He wanted to blurt out, Johnny is dead! “You’re right.”
Palpable surprise.
Pat spoke first. “We are?”
“I know you don’t like me hanging out on school nights, and I won’t do it anymore. I’ll only see Johnny on weekends from now on.”
“How will you get to school?”
“I’ll go with Dad.”
Robert smiled. “You see? I told you he’d see the big picture if we just explained things properly.” He returned his attention to his lesson plans.
Nibbling on his toast, Eric avoided his mother’s suspicious stare.
When they entered the attached garage, Robert tossed his car keys into the air. “Catch.”
The keys sailed past Eric’s bleary eyes and rattled on the floor. He retrieved them from the smooth cement and raised his eyebrows.
“Your own set,” Robert said, vapor swirling from his mouth. “You need the practice.”
“Thanks.” But Eric didn’t feel grateful; the aspirin he’d taken had failed to ease the throbbing in his head. His stomach constricted and expanded. He tossed his gym bag into the Lexus’s backseat, got into the front, and opened the garage door with the remote control on his new key chain. Hazy sunlight spilled inside, causing him to squint. He fastened his seat belt as his father got into the car beside him, then turned the ignition and allowed the engine to warm up. Robert switched on the radio, and Eric’s heart skipped a beat. National Public Radio came over the speakers and he relaxed.
No local news.
He followed the same route to school that Johnny used, and they listened to the radio without speaking. His spine iced up as they passed the municipal building; a police officer crossed the parking lot and got into a cruiser. They continued up Main Street, passing the cemetery and, a quarter of a mile later, the supermarket. Out of the corner of his left eye, Eric spied another police vehicle parked in the supermarket’s driveway.
Chief Crane, he thought, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror, but the SUV did not pull behind them.
“Eyes on the road,” Robert said.
They passed Johnny’s house and Eric swallowed hard. Dark windows faced them, the dilapidated porch drooping like a sullen mouth. Was Charlie awake?
He wanted to scream.
A yellow school bus pulled into the street ahead of them, and he followed it to the school grounds.
“You can go a little faster,” Robert said.
Eric realized he had slowed the car to a crawl and the bus had pulled far ahead. He sped up, following the half loop between The Lot and the main building, and noted the flag, rippling in the wind, at half-mast. Students swarmed The Lot, and he felt the blood draining from his face. For a moment, his vision blurred.
“I wonder what happened,” Robert said, staring at the flag.
“I don’t know.” Eric idled behind the bus as it discharged its passengers.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure the whole town will be gossiping about it by lunchtime.”
Eric nodded without blinking. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Robert got out and circled the Lexus. Eric didn’t want to leave the car, didn’t want to set foot inside the school. I’m alone now.
But he had no choice.
He got out, cold wind numbing his face and pumping oxygen into his tired brain at the same time, and heard laughter in the distance. He pulled his gym bag out of the backseat even though he had no intention of attending practice. But he had to keep up appearances for the time being.
“Have a good day,” Robert said.
“You, too.” Eric stepped onto the sidewalk as his father drove off. He followed the curved sidewalk to the main building, and through the glass lobby doors he saw shadowy figures shuffling in opposite directions. Mr. Milton stood outside his office, ashen faced and glancing at his watch.
Eric grasped the door handle, entered the lobby, and joined the tide of moving flesh. Mr. Milton didn’t look at him. Eric pulled off his knit hat and ran one hand through his short hair as he turned at an intersection of dark corridors on the far side of the cafeteria. A figure wearing a plaid flannel shirt over a concert T-shirt stood leaning against his locker, arms folded, waiting.
“How’d it go?” Gary said in a low tone as he stepped clear of the locker.
Eric scanned the students congregating in the hall. Nobody paid any attention to them. “Okay.” He dialed the combination on his locker door. “My parents were in bed when I got home.”
“Cool. They didn’t mention the accident on the news, so most people are still in the dark.”
Eric opened his locker, peeled off his coat, and hung it on a hook. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”
“Just stay cool, okay? The news will be out soon enough. We’ll answer a few questions and it will all be over. I’m going to go find Karen. See you in homeroom.”
“Right.”
Gary slipped into the crowd, and Eric pulled textbooks from the top shelf of his locker. An electronic bell chimed over the recessed ceiling speakers, and his body turned rigid.
Five-minute countdown.
Chapter 9
Gary followed the corridor on the far side of the gym and the pool, away from the crowded locker area. He knew where to find Karen: sunlight shone through the glass door at the end of the isolated corridor, facing the rear school grounds. His combat boots squeaked on the floor, and the dull sunlight glared in his eyes. A silhouette came into view on the other side of the door, surrounded by a halo. He pushed the panic bar and the door swung open, its sudden movement startling Karen, who dropped her cigarette by accident.
“Oh!” she said, catching her breath.
“Relax.” Gary inspected her puffy eyelids. “How’re you holding up?”
She shivered. “Not too good.”
“You’ve got to suck it up until word gets out.”
“I’m trying.”
He withdrew a thick joint from his shirt pocket. “Here, fire this up.”
Karen looked around, her eyes widening. “Are you crazy?”
Gary held the joint out to her. “Go on, take it. Who’s going to know?” He gestured at the field of undisturbed snow beyond the school.
She stared at the joint.
“It’ll calm you down.”
Karen took the joint and stuck it between her lips. Gary took out his lighter and ignited a small blue flame. Karen shielded the joint with one hand and puffed away, lighting it. She took a deep drag, held the marijuana smoke in her lungs, exhaled. Peace clouded her eyes, and she offered the joint to Gary.
“Uh-uh. I want to be clearheaded when the news breaks. You, too. Take another drag or two, then save the rest for later. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’m going to homeroom. Try not to be late.”
Nodding again, she took another hit.
Eric felt self-conscious as soon as he entered Carol Crane’s homeroom class. Todd Kumler sat on the far side of the aisle, flirting with Jackie Angelino in the row behind him. Cliff and Derek sat beside him, competing for the attention of Jackie’s best friend, Rene Algier. None of them paid any attention to Eric as he took his seat, but Carol seemed to take special notice of him, as if she had been waiting for him. He glimpsed concern in her eyes, and he looked down at his textbook, avoiding them.
She knows, he thought. Of course she did. Chief Crane must have told her right away. He stared at the words in the book, but they would not come into focus. Rhonda sat in the row ahead of him. Whispering voices enveloped him like fog. Gary sat down, Johnny’s empty desk separating them. He opened his notebook and doodled on it with a pen. A sequence of electronic notes descended from the ceiling speaker and the students’ voices trailed off.
“Thank you and good morning.” Mr. Milton’s voice sounded cold and distant over the PA system, and he spoke with a slower cadence than usual. “It is with great sadness that I must inform
you of a terrible tragedy that’s befallen a fellow student.”
Backs arched around the room and eyes rose to the speaker. Eric felt Carol studying his reaction. He swallowed as Mr. Milton’s disembodied voice continued.
“John Grissom, a senior, died last night in an automobile accident.”
The students burst into a cacophony of gasps. As he looked at Johnny’s empty seat, Eric allowed himself to experience the shock he’d been suppressing.
“Oh, shit!” Gary said.
Rhonda turned and looked at them, her eyebrows raised above the rims of her glasses.
“John was a member of the wrestling squad his freshman and sophomore years,” Mr. Milton said, “and he will be sorely missed. A funeral service will be held early next week, and students with written permission will be excused from class to attend. Please join me for a minute of silence.”
Bowing his head, Eric felt tears in his eyes. Across the room, Todd said, “They should bury him in the smoking lounge so all his peers can pay their respects.”
Derek and Cliff giggled, and Carol shot an angry look in their direction. Before she could say anything, Eric leapt out of his chair.
“Shut the hell up!”
Heads turned in his direction, and Gary did a double take. Todd’s mouth fell open. Cliff and Derek gaped.
Carol rose to her feet. “Eric, please sit down.”
A tingling sensation spread through his brain.
Carol moved toward him. “Eric—?”
Her voice sounded hollow. Eric’s heart fluttered, and the room spun around him.
Losing my balance …
Turning back, he felt weightless as he reached for the back of his chair. He tottered to his right and his view flipped sideways. He saw Rhonda calling his name but he did not hear her voice. Then darkness closed in on him.
Chapter 10
Voices, murky and distorted.
Underwater, Eric thought. Drowning, just like in fourth grade.
Where’s Johnny?
Dead.
All a dream …
The voices grew clearer, and he thought he heard someone calling his name. Light fractured the darkness, and faces shifted in and out of focus.
Faces he knew.
Not dreaming …
He felt his head move from side to side, his mouth open. Carol loomed over him, Gary and Rhonda behind her. Other students peered down at him, their heads forming a ring. He blinked and their voices turned clear.
Carol said, “Eric—?”
He nodded, swallowing. Passed out.
“Can you sit up?”
Another nod, uncertain.
“Help him …”
Hands reached down and helped him sit up. His head pulsed and he pressed his left hand against his temple.
Johnny …
“Did you hurt yourself?”
He shook his head and mumbled something even he didn’t understand.
“Can you stand?”
“Yes …”
“Help him up.”
The same hands helped him to his feet. The room swayed around him, and he swallowed again, his mouth dry, fighting to remain conscious.
“Gary, take him to the nurse’s office.”
He felt a hand on his left arm, pulling him away, and he stumbled toward the door.
“Back to your seats,” Carol said behind him.
In the carpeted hall, Eric lurched from side to side. His body tingled and he felt sluggish. He staggered over to a water fountain recessed in the wall.
“The nurse’s office is this way,” Gary said.
“I know, I need some water.” He hunched over the fountain and pressed the button, filling his mouth with cold water that tasted like chlorine. Turning his head, he splashed water on his face.
When he stood straight, Gary took him by the arm and guided him away from the fountain. “That was brilliant.”
Eric scrunched up his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Your fainting spell back there. I wish I’d thought of it.”
“That was real.”
“Then it was damn lucky. Right in front of Mrs. Crane! I thought I was good, but you were great. No one will doubt your sincerity.” Eric shook his head. “Whatever.”
“You got your wish. You’re going home.” Eric grunted.
Lying in bed, Eric stared at the ceiling. His mother had reacted to the news of Johnny’s death with some semblance of sympathy, but he detected relief in her voice. He’d come straight to his room, and now he wondered if Karen had fared any better. He hoped she wouldn’t crumble from the same pressure he felt. His eyelids grew heavy and at last he surrendered to exhaustion.
He had barely fallen asleep when the slamming of a car door awakened him. A moment later the doorbell rang. He held his breath, listening. Downstairs his mother opened the front door and greeted someone. A male voice responded. From the window, he saw an SUV with police markings parked in the driveway.
Chief Crane.
“Eric! Come downstairs, please.”
His muscles tensed. “I’ll be right there.” Descending the stairs on rubbery legs, he listened to the conversation below.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some coffee?” Pat said.
“No, thank you,” Matt said. “I need to get some sleep tonight.”
Eric entered the living room, and Matt rose from the chair beside the sofa, his hat in one hand.
“Hello, Eric.”
“Hi, Chief Crane.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess.” Did he appear as sick as he felt?
“Glad to hear it. I know you’ve had a terrible shock.” He gestured with his hat. “Why don’t you have a seat? I need to ask you a few questions.”
Eric sat beside his mother on the sofa. He prayed this wouldn’t take long.
Returning to the chair, Matt leaned forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. “First let me say how sorry I am about Johnny.”
He had never dealt with the death of someone close to him before. How was a person supposed to respond to condolences? “Thanks.”
“I know he drove you to school yesterday. Did you see him after that?”
Eric nodded. “He picked me up after wrestling practice.”
Matt took a pen and a small notebook from his breast pocket. “When was that?”
“Around six o’clock.”
Matt jotted down the information. “Did you go anywhere after that?”
“He drove us around town—”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “‘Us?’”
“Gary and Karen—Gary Belter and Karen Slatter. Karen’s—was—Johnny’s girl.”
Matt recorded the names. “They were in the car when Johnny picked you up?”
“Yes.”
“And you just drove around town?”
“Uh-huh. You know, back road stuff. There isn’t a lot to do around here.”
“Don’t I know it. How long did you cruise?”
“An hour, maybe an hour and a half.”
“Did you drink any alcohol?”
Eric felt his mother’s gaze on him. “There was a case of beer in the car. I took one just so Johnny would leave me alone.”
“How about Gary and Karen?”
“They had some, too.”
“And Johnny—?”
Eric hesitated. “He had a lot. Half the case, I’d say.”
Matt stared at him, his expression unreadable. “How would you describe his behavior?”
Eric paused for dramatic effect. “Out of control.”
“How so?”
“He was angry that Mr. Milton suspended him for fighting Todd Kumler. Todd started the fight, and Johnny thought it was unfair he was the one who got punished.”
“Okay. So you’re driving around and Johnny’s drinking. What else?”
This is it. “I never saw him like that before. He was speeding, and he played chicken with this car out by the cemetery. It was p
retty scary. We told him to calm down, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept shouting about Todd and Mr. Milton and—” He stopped, uncertainty in his eyes.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Crane.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “Why was he mad at my wife?”
“She broke up his fight with Todd and took him to Mr. Milton’s office.”
Matt pursed his lips. “I see.”
“We told him to stop speeding or we were getting out. He accused us of ganging up on him and pulled over and kicked us out.”
“Where was this?”
“Out on Route 20, near Willow Road.”
“What time was that?”
“I’m not sure. Around eight, I guess. He left us in the middle of nowhere, so we walked back to town. We thought he’d cool off and come back for us, but he never did.”
“When did you get home?”
“A little after ten?” Eric looked at Pat, who nodded, a blank expression on her face.
Matt furrowed his eyebrows. “It took you two hours to get back?”
“We went to Johnny’s house first, because Gary left his truck there. Then we drove around looking for Johnny.”
“Why?”
Eric held Matt’s unwavering gaze. “We were worried about him.”
Matt closed his notebook and put it away. “Okay, Eric.” He stood. “Thanks for your time. You’ve been a big help. At least I understand Johnny’s state of mind.”
“You’re welcome.”
Pat walked Matt to the door, and through the picture window Eric watched him climb into his vehicle and drive away.
We just might get away with this.
Chapter 11
Saturday morning
The smell of ammonia burned Matt’s nostrils as he followed the Asian woman through swinging doors set in blue ceramic walls. Dressed in green surgical scrubs, with her hair pulled back beneath her cap, she walked with authority despite her short height. They crossed a wide corridor before entering the autopsy room, and Matt’s rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the sterile floor.
Dr. Ronald Beelock, the county’s assistant medical examiner, stood over a stainless-steel table in the dark room. Johnny’s naked corpse lay faceup on the table, his blue skin and purple veins glowing beneath an overhead work light. A clock on the wall showed 10:15, and a waltz Matt didn’t recognize came from a CD player as frigid air-conditioning descended in sheets from a ceiling vent.
Johnny Gruesome Page 7
