The Sunport was pink and green with little booths selling turquoise jewelry and knickknacks that were supposed to remind people that they were in the Southwest. JD was going to a bigger town, although Durham was still small compared to many other cities. The adjustment wouldn’t be too hard, especially since he’d be breathing football, parties, and girls—there would be no time to be lonely. Ro had lived in or near a big city almost her entire life. She was going back to her roots.
Ben was alone—a small-town boy going to the big city for the first time. Ro and JD had regular backpacks, while Ben had a wheelie bag. He felt like a six-year-old, but better to feel infantile than to rip something open.
The boys sat with Ro between them. While Ben began fussing with his laptop, JD and Ro carried on a semiprivate conversation revolving around JD’s football games and Ro’s choice of a sorority. Ben thought about navigating life without a quest.
Within a half hour, there was a boarding announcement for the flight to Baltimore, and that’s when JD got up. He hugged Ben first.
“Take care, Vicks. And when your start-up offers its IPO, let me in on it.”
“You’ll be the first one I call.”
“And when we make it into the finals, give me a call and I’ll wrangle you a ticket.”
“I’ll be there, James David, making sure you don’t do anything felonious in the after-game celebration. Take care.”
Ben took his wheelie and went over to his gate, giving JD and Ro some privacy to say their good-byes.
Five minutes later Ro sat down next to him. “I have a little time.”
“You want to sit by your gate? You’re leaving first.”
“This is fine. I’ll hear the boarding announcements.”
“What boarding group are you?”
“C.”
“I’m C too.”
“I’ll probably get seated next to a sleazy guy or a wailing baby. God forbid there should be a cute guy on board.”
“You never know.”
“I guess I’ll see you around Thanksgiving.” She fiddled with her chipped nails. “You’ll be home, right?”
“Of course. If it had been up to me, I would have never left home.”
He laughed and so did she. It was strained for both of them.
She said, “It’s really time for both of us. Although I have my doubts how much four years of parties, drinking, and sex can help me become productive.”
“I see what your priorities are.”
“And what are your priorities, Vicks?”
“Getting up in the morning.”
She hit him. The first garbled boarding announcement for Midway came across the loudspeaker. She stood up and so did he.
“I’ll walk you over.”
“It’s just across the aisle.”
“I want to be with you.”
“That’s different.” She put her backpack on and took his arm. She said, “So you’ll come visit me in Philadelphia?”
Ben couldn’t help it. His eyes moistened.
Ro said, “Okay, okay, you don’t have to visit me.”
He hugged her tightly. “Of course I’ll visit you.”
She leaned her head on his chest. “I will never, ever find another boy like you, Benjamin Vicksburg. You are an original. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She broke away. “Let’s talk when we get settled.”
“Good idea. And tell me what you think of Grant when you go for a weekend in Boston. He’s already planning a million things.”
“You know, you don’t have to set me up. I think I can do okay on my own.”
“I’m not setting you up. It’s his idea, Ro. He’s dying to meet you. That boy knows a good thing when he sees it.”
They heard the boarding announcement for the B group. Ro said, “I’d better stand in line.”
They walked hand in hand up to the gate until her group was called. Ben said, “Knock ’em dead, Dorothy. Philadelphia will never know what hit it.”
“Philadelphia is just the start, baby. Because once you’re in the majors, there is no going back.” She broke away and handed her ticket to the airline attendant. “Bye, Vicks. Go out and own the world.” She pranced down the Jetway: tall, proud, and full of herself. Ben wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Back in front of the gate for the Southwest flight to LAX, Ben was alone until his group was called. The flight was full, but he managed to snag an aisle seat next to a mother and a four-year-old kid who was already bouncing in his seat. Ben didn’t care. He liked the energy.
Before he stuffed his wheelie underneath his seat, he retrieved a college guidebook, well-worn and dog-eared, that took him back to an earlier time. Ellen and he were sitting at the breakfast bar at their house, just the two of them. It was before school and their mom was busy getting Haley dressed. He was wolfing down sugar cereal, listening to Spotify on his phone—a recent gift for his birthday. Ellen was drinking juice and munching on toast. She wore a red T-shirt and jeans, and her hair was in her eyes as she studied the book.
“I’ve found it, Benny.” He hadn’t heard her initially because of his earbuds. She hit his arm and he took them out.
“Huh?”
“I said I found where I want to go to college.”
“Where?”
“Bryn Mawr.”
“Bryn Mawr?” With his usual tact at fourteen, he said, “What’s so good about Bryn Mawr?”
“Well, it’s near Philadelphia.”
“What’s so good about Philadelphia?”
“It’s near Bryn Mawr.”
He had laughed. That much he remembered. “That’s crack-ass.” He checked his watch. He was meeting his buds before school started. They often did that. Also, he liked to bike when the roads were clear. He picked up his backpack and Ellen handed him the book.
“You keep this. I don’t need it anymore.”
He tucked the book into the pocket of his backpack. “Are you really going away to college?”
“Of course I’m going away to college,” she answered.
Something came over him. Even at fourteen, he knew he’d miss her when she left. “Then I guess I’ll have to visit you in Philadelphia.”
She gave him a thousand-watt smile. “I’d like that, Benny.”
That was the last time he ever saw his sister in the flesh. At least it had been a good memory. And perhaps because it was, he was able to keep his promise. Holding her book, he paged through until he found Bryn Mawr. She had checked it off with a smiley face, writing: This is it!
Her writing made him smile.
And then it made him cry.
Instead of her, he was the one going off to school—for all the people who believed in him, all the people who worked so hard—family, teachers, mentors, and friends. But most of all, it was for Ellen. Always and forever.
The four-year-old was looking at him. Embarassed, Ben wiped his face. His phone beeped: a text from Lilly. R U there?
He texted back, Just sitting on the plane, waiting to take off.
There was a pause.
I envy you.
So you come join me, hon. Least you could do since it was your idea.
Another long pause.
I don’t know, Ben . . . I’ve got a long road ahead.
And what could he say to that?
She texted, I’m scared, Ben. I’m scared of EVERYTHING.
He replied, So come join me at Caltech and I promise I’ll hold your hand.
What if therapy doesn’t work? What if I can’t talk ever again beyond a squeak? I can’t even scream for help.
So come join me and I promise I’ll be your voice. Your brainpower is still off the charts. You have no excuses, young lady.
Another pause.
I may have the brains, Ben, but I no longer have the heart.
Again, his eyes went wet.
So take my heart. You own it anyway.
He could picture her face, and see her eyes
moisten with tears. They had spent a lot of time together once she was out of the hospital. At first, the conversations had centered around her: what she needed and how she felt, questions asked and answered, until there was nothing left to tell her. The endless writing seemed to exhaust her. So to fill in the silences, Ben began to talk about himself. And as he talked, she began to answer with an occasional mouthing of words. And the funny thing about lipreading is you concentrate very hard because some words look alike if you’re not paying close enough attention. It means looking intensely at someone’s face. And when you really look at the face, you notice a lot more.
And the more he looked at Lilly and read her mouthed but unspoken communication, the more he truly understood Lilly Tafoya. It was like meeting her for the first time. And talking about himself . . . it was like he was meeting himself for the first time as well.
He confided in her, things that he hadn’t admitted in a long, long time. And as he did, she ceased to be just his little sister’s best friend. Lilly Tafoya became his friend.
Girlfriend?
Not yet.
But like George said, she wouldn’t be fifteen forever.
Ben saw his future. Lilly would come to school with him. If she couldn’t talk, he’d shadow her in class if she wanted. And if she didn’t want it, he’d still be around in case she changed her mind. And they’d get educated together. They’d get advanced degrees. Eventually, they’d go back to New Mexico, where, like her parents, they would probably wind up with jobs at one of the many labs. They’d get married—two ceremonies: one in a church and the other at the pueblo. They’d go to local sports games, take long walks in the mountains, play Scrabble and video games. They’d be on school boards and community boards and make the system better. They’d throw birthday parties and block parties and holiday parties. They’d make a family together, a life together. They’d grow old together.
For most guys his age, this was surely a vision of hell. To him, it was exactly what he’d wanted for the last three-plus years: a chance to live a normal life.
She still hadn’t texted him back, so he texted her again.
I’ve got to turn off the phone. They’re making announcements and the flight attendant is giving me the stink eye.
He was about to press the off button when his phone chimed. He looked down at the text.
I love you, Ben.
A huge smile planted itself across his face.
“Sir, you have to turn off your phone.”
He looked up. The flight attendant, a woman in her fifties with short blond hair and muddy blue eyes, wore a very stern expression.
“She just told me she loves me.” He showed her the text.
The woman sighed and rolled her hand in the air as if to say, Hurry up. He texted Lilly back but didn’t push the send button. To the flight attendant, he asked, “‘I love you too’ or ‘I love you, Lilly’?”
“‘I love you, Lilly,’” she whispered.
“Yeah, I thought so.” He pushed the send button. Once he saw that the message had gone through, he turned off the phone and stowed it away.
Then, for the first time in what seemed like a very long time, he sat back to enjoy the ride.
About the Author
Faye Kellerman lives with her husband, New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman, in Los Angeles, California, and Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Faye Kellerman
Bone Box
The Theory of Death
Murder 101
The Beast
Gun Games
Hangman
Blindman’s Bluff
The Mercedes Coffin
The Burnt House
The Ritual Bath
Sacred and Profane
The Quality of Mercy
Milk and Honey
Day of Atonement
False Prophet
Grievous Sin
Sanctuary
Justice
Prayers for the Dead
Serpent’s Tooth
Moon Music
Jupiter’s Bones
Stalker
The Forgotten
Stone Kiss
Street Dreams
Straight into Darkness
The Garden of Eden and Other Criminal Delights: A Book of Short Stories
With Jonathan Kellerman
Double Homicide
Capital Crimes
With Aliza Kellerman
Prism
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
killing season. Copyright © 2017 by Plot Line, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
first edition
Cover design by Jae Song
Cover photograph © Kim Kozlowski Photography, LLC/Getty Images
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition OCTOBER 2017 ISBN: 978-0-06-227026-9
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-227024-5
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON M4W 1A8, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com
Killing Season Page 55
