The Long Sleep

by Caroline Crane

  “He’s gorgeous.”

  “You mean I’m not?” I scanned the parking lot and the street beyond it for a yellow car with giant tires. “Do you think he still drives the same thing?”

  “Who, Ben?”

  “No. Him. I don’t want him sneaking up on me.”

  “You mean the yellow thing? Maddie, I swear I haven’t seen him since he got kicked out of Lakeside. I wouldn’t know what he’s up to now.”

  I thought of roses. And “Over the Rainbow.” That’s what he was up to, but if I told her, she wouldn’t believe his intentions weren’t romantic. She had a romantic mind.

  My straw made a gurgly sound. “I wonder what he’d do if I said I wanted to get back together.”

  “Do you? Really?” She finished her own drink and reached for her coat.

  “I absolutely do not.” How could she think that? “I just thought it might knock him off balance. Make him decide he doesn’t want me after all. Which I don’t think he really does. It’s a control thing.” I added in a tough-guy male voice, “Nobody dumps Evan Steffers.”

  Glyn said nothing.

  I looked all around as we went out to the parking lot. It was small enough that I’d have seen the yellow monstrosity if it were there.

  “This was fun,” Glyn said. “We should do it again soon. In the meantime, girlfriend, let it go. He’ll get over you someday.”

  “No, he won’t. It’s an obsession. Like I said, it’s control he wants, not me, and he’s not going to let it go. He’s already shot—”

  I stopped, not wanting to get into that. I wanted to get in my car and go home. The parking lot was much too open.

  “Shot who?”

  “Let’s talk in my car.”

  “Mads, you’re letting him get to you.”

  “He already has.” I unlocked the car and we both got in.

  Then I realized what a bad idea it was. All those windows. I’d been in this same car when Hank was shot. I had a sudden vivid flashback of that night.

  But now it was daytime, although getting toward evening. There were people all around. He wouldn’t dare. Especially with a rifle, which is hard to conceal. Falco told me it was probably a rifle but they hadn’t found the weapon itself.

  I gave Glyn a full account of what happened, leaving her with a dropped jaw when I finished.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just did.” All except my many visits to the hospital and my feelings for Hank.

  “But you don’t know it was him,” she argued. “It could have been anybody.”

  She said that about the pebbles, too. She was right that it could have been anybody else, but I very much doubted that it was.

  “At first,” I admitted, “I thought it was somebody who didn’t agree with Hank. He was trying to be even-handed, but people hear what they want to hear and they always think they can force their ideas on other people.”

  “Not everybody thinks that,” she said. “It’s the ones who do that make the news.” She looked around as streetlights came on. “It’s getting dark. We’d better hit the road. Or were you counting on your friendly neighborhood cop to save you?”

  She got out of the car, and then leaned in through the open door. “I wonder what they do if they catch you driving after dark with a junior license. Can they actually arrest you?”

  “They can take away your license,” I said.

  “Ouch, that’s bad.” She grinned and straightened up. I hadn’t liked her leaning in. It left her butt exposed to rifle fire.

  She started to close the door, then leaned in again. “Come on back to Lakeside. I mean it. We could have such fun.” She closed the door and waved goodbye.

  Had it been that much fun when I was there? The last few months were so full of Evan being a dictator that I couldn’t remember the good times.

  And why was Glyn so insistent on Evan’s innocence? She’d always been on my side before.

  Maybe I was being closed-minded. Maybe the shooter really was somebody trying to destroy Hank’s bright ideas and Hank along with them.

  At home, I wrote a diatribe for the paper, expressing my view of people who think they can impose their ideas by violence. “The pen is mightier than the sword,” I quoted. I forgot who said it first.

  Well, maybe that was true. It wasn’t a pen that put Hank into a coma. But my writing about it might start people thinking and ultimately make a difference.

  I saved the article and went to bed.

  But not for long. Again I woke to hear the dogs barking.

  I could feel my heart trying to pound its way through my chest. What was he doing this time? I listened for pebbles. That in itself would keep me awake all night, just waiting. It was psychological warfare. And Glyn thought I should let it go.

  There were no pebbles this time. What if he’d gotten into the house, deadbolt, and all? He did it before, that time in October, with only a glasscutter. I suspected it was what got him kicked out of Lakeside. The school wasn’t too keen on kids with a police record.

  I didn’t hear anything. No pebbles, no intruder. Even the dogs had stopped.

  I lay staring into darkness and tried to think pleasant thoughts. I thought of Hank. He must have been relieved, if he could feel it, to get that breathing tube out. It looked so uncomfortable, a tube going down his throat, and not a thin one, either. I’d have been gagging constantly. Even the dentist made me gag when he got too close to where my gag reflex was.

  I wondered if Hank could feel anything at all. Did he have pain where the shot entered his head? I should have asked if they took the bullet out. Sometimes they don’t, if they think the surgery might do further damage. Imagine going through life knowing there’s a bullet in you. Especially your head. Maybe I didn’t want to know if they left it in.

  Like it or not, I would have to know so I could write about him for the paper. Every week I would write an update. That would give me a reason for visiting.

  Even with the dogs quiet, I couldn’t get up and look out. It would mean going downstairs. My parents’ room was on the front side of the house. Ben and I were in back.

  Then the barking began again. I got up and opened my door just a crack. I couldn’t see them, but I could tell by the sound that they were near the front door. A car started up. It sounded too close to be out on Lake Road, and then it was gone.

  What nerve, coming right up to the house. What did he do this time? It wasn’t pebbles. I hoped he hadn’t wired the house with explosives. Or poured gasoline all around. I didn’t smell any.

  If my whole family got blown up, and the dogs, too, it would be my fault. With that cheering thought, I went back to bed and hoped I could sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  By morning I’d almost forgotten the disturbance. Everything seemed normal. I was dashing around, getting ready for school, eating shredded wheat because Rhoda wouldn’t buy anything with sugar and most things came loaded with it. Then I remembered the car starting up the night before.

  It gave me a moment of choking on my cereal. I tried again to take Glyn’s advice, as in get over it. By being so afraid of him I was letting him own me just as he wanted to. This was Monday morning. People would surround me all day. Nothing to worry about.

  I gulped down the rest of my breakfast, chucked my book bag into the car along with a tin of cookies for Falco, and set out toward Lake Road.

  Our driveway was a blind one, making a sharp turn with bushes on either side. I had to stop and check for traffic. There was always traffic because the road dead-ended at Lakeside School. People would drop their kids off, then turn around and come back.

  I eased my foot onto the brake.

  The pedal kept going down. All the way to the floor. The car slid forward as if there were no brake.

  Two-way traffic and I was heading straight into it. I couldn’t do anything but steer into a rhododendron bush and hear the branches smashing. I screamed.

  I turned off my engine. Good thinking, Mad
die.

  I screamed again. Blew the horn.

  In my rearview mirror I saw Rhoda come running from the kitchen. Her mouth moved but I couldn’t hear her.

  Then she was at my window. I still couldn’t hear. I refused to turn on the engine and lower the window, and I was making noise myself.

  Ben followed her, but stopped to examine something on the driveway. I opened my door. My heart beat fast and my legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Ben came to the front of the car and gestured for me to pop the hood. I couldn’t find the lever. I couldn’t think. Finally I remembered where it was. While he opened it, Rhoda helped me out of the car.

  “It wouldn’t stop!” I cried. “It was going straight out into the road! I’m sorry about your bushes.”

  Ben kept the hood open. “Did you let anybody fuss with this?”

  “Did I...let anybody...?”

  “Your brake line is cut.”

  “The brake line?” Rhoda said.

  “Where the brake fluid is.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

  The dogs. They had been barking at something.

  Then Daddy was there. He, too, bent to examine the stain on the driveway.

  “L-last night.” My voice quavered. “The dogs. And Saturday night he threw pebbles, like before. I didn’t hear any last night.”

  They, too, had heard the dogs barking. They didn’t know about the pebbles.

  “You said he was in New Hampshire,” Ben reminded me. “You insisted.”

  “I thought he was. Until the pebbles. Glynis said so.” I felt weak and saggy and told my mother, “I can’t go to school like this.” I meant my weakness and sagginess.

  “Yes, you can,” she said. “You can ride with Ben. I’ll call the garage and have them pick up your car.”

  It was blocking the way out. Ben thumped on the hood. “You’ll have to move this thing. You steer, I’ll push.”

  I didn’t want anything to do with the car but no one could get out with it there. I took a deep breath and climbed in. Daddy joined Ben with pushing. Rhoda directed while I steered backward.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked the car. “Blow your horn, or bite him.” I could almost see that hood crashing down on top of Evan. I would come out in the morning and he’d be stuck there, if he was still alive. He’d have had to spend the night with his face in a greasy engine. Serve him right.

  Ben checked his own brake line and belts and whatever else he could think of, and we set off to pick up Cree. I left the cookies at home.

  “According to the dogs,” I said as we drove, “he was here both Saturday and last night. Why didn’t somebody catch him and kill him?”

  Ben said, “It takes a while for the fluid to leak out.”

  “So it could have been Saturday? I used the car yesterday!”

  “Hard to say. It was a pretty big gash. It could have killed your brakes right about here.”

  We were starting down the steep hill toward the bridge. I could see myself hurtling out of control straight into the Vanorden Kill. It wasn’t deep enough to drown in but the crash would have finished me off. “Why doesn’t anything ever happen to him?”

  “You did,” said Ben.

  “I did?”

  “Isn’t that what he’s all worked up about?” He took the hill slowly. I closed my eyes.

  “You’re going to report this to your policeman friend,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “You bet I am.”

  “Why not now? Does he have voicemail?”

  “Yes, he does.” I would have to tell him everything right off so he wouldn’t try to call me at school.

  I felt the road flatten, heard a clanking, and knew we were on the bridge. I opened my eyes.

  Ben said, “I never did like that guy.”

  “Who, Rick? Falco?”

  “Your football jerk. I mean jock.”

  “I wish I never heard of him.”

  “That’s not how it used to be.”

  “Why don’t we not talk about him?”

  I hoped Evan wouldn’t come while we were all out, and beat up on the dogs. Or burn the house or blow it up.

  I had programmed Rick’s number into my speed dial and hoped I wouldn’t be waking him. I got voicemail and left a message, with Ben advising me on what to say, just as we reached Cree’s house.

  Cree and I had been through a lot together, with Cree almost getting killed a few times. I told her about the brakes.

  “You’re kidding!” she said.

  “Ask Ben. I didn’t even know the jerk was back in town.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  The same thing Glynis said. “Who else would it be?” I snapped.

  “Well . . .”

  I knew what that meant. “If you’re thinking of the person who shot Hank, how would they know where I live?”

  “Depending on who it was,” said Ben.

  “I know who it was. The jerk’s thrown pebbles at me twice. This time he didn’t get any reaction so he had to try something else.”

  “That’s a pretty dangerous something else,” said Cree.

  “That’s why my mom thinks it can’t be him. She, if anybody, should know those things can escalate.”

  The bell rang and we started inside. Ben asked, “Did you have your car locked at home?”

  He must have known I hadn’t. He was the only one who locked up at home. Both our parents parked in the garage. Their cars were newer and more valuable, and two was all it could hold.

  “You should,” he said.

  “In the driveway? Why should I have to lock up in my own driveway?”

  “You’re asking why? After this?”

  “Okay, okay. I never thought he’d be so brazen. In fact, maybe everybody’s right and it wasn’t him. Maybe he really is in New Hampshire.”

  “The fact is, somebody messed with your car.”

  “Yes, Ben. I will henceforth lock it. But if you can’t be safe in your own home . . .”

  The next bell sounded. Hardly anyone was left in the parking lot.

  Just as I hurried inside, my phone rang. I hadn’t turned it off.

  The readout said Wireless Caller. It could have been Rick. But all I could think of was Evan.

  Cree looked back at me. We were in the same homeroom. I waved her on ahead, pressed Talk, and waited for a blast of march music.

  Instead, I heard, “Madelyn? Are you there? It’s Rick Falco.”

  “Officer—Rick—I’m here.” And I was going to be late.

  “I got your message,” he said. “The brake line? Give me details.”

  I gave them as fast as I could. “He’s such a creep. I could have been killed.”

  “Yes,” Rick agreed, “you could have. But we have no proof that he did it.”

  Not you, too.

  “He’s supposed to be in New Hampshire,” I said. “Why isn’t he there?”

  “You’re right about that, too, Maddie. He isn’t.”

  I felt vindicated and shaken at the same time.

  Rick went on. “I called the Garson Academy. Their office wasn’t officially open but I got them to check. He’s gone. They wouldn’t tell me why or where. I had the impression he might have been asked to leave.”

  “He’s a criminal. He tried to kill me.”

  “I’ll have a look at the car. Where is it?”

  “It was home when I left. My mom is going to call a tow truck and get it fixed. They usually go to Barger Brothers.”

  “I’ll give them a call right now and hope they’re not working on it yet.”

  Another bell. I wished I could go home, but Ben had taken his key. He wouldn’t want me driving his precious truck anyway.

  On second thought, the school might be safer, if only I were in the mood. But I wasn’t.

  A chilly wind blew. It told me I should go on in, even late.

  Homeroom hadn’t been dismissed yet and they all stared. I tried not to mind it. At least I had gotten in
while she was still taking attendance.

  All day, I couldn’t concentrate. I kept going over and over my near date with death. It could have happened yesterday, braking hard on that steep hill, pushing out fluid until the brakes failed. Lucky me, when they finally went, I’d been home on level ground, and I had survived. Thank God for that and for the rhododendron bush that stopped me.

  And for Rhoda’s love of rhododendrons. She planted them everywhere, not only for their looks and for privacy, but it was also her name. Rhoda came from the Greek for “rose.”

  After school, as Cree and I waited for Ben, I called the nurses’ station at the hospital. I had put that, too, in my speed dial.

  As soon as I gave my name, they said, “Oh, you’re the young lady who comes to visit.”

  How embarrassing.

  “Yes, but I’m not a family member, so I can’t go in.” That should identify me further. “I’m the one who gave you the tape to play for him.” I didn’t know which nurse this was, but thought I’d better remind them they had it.

  Whoever she was, she had some news. Not the good kind. “I’m sorry to say we had a little setback. Late this morning he had some trouble breathing. We had to intubate him again.”

  My head reeled. I wished I could get inside Ben’s truck and sit down. All I could do was lean against it.

  “Oh . . .” It came out a moan.

  “Those things happen,” the nurse said matter-of-factly. “We’re monitoring him very closely.”

  They must have been, if they knew he had trouble breathing. And got to him right away before he suffered more brain damage.

  “Um—thank you.” Almost automatically, I added, “I’ll be in touch.”

  Cree asked, “Are you okay?”

  “No.” Was she really interested? “You know Hank Dalbeck who got shot? He was having trouble breathing. They had to intubate him.”

  The word sounded pretentious.

  “You mean like a breathing tube?” she asked as Ben arrived and unlocked the door.

  “It’s this big around.” I showed her with my fingers. “It must be horrible having that in your throat, especially when they’re putting it in. I hope he’s not too aware.”