by Jennie Marts
“Carried away is an understatement. You have hundreds of dollars’ worth of stuff here.” Johnny’s eyes widened. “Is this how you got the car?”
Weasel nodded. “Listen, the bank is totally insured. We’re not hurting anybody.”
“Then why do you have a gun?”
“The gun is one of Donna’s dads. We only have it as protection.”
“Protection from what? The shopping police?”
“Shut up, Warren,” Donna snapped. “You don’t have to tell him anything. We don’t need to explain ourselves to you.”
“Donna, come on. Johnny’s one of my oldest friends. We can trust him.”
“Oh, really? Well, your oldest friend just broke your nose,” she said.
Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, sorry about that. I just saw red.”
“It’s okay. I was out of line,” Weasel said. “I got way too drunk tonight. Tell Edna I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to him? You’re the one sitting here bleeding,” Donna cried. “And don’t you dare tell that girlfriend of yours Warren’s sorry. What was she doing in that dark alley alone with him anyway? She probably came on to him.”
Donna’s eyes were darting everywhere in the room. She had the look of a caged animal. Johnny knew that look. He recognized desperation. “Look, it’s all over now. We can all get a good night’s sleep and everything will look better in the morning.”
“Oh, will it?” Donna asked, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “Will things really look better tomorrow, Johnny? Will I not be unmarried and pregnant tomorrow? Will Warren and I suddenly not have committed a felony?”
“Why don’t you turn the money back in? Just leave it anonymously on the bank president’s doorstep. Then no one will know it was you.”
“We can’t turn the money in. We need this money!” Donna’s voice turned shrill. “We’re having a baby, and we need it to survive. My parents are going to disown me once they find out, and Warren and I will be on our own. If we turn in the money, we’ll have nothing.”
“Okay, calm down.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. I had everything under control until your slutty girlfriend started this mess with Warren tonight. We were leaving in a few days. Taking this money and the new car and finding a place to start over.”
“Maybe that’s a good idea.” Johnny continued to use a calm, easy tone with her. She seemed like a ticking time bomb and the last thing he wanted was to set her off.
“Now you’re just patronizing me.” Donna looked down at Warren, still seated at the table. “What are you going to do about this? He knows we have the money.”
Warren looked confused. “What am I supposed to do about it? It’s Johnny. He’s not gonna tell anyone.”
Donna’s disdain turned on Warren. “You are such a fool! Of course he’ll tell Edna and then she’ll go to the police. She’s probably already filed a report for tonight.” Donna looked at Johnny, her eyes wide and panicked. “Did she already go to the police? Did she tell my dad? Is he on his way over here now?”
She dropped the wet rag and scooped the money toward the bag. “Warren, the police are probably on their way. We’ve got to get out of here. Get our stuff. We’ll leave tonight.”
Johnny took a tentative step toward her. “Donna, it’s all right. Edna didn’t go to the police. But maybe we should call your dad. He could come over and help get all this straightened out. I’ll stay and help you guys.”
“No! We’re not calling my dad.” Donna was in full-on panic mode. She grabbed the gun and pointed it at Johnny’s chest. “We’re not telling anyone. You’re not telling anyone.”
“Whoa.” Johnny raised his hands. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Donna, put the gun down,” Weasel ordered. “Don’t be stupid.”
Her eyes were wide, and her voice rose to a fevered pitch. “Don’t call me stupid! You’re the one who got me pregnant because you couldn’t figure out how to use a rubber. You’re the one who went out and bought a new car. I told you we should lay low, not draw attention to ourselves. If you’d just listened to me, everything would have been fine. Now Johnny knows, and my dad is gonna find out. I can’t let my dad find out that I’m pregnant and stole money from the bank. I just can’t!”
“Donna, honey. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Weasel held out his hand. “Just pass me the gun. Nobody needs to get hurt.”
Her eyes darted between Weasel and Johnny. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. But we can’t let him go to the police. Don’t you see? We can’t let him tell my dad. He’ll kill me. Or he’ll arrest me. He’ll arrest both of us.”
Her hand shook as she raised the gun to Johnny’s chest. Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, Johnny. But this baby is my main priority now, and I don’t want to have it while I’m in jail. I won’t.” She pulled back the hammer of the pistol, the click of the mechanism deafening in the quiet room.
Weasel took a small step toward her, his hand still outstretched. “Donna, you don’t want to do this. Now give me the gun.”
He was within a foot of her now, and Johnny saw what he was trying to do. He looked wildly around the room for a way to distract Donna so Weasel could take the gun. He reached out, knocking a hatbox off the coffee table.
The sound of the hatbox falling was followed by the sound of a shot as Weasel leapt forward, reaching for the gun. Instead of the gun, he reached for his chest, a bright red stain blossoming under his hands.
Weasel pitched forward, and Donna dropped the gun and fell to her knees. She rolled Weasel over, cradling his head in her arms as she broke down sobbing. “Oh, no. Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Johnny knelt at her side. He pulled off his jacket and pressed it to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
Donna looked at him in desperation. “Help him!”
“I’m trying.” Johnny’s hands were covered in blood as he held the jacket to his friend’s chest, trying to stanch the flow. “Hang on, buddy.” His vision blurred with tears as he looked into his friend’s eyes and realized they were glassy and lifeless.
“Oh, no. No. Buddy, please don’t die on me.” He reached up, feeling for a pulse, leaving a red smudge of blood against Weasel’s throat. No pulse. No beat of his friend’s heart. Only his blood, draining from his lifeless body.
Terrified, he looked up at Donna, and his terror increased ten-fold.
She was staring at him with hatred, tears running down her face, her eyes steely and focused. “Look what you did, Johnny.”
“Me? I didn’t do this. You shot him.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. You did. You came here, in a rage. You came to finish what you started. Half the town heard you tell Warren that you were going to kill him.” She reached up and tore her dress, exposing the top of her plain white bra. “You shot Warren and tried to rape me. As payback for Warren attacking Edna.”
Johnny stared at her, hearing the words coming out of her mouth, but unable to believe what she was saying. “No. I didn’t touch you. I didn’t shoot Weasel. He was my friend.”
Donna laughed, a hard, cold laugh. “Who do you think they’re going to believe, Johnny? You? The son of the town drunk? The troublemaker? Or me? The daughter of the police chief.” She stared at Johnny, her face contorted with rage. “You did this, Johnny. This is your fault. It’s your fault that my baby’s father is dead.”
“No.”
A light went on in her eyes, and Johnny trembled at what fresh hell she had just dreamt up. “But now my baby will have a new daddy. You. Johnny, listen, we still have all the money. We could make a life together. We could pack up the car and leave town right now. We could dump Warren’s body in the lake, and no one will ever know. We could get married. Raise this baby as our own, and I won’t ever tell anyone that you killed Warren.”
“I didn’t kill Warren. You did.” Johnny scooted backwards. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t want to be married to y
ou or be your baby’s father. I’m in love with Edna.”
“Edna? That stupid bitch. She came here this summer and ruined everything! I saw how Warren looked at her. How you all look at her. She’s here for a few months and you all think she’s some newly discovered mystery. She’s going back to Colorado when the summer’s over and leaving you behind. But I’ll still be here. I was always here.”
“She’s not leaving without me, Donna. I already asked Edna to marry me. I’m sorry. She’s the one I want to be with. Not you.”
Donna’s eyes narrowed. “Well, she’s not gonna want to be with you. Not when you’re in jail for murdering Warren. And not when she thinks that you raped me and that’s why I’m pregnant. My dad won’t be mad at me if I’m pregnant because I was raped.”
She looked down at Weasel, his head still cradled in her lap. Then she lifted her head, a wicked smile on her tear-stained face. “I’ve got you, Johnny Collins. You left a bloody handprint on Warren’s neck. Your fingerprints are in blood right on his body. No one will ever believe you over me. Not now.”
Johnny sat still, stunned at her words. Everything she said sounded plausible, and he knew that everyone would believe her story over his. What was he going to do? His mind scrambled, trying to think reasonably. “I wouldn’t hurt Weasel. And I would never rape you, Donna.”
“Why not?” Her face twisted into a mask of pain and anger. “What’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough for you, Johnny?” She pushed Weasel’s head from her lap, and it hit the floor with a dull thud. Her eyes flashed to the pistol where it lay on the floor.
She looked at Johnny then back to the pistol. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, and he knew this night was not going to end in his favor. He had one chance. He had to grab that gun before she did.
They moved at the same time. She pushed off from the floor, arms outstretched, reaching for the gun. But Weasel’s head and shoulders had landed on her dress and her body was whipped back, knocking her off balance. She fell, her head hitting the corner of the kitchen table with a hard smack.
Oh no.
Donna slumped forward, her body landing atop Weasel’s, her head twisting sideways and blood already dripping from a gash over her eyebrow.
Please don’t let her be dead. Shock took over his body, and Johnny fumbled for his jacket, pulling it loose from under Donna’s motionless body. He used the jacket to pick up the gun, careful not to touch it. Wrapping the pistol into the coat, the jacket that he had borrowed from Frank, now stained and hardening with the blood of their childhood friend.
He looked frantically around the room, thinking back to if he had touched anything. It was a pointless task. He’d been here many times over the summer; his fingerprints could be anywhere in this room.
Trying to avoid leaving a bloody handprint, he used the corner of the jacket to open the door of the apartment. He pulled the door shut and looked around the house, anxious about a nosy neighbor or late-night dog walker seeing him.
What the hell was he going to do? Where was he going to go? He was on foot. If anyone had heard the shot, the police could already be on their way. He ran for Weasel’s new car, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that the keys were in the ignition.
Setting the jacket on the seat beside him, he started the car and backed it out of the driveway. He hit the gas, putting as much distance between him and his murdered friends as he could.
As if on autopilot, he drove toward the lake. It was well past midnight and the beach was deserted when he pulled Weasel’s car into the lot. Opening the door, he stumbled from the car and fell to his knees, heaving and retching into the sand. The bile burned his throat as he threw up again, his body trying to dispel the poison that he’d just witnessed. The poison and the remains of Weasel’s dad’s scotch.
Johnny lay back on the sand, his body spent and sweating. His hands were sticky, and even in the light of the moon, he could see the dark smudges of crusted blood.
Weasel’s blood. Visions of his friend popped into his mind. Playing kick-the-can on warm summer nights. Building a snow fort that one winter when it snowed for a week and they had three days off school in a row. Sitting in detention together after school. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches his mom had made.
Johnny rubbed at the blood, a sob escaping his throat. He lurched forward, staggering to the water and falling in. He splashed the lake water onto his hands, his arms, rubbing at the blood. Trying to wash away the last few hours. If he could just get rid of this blood, he could make it all go away. Weasel would be alive and this would all be a nightmare.
He stumbled from the water, his clothes soaked, and fell onto the beach. The coarse granules bit into his cheek as he lay in the sand. What the hell was he going to do? He’d never felt so alone in his life.
He couldn’t go to his dad. He had enough trouble just making it to work sober. He refused to involve Frank in this. He was going back to college in a few weeks. He had a future. He was getting out of this town. No way was he going to be the reason Frank got dragged into staying.
He longed to see Edna. To rest his head in her lap and have her tell him everything would be all right. To hear her say that she loved him, no matter what.
Another sob tore through his body. She did love him. She would stick by him no matter what. That was why he couldn’t go to her. He couldn’t involve her in this mess. She deserved better. Better than some two-bit mechanic. He knew she would stay with him. Watch him go through a trial and visit him in jail.
And he knew that was where he was headed. All of Donna’s accusations spun in his head. If she were alive, she would tell everyone those lies. And if she were dead, he was still the most likely suspect. Everyone had heard him threaten to kill Weasel. He would be the first person they would come after.
He had to get out of here. He ran up the beach, stumbling and falling as he crossed the sand to where he’d left Weasel’s car. He unbuttoned and peeled his sodden shirt from his body. He searched the car for something to use to dry off.
Popping the trunk, he hoped to find a blanket or some beach towels. Instead, he found a faded brown suitcase and a cardboard box. Lifting the folds of the box, he peered inside, tipping the box toward the light of the trunk. Stacks of money slid forward, each banded with colorful straps bearing the stamp of the First State Bank of Coopersville.
Chapter Thirteen
Piper gasped. “Oh my gosh. What did you do?”
Always the mother hen, Cassie put her hand gently on top of John’s. “You must have been so scared.”
John turned sad eyes to Cassie. “I have never been so frightened in all of my life. Not before and not ever after. As I sat in my dead friend’s car that night, I’d thought nothing in life had prepared me for the choices I had to make.”
He looked up at Edna, his wrinkled face now filled with love and tenderness. “And then I realized that everything in my life had been preparing me for that very moment. My mother had left when I was young, so I was familiar with the sadness and loneliness of letting people go. My dad had used me as a punching bag, so that served to make me stronger. Gave me a harder will to survive. I knew cars and was a good mechanic. Janice had taught me to work on a farm. I had the skills to earn a living wherever I went. I grew up with Frank, a best friend whose family taught me generosity and grace. More than that, he helped me get through school. Frank’s mom was the one who taught me how to read.”
His voice caught with emotion as he pulled his hand from Cassie and reached for Edna’s. “And you, Eddy, you gave me the greatest gift of all. You taught me how to love. To love someone without expecting anything in return. To unselfishly care about someone else’s happiness more than your own. Your love is what gave me the strength to do what I had to do.”
“What did you do?” Sunny asked.
“I hid out the next day, trying to come up with a plan. The suitcase was full of Weasel’s clothes. He must have had it packed in preparation to leave with Donna
. I took the money and the suitcase with Weasel’s things. I rigged Weasel’s car with gasoline-filled Mason jars then raced through town so at least a few people would see me in the car. I set it on fire right before I pushed it off the bridge and prayed that people would believe that I was inside.”
A tear rolled down Edna’s cheek. “Your prayers were answered. We all believed you died in that car.”
“I know, darling. And I’m sorry.” Johnny looked around the table. “But tell them what happened the next day. Tell them what happened with Donna.”
Edna looked away, into the living room, as if she couldn’t face the memory overtaking her. “Donna had only been knocked unconscious. She came to lying across Weasel’s dead body, and pretty much lost her mind for a while. She did exactly what she told Johnny she was going to do. She told the police that Johnny had shown up that night, drunk and in a rage. He had a gun with him and shot Weasel. She told her father that she and Weasel had secretly gotten married and were expecting a baby and Johnny had killed the father of her child. I guess playing the role of the grieving widow with a new baby overshadowed the unwed mother one.”
“I couldn’t come back, even if I wanted to,” Johnny said. “I was sure there was warrant out for my arrest, so I couldn’t take a bus or get a car. I snuck into my dad’s place and grabbed a few things, the pin from my mom, and some stuff my dad had given me. Then I hitchhiked to Colorado thinking I would wait for Edna to come home and make sure she was okay. I was scared to death every time I got into someone’s car that they would either turn me in or kill me for the close to fifty grand that was stashed in my suitcase. I made it to Pleasant Valley and got a cheap hotel. I kept only enough cash to live on and hid the gun and the rest of the money.”
He held Edna’s gaze just a beat too long, as if conveying a silent message. “You talked about that jewelry box you got in the mail after I died, the one with the note and my mother’s pin? I bought that in the drugstore where you’d worked. I wrote that note and wrapped it up, then addressed it to your Aunt Janice’s farm and bribed a postal clerk to postmark it for the day I supposedly died. I thought it would give you all the answers you would need. I still do.”
