The Death Run (A Short Story) (3 page)

By the time Colin got up the next day, the news was all over town and, actually, the country. “Damn good thing I took care of it all last night,” Colin muttered to himself as he dragged himself from his bedroom.

He found his mother in the living room, staring at the TV, a box of Kleenex on her lap and her phone by her side.

It had been ringing constantly; he’d heard it from his room.

Heard how much she thanked God her baby was OK.

He dropped to the couch beside her. 10:00. He never slept this late.

“Saw you on the news.”

“Really?”

“Just a summary, you know. Got you a paper. Didn’t know if you’d want to … well, like you did for Danny. Fill up the blank pages at the end?”

Colin blinked as he looked into the blank blue eyes that mirrored his own. How could he and his mom look so much alike and yet be so different? “Thanks. Perfect.”

“They’re bringing in that guy from the city. Where you went to college. You know, the grief counselor.”

“Mike Danforth?”

“I think so.”

“Where are the sessions?”

“Church basement.”

“Same as before?” Colin asked.

“Same as before.”

Perfect
.

Over the next five days, Colin didn’t have a moment to himself. Between avoiding reporters and working his shifts at the Co-op, he was volunteering at the grief counseling sessions. People would cry or talk or seek meaning in it all, and he would lend his ear, so they felt heard, and words of comfort.

He was in his element. This is what he’d trained to do.

Colin had spent a lot of time with Mike Danforth. Danforth was the reason he’d gone into social work at college. Of course, Mother wouldn’t know that. She didn’t know anything. Didn’t think Colin could cut it as a counselor, or as anything else.

He knew better, and had hoped to get a position right out of college.

Part of him had thought that if he’d helped others, it would make up for not helping Danny. Now he knew better. He couldn’t make up for that. He had to put things right for Danny.

And that’s why he had to come back to Vaughn Falls; he’d be here until the job was done.

On the sixth day after the tragedy, a triple funeral burst the seams of the Anglican Church, and, along with his parents, Colin paid his respects to the families. Shops closed so that everyone could go. Outside, journalists still hung around, waiting for a chance to photograph the grieving and make their mark.

By then, everyone had all the details, and whispers wove their way through town. Judd O’Neal, Graeme Launder, and Terry Arnold had all been up on East Ridge, drinking.

Officer Scott stopped by the morning after the funeral and shared with Colin what they’d concluded in their investigation.

The boys drank a lethal dose of drugs and alcohol before getting into Judd’s pickup. The assumption was that they’d mixed it up on the hill before riding down to their deaths.

Mrs. Griffin, who lived at the bottom of East Ridge, had heard them hollering like a bunch of buffoons, as she put it, hooting and honking the horn as they raced down the old road at a minute to twelve.

The midnight truckers would have been plowing through town within seconds. Woken by the noise, Mrs. Griffin had described lying in bed, and as the sound of their yelling faded, the silence had seemed to go on forever before she heard the sickening screech of tires and smashing of metal and glass. She’d run out of her house in her robe and rollers, an image that had been preserved by local smartphone photo hacks who’d sent their images to media outlets.

From her house, she said could see the few blocks to the church. The bottom half of the truck was wedged under a semi.

Déjà vu, she’d called it.

She used the term incorrectly, like more than half the English-speaking world, but Colin and everyone else knew what she’d meant.

Word had also gotten round that Colin had been drinking with them on East Ridge before they made what one paper called “The Death Run.” Colin had been drug tested and screened for alcohol by police the next day. Clean.

And Walt Anders, who lived on the north side of town, swore he’d seen Colin walk past his house on his way home at ten past twelve. A friend had called about the accident, and he’d been on his way to Mrs. Griffin’s house when he’d seen Colin walking by.

Colin knew who the “her” was, although Walt Anders was still trying to hide the fact that he and Mrs. Griffin had been having a not-so-secret affair for years.

It was why Colin talked to both of them the day of “The Death Run.” He wanted them to remember him.

Someone had the math down. In order for Colin to walk down the hill and through town so that Walt Anders could have seen him, he must have left the party before things got out of hand.

After all, there was no other way down the hill.

Best as anyone could figure, Colin must have left East Ridge by 11:25 to be seen by Walt Anders where he was at 12:10.

They figured the three boys had left the top of the hill at 11:55.

Once Officer Scott had finished, Colin nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. Like I said before, I don’t really remember. And I lost my watch.”

He stood up to shake Officer Scott’s hand as the front door opened and his mother slithered in.

“Colin, I got you today’s paper to add to your collection.” Mary Clarke stopped when she saw Officer Scott standing in her living room.

“Hello, Mary.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Colin took the paper. He glanced at Officer Scott and figured the cop wasn’t in a hurry to leave, so he sauntered back to his room.

“What’s with the paper?” Officer Scott asked. He couldn’t explain to himself why he was still standing rooted in the living room. Although he’d recapped the conclusions of the investigation, and the bosses were ready to dot each
i
and cross each
t
and sign off on it, he’d taken the opportunity to relay the information to Colin Clarke.

To get one last chance to gauge his reactions.

“Oh nothing,” Mary said. “I mean, it was my idea. I thought he might like to collect things, like he did before.”

“Before?”

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two cups of coffee. “Danny. Colin has a whole album. Saved everything.”

“Can I see it?”

She nodded toward the coffee table, and he followed her gaze to the book. Officer Scott picked it up and looked through each page. Although he was a local, there had been a few years he hadn’t lived in town, when he’d been in the city, watching his wife die from cancer.

Mary’s cousin. They’d all told them they were too young, it wouldn’t last, that he’d charmed her with the tall, dark, and handsome looks they said he had, and that he was blinded by her angelic smile, blonde hair, and sea-blue eyes.

They’d been right about it not lasting, but for the wrong reasons, and since he’d moved back, he’d felt the gulf between him and her family.

As though they blamed him for her illness.

That had been when Danny Stephensen had died.

This was his first time seeing the story in print.

“There’re a few blank pages in the back.”

“Yeah, that’s why I suggested Colin save these clippings too. He wasn’t close to those boys, not like he was to Danny, but he had the space.” She shrugged. Curled up on the couch with her oversized sweater swallowing her tiny frame. She seemed to sink into the furniture.

Colin had clearly saved the clippings about Danny because they’d been friends. He’d seen the pictures of the two of them, and it brought back all the memories he had, from family picnics and reunions.

Danny and Colin had been inseparable.

That was the really odd thing. Why hadn’t Colin been with Danny that night? What could have been going on with Danny Stephensen that Colin had missed?

A dead teen. A tragic combination of drugs and guns. Called an accident.

Like what had happened only a short week before.

“The East Ridge Memorial Book.”

Mary snorted. “Oughta call it Death Ridge.” She took a swig of coffee and set the empty cup down on the table. “Heard the other Stephensen boy left town suddenly after the accident. Guess it was too much for him.”

“Not surprising,” Officer Scott said, although he wondered if there wasn’t something more to it than that. These were the things still gnawing at him.

Colin walked back into the living room. He looked at the coffee table.

Officer Scott held up the book. “Looking for this?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Officer Scott passed it to him. “By the way, thanks for all the help at the church. Must have been tough for you, but people appreciated it, you know.”

“Thanks.” Colin still wasn’t looking him in the eye. Officer Scott noted the flushed cheeks.

Embarrassed to be helpful?

“You know, Mike Danforth’s expanding his team. He told me this morning. Thought you might be a good fit.”

“Really?” Colin was looking him in the eye then, a light in him Officer Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.

“I can tell him you’d be interested?”

“That’d be great. Thanks, Officer Scott.”

“Really, Colin? Kyle.”

Colin gave him a sheepish grin. “Kyle. Thanks.”

Two weeks later, Mary was fussing about, cleaning cupboards and floors while Frank and Colin brought boxes of Colin’s things to the truck before heading to the secondhand shop for furniture.