Riven (28 page)

Brady suddenly felt a lot younger than sixteen. “He’s not lying. I’ll make it right.”

“How? And when?”

“How much is it for the door?”

“Fifty on top of your balance.” The cop checked his notebook. “Which he says was down to eighty bucks before he quit hearing from you altogether.”

“So a hundred and thirty?”

“You’re better at math than I am, kid.”

Brady pulled out a wad of twenties. “I can take care of that right now and be done with it.”

The cops both eyed him without smiling. “You got a good job?”

“Two of ’em. I’m a supervisor at one and a foreman at the other.”

“Uh-huh. And you take your pay in cash?”

“Nah, not usually. I just cashed my checks this week because of Christmas. I gave my ma several hundred and my brother a hundred for gifts.”

“Nice. And now you’re gonna take care of this with Tatlock?”

“Sure. Can you give it to him for me?”

“You ought to do it yourself.”

“I’d rather not. I’m kind of embarrassed, you know.”

“I understand.”

“I mean, once he’s paid off I won’t feel so bad running into him around, see?”

The cop nodded and took the cash. He looked at his partner, and neither moved.

“Anything else?” Brady said, standing.

“Matter of fact, there is.”

Brady sat back down. “What?”

“Are you really this stupid, or do you think we are?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’d trust us with $130 in cash?”

“Why not? You’re cops.”

“So we take this and give it to Tatlock and when we get back to headquarters, what, we find you’re charging us with shaking you down?”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“We can’t take your money without giving you a receipt. You really don’t know that?”

Brady shook his head.

“Tatlock says he sees something in you if you can control your temper. I hope he’s not just seeing naiveté.”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to pull anything on you. I’ll take a receipt, sure.”

“And it will stipulate what we’re to do with the money.”

“Okay, good.”

The cops left shaking their heads, and Brady waited a few beats before retrieving his grass from the kitchen. He tucked it back into his belt, then hollered to Petey, “Headin’ out, man. Be good!”

Peter padded out. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, they’re checking out one of the Mexicans I’m living with. They think he’s pushing drugs or something.”

“Is he?”

“Not that I know of. I just told them I didn’t know anything. They were cool.”

“Don’t forget your book, Brady.”

“Yeah, that’s right! I’ll start it tonight.”

Brady arrived back at the trailer park with Stevie Ray about three in the morning, noticing that his mother’s car was parked askew near the trailer. He considered checking to be sure Petey was all right but decided against it.

“Want me to drop you at the shack?” Stevie Ray said.

“Nah. I’ll walk.” He retrieved his book from Stevie Ray’s living room and lit out.

As Brady approached the shack, he was not surprised to see lights on. These guys knew how to party, especially when they had no work the next day.

But when he entered, he met the same scenario as when they confronted him about his job at Burger Boy. Someone turned off the TV, everyone went quiet, and Pepe pulled Brady into a corner. “You a snitch?” he said. “A cop?”

“You kiddin’? I’m sixteen!”

“What were the cops doing at your place tonight? They on to you? asking about me?”

“No, it was about my mother. She’s late on some payments or something. They got it all straightened out.”

“You sure? We can’t have ’em coming around here.”

“They won’t.”

“They’d better not. It’ll be on you,
muchacho.
”

“Don’t worry.”

“Now, Manny’s looking for the rent, and I’m looking for
my
money.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m a little short. I had to help my ma with her late payment, so this is all I have.” Brady produced about half what he owed each guy.

“Manny, come’re, man,” Pepe said. “Look at this garbage.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Manny said. “This isn’t going to go, Brady. What do you think you’re doing? You got three jobs, dude, and what you do for Pepe pays more than the other two put together. And now you’re short? No.”

“It’s just temporary,” Brady said. “In fact, a guy owes me. I can have it by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Promise.”

“No credit this time,” Manny said.

“From me either,” Pepe said. “You give me the money tomorrow or you owe me a kilo.”

Giving back the kilo would have been easy and gotten Brady off the hook. But he needed some weed himself, and he could make a lot more selling the rest than returning it.

When Manny and Pepe and the others lost interest in him and turned back to their partying, he slipped away to find his favorite customer. The college kid lived above a garage, and Brady woke him.

“What’re you doing here?” the kid said. “I don’t need anything.”

“You can help me out.”

“Why should I?”

“’Cause I always get you what you need.”

“I don’t have any money to lend you.”

“I’m not looking for a loan. I have a bargain for you because I need some quick cash.”

“What kind of a bargain?”

“Twenty-five percent off of almost a kilo. Let me smoke two joints with you, and you get the rest.”

The kid seemed to study him. “No deal.”

“Why not? Come on.”

“I don’t have that much money here, and I don’t want you smoking dope here. Make it 50 percent, roll yourself a couple, and get out.”

As Brady made his way back to the shack, he stepped in not one but two puddles of slush, freezing his feet to his shins. He couldn’t wait to get back and smoke one of the joints. Maybe the high would curb his fury. He hated everybody in his life except Petey and his aunt and uncle. Even Tatlock drove him crazy. What was with that guy?

He sees something in me?
What a sap!

It made no sense, Brady knew, to be so bothered by a man who kept giving him breaks. But Tatlock’s kindness made him face himself and realize that he had become a criminal. He was a bad kid, a horrible brother. He hated his jobs, hated his bosses—and that was ludicrous too. Alejandro was one of the good guys. But why hadn’t he found more work for Brady so he could leave Burger Boy and quit selling dope?

It wasn’t Brady’s fault he’d had to resort to that. Hadn’t Alejandro promised him? Pretty soon he was going to have get tough with the foreman and tell him he needed more work or he was going to have to move on.

But where would Brady go? He’d have to find a new place to live. That would be all right too, if he found work that allowed him to afford someplace half decent. It was no fun living with a bunch of scary guys who didn’t like him anyway.

By the time Brady got to the trailer park, he was so antsy for a joint that he was about to burst. And when he passed the Laundromat, he was reminded of everything Tatlock was and he wasn’t.

He stopped and stared at the place, all quiet and dimly lit under a single fixture over the sign. Tatlock was tidying the place himself these days, and it looked like it would pass military inspection.

Livid, Brady looked around till he found a frozen chunk of dark snow. He hefted it in his bare hands and guessed it weighed at least twenty pounds. When he heaved it through the plate glass window, it set off a ringing alarm that sent him slipping and sliding into the night.

33

Adamsville

Thomas Carey couldn’t sleep but didn’t want to disturb Grace. He eased out of bed and into the living room, where he sat in the dark, watching the snow fall and thinking about how to confront his wife about what he had discovered. Maddeningly, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting to Henry Trenton.

Thomas wondered if he should have called Chaplain Russ and told him what the Deacon wanted. If he did that, he would also have to tell the man that he didn’t believe Deke was ready for eternity. But he guessed Russ was fully aware. Aside from everything else, Deke didn’t seem to be one who would hide his opinions.

Deep in his gut, Thomas knew Trenton would ask for him late, and he would be pressed into gallows duty. But the child sex offender and murderer—Thomas still had difficulty ranking one crime over the other—had already clarified that he didn’t want prayer or Scripture or even any counsel about his fate. Short of those, all Thomas had to offer was company on the night the Deacon was to die.

Thomas didn’t want to be selfish—it wasn’t about him, after all—but, unable to provide any of the services he was trained to offer, what was the point? He had never seen a man die, and he certainly didn’t relish hearing a neck snap. Imagining it was bad enough. How long might the bite of the trauma stay with him?

Thomas prayed that God would at least allow him to somehow minister to Henry Trenton, to be more than just a companion on that terminal night. If he knew the man had repented, had prayed, had been reconciled to God, Thomas believed he could stomach the ordeal.

He shook his head.
Forgive me for thinking of myself again, Lord. Is it possible to give me a love for such an awful man? I know You love him.

Thomas stood and moved to the window, finally noticing that the only light reflected in the glass was the tiny bulb at the top of the ancient Nativity scene Grace had laid out on the piano. He turned and moved to study it, reminded anew of Ravinia and her childhood fascination with the figurines. He prayed for her as he did every time she came to mind, more and more often lately.

And then Thomas Carey went a step further than he had before. He also prayed for Dirk. Thomas had no idea how serious Rav’s relationship with him was or how long it would last, being forged in ways foreign to his sensibilities. But given that Dirk Blanc might one day be his son-in-law or even the father of his grandchildren, Thomas was desperate to pray him into the fold as well.

As for the Deacon? Well, he owed it to the condemned man to at least call Russ in the morning. The hanging was set for just a few hours short of seven days away.

Addison

The laborers’ shack had a cockeyed Christmas tree with lights askew. That and the muted TV, showing some old black-and-white yuletide movie, illuminated a bottle-strewn living room full of snoring men. It was as if they had partied until they couldn’t move.

That was all right with Brady, still panting from his dash from the Laundromat. For once he could just slip upstairs unnoticed, smoke his dope in the bathroom, and crash. He kicked off his soggy shoes and socks and headed up.

A sweat-stained bandanna hung on the doorknob of the bunkroom, indicating that someone had a woman in there. Brady pressed his ear to the door. If she was still there, nothing was going on. When he finished his grass, he would just tiptoe in and go to bed.

As he emerged from the bathroom, Brady heard loud banging on the door downstairs. Whoever this was or whatever it was about couldn’t be good for him. He hurried into the bedroom and stripped down, sliding under the covers.

From downstairs he heard arguing, then shouting, then his name. That was Stevie Ray’s voice. “Just let me get him out of here,” Stevie said, then called up the stairs, “Brady! You gotta go! Now!”

Brady dressed on his way down. “Get your shoes on, man,” Stevie said. “You think the cops wouldn’t be able to tell you just got here?”

“Don’t bring no cops here!” Pepe said, coming to life on the couch. “I told you, man!”

“Cops?” Brady said.

“Just come on!”

Brady followed Stevie out to his car.

“Somebody saw you break the window, dude.”

“What?”

“Don’t start with me, Brady. I don’t need this. I came to help. Who knows you live here? Does Tatlock?”

“I don’t think so. Take me to your place.”

“You know better’n that! I got a family, not to mention I’m on parole.”

“What’s going on?”

“Somebody called the cops, said it was you. They’ve already been to your mom’s trailer.”

“Great!” Brady swore.

“What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! I’m such an idiot! You know my ma’s gonna rat me out, tell them where I live. And Petey! Oh, man!”

“Where you wanna go? I can’t be driving you around.”

“Where do you think they’ll look?” Brady said.

“The shack, the paving company, my place.”

“You won’t say anything, will you?”

“I’ll tell ’em the truth. I’ll tell them I heard they were looking for you, so I tried to find you, knowing you wouldn’t do something like that.”

“That’s a lie.”

“So is telling them I couldn’t find you. Now where do you want to hide?”

“Agatha’s?”

“Will anybody think you’d go there?”

“Nah.”

“You’ll owe her.”

“She’s got a thing for me. It’ll be cool.”

Agatha lived on the far edge of the trailer park. Brady could see revolving police car lights bouncing off the low cloud cover through a light snow. As Stevie pulled away, Brady crept to the back of the trailer and tapped on Agatha’s tiny window. He didn’t want to scare her, so every time he tapped, he whispered her name. “It’s me, Brady!”

Finally she pulled back the curtain and raised the blind. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to be with you on Christmas Eve, that’s all.”

“It’s nearly Christmas morning, Brady. What are you, drunk?”

“No, I just miss you.”

She squinted at him, and in the dim light he saw hope in her eyes. He wondered if there was no end to his evil.

“You wake my dad, he’ll kill you.”

“Then be quiet and let me in.”

He met her at the front door and followed her back to her room. A huge, ugly girl, she repulsed him.

“You got to be out of here by dawn,” she said.

He nodded, removing only his shoes and socks.

“Does this mean we’re on again?” she said.

“You and me?”

“Who else?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Really?”

“’Course. But could you drive me somewhere?”