River Road (27 page)

I shook my head. “You can't live keeping something like that to yourself. It will eat you alive.”

“Yeah, that's what Leia said. But then I reminded her about her fancy internship and her scholarship at Wash U. and she seemed to see sense. She said she only wanted to make sure nothing like that happened again—so she asked me if I had any more of the stuff Shawna had taken.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah, a couple of bags, hid in the boathouse. She said we had to get rid of it, so no one else would die like Shawna had.”

“And did you agree with her?”

“Of course. I didn't want to have anyone else's death on my conscience, only . . .”

“Only what?”

“I told her that Scully either wanted the stuff back or the money for it.”

“Do you think Scully would have sold it even after what happened to Shawna?”

“I think a man like Scully doesn't like to see a profit loss. He told me he planned to cut the stuff again with baby powder—said it would be safe enough to give a baby.” He saw the face I made and grimaced. “Yeah, I had the same reaction. But what was I going to do? That was ten grand worth of product. Where was I going to get that kind of money? I told Leia that and she said she'd get the money, that if I dumped the product she'd give me the money to give to Scully.”

“Where would Leia get ten thousand dollars?”

He shook his head. “I asked her the same thing. She said she had someone who would give it to her. That must be some friend, I said, and she said, no, not exactly a friend but someone who would pay to keep her quiet.”

“She was going to blackmail someone?”

“Yeah. I figured it was someone she was sleeping with. When I saw that stuff about Professor Ballantine on ‘Overheard' I figured it was him. That Leia tried to blackmail him. But it must have gone wrong. Only she didn't tell me that. When she met me at the barn she said it had all gone fine. She was even laughing—”

“I saw that. But she'd been crying a minute ago in the kitchen.”

“Like I told you, she played a part. She wanted me to think she had the money so I'd take her to the stash so we could get rid of it. I told her I had to have the money first and she said she'd give it to me when she saw the stash. She was acting all coy, like we were in
Pulp Fiction
or something. Like it was a game. She'd even lifted Ballantine's keys so we could ‘ride in style.' ”

“So you
did
take Ross's car.”

“
Leia
took the keys and
Leia
drove. We left it in the turnaround on Orchard Drive and hiked to the boathouse. I'd hid the stuff under the floorboards. I showed it to her and asked to see the money, but she started chucking it in the river. I knew right away that she'd lied about the money. I tried to stop her but she was like a crazy woman. She pushed me away and I fell in the water. She threw the rest of the stuff into the river and then ran. I got out of the water and went after her. I'm not even sure why. The stash was gone, she didn't have the money—”

“You must have been furious with her.”

“Yeah, but I was more pissed at myself for believing her.” He smiled wryly. “I guess I had a thing for her. I—” He stopped and looked toward the door. “Did you hear something?”

I'd been so immersed in Troy's story that I hadn't heard anything but his voice. I listened now but all I heard was the whisper of the snow, like a chorus of Furies calling for the next chapter of Troy's sad tale—the part that would tell how he chased Leia down in the car and ran her over and left her for dead under my car wheels. He'd been angry with Leia, hurt and betrayed, he'd followed her back through the woods and chased her on the road. He hadn't meant to hit her—

A sharp crack broke the silence. It came from the front porch and sounded like someone stepping on the loose floorboard. Troy's eyes opened wide. “Someone's here,” he hissed. “Are you expecting McAffrey?”

“No,” I said, wishing I were. “But he might have come to see if I'm okay. I didn't hear a car, though—”

Another crack came from the porch. Troy put his hand to my mouth and pushed me down as the door exploded inward in a shower of sawdust and splinters and snow. I looked up and saw that where my door had been stood Scully holding a shotgun.

“W
ell, well, my man Troy!” Scully sang in a high-pitched voice. “I'm impressed. I figured Princess Leia was having it on with her professors but I didn't know you were too.”

I started to deny it but Troy spoke first. “She's the police chief's girlfriend, Scull, so you'd better not hurt her.”

“Screwing the police chief's bitch, well, well, that's even more impressive.” He pointed the shotgun at me. “Is that true, bitch, are you the police chief's piece on the side?”

I didn't think it was a good moment to split hairs, either about McAffrey's rank or our relationship status. “Yes, and he's on his way over. You'd better leave now.”

Instead of leaving Scully took a step into my living room and looked around. “Ain't this romantic, with a fireplace and candlelight and all. You think I'm an idiot? Why you snuggled up with your boy Troy if you're expecting Mr. Police Man?”

“I showed up unexpected, man,” Troy said. “I've been hiding out from the police since yesterday, waiting for a chance to get out of here.”

“Waiting for a chance to grab the stash and double-cross me, more like,” Scully said, shoving the shotgun into Troy's face.

“I told you, man, Leia dumped it all,” Troy said. “I showed you where I'd hid it in the boathouse.”

“You showed me an empty hidey-hole.” Scully spat on the floor. “Don't mean nothing. You coulda hid it anywhere. Why else you hanging around here? Why else was this bitch down visiting my girl Aleesha? The two of you were planning to take the rest of the stash.”

Troy didn't say anything right away, then a slow grin spread across his face and he opened his hands wide. “Okay, man, you got me fair and square. The stash is still there. What, do you think I'd let a little bitch like Leia Dawson ruin my business? I knew she'd want to dump the stuff so I made up some little bags with baby powder and let her throw those in the river. The real stuff is still hidden.”

I stared at Troy. His voice was barely recognizable, but then, he'd done voices for his story before. Was this an act? Or was the Troy I thought I knew the act?

“So you
were
still holding out on me.” Scully jabbed the barrel of the shotgun into Troy's chest. Troy only shrugged.

“Hey, man, can't blame a guy for trying. I'll split it with you now. It's down in the boathouse. We can go there. I got some money there too. Leia gave it to me so I'd dump the stuff.”

Was he making up a story to get Scully out of here? Or was this what really had happened? Had Troy taken money from Leia and tricked her into thinking she had gotten rid of the bad heroin? And then run her down? I didn't know what to believe or what to hope for. If the latter was true, Troy really was an irredeemable sociopath. If not, if it was an invented story to save both of us, then what would happen when Scully found out Troy was lying?

Scully seemed to be considering the options as well. He looked down at Troy's shoes—heavy Doc Martens—and then at his own thin-soled oxfords. “Okay—but first we're gonna trade shoes and then, if you're lying to me . . .” He jabbed the shotgun into Troy's chest.

“Yeah, man, I get it. You'll get your stuff.” Then Troy glanced at me. “Better tie up the bitch and leave her here. She'll just slow us down.”

Troy's face was still calm but I was close enough to see his
leg jiggle—the way it had in workshop when he was nervous. Was he lying about the money and the stash? And why was he trying to get Scully to leave me behind?

“You'll never get there in the dark and the snow,” I blurted out. “But if you wait here until dawn—the snow's supposed to stop—you can go then.”

Scully looked at both of us and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, look at you two, all trying to protect each other. Ain't that sweet?” The smile suddenly slipped off his face, replaced by an expression that made my stomach turn. “Unh-uh. We go now.” He took a flashlight out of his pocket and threw it at me. It only missed hitting me because I flung up my hand to catch it. The metal felt cold in my hand. “Come on, Prof, you gonna make like the Statue of Liberty and light the way.”

*  *  *

Scully let me put on my down jacket after searching my pockets but he wouldn't let me give one to Troy.

“My boy will do fine the way he is, ain't that right, Troy?”

Troy nodded grimly. Scully smiled and clapped him on the back. “And this way he won't get no ideas about running away. He'd freeze to death on a night like this out in these woods.”

I thought it likely we'd all freeze to death before we made it to the boathouse. The temperature must have been in the single digits. The snow was that dry, pellety kind that fell when it was really, really cold, and it drove against my face like needles as we crested the hill and started down toward the river. Scully made me go first, holding the flashlight, but all the beam showed was a narrow blade of swirling snow that was cut short by darkness. Like a light saber. I giggled.

“What the fuck, Professor,” Troy, a step behind me, whispered. “Are you losing it?”

“I was thinking that if Leia is Princess Leia you must be Luke and then since I'm your teacher that makes me Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Fuck no!” Scully roared. “I'm Obi One Kenobi. You're . . . you're maybe Yoda.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi would not be forcing us at gunpoint through a blizzard,” I shouted back. “Let's face it, in this scenario you're Darth Vader—”

Troy stumbled into me with a pained cry and I went down to my knees, my face in the snow. The flashlight skittered out of my hands and landed upright in the snow, illuminating an enraged Scully looming over us. “I'm no fucking Darth Vader, bitch. I'm Obi One, got that?”

I nodded, afraid that if I opened my mouth, hysterical laughter would come bubbling out. I was out in the middle of a blizzard arguing with a murderous drug dealer/
Star Wars
fan. It just went to show that what I told my students was true: everyone's the hero of their own story, never the villain.

Scully jabbed the shotgun into my back and I grabbed the flashlight and struggled back to my feet. My pant legs were soaked through now and as we headed down the hill they froze in the sharp wind coming off the river. It felt as though the river had jumped its banks and was rushing over us in frozen waves. How would we even know that we had gotten to the river? The train tracks must be beneath two feet of snow by now. I hadn't heard a train whistle since we'd left the house. We could have passed over them without our knowing and already be on the frozen river. We would just keep going until we broke through the ice and were sucked down the river to the sea. Bon Boy-Osh, Scuffy.

“What's so funny, now?” Scully was at my side. Troy had fallen back, stumbling in the snow. I suspected that without a coat he was already suffering from hypothermia. If he stayed back maybe I could lead Scully onto the ice. We would both drown, but at least Scully wouldn't deal anyone else a lethal dose of heroin. It would be worth it, I thought. All these years since Emmy died, when I'd come close to killing myself I hadn't been able to go through with it because it felt as if I'd be betraying Emmy's memory. But if my death could do some good—if I
could take an evil out of the world and save all the lives Scully would destroy—

“We're here.” Scully grabbed my wrist and yanked my hand higher so that the flashlight caught the three-gabled outline of the boathouse. It seemed to be floating in the air, a castle in a fairy tale carved out of ice and magic. Or like the evil witch's cottage in the woods, built out of candy and malice.

“We have to be careful,” I said. “There's water all around it. We could go into the river.”

“That's why you're going first.” He pushed me forward and I stumbled and landed in the snow, my knee hitting something hard and metal. The tracks. We were right on top of them. If only a train would come right now, I'd gladly drag Scully down with me. But Amtrak wasn't running in this blizzard, and Scully was already going on ahead toward the boathouse. I felt a hand on my arm helping me up.

Troy said something to me but a gust of icy river wind snatched the words right out of his mouth. I only caught “run for it.” Had he been warning me against trying to run for it—or urging me to try it?

“What—”

But before I could finish my question Scully turned around and aimed the shotgun at both of us. “Come on now, you two lovebirds, don't you want to come inside where it's nice and warm?”

“Yeah, Prof,” Troy said, his voice trembling, whether from cold or fear I couldn't tell. “Let's give the man what he wants so we can all go home.”

Scully waited for us at the door of the boathouse and waved us inside with the butt of his shotgun. I shone the flashlight up into the dark depths of the storage loft—straight into a pair of glittering eyes.

“Shit!” Scully swore as the giant barred owl swooped down from the loft straight toward him. He raised the shotgun in one swift arc and fired it at the owl. The air filled with feathers and the smell of blood and gunpowder and the bird landed on the floor at my feet, its brilliant
gold eyes already dimming. I felt a scream itching the back of my throat but I swallowed it down.

“Fucking boondocks!” Scully swore, spitting on the owl. “This is why I hate the country. Get me my product now so I can get the hell outta here.” He swung the gun around at me and Troy.