Authors: Ian Vasquez
Bernard said, “Come on, don’t be a baby about this.” He looked back at Freddy. “You coming?”
Freddy raised his eyebrows. “What, you want me to hold your hand?”
“I’ll need you to hold this man still when we get there. And then it’s good if somebody else can check see I did this thing right so there’s no argument from nobody.”
Freddy sucked his teeth, shaking his head. He turned to look at Patrick.
Patrick said, nodding seriously, “Makes sense.”
Freddy said, “Sheeet,” looking away. Then, “Whatever, man, let’s do this,” and he motioned for Bernard to lead the way.
Bernard pushed Herman forward, the old man shouting:
“Señor Varela, no me mates!”
PATRICK STOOD with arms folded, staring into the far-off stand of oak trees, a few tall cypresses mixed in with them. He refused to look at the old man shouting like a fool. There was a loud thud from the car. Another one. Patrick looked over his shoulder, saw the car rocking. Another thud, the Mercedes shaking. Another thud, and a window buckled.
Patrick went over there and poked his head through the driver’s door. “All right, Leo, cool it.”
Leo was half lying on the backseat, rearing a leg back for another kick, face red and sweaty. He misjudged and kicked the door. “You can’t kill that old man, Patrick. Let him go, let him go!”
Patrick straightened and looked over the roof at Bernard and Freddy taking the old man behind some oak trees. “This is basically a done deal, Leo. Now it’s time for you to accept it and work with me.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Leo said. “What kinda person does murderous shit like this?”
Patrick opened the rear door wide and said, “Let’s go, Leo. Let’s come outside for fresh air.”
Leo shook his head, lying back, hands behind him, face to the ceiling. “No way I’m going anywhere with you. You want to kill me, you’re gonna have to do it right here, or drag my ass out, pick one.”
Patrick angled his body into the doorway. “Kill you? I want to talk to you. Sit up.”
Leo didn’t move.
“Where’s Tessa, Leo? I need to know.”
Leo didn’t reply.
“I need to know where Tessa is because I need to be sure she doesn’t talk to a soul about what happened at Lonesome Point. Believe me, I know that she knows, because I know you told her.”
Leo was shaking his head.
Patrick said, “What? You saying you didn’t tell her?” He laughed. “Ridiculous. I know you told her because I know you. I
know
you. Where can I find her so she and I can have a sit-down?”
“Go to hell, Patrick.”
That pissed Patrick off. He said, “Get up,” tapping Leo’s leg. “Come on, get up.” Leo would not move. Patrick dropped a palm on Leo’s lower leg to tug him out. Leo drew his legs back fast and kicked, Patrick pulling back and catching one on the forearm, one thumping him hard on a shoulder.
“Get away!” Leo bicycled his feet, stamping at air.
Patrick stepped back from the door and took a deep breath. He opened the driver’s door and jacked the trunk release. He went to the back, raised the trunk lid and returned to the door. Leo had lifted his head off the seat, breathing heavy, neck muscles taut. Listening hard, trying to figure what was coming next.
Patrick counted off in his head one, two, three, ducked in and snatched Leo’s ankles, and hauled him forward, Leo flopping back and kicking but already too far outside, then Patrick yanked him by the belt and out he came, head hitting the doorframe,
body tumbling onto the grass. Leo said, “Ahh, fuck, my shoulder,” and Patrick didn’t let up, grabbing his arms, twisting him onto his stomach, straddling him, and pushing his face into the grass. “Okay, now,” Patrick said, breathing hard. “Let’s talk.” He pushed Leo’s face down. “What’s that? You say you can’t talk, your mouth’s full of dirt?” He lifted Leo’s head by the hair. “That better?” He slapped the back of Leo’s head. “Where’s Tessa?”
Leo turned his face to the side, dirt all over his nose and the blindfold. He blew his nose sharply. “Take these things off my arms, motherfucker, and let’s see what happens to you.”
Patrick punched him in the back of the head. Punched him again. “Where’s Tessa?” He had his fist cocked to slug him again, but controlled himself. Keeping a tight hold on Leo’s wrists, Patrick lifted himself up. He said, “Get on your feet.” Leo staggered up, Patrick wrenching his wrist back just enough to cause some pain. Leo tried to fight back, twisting wildly, but he was blind and off-balance and Patrick muscled him over to the trunk. He spun him around and said, “Sit down,” pushing down on Leo’s shoulders. He put a palm over Leo’s chest and said calmly, “Let’s rest here a second so we can talk, okay?” and Leo seemed to relax, lifting his blindfolded face, as Patrick pushed him with two hands, Leo falling backward into the trunk, legs flying up, one foot sticking out of the trunk. Patrick brought the lid down on the leg firmly, it pulled back, and Patrick slammed the trunk shut.
He leaned both palms on the car, trying to catch some air. He turned his face to the side and wiped his forehead on a sleeve and stared at his sweaty reflection in the rear window.
Leo screamed. The car rocked. Another scream.
“Patrick!”
BERNARD TOOK the old man down a trail behind a dense thicket. Freddy was scouting another trail to the right, an overgrown one, to see where that led.
Herman had clawed the blindfold off with one hand. It didn’t matter much to Bernard if that’s how the old man wanted it, the end was going to be the same. Why would any man want to see one of the worst things that could happen to him? Anticipation was the most painful part. Everybody would prefer to go in their sleep, right? All peaceful, so you don’t hardly feel the pain. It was only humane to help a man in this predicament by offering a blindfold, but if he didn’t see the need, then granting him a clear-eyed view was the humane thing to do, and Bernard considered himself humane, on a basic level.
He’d never done a job like this out of animosity or for kicks. This was strictly a job, a thing that required doing efficiently and professionally, and goddamn right he was a professional.
“Slow down, old boy, where you think you going? Stay in front of me.”
Herman tottered through the bush, his bony shoulders heaving as he sobbed, the shirt tied around his waist making him look even more pathetic. Bernard felt sorry for the old guy, but this was a thing that had to be done, and it was just that simple.
From somewhere behind him, Freddy said, “Everything too much in the open back here. Keep pushing on, B.”
After a row of weed-choked ponds, the trail leveled and veered off into the bush. They picked up another trail to the left, a two-track that snaked past heaps of engine blocks and tires
strewn by the ponds. This trail petered out near a cluster of oak trees, heavy bush behind that. This was as perfect a spot as any.
And Herman sensed it, too, because he took off, lurching to the right and crashing through the grass, jangly like a skeleton.
“Wait up there, now,” and Bernard made four big steps and snatched him by a shoulder and yanked him back, the old man flailing backward and toppling to the ground.
Freddy laughed.
Bernard shook his head at the old man. “Damn fool.” He hoisted him by an arm and kept a hand on his shoulder to stay him. “What you doing,
señor
? Calm yourself. Don’t act like this, losing all your dignity. I hear that you a respectable gentleman in your community. This ain’t no way for a respectable man to act, running hysterical like this. It’s disgraceful. What … what’s the matter?”
Herman was stomping his feet. He bent over and swatted at his legs. Red ants were crawling over his feet and up his legs. Bernard pulled him out of the high grass, stooped down and brushed off the ants. He took his handkerchief and knocked off the ants, while the old dude held on to his shoulder for support.
Herman moaned his approval and quit fidgeting. When Bernard stood up, he was sweating. Freddy looked impatient. Bernard beat the kerchief against a thigh and wiped his brow with it. “Got to help out a man in his last moments,” Bernard said to Freddy. He handed the kerchief to Herman. “Go ahead. Dry your face. Can’t stand to see you crying like that.”
Herman wouldn’t take it, mumbling something in Spanish and turning his face away.
Bernard folded the kerchief and stuffed it back into his shirt pocket. “Man, you’re making this harder than—”
Herman was off for the races again, running north this time, back along the two-track, shouting in Spanish.
Freddy said, “Yo, give me that fucking gun.”
Bernard threw up his hands. “See, now, this some
bull
shit,” and he chugged after Herman.
Herman left the two-track, and the ground seemed to give way under him and he pitched forward, disappearing in the bushes. Then came a splash.
Bernard reached the pond as Herman was grasping at grass tufts, trying to pull himself out of the muck, waist-deep. He was soaked, hair plastered on his skull. Bernard stood at the edge of the pond and watched. The man was naked, shirt floating among the weeds. Opening his mouth to say something, no sound coming out, eyes pleading. He raised a hand to Bernard.
“Just look at you,” Bernard said. “Shameful,” and he dragged the pistol from his waistband and held it down by his right leg.
PATRICK LISTENED to Leo bumping around inside the trunk. “How’re you doing in there? Terrified yet?”
“Let me out, please. Please let me out.”
Patrick said, “Nothing would please me more than to release this lock, get you out standing next to me in this cool, wonderful fresh air. But I can’t do that with you acting like an idiot. I’m sure it must be steaming in there, positively
steaming
. And you being all claustrophobic, it must seem terribly dark in there,
huh, Leo?” He listened to Leo hitting the trunk. “You’re ranting, you’re losing control, so I need you to calm down and help yourself. Tell me where Tessa is and I’ll let you out. I promise you, tell me where I can find her, I’ll open this trunk.”
“
Please … please just let me out, man!”
“No, no, you’re not paying attention. Tell me where Tessa is, Leo.”
“
Why? Let me out, please.”
“I think you know why.”
“
Patrick, I can’t breathe in here.”
“It’s because you’re so claustrophobic. You must feel like you’re suffocating. Must be pure hell in there.” He listened to Leo kicking the trunk. “Where is Tessa, Leo?”
“
I don’t know. Jesus Christ, just let me out.”
Patrick released a long breath. “See, I just don’t believe you. You’re not being honest with me, but I’m going to be honest with you right now. I intend to make sure she doesn’t talk to anybody about Lonesome Point, I’m not going to lie to you. I know that you told her everything about me but you left out the rotten stuff about yourself, didn’t you? You told her everything about what
I
did, but you, you probably came off looking like the noble pothead.”
“
Everything that happened back then was wrong. It was wrong. Please, man, let me outta here!”
“Aw, listen to you,
it was wrong
, you and your petty moralizing. Too late for that now, don’t you understand that? You’ve forgotten what side you’re on, you’ve forgotten the number one rule of this game? Silence. Keep your fucking mouth shut. Keep your guilt to yourself.”
The car rocked as Leo moved around.
“Open up. For fuck’s sake.”
“Where is Tessa, Leo?”
“I’m not telling you. You think I’m stupid? If I tell you, you’ll kill me and then you’ll go and kill her.”
Leo kicked the inside of the trunk. He made a barely audible sound, groaned.
“Let me the fuck outta here and get it over with.”
Not good. His voice was stronger, had lost that edge of panic. Patrick leaned hard on the car. “You know what? You’re right. I
am
going to kill you. But you have a choice. You could roast in there a bit longer and let your claustrophobia fuck with your mind. Or speak up now and I’ll let you out into some fresh air and get it done for you quickly.”
No reply.
“Did you hear me?”
“If Tessa doesn’t hear from me by five o’clock, she’ll call the police and report me missing. They’ll go to the farm house to check.”
“Is that so? Well, we aren’t there, so why worry?”
“She’ll say that the last person she saw me with was you. If I go missing, the police will be coming to speak to you. Tessa’ll tell them everything.”
Patrick pressed his palms against the car. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t breathe. He sucked in air through his mouth and let it out slowly and evenly. Did he have a choice here? If he released Leo and he ratted, so many people would go down, not to mention him losing everything he’d toiled for all these years, plus his freedom. Voter fraud conspiracy would get him at least a year, probably more. And what about kidnapping and false imprisonment?—which was what this was right here.
And murder? Absolutely no way he was going to let this all slide beyond his control. His reputation tarnished, his career shot. His family embarrassed. Scandalizing his firm and his associates along the way, then him going to prison—his mind was racing.
Patrick rested his forehead on the trunk. He had a massive headache, a hollowness widening in the middle of his chest. “The offer has been withdrawn, Leo. I have nothing more to say to you except one day we’ll meet on the other side. Because you and me, we’re going to the same place.”
L
EO WAS SUFFOCATING. He was baking. Dying slowly. He was just thankful for the blindfold. At first he thought he was going to lose control of his thoughts, his sanity, but breath by breath he understood that claustrophobia wasn’t that frightening to a blind man, and Patrick talking outside actually made it easier, didn’t make him feel so trapped.
Terror lurked at the edges, but he tried not to make that his focus, busying himself, trying to believe that it wasn’t futile. All the while Patrick was talking to him, he was sawing away with the paring knife at the zip-tie around his wrists. He was drenched in sweat, twisted in a painful semi-fetal, having freed the knife from his right sock and manipulated it in his right fist so that once out of every three attempts the blade bit into the plastic and gave him a little hope.