by Lyle Howard
Keely grabbed his girlfriend by the arm and dragged her behind him down the remaining few granite steps. He was moving so fast, that twice she almost lost her balance. “No,” he shouted, without ever bothering to turn around. “That ain’t no threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise!”
* * * * * *
Two terrible weeks after the showdown on the steps of the federal building, August Bock’s life was in turmoil. After the fireworks with Keely, the district attorney had “politely” asked him to step down. Tired and deflated, he sipped on the last of a Diet Coke and stared out through the restaurant’s panoramic window at the colorful pleasure boats gliding around the inner harbor. All of this sudden free time bothered him almost as much as being swamped with work. Everyone at some point in their life needs to reassess their values, and now it was August Bock’s turn.
Since they had first found the six bodies of those poor children, Bock had given up nearly 18 months of his life, managed to take his marriage for granted, neglected his friendships, and spent less than a single day mourning the loss of his own mother! His own mother for God’s sake! And for what? So Earl Keely could be out there somewhere, swilling Budweiser and laughing in the face of authority? An eye for an eye was sounding better and better by the minute. That’s all there was to it; August Bock had simply been born in the wrong era!
Gwen Bock slid the dessert plate away and pressed her hand against her stomach. “Dinner was scrumptious. I’m stuffed. I shouldn’t have eaten the cake.”
Bock snapped back to reality. “It’s your birthday. You can’t have a birthday without a piece of cake!”
“Are you trying to fatten me up?”
The restaurant was crowded for a Thursday night, but Bock had eyes for no one else but his wife. “Have I told you how fabulous you look tonight?”
Gwen Bock stirred the rock sugar through the foam of her cappuccino and then daintily set it down on the rim of the saucer. “You haven’t told me that I look fabulous in quite a while. I guess I’m glad I had a birthday!”
Her husband winced. “Ouch. That hurts.”
“Am I wrong?”
August Bock gazed across the table at his wife of 11 years. Silhouetted against the sparkling lights of the inner harbor, she was a vision in sapphire blue. Her hair was swept back in a cascade of dark curls that accentuated her loving, honey-colored eyes. What does she see in me? For the past two years I’ve all but neglected her, my reputation is in shambles, and yet, she sits here across from me, treating me like I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread! August, you idiot! What have you done?
“No, you’re not wrong, and to my eternal shame, I want to take this very special evening to apologize for my—”
She reached across the table and put her finger on his lips. “Don’t say it, August. I knew the pressure cooker that you’ve been working in while trying to convict that vermin. No one was rooting for you as much as I was, and no one felt your heartache the way I did.” She took his hand. “Go ahead and let them use you as a scapegoat if they need to. It doesn’t matter one iota to me what other people think. I loved you as a first year law clerk, and I’ll love you as an old man roaming the shoreline with a metal detector. Whatever road you chose from here on out, as long as we travel it together, nothing else matters. Always remember that!”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, savoring its suppleness. “What could I have ever done so right, that the good Lord would bless me with you?”
The waiter came by to refill their water glasses, and Bock politely asked for the check.
“August?” She sounded as if she were afraid to broach a new subject.
He reached into his coat pocket for his wallet. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Her voice took on an unusually serious timbre. “Let’s get out of here.”
Bock patted her hand and smiled. “I’d love to, sweetie, as soon as the waiter returns with the check.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’d look too kindly on us if we left without paying.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He looked at her curiously. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
Nervously, she began folding her napkin, smoothing the edges into razor-sharp creases. “I mean, out of here…” She waved her hand indifferently in the air.
“You mean the hotel?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean Baltimore … and Essex. Let’s just get the hell out of here! There’s nothing holding us back now! We can leave behind the awful winters that we both complain about so much, go somewhere tropical!”
Bock stared at his wife as though she had suddenly sprouted a second head. “Are you serious?”
She paused while the waiter placed the check on the table and cleared away the crumbs from her overpriced slice of birthday cake. “As a heart attack, August! There’s nothing keeping you here anymore.”
Bock glanced at the bill thoughtlessly and slipped one of his credit cards into the check’s leather folder. “Are you talking about taking a vacation? You know what? Some sun and fun might be just what the doctor ordered!”
Gwendolyn Bock’s jaw was clenched so hard, you could see it pulsing through the soft, pink flesh of her cheeks. “A week in Bermuda won’t cut it this time, August. I was thinking along the lines of something a bit more permanent.”
What have I done to this woman to make her so frustrated, that she would want to chuck everything they had struggled so long and hard to achieve? A fine house, good friends … she’s willing to give them up … all because of what?
“Why are you saying this, Gwen? What’s gotten into you? Is it all because of me?”
She stared at him as though he had just slapped her. “You can’t honestly believe that I’d be that superficial?”
“Then what’s really bothering you?”
Bock watched her pause and smile at the waiter when he came back for the check. When she was sure the waiter was no longer within earshot, she leaned forward and spoke in a very earnest whisper. “Have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror lately, August? You’re a 44-year-old man, going on 74! Your job ate you up and spit you out! Everything that happened in that courtroom, you’ve taken so damned personally!”
Bock fidgeted with his wallet, and glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I didn’t mind you coming home at 11:00 every night … I understood that. I managed to come to terms with the fact that we’d never have children, because you were always be too absorbed in your work to be a devoted father—even that I could live with!”
He studied her as she closed her eyes and tried to maintain her composure. Bock knew something had been stirring in the pot for two years, and now, his wife needed to serve it hot.
“I vowed to love you through the good times as well as the bad times, August, but I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let your job make me a widow at age 37!”
Look at what I’ve done to this poor woman! How could I have not seen how much she was hurting?
She straightened herself in her chair, her eyes welling up with emotion.
“And what do you propose I do with the rest of my life? Rent out beach chairs in the Bahamas?”
Her chin quivered as she spoke. “Don’t be ridiculous, August. You’re a brilliant lawyer! You can hang up your own shingle. Start your own practice!”
The lights of the inner harbor twinkled like a Christmas celebration. August Bock had always wondered what it would be like to own one of those luxury boats he’d admired through his office window. Until this moment, something like that had always been just a pipe dream. How tough would it really be to start his own firm? Until a few weeks ago, he had built himself one helluva reputation.
In his mind, he weighed the options. Start anew, or drown in nameless files? Be your own boss, or kowtow to some self-serving bureaucrat until they were willing to take another chance on you? Work 9-to-5 and no weekends, or spend count
less hours in the research library finding precedents for some ungrateful up and comer? Yeah, the more he thought about it, this was a real toss-up!
The waiter returned with the charge slip for Bock to sign, but before he could disappear again, Bock challenged him. “Do you know how much I love this woman?”
The waiter, a young man trying to look more sophisticated than his 19 years would allow, began to blush. “Excuse me, sir?”
Bock signed the slip, added a generous tip, and slid the leather folder across the table. “Did you know that this woman is the light of my life?!”
The waiter nodded at Gwen. “I don’t doubt it, sir. She’s very lovely.”
Quite out of character, he grabbed the waiter’s sleeve. “Hey, I’m not just saying it because it’s her birthday either!”
Quickly, the waiter nodded, probably trying to remember how many drinks he had served to their table. “I’m sure you’re not, sir.”
August Bock reached across the table and gently stroked the side of his wife’s face. “I don’t ever say it enough!”
The waiter did a little half bow and wished Gwen many happy returns on her birthday before he vanished quickly into the kitchen.
Bock slipped the receipt into his wallet, stood up and walked around the table to pull out his wife’s chair. “Who said chivalry was dead?”
His wife plucked her purse off one of the extra chairs at the table and gracefully stood up. She hadn’t gained an ounce since she was in college and still managed to make quite a few of the heads in the restaurant turn. “Where are we going now?”
He turned her around until their eyes met. “Pick a state,” he announced, catching her by surprise, “any state!”
* * * * * *
The drive home was normally a leisurely 20 minute ride taking them through the Harbor Tunnel and then over the Back Bay into the town of Essex. Downtown Baltimore, like any major city, is an ominous-looking place late at night. Somber gray buildings tower over the maze of one-way streets and avenues that only hours earlier channeled a steady stream of cars in and out of the city. Now, with the streets slick from a recent cloudburst, that bumper-to-bumper traffic was little more than a faint echo in the past.
“You can’t believe the weight that’s been lifted off my shoulders tonight,” Bock admitted, as he reached over and turned down the volume on the baseball broadcast. Not only had he reached a new beginning in his life tonight, but the Orioles had won five in a row. Life was good!
His wife had her visor down, and was examining her face in the lighted vanity mirror. “Do you really mean that, August?”
He glanced up in the rear view mirror, but took no real notice of the single headlight beam that was bearing down on them. “I really do. I think this decision has been a long time in the making, Gwen. I’m just sorry that it took me so long to realize how big a jerk I’ve been over the last two years. I really want to make it all up to you.”
His wife lifted the visor to its original position and looked out at the buildings whizzing by. There was a quizzical look on her face as though these surroundings were totally unfamiliar to her. “Where are we, August? This isn’t the way home from the hotel. Did you blow a turn or something?”
The few halogen street lamps that were still functioning in this barren stretch of town cast an unearthly yellow pall on everything in sight. Along the seldom used sidewalk, a strong current of wind picked up the faded pages of a discarded newspaper, lifted them into the air and carried them across the street. Bock slowed the Lincoln down as he reached a deserted intersection. The names on the street signs were faded, but in the pale light, he thought he could make out Forest Street. He wasn’t really sure. “Yeah, I think I must’ve screwed up. All this talk of picking up stakes, and I can’t even find our way out of the damned city! We can’t be too far from the freeway though. Maybe, I should just turn around and head back toward the hotel.”
The intense glare from a headlight approaching from the rear turned night into day inside of the Lincoln. Gwendolyn Bock turned in her seat and shielded her eyes from the light’s invading brilliance. “Does that lunatic behind us have his high-beams on?”
Bock squinted into his rear view mirror, but the reflection was blinding. “I’ll open the window and wave him by.”
Gwen grabbed her husband by the elbow to stop him. “Don’t you dare open that window! Just drive!”
Bock wasn’t nearly as paranoid as his wife seemed to be. He worked in this part of town and, although he wasn’t familiar with the immediate area, he was sure that he would be able to find another entrance ramp for the freeway. “Just relax, Gwen. I won’t open the window if it’ll make you feel better.”
Behind them, the rumbling ferocity of a massive motorcycle engine being revved to the red line rattled the Lincoln’s windows.
“Obviously, our friend behind us has never been lost before,” Bock said sarcastically.
Again, the engine raced, and the car windows chattered.
Gwen Bock turned back and instinctively slid lower in the seat. “Come on, August, drive!”
The Lincoln pulled away from the intersection, with the motorcycle hounding its every turn.
“I’m telling you, he’s following us,” Gwen said as she pulled down her visor and used the vanity mirror to maintain her fearful vigil.
Bock shook his head. “This is a public road, Gwen. Whoever it is has every right to be here.”
She scowled, annoyed as usual by his authoritative tone. “But doesn’t it scare you, when we’re the only two vehicles on this desolate old street?”
The Lincoln passed a row of abandoned fish processing plants, which led Bock to believe they were heading in the right direction. “This is a rundown section of the city, sweetheart. There’s not going to be much traffic around here this late at night.”
Gwen held onto her shoulder harness with ashen knuckles, as the car splashed and bounced through a puddle of standing water. “Nice, smooth roads they’ve got down here!”
Bock clutched the steering wheel with both hands as the car jostled and rocked through the dingiest part of town. “Hang on. We should be able to see the freeway entrance soon.”
The motorcycle pursuing them made a right turn and disappeared from view. “Now, you see there?” Bock said, nodding up at the rear view mirror. “That guy wasn’t following us. You’ve got to learn to curb that rampant paranoia of yours, darlin’!”
The lights of the harbor were never a more welcome sight than they were for the Bocks that evening. Somehow they had driven in a complete circle and found themselves near the old wharf where the fishing fleet was moored. As they drove along the pier, the fishing trawlers bobbed gently in their berths. Even with the car windows closed, and the air conditioning blasting, the tolling of ship’s bells was a comforting sound.
“I think I know where we’re at now,” Bock said optimistically. “The entrance to I-95 should only be half a mile or so up the road, and then we’re home free!”
For the first time since they had found themselves lost, Gwen relaxed beside him. “Thank goodness! I guess I was acting a little bit irrational back there, wasn’t I?”
Bock raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Perhaps a bit.”
“Hey, cut me a little slack, will ya’? It’s so creepy around here at night!”
They passed a red and blue insignia that pointed the way to I-95.
“There! You see?”
Gwen Bock leaned her head back against the headrest. “Thank God!”
The rider appeared again out of nowhere, cutting across their field of vision traveling from left to right, a blur of silver and black, a cloud of dust and gravel spitting out from behind the powerful machine.
August Bock jammed on the brakes and instinctively put out his right arm to hold his wife in her seat. “Did you see that idiot? Where did he come from? He drove right out in front of us! I almost nailed him!”
“Is that the same motorcycle that was following us?” his wife asked,
fear filling her voice.
Bock blew out a nervous breath, trying to stop his hands from shaking on the steering wheel. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
They were still at a standstill when the big Harley circled back. Not more than 200 yards away, they could see the entrance ramp to the highway and the fog-shrouded spires of the city beyond that. The motorcycle did a slow semicircle until it was facing the Lincoln head on. With the motorcycle’s headlight glaring in their faces, the ramp may as well have been 200 miles away.
Bock instinctively reached over and checked his wife’s seat belt making sure it was secure. “What’s he doing?”
The biker appeared to be deliberately lingering just beyond the range of the car’s headlights.
“He’s blocking the entrance ramp.”
Gwen Bock never looked so scared. “August, I don’t like this. Turn the car around … please!”
Bock squinted into the rear view mirror trying to see what was behind him. The extremely narrow road ran directly between two fish packing plants. If a person were planning an ambush, they couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot. “I think this service road is too narrow to make a U-turn, but I’ll try!”
He spun the wheel to the left, and coaxed the car in that direction. Now to their right, the motorcycle engine revved like a hungry animal.
Gwen Bock turned toward the window and cupped her hands around her eyes, trying to see through the blinding glare. “Hurry, August! Hurry!”
The oversized Lincoln was now turned sideways on the narrow street, the passenger’s side of the car facing their predator. The car’s headlights fell upon a mangy-looking dog sitting atop a loading dock of one of the unoccupied fisheries. The disheveled canine stared down at the occupants of the Lincoln with bleary-eye indifference. “We’re pinned in!”
“Back up!” Gwen screamed.
Bock yanked the Lincoln into reverse. “I’m trying, but we’re wedged in here! I don’t have any room to move!”
The motorcycle inched closer, its deafening engine causing the stray dog to turn and run for cover.
“He’s getting closer!” Gwen screamed. “For God’s sake, do something, August!”
