Darkness Falls (8 page)

Kyle had spent his entire adolescence and much of his adult life to date listening to nurses talk to him like a four-year-old—and also being held by hospital security guards.

These guards didn’t even have a particularly strong grip. They were bigger than Kyle, but it was all about leverage.

“Take your hands
off
me,” Kyle said through clenched teeth, then punctuated his point by throwing one guard off him and grabbing one guard’s wrist and twisting it behind his back.

“Kyle?” cried a familiar voice from the door.

It was Caitlin.

“You know this man?” the nurse asked harshly.

“I asked him to come,” Caitlin said, never taking her eyes off Kyle.

Kyle couldn’t take his eyes off her, either. For some reason, he expected her to look just as she did twelve years ago, only, well, taller. And she did look similar—it was obviously the same person—but the chubbiness had gone out of her cheeks, she’d grown her hair long, and she—

She was beautiful.

And yet, at the same time, she looked like hell. She had the look of someone who hadn’t slept nearly enough lately, a look Kyle was quite familiar with, as he saw it regularly in the mirror. Her cheeks looked sunken, and her body language was almost twitchy.

The nurse shot Caitlin a look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Let him go, please,” she said to the guards.

Of course, it was as much Kyle letting go of the guards as the other way around at that point, but Kyle loosened his grip, and the guards did likewise.

The nurse, of course, was still pissed. “Visiting hours are over. I want him off my ward.”

Kyle bit back a reply as Caitlin said, “No problem.”

“And next time, sign him in.”

“I will. Please, it’s okay.” Caitlin led Kyle out of the room, probably worried that Kyle would start something with the nurse or continue what had been started with the guards.

Kyle let her do so because he himself was worried about the same thing.

She led him to a window at the top of the staircase, then said, “Wait here,” and went back to the room, no doubt to make peace with the nurse. Kyle thought that was a waste of time. Nurses were the enemy as far as he was concerned, but nobody asked him.

He stood at the window, reaching into his pocket for his smaller flashlight. The window had a remarkable view of the old lighthouse—long since fallen into disuse—with the spectacular reds, oranges, and purples of the dusk sky behind it.

To most people, it would be a gorgeous panorama worthy of a painting. To Kyle Walsh, it just meant night was coming.

Absently, he flicked the flashlight on and off and thought back on Michael Greene’s words.

“She’s gonna kill me, you know.”

The question was, who was “she”?

“What were you doing up there?”

Kyle turned to see that Caitlin had returned. He started downstairs. “You asked me to.”

“I asked for
advice,”
she said, following him, “over the
phone.”

“I was just trying—”

“He’s a little boy!” she said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t just barge in and freak him out like that!”

She held something out to him—it was his overnight bag, which he had left in Michael’s room.

Absently, he took it. “I was just talking to him.”

“Michael talks to
me,”
she said defensively.

Kyle turned and stared at her. For a second, she was the same ten-year-old tomboy who didn’t take any shit from anybody and who always stood up to the bullies, whom one never made the mistake of dismissing as “just a girl”—at least not twice. Now an adult, she was channeling that energy into playing mother cub to her younger brother.

Fine. If that was how she wanted it. He had never wanted to come home in the first place. Besides, Michael’s problems were way beyond Kyle’s ability to fix.

No surprise there. Kyle’s own problems were beyond Kyle’s ability to fix, and Michael seemed even worse off, even if he hadn’t actually killed anyone.

He didn’t think Caitlin wanted to hear that.

At least, that’s how he justified turning around and walking away from her without a word.

Caitlin chased after him. “The nurses told me there was a strange guy in Michael’s room. Look, will you just stop a minute?”

Then again, maybe she
did
want to hear it. He stopped, faced her, and said, “I don’t think I know how to help Michael.”

Before Caitlin could process that, a familiar voice said, “Hey, Catey!”

Kyle turned to see another face he’d last seen on a little kid. This face, though, barely looked any different: Kyle’s cousin Larry.

Behind his glasses, Larry’s eyes went wide at the sight he saw. “Kyle?”

Wondering what he was doing here, Kyle responded in kind: “Larry?”

The cousins stared at each other for a minute. Kyle had, of course, been expecting to go through many reunions on this trip, but he’d mostly been focused on Caitlin and Michael. If he’d been asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say for sure if Larry was even still living in Darkness Falls.

Yet there he was.

Larry finally broke the awkward pause by extending his hand. Kyle moved to return the handshake when Larry surprised him and pulled him into a bear hug.

“You came!” Larry said, patting Kyle on the back.

Kyle tried not to break the embrace too quickly, but he didn’t prolong it, either.

“That’s terrific,” Larry said as he moved to put an arm around Caitlin—a bit too protectively, Kyle thought. “It’s so good to see you.” He turned to Caitlin. “I was just on my way up.” Looking back at Kyle, he asked, “So is there any reason for us to panic?”

“No.”

Kyle long ago learned that it was better to lie and tell people what they wanted to hear. Most people couldn’t handle the truth—or if they could, they already knew it and didn’t need to ask.

Larry smiled. “I keep telling Catey we’ve got the best doctors in the state. Hell, Dr. Murphy just got here—he graduated top of his class. In a funny kind of way, it’s perfect timing.”

Caitlin cringed. To his credit, Larry saw this and toned down his cheeriness.

“Well, what do you say, let me take you both out to dinner. Celebrate the prodigal’s return.”

Breaking away from Larry, Caitin said, “I’m going to stay here with Michael, if that’s okay.”

She gave Kyle one last look, then headed to the elevator.

“Caitlin,” Kyle said, not wanting to let her go but knowing it was probably the smart thing to do. “I’m sorry.”

Smiling sadly, she said, “Just make sure you sign in next time.” Then she turned and pushed the Up button on the elevator.

“Well, cuz,” Larry said with an entirely too cheerful slap on the shoulder, “whaddaya feel like?”

What Kyle felt like more than anything else was getting the hell out of Darkness Falls. “I’ve been here too long already. I should head out.”

Larry, however, wasn’t giving up that easily. “One drink?”

That was an easy dodge. “I don’t drink.”

“Come on, I haven’t seen you in twelve years. One drink won’t kill you.”

No, Kyle thought, but it sure would make things entertaining.

He also knew that Larry wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Besides, he
was
back home for the first time in more than a decade, and, the circumstances notwithstanding, it
was
good to see Larry again.

Giving his cousin a mock sigh of exasperation, Kyle said, “Just don’t get me in trouble.”

Caitlin sat in the hospital room while a nurse—not the one who had turned the light out and sicced the guards on Kyle but a different one—brought in some food for Michael.

“Okay, little buddy, it’s time for your Jell-O.”

Michael made a face. “I don’t like Jell-O.”

The nurse leaned in and pretended to whisper conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? Nobody likes Jell-O, but nobody ever talks about it. Strange, huh?”

Caitlin smiled, and Michael’s lips quivered upward a bit, which was as close as he ever came to a smile anymore.

“We’ll be okay for the rest of the night,” Caitlin assured the nurse.

Smiling pleasantly, the nurse departed, leaving Caitlin alone with her brother.

She reflected on how stupid it had been to call Kyle. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but him just showing up and barging into Michael’s room like that hadn’t been it. And he himself didn’t even think he had done any good, which, in turn, made her wonder why he had even bothered to come.

More than anything, she just wanted this to be over.

“Where’s Kyle?” Michael asked between bites of Jell-O.

“I don’t know.” Larry probably had absconded with him to some restaurant or other or maybe to Bennigan’s Bar.

“Is he coming back?”

Caitlin looked down at Michael.

Michael seemed genuinely interested in seeing Kyle again. Perhaps calling him hadn’t been so stupid after all.

“Maybe,” she said, and turned to look out the window.

nine

Larry Fleishman practically had to drag Kyle kicking and screaming to Bennigan’s Bar.

Luckily, dusk at Bennigan’s was loud enough to drown out the screaming, at least.

The place was, as usual, filling up with people coming by after work—or, in some cases, still present after being there all day because they were out of work—and the ambient noise level made it impossible to converse unless you were within a few inches of each other.

Cognizant of this, the tables were all tiny, keeping the occupants close enough to be heard over the crowd noise and whatever the jukebox might be playing.

Before Larry could lead him to his favorite table, Kyle made a beeline for one table that was unoccupied, probably because it was right under one of the spotlights aimed at the nearby dance floor.

But if that was where he wanted to sit, so be it.

Larry still didn’t know how he felt about Kyle’s presence. Maybe it would help Michael, maybe it wouldn’t—frankly, Larry was pretty doubtful. And he also wasn’t sure that Kyle’s presence would have a good effect on Catey—who was, ultimately, the one Larry was really worried about. In the back of his head, Larry was pretty sure that Michael was just going through a phase and would get over it before too long.

But the worry was driving Catey batshit. Larry was genuinely scared for her.

And the presence of a ghost from their childhood wasn’t likely to make things any better. This town was crazy enough with ghosts as it was . . .

Right now, Kyle was glancing around the table as if he were expecting the boogeyman to leap out at him.

“Relax, buddy,” Larry said. “You’ll survive one drink. Beer okay?”

Kyle shook his head. “I can’t.”

He opened his coat and showed Larry several prescription bottles.

Larry let out a whistle. “Jesus.” He sighed. “Look, one beer won’t kill you. Be right back.”

Before Kyle could say anything, Larry headed over to the bar, squeezing his way past a bunch of working-class folks, huddled in groups of two or three or four, attempting to converse.

At the bar itself, a bunch of guys were obviously pretty ripped. Larry guessed that they were of the unemployed-and-been-there-all-day variety. One thickly built guy was holding court on the subject of either the dot-com implosion or the performance of the Red Sox or perhaps both. Larry couldn’t bring himself to give much of a shit.

He also knew the guy in question but couldn’t place him. That was the problem with being a criminal attorney in a small town. You saw so many people every day . . .

“Hey, Dave,” he said when the bartender came over. “Two light drafts.”

“Fleishman, who’s your date?”

Larry turned to see it was the thickly built guy, who apparently knew him. Not that that was such a big deal.

“My cousin Kyle.”

“Kyle.” The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Kyle Walsh?”

“In the flesh,” Larry said, as Dave brought over the beers. Larry slapped a ten down on the bar and walked off with the two beers before Dave could bring any change. It was a generous tip, more than Larry’s usual fifteen percent, but if Dave had been putting up with these louts all day, he’d earned it.

He brought the beers back to the table. Larry noticed that Kyle had centered himself in the light, as if he were as afraid of the dark as Michael.

And perhaps he was. That was part of why he wanted to sit down with Kyle: to find out precisely what was up with him these days.

“Feeling better?” he asked as he put the beers down.

No reply. Kyle just sat staring straight ahead.

Wondering if this was such a hot idea, Larry said, “Figured you’d like this. It’s a light.”

Again, no reply.

Sighing, Larry sat down across from Kyle and leaned in so they could hear each other.

“You shoulda told me you were coming.”

Kyle shrugged. “Didn’t figure you’d still be here.”

“There was a lot of shit you left behind.”

Another shrug. “I guess.”

Larry had had clients like this: sullen, moody, unwilling to give more than the minimum necessary responses. Sometimes the answer was to try small talk.

“So, what’ve you been doing with yourself?”

“I’m in the, ah, gaming industry. You?”

Since Kyle was living in Vegas, Larry assumed that meant casinos rather than, say, video games or the like.

To answer Kyle’s question, Larry took on an appropriately highfalutin tone. “Larry Fleishman, attorney-at-law.”

That actually got a reaction out of Kyle. “You? You’re an attorney? You stole more candy from the five-and-dime than anyone else in the history of stealing.”

Larry laughed. “That’s why I’m a defense attorney,” he said. “I can appreciate the criminal mindset.”

For some reason, that put Kyle off. He started to squirm in his chair. “Larry, I should really get going.”

“What’s the hurry? It’s been
twelve years.
The least you can do is have one drink. You have no idea what we’ve been through lately.”

“Yeah, well, that cuts both ways.”

“Maybe.”

Larry took a sip of his beer. Kyle, he noticed, had left his untouched.

“So come on, give,” Larry said. “What are you
really
here for?”