Stopped once for another coffee and to recycle the first latte, topped off the tank, and was off again.
He rolled into Walla Walla, took Plaza Way, and parked facing the front of Applebee’s. He’d made it with time to kill.
Lucas was already in a booth waiting when Josh walked through the front door, army surplus rucksack over his right shoulder. His son’s face lit up as soon as their eyes met. He slid out of the chair to hug, said, “Great to see you, son.”
They hugged each other tightly and as they released, Lucas looked him over, making sure he seemed well and fit. Josh had on a black T-shirt, olive cargo pants, Converse tennis shoes. “You look good, Josh,” he said, patting him on the back.
“So do you, Dad.”
They slid into their respective seats.
Josh pushed away the menu, having memorized it more than a year ago. Lucas had already decided on a cheeseburger, figuring screw the cholesterol worries. At least for this visit.
Josh looked down at his hand while unrolling the paper napkin and freeing his flatware. “What’s going on? You and Mom getting a divorce?”
“What?”
“Well, that’s what’s coming, isn’t it?”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“No, seriously, why would you say such a thing?”
“Well, duh, it’s clear you guys aren’t all that happy together.”
“That obvious, huh?”
Josh averted his eyes and started curling and uncurling one corner of the place mat.
After a few moments Lucas cleared his throat. “You’re right. That wasn’t really a question. And yes, we’ve talked to a lawyer about it. Just not sure exactly how this is going to play out. I’m still hoping we can resolve things with a marriage counselor.”
His son met his eyes. “I hate to say anything mean about Mom, but she hasn’t been herself lately.”
Not so long ago Lucas would have automatically defended Laura, especially after a remark like that from Josh, but this was interesting. “In what way?”
“Aw, jeez. You know. She’s constantly pissed at you. And me. At the world, really.”
He’s right
, Lucas admitted. He just hadn’t considered her in quite that light. Which was sad because she was no longer the woman he’d married. Did she think the same of him? Had he changed that much too? He must have changed, but the question was how much? Organisms react to stimuli. Change doesn’t occur in a vacuum. And that begged the question: What was driving her personality change? Him or did it come from within her? It was so easy to shrug it off as depression, but was it totally? Why wouldn’t she see the psychiatrist he’d suggested? He wished she would, but that was something he couldn’t force her to do. Whichever, he desperately wanted back the woman she used to be. “I think she’s depressed.”
Josh shook his head and kept fiddling with the place mat. “She doesn’t seem depressed to me. She seems, I don’t know, nervous or something.”
“She is. But there’s a form of depression in which agitation is a major part of the problem.”
Josh stared at him.
“It’s called agitated depression. What’s unusual about your mom is she’s a little younger than what’s typical. It’s seen more often in elderly people. But that’s what I think she’s got, and that’s why I want her evaluated by a psychiatrist. She won’t go.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s afraid.”
Silence.
The waitress appeared, ready to take their order. Both ordered cheeseburgers and Cokes.
After she left, Josh asked, “You never answered my question. You’re not getting a divorce, for sure?”
Lucas shook his head. “Thought I said, we’ve contacted a lawyer.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“We haven’t formally filed. But I have to say, it’s not looking good.”
“Then why’d you drive all the way over here? I can’t believe it was just to have lunch. Something’s bothering you. What?”
For a moment Lucas sat back to admire his son. Josh had Laura’s canny ability to read people that Lucas lacked. Laura was intuitive, making decisions from a few facts. In contrast, Lucas gathered and weighed as many facts as possible before
reaching a decision. Not to the point of extreme, but to the point of feeling informed. The other way seemed so impulsive.
“Guess the only way I can explain it is I have this feeling that something’s not right. It’s making me uneasy. So”—he shrugged—“I just need to be with you for an hour.”
“
Need
to be with me?”
“Yeah. That’s how it felt.”
Josh paled. “Oh, shit, you’re not, like, dying, are you?”
So much for tact
. “No, no … nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?”
Lucas sighed, raked his hand through his hair, and started in with, “When I was in Hong Kong, I had this really crazy experience.” He told Josh about seeing what looked like Andy’s head and now being unable to locate him by phone.
“Did you call the cops to see if there’s a missing persons report on him?”
“See, that’s where I’m having a problem. I’m not sure anyone would even know he’s missing. Or care. Much less file a report.” He told Josh about his phone call to Trish.
“What about work? If he doesn’t show up, won’t someone start asking questions?”
“Maybe.” Andy’s problem had spilled over to the office, resulting in a couple warnings from HR to knock off hitting on some of the secretaries and using the work computer for viewing porn. Sure, Andy made good money for the company, but it would tolerate only so much before dropping the hammer.
“What are you saying?”
When Lucas didn’t come up with an immediate answer, Josh said, “Tell me. It’s something more than that, isn’t it?”
Lucas sucked a deep breath and decided to include the part about the run-in with Gerhard in Hong Kong. “You know about Andy’s problem, don’t you?”
“What? Keeping his dick in his pants? Who doesn’t?”
“It’s an addiction. Just like an alcoholic has to struggle with drinking, he doesn’t have a lot of control over it.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Josh gave a dismissive wave.
Lucas elected to press on rather than defend Andy. Truth was, he’d long ago tired of defending him. “Part of his problem is risk taking, which includes being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Usually with a hooker.” Or a couple hookers together. Andy had once suggested they do a group thing with a few girls. Lucas declined.
“So, he screwed himself to death?” Josh said.
“No, I’m worried that …” Lucas found it more difficult to explain than he’d anticipated. He swallowed. “Maybe … maybe he was murdered.” There! Finally said it for first time.
Josh seemed puzzled. “Why tell me? If that’s what you think, why not tell the police?”
“Because I can’t be 100 percent sure it was him.” Soon as the words were out, Lucas realized he’d left out a crucial part of the story, so he explained how the head had been shipped and that Gerhard denied it was Andy.
When he finished, Josh asked, “And you believe this dude Gerhard?”
“Absolutely not. He’s lying. I know he is.”
“Well, if you think this Gerhard or DFH had anything to do with Andy, all the more reason to talk to the cops.”
“No. I’m not saying they killed him. But, obviously, they ended up with his body. So they’d have to know something.
At the very least, where it came from. The only information Gerhard gave was denial. And that makes me all the more suspicious he’s hiding something.”
“You really need to talk to the cops.”
“I plan to. If Andy isn’t at work tomorrow.”
Their burgers arrived. Josh lifted the top bun and dressed the melted cheese with mustard and catsup.
No longer hungry, Lucas nudged aside his plate, the greasy smell making his stomach churn.
Josh started fiddling with the place mat again. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Something I’ve never understood. Mom hates Andy. Trish hates Andy. In fact, I can’t think of one of your friends who admire the way he screws around with women. But you and Andy have been best buds for years. What’s that all about? I mean, what is it between you two?”
Lucas sucked another deep breath and sat back. Neither he nor Andy had ever told a soul about the incident that had silently bound them for years. “Let me tell you a story.”
L
UCAS SITS NEXT TO
Andy on the timbers at the end of the dock, bare feet dangling an inch above the smooth water of Lake Washington. The back of his thighs feel the scratchy surface of the rough-hewn boards grayed by weather and spotted with seagull shit, the type he knows will inflict serious splinters if he’s not careful. The distinctive smell of warm shallow lake water permeates the summer air. Lucas isn’t sure what causes the odor, maybe algae or the green slime coating the submerged creosote-impregnated pilings or something entirely different.
Shorts, T-shirts, flip-flops, and no homework. Each of them clutching an emerald-green bottle of Heineken stolen from Andy’s dad’s stash.
It’s approaching dusk. They’re at Andy’s parents’ unpretentious home at the north end of the lake, but still within the city limits. The kind of house that costs a small fortune in property tax each year because it’s on fifty feet of waterfront. The lots were all built two generations ago, the houses crammed so close together you can hear the neighbor’s TV when the windows are open.
Andy elbows Lucas and nods at the ski boat tied to the neighbor’s dock. Yellow and sleek, big honking Mercury outboard weighting the stern. Just bobbing next to them, begging to be run full throttle on the open lake.
“Sweet, huh?” Andy says.
“Sweet,” Lucas agrees. He imagines the feel of the hull skimming the water, wind whipping his hair, miles of lake passing in a flash. They’ve been skiing in that boat before.
Andy studies the neighbor’s house. “Think the Coles are home?”
Lucas glances over his shoulder to look. The downstairs patio sliders are shut, and the sliders to the upper deck are also closed. No lights on, either. “Doesn’t look like it. Why?”
“Thought maybe we could borrow the yellow monster for a few minutes.”
Lucas doesn’t like the sound of that. “You mean ask permission?”
“No.”
Lucas licks his lips and stares at the house again. He’s torn. What a perfect evening to be out on the water. But taking the boat without permission … he’s not so sure about that. “Oh, man, I don’t know. I mean, that’s his baby.”
“We’ll be careful. And it’d be for only one quick spin. We’ll bring it right back. They won’t even know we used it.”
Lucas can feel the thrill of not only being out on the lake on such a beautiful evening but the thrill of doing something entirely radical. Something they’d never do in a hundred million years. Excitement boils up inside. Part of him has to do it, yet another part doesn’t dare. It goes against every stitch of his fabric. But isn’t that some of the allure? Besides, summer was ending, meaning they’d soon be back in school, not that that made it okay, but he was feeling so restless …
Andy says, “C’mon. Don’t be a pussy.”
The pussy threat. Lucas has never really bought into that one. But he stands, still not sure if Andy is really honest to God serious. Aw, man, Andy is heading down the dock now. He
is
serious. Lucas brushes the dirt off his shorts and hurries to catch up.
Andy and Lucas both know that during summer Dr. Cole keeps the boat key clipped to a Day-Glo pink float in a footlocker by the lower sliders. Along with three or four orange life jackets. How many times have they seen him reach in there for the key?
Next thing he knows, they’re flying along the shoreline, Lucas driving, the overpowered Merc screaming. Andy taps Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas looks over at him, sees his mouth moving but can’t hear a word over the noise. He leans closer. “What?”
Andy cups his hands, yells, “Slow down!”
Lucas imagines driving Miss Budweiser in the annual Sea-fair races, chewing up the course in first place.
“Lucas!” Andy points past the bow.
Lucas looks. Directly ahead, coming up fast, is a huge concrete pylon for the floating bridge. Lucas jerks the throttle back and spins the wheel, but the boat can’t turn fast enough and the port side slams into the piling.
The impact throws both boys to the floor. For one dazed moment they stare at each other before Lucas realizes the boat is severely damaged, maybe even sinking. Luckily, they’d been smart enough to toss in two life preservers but foolish enough to not be wearing them. They’re on the floor.
“Here.” Lucas tries to hand one to Andy but realizes his arm isn’t working right. Then the pain hits, and he notices the weird angle between his elbow and wrist. “Oh, shit! My arm’s broken.”
Andy is clipping on a life preserver and glancing around. “Jesus, man, we have to get out of here. The boat’s sinking.”
“I can’t go in the water. I can’t swim with it like this.” He hears his own voice tight with panic. Lucas frantically glances around.
Shit! Fuck!
The boat is definitely taking on water now. So much so, bailing isn’t even worth the effort.
“Shit, shit, shit. Look!” Kneeling in the cockpit, Andy points off to his right.
Lucas looks. A Seattle Police boat is bearing down on them, blue light atop the cabin flashing.
Andy screams, “Lucas, hold on, this is going to hurt.”
Andy scrambles over to him with the other life preserver, slips Luca’s good arm through, then grabs Lucas’s broken one and a second later the preserver is on him.
Lucas wants to vomit from the pain. Not only are they in deep shit for stealing a boat and undoubtedly totaling it, but two months earlier, after passing their MCATs, he and Andy applied to the UW medical school. Dr. Cole, the owner of the now sinking boat, is not just an assistant dean there; he heads the admissions committee. They are totally screwed, blued, and tattooed.
“Lucas, c’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Lucas looks around although he knows the area well. To the north, across the ship canal is the UW campus and looming Husky stadium. To the south, on their left, condos and apartments line the shore. With the police arriving from the
east, his only escape is to head for the condos. Being a strong swimmer, he could usually make the bank easily. But with his arm broken. “But—”