by David Bell
Ronnie was the calmest of the three of us. He went right to his room and checked all his drawers as well as the closet. He pulled the photo of Mom with Beth’s grandchildren out of his bag and put it back on the shelf. Satisfied that everything was in place, he stretched out on the bed and picked up one of his crossword puzzle books and a pencil. When I checked on him again, his eyelids looked heavy and his chin was sinking down to his chest.
“Tired?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“You can take a nap,” I said. “You probably didn’t sleep much in the hospital.”
“I didn’t.”
“Can I ask you something, Ronnie?”
“Sure.”
Maybe now wasn’t the right time, but I wanted an answer.
“Why did you confess to killing Mom? Why did you say that, when it wasn’t true?”
He took a long time to answer. I thought he might not say anything. Finally he spoke. “I felt bad. I did hurt her by not listening to her. I wasn’t as good as I should have been. I wasn’t as patient. And I wanted the police to go away and leave me alone.”
“You felt guilty even though you weren’t.”
He nodded.
“Paul told me something once,” I said. “He told me that Mom knew I loved her no matter how we were getting along. That’s true of you too.”
He looked at me, his eyelids heavy. “Thanks, sis.”
“I’m glad you’re home,” I said.
His eyes closed all the way. I left the door slightly ajar and went out to the living room to talk with Paul. He was sitting on the edge of the couch holding a glass of water. His legs were crossed, his foot bouncing in the air like a man waiting for a delayed flight.
He started to stand when I came into the room.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He set the water on the coffee table. “I thought I’d let you two get settled,” he said. “I’m sure you’re both tired.”
“I am tired. But it’s nice having you around.”
He nodded, his face blank.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Is it difficult for you to be in the house?”
“It’s weird,” he said. “I associate this place so closely with Leslie. With everything that happened, really.”
“I know.”
“Can I convince you to come to my house?” he asked. “There’s room. We can work something out.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous here?” I asked. “Really?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Gordon Baxter is capable of anything. I don’t know that my house is safer than anyplace else.”
“Do you think he’d hurt you?” I asked.
“I think he might want to hurt anyone associated with the past. Anyone who knows who he really is.”
“I’m going to try to stay,” I said. “The detectives promised extra patrols. I’ll call 911 if I hear anything strange. A howling cat. A scraping branch.”
“Would your friend come over? Dan?”
The question brought me up short. I had enough complications in my life. Enough relationships in need of attention. “He would,” I said. “But I don’t think I want him to.”
“Why not? He seems so nice. So steady.”
“I know. But I’ve got enough here. My plate is full.” I left it at that, and Paul let it drop. I shifted gears. “Beth is coming over in a little bit. You’ll get to see her.”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded distant.
“Thirty-seven years,” I said. “Crazy.”
“Yes,” he said. His eyes glazed a bit, as though seeing something from the past. “A lifetime.” He snapped out of it. “How was it with the two of you? Is she… okay?”
“Are you asking me that because you said she might be disturbed? You called her a liar.”
“I worry about people’s motivations. What might have happened to her over all that time.”
“The police hinted at the same things.”
“Then it’s worth heeding their advice, isn’t it?”
He was right, of course. I didn’t know anything about her. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I knew I might end up looking like a fool.
And yet…
“I understand,” I said. “But all I can think of is Mom.”
“You mean she would have wanted this?”
“Yes. That. And that I said no to her. I pushed her away. I pushed her away when she needed me. And Ronnie… I don’t want to do that again.”
Paul fidgeted a little, but seemed to understand. He pressed his lips together into a tight line and scratched his chin. He seemed to be leading up to a pronouncement.
“I think I’m going to let you all get acclimated first. Is it overwhelming for Beth? All of this craziness?”
“I’m sure it is. But she’s held it together pretty well. She seems tough.”
“Well,” he said. “I can see her another time. I think the three of you need to get to know each other. I know Beth. The three of you don’t know each other at all. I think it’s important that you do. And you and Ronnie have to get used to this new life you’re going to be living. It’s a different phase for both of you. You know… Leslie would have liked this. She would have liked this very much.”
Something caught in my throat. I closed my eyes, letting it pass. “I know,” I said. “I feel like we’re driving you out.”
“Not at all,” he said. He looked around the house, taking in the door, the walls, the windows. “Do me a favor? Lock the door after me.”
“You don’t even need to ask.”
Chapter Fifty-eight
I woke up in the chair. The sun was down, the house quiet. I had fallen asleep without any lights on, and the whole place was dark. Only an ambient glow leaked through the windows from the streetlights.
I listened. I didn’t hear anything. I reached up and turned on the lamp next to me. My back and neck were stiff from the awkward sleeping position. I was hungry too.
I walked down the hallway, stopping at the door to Ronnie’s room. I saw no signs of light or life. The door remained ajar, just as I had left it. I gently pushed it open. Ronnie was still in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. His chest rose and fell. He was worn out. I looked at the large digital clock by his bedside. It was almost seven. I’d slept for an hour and a half.
Wasn’t Beth supposed to be at the house?
I walked back out to the living room and found my phone. I sent her a text.
Hey. Are you going to be able to stop by? No big deal if you can’t.
I turned on some lights in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Nothing there. Mom was long gone, the house long empty. I needed to go to the store, and find out what Ronnie wanted. I’d deal with it when he woke up. I looked through the cabinets, which were pretty well stocked. I found a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. Mom usually cooked, but every once in a while she’d take the night off and serve us something like that. I could picture her in the kitchen, working the manual can opener, peeling back the lid, and dumping the contents into a pan. How fascinated Ronnie and I could be just watching her live her routine life.
I did the same thing Mom would have done. I heated the beef stew, then sat at the table spooning it into my mouth. It always tasted better when Mom made it. Even from a can. I checked the phone again. Still no sign of Beth. Maybe her plans had changed. Or maybe…
I tried not to let doubts cloud my mind. I knew Paul and the cops were being cautious. Too much crazy stuff had happened not to be. But I meant what I had told Paul. I wanted to do what Mom would have wanted. I wanted to try to be some kind of family.
The phone buzzed. A text from Beth: B there soon.
I cleaned up the kitchen, then walked down the hallway to Ronnie’s room again and went all the way inside. I gently touched his arm.
“Ronnie?” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. He looked at me for a moment as though he didn’t recognize me.
“Do you know wher
e you are?” I asked.
“Home,” he said, his voice confident.
“That’s right. Do you want to get up? Beth is coming over. She wants to see you.”
He groaned and yawned. “I’m tired.”
“I know. Do you just want to stay in bed? I can tell her you’re resting.”
He groaned again. “I’ll get up. In a minute.”
“Whatever you want.”
I knew he’d get up soon enough. He wouldn’t want to miss seeing Beth. He wouldn’t want to be left out of anything. He hated that.
It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang.
“She’s here, Ronnie,” I called out as I went to the door and opened it.
There was Beth. Eyes red rimmed, her face streaked with tears. She’d been crying. She looked like hell.
“What is it, Beth?” I asked.
I stepped back and she came in past me.
And then Gordon Baxter emerged from the shadows, following her. He stepped right into the house and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Fifty-nine
I backed farther into the room.
My phone was sitting on the kitchen table, far from my reach and any hope of dialing 911. My legs shook. A jittery, rubbery sensation passed down through my body, from my chest to my feet. I concentrated on remaining upright.
I looked at Beth.
She had come into the room and stood about ten feet away from me. She was crying again.
What was going on here? What was she doing bringing Gordon Baxter to my door?
She must have read my thoughts.
“He came to my house right when I was leaving. That’s why I’m late.”
“I wanted to have all of you together,” he said. “It will make everything easier.”
Gordon wore a raincoat over a cheap-looking polyester suit. His right hand was buried in the pocket of the raincoat, clutching something, a small, hard object. I didn’t need to see it to know he was armed.
“What do you want?” I asked. I hated that my voice quaked, that it sounded like a scared little girl’s. “What do both of you want?”
“Both?” Beth said.
Gordon spoke over her. “I’m offering you an opportunity,” he said. “The same one I offered Beth here on that night all those years ago. I know she’s shared all of that with you by now, right?”
“You mean how you ran her off,” I said. I looked at Beth. “If that’s even the truth.”
“It is the truth,” Beth said.
“You know what I want,” Gordon said, taking a step toward me, his hand still in his pocket. “I tried to make a deal with you before, but you wouldn’t go for it. Now the price has gone up.” He looked at Beth and then back at me. “I want some compensation for the years I had to wander in the wilderness. The bad health. The lost jobs. Jail.” He gestured toward Beth. “It all started down that way when this one here started making trouble for me. And your mother didn’t help. I want that insurance money your mom left to you and your precious and special brother. All of it.”
“Why would I give you anything?” I said. “That’s ridiculous. You’re nothing to me. If Beth wants to give you something, you’re her father. I can’t stop—”
“I’m not giving him anything,” Beth said.
“What leverage do you have over me?” I asked. I pointed to his pocket. “Except for that.”
“This,” he said, moving it in his pocket a little. “This is nothing compared to other things. I know some truths I could share. I could share them with you. I could share them with the authorities. Your little protected mind would never be the same, would it?”
“He’s lying,” Beth said.
But her words and her voice weren’t convincing to me. I felt as if I was staring into the eyes of a cobra, being mesmerized by his promise of the truth.
“I know things about certain people,” Gordon said, moving a little closer. “Your sainted mother, for example.”
“If you’re talking about the movies, the things Beth discovered, I don’t believe it.”
“She spilled the beans about all of that, huh?” Gordon said. “And you chose to believe her?” He gestured toward Beth again. “You know, this woman over here, she’s a lifelong liar. She lied when she was a kid, and she’s been lying her whole life.”
“Stop it,” Beth said, her voice ragged with tears.
“She’s an addict,” Gordon said. “An addict will tell you anything to get what they want. If you choose to believe someone like that, then you’re the sucker.”
“Mom would never—”
“Do you know that?” Gordon asked. “She didn’t tell you a lot of things. She didn’t tell you about me. Or Beth. No one in your family did. And now you want to think the best of them?”
“You broke into my apartment. Why?”
He shook his head a little. “I wanted to see the will. I wanted to know who was getting the money from your mom. It was easy to do that. All I needed was a little help.”
I opened my mouth to speak again, but my words were cut off by the sound of footsteps from behind me. I turned. It was Ronnie. He was dressed, his hair combed into place. He was red cheeked and looked healthier than before his nap. He looked at Gordon and Beth and then at me. He read my face as he always did, and his brow furrowed.
“It’s okay, Ronnie,” I said.
“Is this the man?” he asked. “Is this the man who hurt Mom?”
“Yes,” I said. “But it’s okay.” I swallowed hard. “Why don’t you let Ronnie leave? He can go to the neighbor’s house. He doesn’t need to hear all this.”
Gordon looked at me, his face dripping with condescension. “Really? He can go? And call someone to help you?” He shook his head. “The little man can stay.”
“It won’t matter,” I said. I nodded toward Ronnie. “We’re not giving you anything.”
“Are you sure that’s a deal you’re willing to make? Do you want to hear everything I know?”
“I know all I need to know,” I said. “You blackmailed Mom. You sucked money out of her and killed her when she threatened to turn you in to the police for kidnapping.”
Gordon had taken a couple more steps toward me, bringing him within ten feet of me. But when I said the word “killed,” he stopped in his tracks.
“I’m not a killer,” he said.
“You killed Mom. You tried to kill my friend Neal.”
“That punk. If I wanted to kill him he’d be dead. I defended myself.”
“And Ronnie?” I asked. “What about the pills? The heart pills?”
“It needed to be done,” Gordon said.
Ronnie darted forward. He lunged at Gordon’s face with his hands, clawing and digging. He took Gordon by surprise and sent him stumbling back a couple of steps. But then Gordon regained his balance and pushed back against Ronnie, bringing up both his hands and releasing his grip on whatever was in his pocket.
“Ronnie!”
Ronnie continued to struggle for a moment; then Gordon regained the upper hand. He shoved against my brother as hard as he could. He sent Ronnie flying backward, where he crashed against a shelving unit. I watched Ronnie’s eyes close in pain as he made contact and fell to the floor. The shelves fell on top of him along with the picture frames and other items. I heard glass break, but Ronnie was silent.
“No,” I said.
I started forward, my hands up. I swung at Gordon, making contact with the side of his head, feeling my knuckles against his skull.
The blow didn’t faze him. He swung back at me, knocking me down. He stepped toward me, reaching for his pocket.
I’m dead, I thought. I’m dead. This is how I’m going to die.
Then I saw Beth moving behind Gordon. A quick, blurred movement. Something swinging and a sickening thump of an object against the back of Gordon’s head.
I saw the look on his face when the blow connected. His face lost all animation, and his eyes rolled up in their sockets, revealing nothing b
ut white. His mouth formed an oval shape, the beginnings of a cry he never made.
He fell forward, his body limp. He landed at my feet, where I still sat on the floor.
I looked up. Beth held a lamp, a thick glass lamp. The base was cracked but not broken where she had smacked Gordon on the back of the head. Her eyes looked crazed and fearful. She held the lamp in two hands like it was a baseball bat. She looked at the lamp and her hands once. She stepped forward, standing over Gordon.
“Beth,” I said.
She swung the lamp again, striking another blow against his head.
Gordon’s eyes were open, still showing white. I pushed myself up. Beth prepared to swing again. I put my hands on hers. I tightened my grip, tried to hold her in place.
“Stop,” I said, my voice firm. “Stop.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide and glazed. She started to pull back, trying to break out of my grip.
“No,” I said. “It’s over. Drop it. It’s over.”
She came back to herself slowly. Her eyes regained their focus. She seemed to see me, to recognize me. She dropped the lamp and it crashed to the floor.
“Check him,” I said, pointing to Gordon. “I need to see about Ronnie.”
I stepped over Gordon’s body and ran to my brother. Ronnie was under the shelf, his eyes half open.
“And call 911, for Christ’s sake,” I said.
She looked down at Gordon. She nudged him with her shoe. He didn’t respond. She went to her purse and pulled out a phone.
“Ronnie?” I said. I touched his forehead. A trickle of blood ran down from near his ear. “Are you okay? Ronnie?”
He groaned.
I pushed the shelf off of him, felt the broken glass cutting my fingers.
“Ronnie? Tell me you’re okay. Ronnie?”
Beth came to my side, her face white.
“The police are on their way. And an ambulance.”
“Good,” I said.
