Wrong Thing (20 page)

The Kid didn't expect it to work, but when the other guys started to walk out, he followed them. And when nobody stopped them, they kept walking. And when they were outside on Madison Street in the sunshine, and the cops who were entering the building ignored them, they split up and kept walking.

Miguel was in his pajamas, eating toast for breakfast when the cops knocked on his door. He let them in, and they asked him about the Kid and he lied. Then they asked him where his car was, and he knew he was fucked. They let him get dressed before they put the handcuffs on him.

The Kid knocked on the door. Vanjii opened it. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with the name of the store she worked for on it. She had been getting ready to walk to her job.

Her first impulse was to close the door, but the Kid pushed it open with his foot and stepped into the apartment. They stood there in the living room looking at each other.

“You gonna kill me?” Vanjii said, her voice breaking.

“What?”

She began to sob. “I don't want to die.”

“What would I kill you for? Why would I do that?”

“You killed those other people . . . I don't know . . . ”

“You think I would hurt you? You're scared of me?”

“ . . . Yeah.” She looked so small, her face crumpled, tears and snot everywhere.

“You said you knew I loved you and you'd take that where you could get it . . . ”

He reached out to touch her. She was too frightened to pull away, so she closed her eyes and cringed violently when he put his hand on her shoulder.

Louise came out of her bedroom “Vanj? What's wrong? You okay?”

The Kid turned like an animal and ran.

He walked, not trying to hide himself, not trying to stop the sun from burning him. He walked along Camelback until he reached Seventh Avenue, and then he walked south to Encanto Park. It was only a few miles, a walk that would have meant nothing to him in Santa Fe, but the heat of Phoenix made it seem like he was wading through hot water. When he reached the park, his head was spinning and his mouth was as dry as the ground.

He lay down in the shade of a tree and kept still until his vision came into focus. Then he walked around, looking for someplace to get water. The cops had taken all his money. He went up to people and asked them if they'd buy him some water, and one guy gave him a couple dollars and told him there was a vendor at the children's play area, Encanto Kiddie Land. He went there and bought a bottle of water and then went and lay down under another tree and drank it all.

He remembered how Vanjii had looked when she'd cried. He didn't know it, but his own face now looked like hers had, twisted like it might come apart, bawling, snorting, so frightened. He couldn't believe he hadn't known she would be afraid of him. Who wouldn't be afraid of him? He thought about the life he always pretended to himself that he had: cooking, listening to music, driving his car, reading books, talking to his friends, falling in love with Vanjii, taking care of his cat. And he thought about the life he really had: people scared, people hurt, people dead.

He thought about what he had once said to Vanjii. I don't want to be scared no more.

Vanjii was sitting on the couch and Louise was holding her while she cried. She kept trying to explain what had happened, but Louise's head condition made it hard for her to follow because she couldn't remember things. She just kept stroking Vanjii's hair and saying, “It's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you.”

Ruvin didn't have to spend long in Santa Fe. He talked to the cops and asked if they'd let him talk to Miguel, but they weren't Phoenix cops so they wouldn't. Then he walked around the barrio, knocking on doors. Some people told him the Kid didn't exist, that he was just a ghost, a legend, a scary story for late at night. Other people gave him names and addresses. He was soon talking to the Kid's mother. She didn't have much to tell him in terms of facts, but she gave him plenty of color he could use in his story. About an hour later, he was sitting in a living room talking to Vanjii's father.

As soon as Ruvin left that apartment, he pulled out his cell phone and called Blantyre. He got voice mail. “Zack, it's Jerry. I'm in Santa Fe. Listen up, I've got an address for you . . . ” He recited the address twice. “It's the address of the Kid's girlfriend. They used to live together, and she moved to Phoenix a few weeks ago. He must have gone there to see her. I'm just gonna head to Albuquerque and fly home, so do me a favor—don't do anything until I get there, okay?”

He put the phone away and got in his rental car.

The Kid lay there on the ground for most of the day, sleeping on and off. He stayed there after the park closed and it got dark. Then he got up and started to walk. It was hard to move. Each step hurt. He knew he needed more water, but he wasn't going to ask anyone for money, and he wasn't going to hurt anyone for it. He walked for two hours, falling a few times, always getting up and walking on.

The apartment door seemed to explode as the cops forced it open. Vanjii, Louise, and Carlos were in the living room, and when the cops saw Carlos they pointed their guns at him and screamed for him to get down on the floor. Vanjii and Louise screamed back at them. From a safe distance, Ruvin took notes.

The Kid couldn't walk any more, and he'd never known where he was walking to anyway. He was very close to the apartment Vanjii had lived in as a child, but he didn't remember that and he hadn't gone there on purpose. He saw a public phone outside a liquor store, went to it, fumbled in his pocket for the change he had left after buying the water in the park. The call would cost fifty-five cents, and he knew he had a little more than that. He found it and fed it into the machine and dialed.

“Hello?” said Vanjii.

“It's me. Listen, I'm sorry I scared you. I don't want you to be scared . . . ”

“Okay,” she said, and he heard it in her voice.

“The cops are there, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm so sorry, honey.”

“I know. I am too.” Pause. “You don't sound good.”

“Don't worry. Can I talk to the cops?”

“What're you gonna do?”

“I'm just gonna keep on loving you, that's what. That's the only thing I can do. And nobody's gonna get hurt no more. You don't need to be scared no more.”

She said something to someone else. He couldn't hear what it was. Then a voice said, “This is Detective Blantyre.”

“Yeah, hey, bitch. Fucking listen. Here's where I'm at—Fifteenth Avenue and Grand. There's a lot across the street from the liquor store. I'll be waiting for you there.”

“What are . . . ?”

“Shut your fucking hole. Come on down here so I can kill your white ass.” The Kid hung up. Very slowly, he walked across the street to the empty lot, and sat on the ground.

Vanjii. Vanjii. Vanjii. I'm so scared. I love you and love you and I'm so scared.

A homeless guy wandered into the lot. He came over and tried to talk. “You better get out of here,” the Kid told him. “The cops are coming. It's gonna be bad.”

The guy didn't believe him, thinking he just wanted to have the lot to himself. But then he heard the sirens and knew it was true, and he ran.