The Lost Night

by Megan Maguire

  “Dylan, I’m … Dammit, I’m so sorry. We just walked in. I didn’t know—”

  “Autumn,” I whisper. “We’re good, okay?”

  She hesitates before she says, “Okay.” She puts her cell in her clutch purse and walks past her dad’s table, sitting directly behind him.

  “See that?” Nick points at her. “That’s a threat. Clinging to the police commissioner, as if he’d be able to stop me from carting you off to jail.”

  “Why do you need me to do this?”

  “Because Autumn was supposed to kill him, alone. No one else involved. No witnesses.”

  “I’m not asking about Trevor. I’m …” I pause, chewing over what he just said.

  He wanted her to kill Trevor. I knew that. But the way I’m hearing it now, it wasn’t only to cover up what his son was involved in. It sounds like he wanted a significant bargaining chip. And I got in the way.

  “Why can’t one of your guys kill Ed?” I turn back to Gage. “Like him?”

  “Street rats see to these dirty jobs. That’s far beneath my people.”

  My foot shakes in a wild frenzy. Of course, it has to be done by someone not connected to him. Of course.

  I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees, tapping my fingers on my lips. I lean back and exhale, in need of a cigarette. Only I don’t want Nick to see my trembling fingers when I light it.

  “Look, kid. Dorazio protects a drug lord in his district. The guy pays him to do so.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Ed asks us to take the dealers down. He’s not working for them.”

  “You help him take out the small-time dealers, not the main man. Not the guy he protects.” He winks. “Get it?”

  I close my eyes, hanging my head down low. Ed helps the top dealer thrive by eliminating the competition. Is that what this is all about? And Sean and I are the pawns?

  “He’s good at covering his tracks,” Nick says. “The department and the entire city praise him. People think he’s a great cop, but he’s worse than the pushers. What a joke of a man, making sure the kingpin is safe, getting a hefty cut of the profits by doing so. He would’ve bumped Trevor off at some point. Just look at what happened to the guy in Autumn’s parking lot—”

  “He’s dead,” I say. “His body was left at Ed’s house.”

  “By Dorazio. Those cops that carted that kid away roughed him up as a warning, but they left him out on the streets. They weren’t the ones who killed him. Dorazio was seen picking him up later that night. Think about it. What better way to come across as innocent than to plant the body in his own driveway. Lazy ass couldn’t be bothered to take the kid to a crumbling house, as you did.”

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. “Just arrest him.”

  “And have an investigation into the city’s police force when I’m close to being up for re-election? I can’t have that.” He grimaces.

  “I won’t kill him.” I shake my head repeatedly. “I can’t.”

  “You will.”

  “You don’t understand.” A muscle in my jaw twitches thinking about Heather and her note. “I can’t. Ed has something that I desperately need. He’s my last hope at getting it.”

  “Kid”—he picks up the sheet of paper from the armrest, waving it in the air—“I have a copy of something you desperately need. You don’t need Dorazio for a damn thing.”

  I burst from the chair, knocking the table out of the way. “Give it to me.” I reach for it, seeing Heather’s handwriting. “I’ll do whatever the hell you want, just let me read it!”

  His foot launches into my gut, the kick sending me to my knees. I cradle my stomach, bent over and teary-eyed.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He folds the paper and tucks it into his jacket pocket. “What were you doing the night she died?”

  “Nothing.” I cough.

  “Ed said you were at a dealer’s house, and this girl, Heather, she saw someone get killed. Is that right? That’s my guess.” He taunts me by patting his breast pocket. “Who died?”

  “What?” I lift my head.

  “You remember?”

  “Why are you asking me that?”

  “Was Dorazio at the river?”

  “Wait, what?” I close my eyes to think. “Stop it. Stop confusing me!” I pull out the Glock and point it at his head. “Give me her note.”

  Gage rushes next to me, setting the muzzle of his gun to the side of my head.

  Nick’s fingers return to a steeple formation, a delighted look on his face. “Bring Trevor’s body here before midnight. There’s a private drive on the east side of the mansion that leads to an underground garage. Gage will be waiting to let you in. Then kill Dorazio.” He pats his pocket. “It’s yours after that.”

  “You’ll have someone kill me before I ever have a chance to read it.” I take a riled breath. “Show it to me now, and I’ll do whatever the hell you want.”

  “If I were you, I’d lower that gun before the entire ballroom sees your profile.”

  “Don’t shoot him yet,” Gage says into a clip-on mic.

  I glance down at the ballroom floor, counting three, five, eight men with their hands glued inside their jackets, waiting for the signal to pull out their guns.

  “Think about that miserable night last year,” Nick says. “Go over it in your head again and again. Remember what you were doing for Dorazio, who was there, and who was lost because of it, and I bet you’ll change your mind about killing him.”

  I slide the Glock back in my pants, hearing Autumn’s high heels clicking on the wooden corkscrew stairs. She reaches the top landing with a hardened expression set on Nick. Our five minutes apart have aged her by ten years. She looks desperate to get me out of here.

  “I’m going with you,” she says, sadness clouding her features.

  “Yes, you are,” Nick responds for me.

  I look back at Nick with flat eyes as we leave. He’s established himself as top dog in this city. I have no choice but to agree to what he wants.

  23

  I tell Autumn not to speak, that I’m angry, but not at her. She sits still and listens, hanging on my every word. She keeps looking in the back seat at Trevor—gray, ice-covered, and stiff.

  My sentences are choppy. I’m troubled. I remind her I’ve been through a lot. I can’t take much more. That it’s too much, and I deserve a break.

  I ask her if she thinks Nick will expect more from me after this, or if I’m just going to be killed. Then I tell her not to answer that.

  “Don’t speak, Autumn. I’m working things out in my head. Don’t interrupt me. I’m thinking out loud.” I said the same thing to her on the drive to the abandoned house, starting in on this tirade some time ago.

  I complain about the cold. The snow is no longer beautiful, light, and soothing. It no longer falls in soft flakes, melting on women’s noses. It’s old. The snow is dead. It’s grey and black, heavy and dense. A burden. Unable to lift and swirl like it did when it was young.

  I ask her if she ever watched me before the night we met. If she knew I did jobs for Ed, and that I’ve killed a handful of men. I ask if she lured Trevor to the bar, hoping I’d kill him, knowing he was a bastard who’d tick me off, knowing my temper flares when I’m around men like that, knowing because she had watched me.

  She quietly answers no to all my questions, which is very un-Autumn like.

  She respects my mood, wanting to help. She knows I need an ear and not a mouth, so she keeps two open and one shut.

  I tell her I’m not trying to hurt her or accuse her. I’m only searching for answers.

  I fire off questions, asking what district she worked in when she was a cop, who her chief was, and if he’s as corrupt as Ed. I tell her it’s okay now to talk. She should answer. I need her to speak.

  “I was in Rick’s district. He’s a friend of my dad’s. They’re both smothering me, but Rick’s mostly a good guy, trying to take Ed down.
” She removes her sequin glove and drops it on the floor, saying it was too confining.

  She glances over her shoulder. I tell her to stop looking at the body. I have nothing but remorse for what happened. I shouldn’t have pulled my knife. I’d take it all back if I could. I should’ve remembered the horror on Jake’s face when he realized he took a man’s life. He felt remorse instantly. I wouldn’t have pulled it if I’d thought of him.

  “I’m going to end up in prison.”

  “No.” She stares ahead. Her voice is small. She begins the same conversation I had with Jake on the way to dump the body in the river, the similarities unnerving.

  “This is over after tonight,” she says.

  “Is this over after tonight?” Jake asked.

  “Nick won’t have you arrested.”

  “Are we going to prison?”

  “I’ll protect you, Dylan.”

  “Will anyone protect us, Dylan? Can anyone help?”

  “No one knows what happened.”

  “What happened? What have we done?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, Dylan. Don’t tell Mom and Dad. Please!”

  “Stop it!” I pound the steering wheel and pull over to the side of the road. “Get out of my head!” I hop out and kick the door shut, moving to the tail end of the car. My hands cover my face, stifling my tears.

  Her door swings open and she hurries to my side. She caresses my forearm before sending me a foot back with a tight embrace.

  “I can’t take this anymore. They won’t leave me alone. No matter what I do, they’re always inside my head.” I try to break away from her, but she won’t let go. “I want him back. I want Jake back!”

  She holds me tighter. “What can I do?”

  I clutch my hair and look up at the black sky. “I want that night back,” I say in a lower voice. “Please, give me one more chance.”

  She says she’d give it to me if she could.

  “Nothing stops the pain.” I breathe so hard my lungs hurt. “I have to tell someone what happened. I have to get it out. Listen to me, Autumn. Please. I need to talk to someone about Jake.”

  24

  Jake

  “What have we done?” Jake’s wobbly voice fills my truck, his hands locked behind his head, body swinging forward and back.

  “Just sit tight.” I try my best to comfort him. “I’ve gotta call Sean. I didn’t have a chance to tell him everything.”

  “I’m sorry, Dylan. Don’t tell Mom and Dad. Please!”

  “Jesus, Jake. What the hell were you doing at that party?” I take out my phone and tap Sean’s number. “Come on, pick up, Sean.”

  “Hey,” he answers.

  “Hey, nothing.” I sit up straight, my hand tight around the wheel. “I nearly got killed. That guy had a gun pointed at my head.”

  “I know. I had to deal with the other guy. They were brutal. We’re lucky there weren’t more of them.”

  “Can you get rid of that body on your own?”

  “Yeah. I’ll put it in the water by the grain elevators. Why is this all fucked up?”

  I slap the steering wheel. “Because of our bad decision to take a piss out back. What were we thinking? They must’ve been on to us. They waited until we were alone. You should’ve stayed next to me instead of taking off to the other side of the yard. I felt ambushed.”

  “We were ambushed.”

  “We shouldn’t have split up!”

  “Then why are we splitting up now? We can put the bodies in the same spot.”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t thinking straight when we left. I just wanted to get everyone out of there before anyone else came outside.”

  “What now? Did you call Ed?”

  “You call and tell him about the coke in the house. I’ll take care of Jake and this other guy.”

  “Ed?” Jake pivots in his seat. “Eddie Dorazio?”

  “He’ll help,” I tell him.

  “He’ll arrest us. I’ll end up in prison!”

  “Is Jake all right?” Sean asks.

  “Does he sound all right?” I gulp down the vile taste in my mouth. “He clubbed a guy with a crowbar to save my life. I was a second away from death.”

  “He said he was gonna kill you!” Jake shouts.

  I give his shoulder a comforting pat. “He has no idea what’s going on.”

  “Get him home,” Sean says.

  “Are you nuts? I’m not taking him home like this. He can stay at our place tonight.”

  Jake looks frantically around the truck. “Where’s my hockey stick? You see it, Dylan? It has my name on it. If the cops show up and find—”

  “I got it. It’s okay. I made sure we didn’t leave anything behind. I threw it in the truck bed.”

  Sean cuts back in. “Good thing we moved the bodies before that car turned down the alley.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Look, where ya gonna be?”

  “I’m pulling into the parking lot next to the river. The one at Fullerton Park.”

  “No,” Jake says. “I was here for a hockey game earlier.”

  “On the ice?” I ask, ending the call with Sean.

  “In the parking lot. We had a pick-up game going.”

  “Is that how you heard about this party? From the guys you were playing with?”

  He nods.

  I rub my forehead, startled when I look at my fingertips and see blood. I rub and look again, smearing the stickiness between my thumb and forefinger. Could be from the guy Jake clubbed and not my own. I can’t remember anyone taking a whack at my head, but it’s throbbing like I’ve been hit.

  I wipe my fingers on my pants. “Jake, these aren’t the same kind of house parties I take you and Heather to.”

  “I wasn’t gonna be alone.” He turns to me, his skin pale, eyes red-rimmed and pained. “I was waiting for my friends to show.”

  “Doesn’t matter, don’t go to unfamiliar houses without me. I’ve told you that before. How do you know which ones are safe?”

  “It was safe. John’s brother said they had foosball tables and video games in the attic.”

  “Twig, no.” I close my eyes for a second, then look back at the street. “That’s a draw. They have drugs up there that they offer kids. It’s how they get you hooked and selling for them.”

  He shifts in the seat when I turn into the parking lot. “What if my friends come here tomorrow and find the body? We can’t do this, Dylan.”

  “No one’s gonna find him.” I park alongside the short trail that leads down to the iced river, killing the lights and the engine. “Take a deep breath for me.” I put my hand on his shoulder, noticing the tears on his cheeks. “Putting the body in the river will wash away any evidence.”

  “But—”

  “Twig, the current will take the body out to the lake. No one will find it until the ice melts.”

  He stares at his fleece gloves, examining them for blood. “I don’t wanna go to prison, Dylan.” His hands start to shake.

  “It’s all right. I’ll take care of everything.” I put on my black knit cap and tug it down over my ears. “Come on. We can’t sit here for too long and think about it. We have to get the body out of the truck and haul ass outta here. Then we can talk.”

  “Who is that?” He glances back, eyes wide with fright. “Dylan, I saw headlights. Someone’s coming.”

  I look all around. The lot is dark. “No one’s down here this time of the night. Must be your imagination.”

  “No. I swear. I saw a light over there.” He points. “At the second entrance.”

  “Jake, the lot’s empty. Trust me.” I rub my hands together and blow on them to keep warm. “You see and hear things when you’re under major stress. It’s not real, just paranoia.” I open my door. “Come around to my side and help me carry him to the river so we can get this over with.”

  I p
ull out a bath towel that’s stashed behind the seat and wrap the guy’s head. It stops the blood from dripping all over our clothes and hides the battered skull from Jake.

  “Can I wait here?” he asks.

  “No way, I’m not leaving you up here by yourself. Not until I know you’re gonna be all right. Besides, I need help carrying him down the bank.”

  “Someone will see us.” His eyes dart toward the street.

  “My truck isn’t visible this far in. Like I said, take a breath. Okay?”

  I drag the guy out of the back, livid that Jake was at the party. I’d be dead if he wasn’t there, but still, he knows better than to be out this late without his friends or me. Our parents would’ve picked him up once it got dark if they knew he was out in this area alone.

  “I hate touching him,” he says, holding the guy’s legs, losing his grip numerous times.

  “We’re almost there, man up.” I wince at my words. He’s eighteen, helping me dump a body, and I tell him to man up? I’m surprised he’s not cowering on the passenger-side floor of my truck, unable to speak or move. He doesn’t have to be brave.

  “This is fine.” I release the arms. “Careful where you step, the ice is thin in spots.”

  He knocks snow off his clunky wool-lined boots. “What happens next?”

  “I need to break the ice. Step off it and stay on the bank while I head back to the truck.”

  “No.” He grabs my coat sleeve, staring at the body. “Don’t leave me here with him.”

  I watch tears drip off his chin. My head hurts, and my heart’s split in two. I left Heather earlier in the same condition as Jake, heartbroken and alone. The thought of facing her tomorrow fills me with utter fear and shame.

  “Okay. You go. There’s a concrete block in my truck bed. It’s holding down the tarp you used to pick up the leaves at the Andersons’ last fall. Dig out the block from the snow and bring it down here. Hurry.”

  He races off, only three years younger than me, but just an innocent child compared to what Sean and I have seen.

  I hear the concrete block knock against my truck as he wedges it free from the ice. It’s stuck to the bed along with some dead leaves that fell out of the yard waste bags he hauled away for Lona. He worked past sunset for her, using up all the gas in my truck.