Conviction (19 page)

“I hate him.”

I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, the truth was that I hadn’t even thought them in a complete sentence. But the fact was that I did hate Adam. If it hadn’t been for his nosiness, or maybe his concern…the friendship that made Charlie so jealous, it was entirely possible that Charlie would be with me right then and there.

“Okay, okay,” Robbie said, looking at my expression. “No horses or fish for you. But whatever your deal is with the Fed, you better get over it.”

“Why?” I sighed.

“Didn’t the Old Man tell you? He invited him to drop the shore house while we’re there.”

Five days before THE END we went to the shore. Long Branch, to be specific, an area filled with tourists from all walks of life. Women wore skimpy bathing suits and taunted guys loitering outside the arcades. Parking attendants fanned themselves under bright umbrellas, and young children walked around in nothing but sunblock and diapers.

As usual, Dad was all business driving there, but as soon as we reached the area he  relaxed. Robbie seemed to as well. Even so, as the waves came into view, all I could think about was Charlie. I had never said a prayer for him, though I never really believed in a higher power and I suddenly hated, resented the fact that if he died or was already dead, I would have no marker to cry at, no headstone to bring flowers to. It seemed wretchedly unfair. Though I deserved all of life’s sorrows, Charlie deserved to have a final resting place. He deserved to be remembered.

We had rented the Baybreeze house before, though it was before Mom died and a certain awkward silence came over all of us when we walked in. We all seemed to realize that fact at the same time.

Robbie finally spoke up: “I forgot all these places are named after cocktails.”

Dad laughed his fake laugh. “They’re trying to make alcoholics out of all of us.”

“What else is this place good for?”

I was not laughing.

With some encouragement from Robbie, we went to the beach right away, though he ditched me the second something in a bikini went by. I couldn’t really blame him. Life, after all, was for the living. The light hurt my eyes, and my pointy ribs made me self-conscious, feeling even more uncomfortable about revealing my bathing suit in public, I opted instead to go back to the house the second he was out of view, retreating to the loving pages of a good book.

I tried reading, but like all other things, it had become a pastime that I felt indifference for. I rejected Dad and Robbie’s invitation to explore the boardwalk, saying instead I’d rather walk the beach. When they left I stepped off the porch and stared into the waves. They weren’t California waves, that much was obvious, but they were still beautiful in their own way.

Two days before THE END, I played miniature golf. I buried my toes in the sand. I saw skydivers drop from the sky. I pretended to be happy.

The day before THE END, I didn’t bother as much. The sky was gray, promising rain, and though Dad and Robbie were out and about, I stole hours away in a lumpy bed, eyes shut tight. I couldn’t stop thinking about how Charlie would view a place like this, how he would draw the stormy wave, how he would make them look different from the Pacific Ocean. I submerged myself in memories of his smell and taste, thinking that if I could wish for it hard enough, then maybe I could bring them out.

And when that didn’t work I went straight to a source.

The boardwalk was crowded, despite the dark weather, and hordes of people gathered to buy tickets for the rides or clamored in and out of stores with flimsy knickknacks for souvenirs. Music boomed at me when I passed one shop, and a gypsy woman offered to read my palm when I passed another. If seemed like an eternity until I found a simple convenience store, and when I did, I didn’t even hesitate to secure my purchase.

I paid for the cigarettes without incident and was somewhat self-aware that I never would have done that before Charlie had left, before I had met Charlie.

I took my time walking back to the house. Every few yards, it seemed like kids were fighting about sand castles and pigeons were trying to attack anything reminiscent of food. All of the smiling people and dancing lights made me resentful. How could these people continue to live like this, to laugh, when possibly the greatest guy in the world was gone? Didn’t they at least sense some of the dark that seeped around them, or were they all just better liars than I was?

How had Dad kept going after Mom died? I remember the sadness, the feeling of general loss in our lives, our routine, but she was still sort of there, in memories and in conversations, her ugly knickknacks, her books on fine arts. I remember there was less of the loss as time went on. There were things to do, and if Mom were around, she’d no doubt be annoyed that people were fawning over her deadness.

Instinctively, I knew I should feel that way about Charlie, too. But when he left us like that, broken and unsure, there had been no chance to say good-bye. And maybe with his anger, he would want me to hurt this much; especially if he thought I was a cheater, a liar.

Maybe he would want me to feel the pain of his absence. Did he think this in his last moments? That I’d be sorry, that I’d muffle my cries in self-destruction?

Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t. And I hated
that
even more.

Dad and Robbie showed up not long after I did. Their movements were so quiet, they almost caught me crying over a pack of cigarettes. Except the more I cried, the harder it was to take in the clove scent, and it did little for my memories. The black parasites almost let me feel grateful that Robbie once again had Dad distracted, but when I realized it wasn’t for any good reason, I retreated again, wiping my eyes and joining them in the patio room with their mumbles and serious head nods.

“What’s up, guys?” I picked up a magazine on fishing so that it covered my face. If they weren’t so bemused they might have noticed.

“Hey, Addie.” Dad smiled in my direction, but it wasn’t a real smile, and something in the room, heavy, and all too familiar, worked its way over me.

Robbie said nothing, only stared out at the waves.

“Dad?”

“Ah—” he cleared his throat and glanced at Robbie, silently asking for permission, but Robbie didn’t return the look. He just continued to stare out.

“A friend of Robbie’s was killed overseas.”

I lowered the magazine, said nothing.

“Son…” Dad leaned forward in the wicker chair and rested his hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “I am really sorry.”

“I have to go.”

“Go?” The panic was in my voice before I could stop it. If Robbie left, then Dad would be stuck with me again, and that wasn’t fair at all.

“His mom said the memorial is tomorrow. He was from Allentown, so it’s going to be there.”

“That’s like—four hours away, Robbie.”

“I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you.” Dad’s voice had that firm Dad sound again. “If we stop home for a change of clothes, it’s only thirty minutes or so out of the way.”

Robbie shrugged his hand away, for an instant I thought I saw the glimmer there in his eye, something dark, just beyond sadness. Had my big brother met the parasites, too?

“I want to go,” Dad insisted. “You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

Dad’s tone said that was the end of the conversation, and Robbie didn’t seem willing to argue. Instead he spent the remainder of the day in the patio room, brooding over his friend.

“Addie?”

“Yes?”

“You asked me what was worse than losing someone you care about.”

I nodded.

“It’s this,” he said, “knowing that you should have been there with them.”

Chapter 15

On the day THE END came, it was as sunny and bright as one could expect. I thought the weather was inappropriate for a funeral, but I didn’t know how to make a joke out of it. Dad and Robbie went out early, in-case of traffic. Prior to that, we sat over stale bagels, sipping lukewarm coffee and staring out at the sand. Still too early, the fog prevented any view of the water, and no one other than a few ambitious joggers were running along the sandy roads.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” I picked off pieces of a sesame seed bagel and dropped them like stones into my coffee.

“Thanks,” he grumbled. “Ryan was a great dude.” Robbie chuckled, and then paused before shaking his head.

“What?”

“That asshat had to go and die when I’m on leave? Figures.”

The bile rose in my throat. “The dead can be pretty selfish.”

“Ready?” Dad came in the kitchen nook, interrupting Robbie just before he could reply.

Robbie only nodded and chugged the rest of his coffee in a single gulp. How many mornings had he had that were only rush and go? He was probably so used to it that he didn’t even think about it anymore. Did he think about the dead? The in between? The nothingness? Did Robbie think it was an easy out, too? Despite my own attempts to convince myself otherwise, I knew the dead were selfish; at least unintentionally. If Charlie had loved me at all, he might have thought to try and take me with him…

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Robbie was already out the door, but Dad paused, car keys in hand. “You could—”

“Funerals are not my idea of fun, Dad.” I shrugged. “Besides, I’m capable of entertaining myself for one day.”

He looked skeptical, rushing over to plant a quick kiss on my forehead, a strange show of affection for him. “We’ll be back tonight.”

And then they were gone.

I finished playing with my food and spent minutes watching the morning slowly lift the fog from the beach. It wasn’t until I heard hard steps coming up the patio that I even considered making any moves at all. I heard the steps and the wind chime against the door at the same moment. I didn’t need to look outside to know who it was.  Agent Harpsten came with fresh donuts but I didn’t have the energy to point out the cliché.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” I was unexpectedly relieved by his appearance, all casual but no sign of any length of stay.

“Where is everybody?”

“Funeral.” I left the door open and went back to the table.

“Funeral?”

I held up the coffee pot and when he nodded, I took out the French vanilla and coffee filters.

“Dad didn’t tell you? A friend of Robbie’s died. They went to Pennsylvania for the memorial.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

I shrugged. “That’s life.”

“Should—should I go?”

“That’s up to you. They won’t be back until tonight, so you’ll be stuck with me.”

He smiled, but I hated it. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

We said nothing even as the coffee finished brewing and I poured it into clean mugs. I could feel the coffee grow colder from outside the ceramic mug, the only thing indicating the passing of time. Every now and then Adam would look at me and open his mouth to say something, but it wasn’t happening. I had the greatest idea going out again to buy some sleeping pills and wasting the day away in my lumpy mattress. The sadness seemed more justified today. If Dad and Robbie were in mourning, then I could be, too.

“Maybe you should go—”

“I need to apologize to you,” he said abruptly.

When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. At least he was as uncomfortable as I was.

“I should have kept in touch better over these last weeks. But I knew you were upset, and work was-”

“Don’t bother.”

“I think maybe you were right.”

Now my interest was starting to pique. “What made you see the errors of your ways?”

“Jessica.”

At my expression he paused to explain further. “My girlfriend. She helped me figure out why I was feeling guilty.”

I nodded.

“You were my first major case, Addie. And with the success rates of retrieving kidnapping victims so low—I, well, I guess I felt responsible for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I know. You were homeschooled and leaving home couldn’t have been easy. I probably just made it a lot worse.”

I took another sip. “Take comfort in the fact that my roommate appreciated all of the extra male company around the dorm.”

He laughed. “Living away from home can be tough the first time. I didn’t have to invade your privacy.”

“Are you saying that because you know you’re wrong or because nothing came out of your investigation? Did you get in trouble for wasting time?”

Despite my attitude he still smiled. “Can it be a little bit of both?”

“No.”

He laughed. “Listen, at least let me make it up to you.”

“No.”

“Anyone ever tell you how stubborn you are?”

I stiffened, turning my back to him. He had hit a nerve without even knowing it. Notwithstanding, I couldn’t let it show. I wanted to take Charlie’s secrets with me to the grave. Like so many other things, it hurt, and I wished for the blackness to take over. I had broken so many promises… as Adam moved I saw his belt-line from the corner of my eye and another idea came to me. One that was absurd, but I liked how it was flavored with the potential for accidents and self-destruction.

“You want to make it up to me?”

He nodded eagerly. “If you’ll let me.”

“I guess so.”

This cheered him up immensely. “Well, let’s go do something,” he said excitedly. “Anything you want, just name it.”

“Good.” I turned back to him, trying to imitate the firmness in Dad’s voice. “I want to go to the shooting range.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” I went to work doing all three of the dishes in the sink. I thought that if I acted casual then he might not hear the desperation lurking just beneath. I mentally crossed my fingers and hoped.

“W-what? No. No way. I—I hear there’s a bird conservatory around here. We could—”

“I don’t want to look at birds,” I pouted. “I want to shoot a gun.”

“Your father might kill me.”

“His other child is already well versed with a firearm, why shouldn’t I be?”

“If you just want to learn how to aim, the boardwalk has all those shooting games.”

“No.”

“You know there’s a ghost town? We could—”

“No.”

“Lighthouse?”

“No.”

“Whale watching?”

“Now you’re just getting desperate.”

We played this game during the drive to the shooting range. Once again I was also lectured on the basics of safety. I nodded, acknowledged the rules that I already knew and kept my mouth shut while we signed in. The guy at the counter asked for my ID but nothing else. I counted the lenses of the cameras blinking out of every corner. I counted the sale posters on the bulletin board, the steps in front of me, and the steps left behind.

I clipped the ranger badge on my tank top, indicating that I was a beginner and more or less a potential hazard to the health of others. The ear muffs took the sound of the world away and I liked it immensely. 

“Safety goggles.”

“Really?”

“We can leave.”

I sighed, put them on and resolved to a glinted world of rosy tint. “What are we shooting?”

“9MM,” he replied “Standard weapon for law enforcement officials.”

“Neat-o.”

“I shouldn’t give this to you,” he said, slipping on his own ear muffs. “You should do your first shooting with a BB gun. At least learn to aim with one.”

“Sometimes you have to be bold.”

“You don’t need a gun for that.” He sighed.

“Do you see me filing for a permit somewhere? Am I looking for a trade show? No. I’m just interested.”

“
Why
the sudden interest in firearms?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “Maybe between Dad and Robbie, I feel left out.”

“I thought you might be thinking self-defense.”

“
I
thought
we were dropping that subject.”

He paused. “Right. Sorry.”

I said nothing and re-aimed, the bullseye may have been in my sights, but the rest of me was way off.

Adam nodded. “Not bad.”

I was skeptical. “I didn’t hit anything.”

“Try again.”

I reloaded the clip with perfect precision. “Yes.” I nodded. “I will.”

I let the safety off and let fly.

We spent a couple of hours shooting at imaginary enemies, and maybe it was the fresh air or the thrill of a genuine weapon in my hand, but I was famished for the first time in weeks. The black parasites let off enough so that I felt the grumbling in my stomach, and while I probably should have ignored it, I didn’t want to. Despite the long-term misery, I actually
wanted
to eat.

“Say,” Adam said, sliding the safety goggles down a return shoot. “Are you hungry by any chance?”

I laughed. “That’s funny you’d say that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I was just having a very insistent daydream about bacon and eggs.”

He laughed while holding the door open for me. “That sounds like a really good idea—the first good one you’ve had all day, I might add.”

“Hey, I hit the target a few times.”

His eyes rolled at me. “No offense, Battes, but I wouldn’t exactly want you out there in the field with me.”

“None taken. I wouldn’t want me out there, either.” I took control of the gauges and turned off the air conditioning, opting instead to roll down the window and let the sea air take control of my hair.

“Now in the prosecutor’s office, on the other hand…”

It could have been the sunshine, the hidden compliment, or a combination of both that made me smile. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“You don’t
have
to go to law school, Addie. I just think with your first hand experience and your smarts—how’d you do on your finals, anyway?”

I looked back at him. It was a legitimate question and yet I didn’t know how to answer. At that point, I hadn’t even bothered to login to the school’s website and never opened the letter when it came to the house with my semester’s grades. For the first time in my life, grades truly didn’t matter; they weren’t something I could lean back on because grades were a part of the future. A future I couldn’t possibly have.

“I—I, ah, don’t know, to be honest. I’m not as obsessed about that stuff as I used to be.” And though it was a simple statement I knew it was true the moment I said it. It simply didn’t make a difference. I also didn’t fail to realize that the high from the statement probably came out of the notion that it was one of the first really true things I had said in a long time.

The first diner we came to was crowded with lost tourists and truck drivers, but we stopped there anyway, both deciding we were too hungry to try and find another place in the dinner hour.

“I think I could eat a horse,” I mused.

“Too chewy.” He glanced at me over the menu. “Doesn’t go well with anything.”

“A pig, then.” I laughed. “I want ham, and bacon, and pork roll…”

“You mean you want a heart attack.”

I dipped a straw into my ice-water. “With cheese and ketchup.”

We laughed.

I didn’t order quite as much as I claimed I would, settling on a bacon omelet and orange juice, but even that seemed to be too much. After a few bites I slid my plate over to Adam’s side of the table but he smirked over a mouth of French toast.

“You can’t be done yet.”

I nodded.

“You eat like a bird.”

I considered this statement and grabbed another bite of hash brown. “Good point.” I wiped the grease from my mouth. “How am I supposed to get a heart attack at this rate?”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

He paused; he seemed to consider something, musing over saying it out loud and whether or not to keep it to himself.

“You’ve changed a lot in the last couple of months.”

I was offended but didn’t know why. “People change,” I said. “Evolution.”

He smiled a little. “You’re a little—”

“A little what?”

“Bitter.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know if this Hays situation is the cause or—”

“You really know how to beat a dead
horse,
don’t you?”