You know, I believe I even saw Rose Tillman with one of these.” He tapped the book and turned to Jared. “I brought my copy from home. Would you sign it for me?”
“Of course,” Jared said. “I’m sorry I never got out to your place like you asked.”
“Oh, not a problem,” Horn said. “But I do hope you drop by for a visit.”
Jared nodded as he took the book.
Horn looked about the crowd. He paused, glancing at one of the posters of Artie Fisher. “What do you suppose happened to him?”
“I don’t know,” Marisa said. “I just hope they find him.”
“As do we all. He’s a good man. I baptized his children—”
“Father?” Marisa said. “Are you all right?”
Horn seemed distracted suddenly. “Oh! Oh yes, I’m fine. It’s just very disheartening, all these foul events.”
Marisa nodded. Ricky did the same.
Horn tapped his watch as he glanced at the stage. “Almost time,” he said to Jared. “I look forward to the reading.”
Jared handed him the book.
Horn opened it eagerly. He flipped a page, then another. “Did you sign it?”
“I did,” Jared said.
&nbs
p; Horn checked the pages again. “I don’t see it.”
Jared took the book when Horn offered it. He flipped through the pages, certain he had signed it. The very first page.
“Are you all right?” Horn said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Jared said. Except for my fucked-up brain and my fucked-up body, everything’s peaches.
He sat silently while Horn waited. Marisa prodded him with a look, but it was Rick’s subtle motion of signing a check that stirred him. He gave his zany brainy a shake, then signed the book before handing it back to Horn.
“You don’t look well,” Horn said. “I could speak to the mayor. Tell him you’re not up to it.”
“Still watching over me,” Jared said happily.
“Always, my son. Are you sure about this?”
Jared could hear his agent now: Don’t disappoint the fans. “It’ll be fine.”
“Stubborn as ever,” Horn said lightly. “You gave the nurses fits.”
“They fed me pea soup,” Jared said. “Might as well have been dog food.”
Horn chuckled and patted his book. “Thank you, Jared.”
“You’re welcome.” Jared watched as Horn wandered off in the crowd.
“I never know how to take him,” Ricky said. “He’s so serious one moment, then cracking a joke the next.”
“I think he’s adorable,” Marisa said. She turned to Jared. “I know you’re not, but I want to hear you say it anyway. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Jared drank and forced a small smile. Marisa was a tad fuzzy, so was Rick. “I survived the parade, didn’t I?”
~ 104
The ceremony dragged on, and despite the heat, the fever, and the excessive attention, Jared managed to stay on his feet with a politician’s grin. Mayor Campbell gave a lengthy speech, and more than once Jared found his Rolex at a dead stop. When the mayor handed him the keys to the town, he stood on the stage shaking hands, feeling more like a congressman than an author. And as he glanced at the long red and gold banner strung up behind him, he certainly didn’t feel like the Falls’ greatest son.
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” he said to applause, his voice barely rising from the speakers. The mayor shook his hand again, then guided him closer to the microphone with a practiced incumbent smile.
“Thank you,” Jared said, this time to the crowd. He looked beyond the stage, down at Marisa and her parents. She stood between Sarah and Kit. Gwen and Ricky were at her side. She was beaming.
“Wow,” he said, looking back at the banner. “I don’t know if I deserve such an honor. It’s sure better than some reviews of my books.” The crowd approved with laughter.
“All I can say is, thank you,” he said. “It’s just … well … it’s just amazing.” The crowd applauded.
He raised his book. “I’m going to do a little reading if you don’t mind—” He was interrupted by more applause. “Thank you,” he said, holding up his hand to quiet the crowd. “But before I get started, I’d like to tell you a story. It’s about a struggling writer who never really believed in himself. A young man who never really felt he’d succeed. A young man with a dream, but one who mostly lacked the courage to chase it. Now, I could stand up here and tell you that that young man found his way and found the courage to make those dreams a reality. But the fact is, that young man owes his success to people like you: Readers. And—”
An eruption of applause stopped him, and he had to gesture again. He started to speak, but found himself choked up. “Give me a second.” He waited a moment, then went on. “I’m better with a keyboard,” he said, to some mild laughter. “What I’m trying to say is that, despite any talent or hard work, that young man, as timid and as doubtful as he was, held a secret weapon that he never knew he had. Marisa Judge.”
The crowd erupted again, and when Jared motioned for Marisa to come up, the cheers grew louder. Marisa went as red as a cherry and shied away with a shake of her head. Gwen Cowen coaxed her with a playful shove, and though she still protested, Kit’s priceless grin got her moving. She joined Jared on the stage, and he kissed her to the delight of all.
She put her lips to his ear. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “And if you ever embarrass me like this again, I’ll spank your sorry ass.”
Jared risked the spanking and motioned to the crowd. “My secret weapon!”
Marisa stood with him, still blushing. She waved hurriedly. She started to leave, but Jared tugged her back.
“They say,” he began, and pulled back because of the squeal from the speakers. “Sorry. They say that behind every successful man stands a good woman. It’s not a cliché. Not in this case. Everything I’ve achieved would not have been possible without the love and support of this woman.” He kissed Marisa again, and whistles joined the hoots and the hollers.
Marisa stepped down from the stage, and Jared waited for the applause to settle once more. “Fair warning,” he said, waving his book. The faces in the crowd were fuzzy, but a couple of blinks brought them to focus.
“This might get a little nasty for some of the young ones here. Maybe some of the not-so-young ones, too, heh heh. I thought about reading some poetry from Walt Whitman instead, and—”
The playful boo-birds drowned him out.
Jared chuckled. “And apparently that would have been a big mistake. Okay, Torch Falls. You’ve been warned.”
The sun beat down, and he sipped from his water bottle. The water was piss-warm, but it helped. He opened the book and hesitated. He had always hooked his readers with a snappy first line, and this was no different.
Oh, fuck. What were you thinking?
“Travis—” He paused to clear his throat. He glanced down at Marisa, and she coaxed him forward with a small smile.
“… Travis Richter slipped the knife from his wife’s brain. He stared at the silvered blade as it glistened in the fine rays of the dawn from their bedroom window. It was her blood that so took him; her blood which, as he ran his tongue along the blade, tasted so sweet.
“She hadn’t put up much of a struggle. That angered him. Just as it had angered him in the moonlight, after he’d tasted his twin girls. He—”
Jared stopped. His heart seemed to skip three beats. A wave of heat struck him, rising inside of him. He gazed out over the crowd, dizzied. There seemed many more than the hundred or so gathered. There was now a sea of bodies, growing fuzzier with every breath.
He looked down at the page and tried to focus. The crowd was silent. One of the mayor’s assistants came up to him, and he waved her off. “Sorry,” he said to the mic. “It’s a little warm up here.”
He couldn’t remember where he was on the page. Had he read the second paragraph? The third? Had he even started?
Again that wave of heat surged within him. He fought it, but it felt as if something was crawling inside of him, worming its way through his body. He placed a hand on the lectern to steady himself. The words on the page were fuzzy.
“She hadn’t p-put up much of—sorry. Sorry. He took—”
Jared groaned. The fever hammered him. He tried to keep it together, but then the burning inside of him seemed to sweep through his eyes. He could feel the veins around them thickening, spreading.
“He took—he took—”
Blood dripped to the page.
~ 105
Jared stared at the page. At the splatter of blood.
He looked up, and several in the crowd gasped. Blood was spilling from his nostrils. He tried to stem the flow with his hand, and blood seeped between his fingers.
Pain rippled through him. He cried out. The veins around his eyes sprawled out and skirted along his cheeks. They were wormy and black. The crowd reacted, some of them stepping back, all of them glued to the stage. They were growing fuzzier, dimmer. He heard Marisa call his name, but he couldn’t find her.
He stiffened against the lectern, only to cry out again as the back of his head exploded in agony. It was that same brutal pain that had first struck hi
m in the park, the mass of a steel bar smashing against his skull.
Marisa called again as she bolted for the stage. It was then that Jared felt burning rage overwhelm him. It tunneled through him as if channeled, as if it held will. Held want.
His grip on the lectern faltered. His face contorted. He staggered back and his knees buckled. He hit the stage and knocked against the lectern. All he saw was a blur as Marisa bounded toward him.
Most of the onlookers on stage rose from their seats. The mayor was on his feet. His handlers were up, and one of them bolted for Jared. The mayor shouted for someone to call 9-1-1.
Jared curled up, fighting the fever. Fighting the rage. It flowed like a boiling river through his body. He groaned as Marisa knelt beside him, screaming. She threw her arms around him, and at her touch, the rage surged.
Marisa rocked back as if shoved by an invisible force. She hit the stage hard and nearly rolled off. “Jared!” She looked up to the woman beside her. “Help him! Help him!”
The woman got down on one knee and quickly fell to the other. Her mouth dropped open as if something had clutched her throat. She was choking. Her eyes rolled, her arms flailed, and she crumpled to the stage in a heap. She held her throat and started coughing, trying to catch her wind.
The crowd stood in horror as the mayor stepped in. But when something grabbed him and threw him from the stage onto several onlookers, a large number panicked and fled. In a breath, a full-out stampede was on, and some of the assembled were trampled. Rose Tillman was bowled over by an upturned table. Others began to fall at random, as if thrown to the ground by an unseen hand. Henry Judge held his wife close, protecting her from the rush of bodies sweeping past them.
At the cry from a child, Jared watched helplessly as Marisa shot to her feet. Kit cowered behind Sarah Coleman. He peered out from behind her, his milky eyes wide behind his array of lenses.
“Kit!” Marisa went for the stairs. Kit ducked out from behind Sarah and started to run. He was nearly trampled, and Marisa screamed. Sarah went after him, Marisa racing after them.
Gateway Page 24
