My Name Is River Blue (51 page)

I didn't speak
aloud to Ant. I just stood there quietly remembering my brother and wishing as
I always did that he was still with me. After all the months that had passed
since his death, I still missed him every day.

I found Carlee's
grave in another section of the cemetery where the plots all belonged to the
Summers family. There were quite a few of her relatives buried near her and
room for more. I guessed that the vacant plots closest to her were for her
immediate family. It irked me to know that Big Bill would be buried near
Carlee.

I spoke to
Carlee a while and told her that I loved her, and that I had not talked to another
girl since she passed. One reason had been the need for a reclusive lifestyle
that had no room for a relationship, and the other reason was an absolute lack
of desire to share with another girl that part of me that I gave to Carlee. It
had become much easier to understand how Papa felt about relationships after he
lost Lisa.

From the
cemetery, I drove back to my motel and walked next door to have a bowl of
potato soup and a ham sandwich in Cathy's Cafe. As greasy as breakfast was, I
tried to be safe with my selection. It wasn't bad compared to what I ate in
Stockwell.

After lunch, I placed
the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside door handle of my motel room
and chain locked the door. I planned to spend the afternoon napping and
resting, and I didn't want a maid banging on the door. I set my watch alarm so
that I would have plenty of time to check out of the motel and make it to
Harper Springs for dinner. I was in the mood for some barbecued wings.

***

I arrived in
Harper Springs early and decided to drive past Tolley House where I saw two
boys I didn't know playing catch in the yard. It occurred to me that the city recreation
baseball league would start soon, and the boys were probably getting their arms
in shape for tryouts.

As I came upon
the old part of Harper Park, I decided that I had time for a visit. When I
parked my car and entered the playground, I saw no signs indicating that the
place would soon change into something radically different that would ruin it
for the neighborhood kids. I walked past groups of laughing children on swings
and monkey bars past the old diamond where there were boys playing baseball and
dreaming of becoming sports heroes.

For a few
minutes, I sat on the same old bleacher where Papa first spoke to me when I was
a thirteen-year-old kid enjoying my first day in the park. I remembered the day
when I bathed in glorious sunshine, fresh air, and the delicious smell of honeysuckle
and freshly cut grass. After confinement in Stockwell for two years, I was unbelievably
happy that day. I wondered if it were possible to be any happier than a kid who
had the freedom to make his own magic out of a summer's day. I wished I could
be that boy again, just for a little while.

I caught
movement to my right and that's when I saw the kid on the opposite end of the
bleachers. With an old football tucked under his arm, the young boy with shaggy
brown hair wore a frown and slumped forward on his seat as if someone were
sitting on his shoulders. He stared at some boys playing touch football not far
from where the baseball kids were playing their game.

I looked at my
watch. I had time. I walked slowly to the boy and remembered when Papa took
those same steps towards me.

"Hey."
I startled the kid and saw his thin body tense. "I didn't mean to scare
you. I used to sit here and daydream when I was younger. Sometimes I didn't
even notice who was around me. My name is...RB. That's what my friends call me.
What's yours?"

The boy, who
looked to be about eleven years old, hesitated and then answered. "I'm
Ray."

What were the
chances? "That's a cool name. I had a good friend named Ray. How old are
you?"

"Twelve. I'm
small for my age." Ray nodded at the boys playing football. "They
never pick me to play cause I'm small, and I'm not very good either."

"I think
you look fine. Besides one day, you'll grow like crazy almost overnight, and
then you'll be as big as the other boys are. As far as not playing well, you
need someone to play with you, so you can get better."

"I don't
have anyone." Ray stared at the ground and almost whispered, "I'm a
foster kid. I don't have any friends."

Was this really
happening to me? "So am I. At least I used to be. Where do you live?"

"I'm living
with the Wilson family right now. The house is just up the street a
block."

"Ray, I
don't have much time, but would you like the throw the ball around some?"

"You mean
with you?" I could hear the cautious excitement in his voice.

"Sure. If
you want."

"Yes, sir.
I sure do. Thanks." Ray eagerly led me to a corner of the field where we
would have room to throw.

I spent less
than an hour showing Ray the right way to throw and catch, but the boy
appreciated every minute of it. It doesn't take much to make a kid smile.
Sometimes you just have to "throw the ball around." When I had to
leave, I hooked him up with some help.

"You know who
Tyler Long is?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. He
plays for the varsity Hawks."

"You give
him a call at Deer Lake Farm and tell him that his big brother wants him to
work with you. He'll teach you and be your friend, but you have to promise me that
you'll wait until tomorrow to call. If you don't wait, the deal is off. Okay?"

"Awesome. Thanks."

Since I paid for
most things with cash instead of cards, I had enough money on me that before I
left, I gave Ray $100 and told him to do what he wanted with it. Knowing how
seldom a foster kid has any money at all, I understood what my gesture meant to
Ray. I watched his eyes grow wide with surprise, followed by his ear-to-ear
grin. When we said our goodbyes, he threw both of his arms around me and that's
when I realized how much I missed a good hug.

When I was
almost to my car, I turned and looked back at him. Ray was watching me from
exactly where I left him. We both grinned and waved. I drove away knowing that
I would probably never see little Ray or Harper Park again.

It was almost
time for dinner.

CHAPTER
THIRTY

It was Tuesday
evening, and when I parked my car in front of Big Bill's Barbeque, the light
was failing fast. Before I stepped out of the car, I checked once more to make
sure I had what I needed. I surveyed the parking lot, which was almost empty of
customer cars. I knew that employees and private party guests parked behind the
building. I took a deep breath and without showing a limp, I strolled inside
the restaurant. The breeze was chilly enough that I looked normal wearing a
light jacket.

I only saw four
customers in the restaurant and plenty of empty tables. During times of light
business, customers seated themselves, so I chose to sit at a small table with an
unobstructed view of the door that led to the private dining room.

I thought that the
server, a clean-cut young guy, was probably an Ackers State student. His red
hair and fair skin reminded me of Sean, but with a friendly smile, he
introduced himself as Chad. Chad scribbled down my order of a large platter of
barbequed wings and a draft beer, and then performed one of his duties that I
could tell made him uncomfortable. He asked for my ID, and I handed him my
latest out of state driver's license that I had acquired especially for that
trip. According to the license, I had been twenty-one for a week, but in truth,
I would not be twenty-one until December 19. He examined my ID while taking
glances at my face. He wanted so badly to ask me to remove my sunglasses but he
didn't. Instead, I saw his face react when he gave my name more thought.

"Thank you,
Mr. Summers." Then cautiously, he said, "You have the same last name
as the owner of the restaurant."

It was the
perfect opening. "Well, actually...Chad, can you please keep this quiet
for a while? I'm his nephew, and I haven't seen him lately. I cut my spring
break vacation at the beach a bit short, so I could come here on my way home
and surprise him."

"You must
take after your mother's side. You look different from Mr. Summers and the
family members I've seen." Chad turned his head side to side trying to see
under my shades. It was so obvious that it was comical.

"You're
right. I look more like Mom and half of her ancestors came from Brazil, but
Uncle Bill doesn't hold it against me." Chad laughed when he saw me smile
first.

"I wish I
was darker. I never get a tan, I just burn."

"So, Chad,
you think you could help me surprise Uncle Bill?"

Chad grinned,
leaned down, and whispered. "Sure thing, Mr. Summers. Just let me know
what you need. Does your cousin know about your surprise?"

"My cousin?
Which one?"

"Max. He
called me with the number in their party and mentioned that he was coming with
his uncle. He's on spring break too."

It was hard to
keep my composure. I hadn't given a thought to Max being there. "No, Max
doesn't know. No one here is expecting me."

"Well, I
won't say a word." Chad whispered as if he might enjoy being a spy.

"Thanks,
Chad, and you can call me Gabe. Is Uncle Bill having his regular Tuesday night meeting
in the back?"

"Right. They
all get here by eight, and we close the door to regular customers."

"Good, I
hope all his friends come. How does that work exactly? How many employees are
here tonight?"

"Just me
and the cook. It's always dead this time on Tuesday. We'll close up out here at
eight, and then I'll take orders for the boss's private party and serve them by
nine. I take one last order of drinks to them around ten and then the cook and
I leave."

"That's
perfect, Chad. If you want to help, it would be awesome for you to let me serve
their last order of drinks. I can't wait to see his face when he recognizes
me."

Chad laughed,
but quietly as if to make sure the other four customers in the dining area
couldn't hear him. "That should be some surprise."

"I guarantee
you that I'm one of the last people he expects to see tonight."

After Chad
brought my order, I took my time. I slowly nursed one glass of beer and nibbled
on the wings until I had chewed off every bit of meat on each one. It was a
perfect way to stay busy until Chad signaled me that it was time to serve the
gentlemen their last call. Chad set their drinks on a rolling dining cart so
that my inexperienced hands wouldn't spill them. I think he wanted to stay and
watch, but I didn't offer to include him.

Chad and the
cook left. I backed through the only door to the private room and pulled the
cart in behind me. As I pretended to position the cart in preparation for
serving the drinks, I kept my head bowed, but I peeked up and scanned the room.
The walls were decorated with a few pictures of Big Bill, posed with guests at
his restaurant, and there was one tall showcase, filled with awards and
trophies, representing the man's accomplishments throughout the years.

The dining room
was spacious, and although there were only thirteen men there that night, the
table in the center of the room would have easily seated a few more. I recognized
the mayor and some local businessmen who were also city or county council
members. A man I didn't know was using a computer projector to show pictures of
the apartment complex and shopping center that Big Bill wanted to build. All the
men were looking away from me towards the presentation on the back wall.

Big Bill and Max
sat tightly together at the other end of the table from me. It appeared that
Max had pulled his chair close to Big Bill's seat so that he could follow his
uncle's notes on the presentation. It temporarily shook me to know how careful
I would have to be.

I rolled the
cart beside the table and stopped midways, deciding that they could pass their
own drinks around if they wanted them, and I figured that they would want them
badly very soon. I returned to the door where I stood blocking the only way out
of the room. It was time to get the new agenda under way.

"Gentleman,
may I have your attention." Both of my hands were down by my sides. The
right one held a Luger 9mm semi-automatic pistol. Only one or two of the men
glanced my way. I loudly cleared my voice and that's when Big Bill noticed me,
followed by Max.

Bill Summers looked
at me as if I were an unwelcome rat in the kitchen storeroom. "Who are you
and where's Chad?"

"I'm new,
and I let Chad off for the night. The cook too. We're the only ones left. Oh, and
don't worry, the restaurant is locked up, so no one will bother us."

Upon hearing more
of my voice, Max's eyes widened with recognition and his face grew pale. Big
Bill just looked confused and pissed off. The other men were still studying the
chart on the wall, except for one of them who saw what I held in my hand. When
he dropped his cocktail glass on the table, the others looked his way and saw
me.

"He's got a
gun!" Mr. Spastic screamed like a girl. The other men were obviously
surprised and concerned, but there were no other extreme reactions.

"River? How?
I mean what are you doing here?" Max sounded as if he were talking to a
ghost and suddenly, I saw the change in Big Bill's expression when he recognized
me.

I gave my
orders. "Everyone, stay in your seat. If you get up, I
will
shoot you.
Place your cell phones in the middle of the table, and then stretch both arms
out with your hands palm up where I can see them. Do it now. I have an extra
clip, so there's enough for all of you."

Big Bill was
pissed and raised off his seat to stand. He reached for his cell phone as he
threatened me. "Your bastard ass is going to jail where you belong."

I had spent many
hours target shooting with Tom, and I was as accurate with my gun as I had been
passing a football.

I fired a shot
that missed Big Bill's head by only inches and slammed into the image of the
apartment building projected on the wall behind him. He dropped his phone, and
his ass hit the chair before the echo died. Everyone flinched, some slid lower
in their seats, and Mr. Spastic tried to hide his fat ass under the table. I
had their attention.

"That was
your last warning shot. I want everyone's cell phone in the middle of the table.
Then place your hands palm up like I told you. You have five seconds before I begin
shooting the ones who can't listen."

They all rapidly
complied, including Bill Summers. Some of them were nervous enough that their faces
popped sweat. I felt sorry for Max, who looked the most frightened of anyone there.
He kept closing his eyes tightly for a few seconds and then opening them as if
he were trying to wish me away. I hated that I was scaring Max, and I knew my
next move would make it worse for him.

As I began to
raise the Luger, Max closed his eyes. Big Bill never blinked as I leveled the
gun at his nose. "You took the lives of people I loved, and you ruined
mine. I want to know why. I want to know what was so important. And then I want
an apology. If I don't get what I want, you're going to die tonight."

While I gave my
terms, I stared straight at Big Bill, and he defiantly glared back. I had never
seen such hate and fury directed at me, and I had no doubt that he wanted to
add me to the list of people who died for challenging him.

A glance at Max
revealed that his eyes were tightly closed again. Sweat poured off my friend's
face and dark stains spread from the armpits of his blue dress shirt. From my
angle, I could see most of his body, including his bouncing knees. It wasn't
hard to understand his fear. He thought I had killed Carlee, and at that
moment, I was threatening his uncle with a gun. I regretted that Max and I were
not the close friends we once were.

There was
absolute quiet in the room. Big Bill's intense gaze had not left me. Max's eyes
remained closed and his lips were drawn tight as if he were bracing for me to
fire my weapon. While I kept my focus on Big Bill and Max, I remained alert to
any movement from the other men. I made one more attempt at forcing a response
and a possible slip of the tongue from an angry Bill Summers.

"You have
about ten seconds to answer me. If you don't, I can kill you knowing that I
gave you a chance to be a real man and do the right thing."

The other men
sat perfectly still while they observed the drama between Big Bill and me. For
those long seconds, neither of us blinked. My heart rate and breathing were
eerily normal, and I wondered how that could be. Was it because the drama I created
was so surreal? How would I feel when I shot Big Bill? Would that feel real to
me? Would my vitals change? Before I came back to Harper Springs, I had decided
that I didn't have much of a life to lose, and I was prepared to pay the
penalty for ending Bill Summers.

Time was up. I
knew all along that there was only the slightest chance that he would talk too
much and slip up as he did when he told Carlee about the truck hitting Ant's
car. I wanted him to offer irrefutable proof of at least one of his crimes,
something that he couldn't take back so that his statement would have validity
in court rather than appearing to be only a forced false admission. I was silly
to think I could pressure a man like him into making a stupid mistake that
would convict him in court. I briefly wondered if I had devised a weak plan on
purpose so that I could justify killing him.

"Have it
your way, asshole." As the words left my lips, I took proper aim. Before I
could squeeze the trigger and splatter Big Bill's brains like barbecued meat on
the wall behind him, the confession came rushing forth like floodwater through
a broken dam.

"Don't
shoot. I'm sorry. Ant, Carlee, and Papa. I never wanted to hurt them. I didn't
have a choice. Please, I'm sorry."

Big Bill's mouth
was wide open, but he had not said a word, and I was no longer his focus. He and
every other man at the table stared at the frightened, sobbing figure of Max
Summers. I was confused and then shocked. As I understood his words, my anger
grew.

Max's eyes were
still squeezed tight. He thought I had been speaking to
him
. Pointing
the gun at
him
. He thought that I knew what he had done, but until he
admitted it, I would have never believed that Max was capable of hurting those
people and blaming me for Carlee's death. In a perfect world, it would not have
been possible for such deceitful scum to decide the fates of Ant, Carlee, and
Papa. I have never recovered from the feeling of disgust and betrayal that
sickened me in the minutes after Max's confession.

Max's face, a
contorted mask of shame and fear, was covered with tears and snot, and I could
not feel sorry for him, not even for a second. It only made me angrier that the
worthless piece of shit had the nerve to whine and beg like a child wanting a
second chance to be a good boy. Why in hell would he expect consideration from
me that he never gave the people I loved? I had to know what made him turn on the
same people who loved and trusted him. How could he end their lives and act as
if he had done nothing wrong?

It wasn't easy
to remain calm when I wanted to hurt Max, but I needed him to give as many details
as possible, and I wouldn't get them as long as he was afraid that I might
shoot him. I thought that the more I could get him to say, the better chance
there was of him admitting to something that could be used as evidence against
him in court, even if he recanted his confession later. I sounded much like
Detective Walls trying to work a confession out of me when I was eleven years
old. I sickened myself as I used a similar, soothing voice to encourage Max.
What was it Detective Walls said about admitting my mistakes?