The Mistaken (18 page)

I slammed a fresh drink and grimaced. As the moment
drew nearer and my determination grew weaker, my consumption of
alcohol increased twofold. It dawned on me in that moment that I
was gambling with our lives. Earlier in the week, it had seemed so
clear, the sacrifice worth the uncertainty, but now that I was
moving closer to my target—her life locked in my crosshairs—my
resolve wavered. I was unsure if I could complete my mission. Maybe
that was why I put Nick’s future on the table, to make certain I
would follow through, for Jillian’s memory at the very least. I
tried to swallow my fear and concentrate on the task, but I found
my weakening confidence disconcerting. I chose to hide my disquiet
from Nick and pushed forward.

Nick scoured through my garage, tossing two thin
coils of rope, a knife, and some duct tape into a large canvas
duffel bag. We took one more day to discuss strategy: where we
would stay, how we would grab the girl, what we would do with her
once we did, and how we planned on getting her back down to San
Francisco, all without being detected. We walked through every
scenario we could think of, the inevitable problems, and possible
options. It certainly wouldn’t be easy, and we were going to have
to wait and see what the conditions were before we decided which
plan would work best, but we felt certain we could complete our
task and get Erin back to The City by Alexi’s looming deadline, now
a mere four days away.

When the time finally arrived for us to leave for
Seattle, Nick shrugged casually, stuffed his wallet in his back
pocket, and picked up his keys.

“Ready to go?” he asked, as if we were running a
simple errand instead of planning to destroy a human life.

I nodded and hid my uneasiness behind a pair of
sunglasses. As he left to start the car, I filled a bag with
several bottles of liquor, because I knew full well that I would
eventually need the extra courage. I paused at the front door and
looked back into the home I had shared with Jillian, noting all the
things that reminded me of her: her composition of photos artfully
arranged on the walls and the pile of baby products heaped together
in the corner. She was everywhere and yet nowhere.

I turned away and, with a great sigh, closed the
door behind me.

Chapter Twenty

Tyler

My brother and I took shifts driving so we wouldn’t
have to stop for the night. Nick asked me to refrain from drinking
any alcohol during the fourteen-hour drive, something I found
especially difficult. Over the last few months, I’d never gone more
than four or five hours without a drink. At that point, my hands
would begin to tremble, and my heart would race. I would often
break out into a cold sweat, and concentrating became a challenge.
I even hallucinated a few times, jumping away from imaginary bugs
as they skittered across the floor. Nick seemed immune to
withdrawal. I suppose I had become a more hardcore drinker than
Nick ever was. It was not something I was proud of, but I was
resigned to it nonetheless, having no reason or motivation to
change.

The weather grew increasingly worse as we drew
closer to Seattle. The landscape turned to a lush overgrown green
held to earth by heavy, steel-grey clouds leaden with rain which
pounded relentlessly against the windshield. The sky lightened very
early over the Puget Sound, and by five in the morning, the sun had
risen fully behind the oppressive clouds.

“Welcome to Seattle,” Nick said with biting sarcasm.
“I hear it’s sunny here less than two months out of the year. Can
you believe that? Sixty days. I think I’d fucking kill myself if I
had to live with the grey skies and all this depressing rain.”

I laughed as I looked around at the tall trees that
leaned in on the roadway from all sides, their height and breadth
obscuring most of the sky. “Well, at least it’s green here,” I
replied, “and with all the trees, you can barely see the sky
anyway, so…” I shrugged.

He nodded in agreement as he craned his head forward
to view the forested wetland around us. “It’s kind of creepy, you
know, the way you can’t even see through the trees. You’d never
know what’s coming at you. And they have bears, coyotes and
mountain lions all over the place up here, even in the residential
neighborhoods. Fucking scary place. And depressing. And wet. How in
God’s name do they stand all this bloody rain?”

He shivered visibly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle
again. Unlike me, Nick was a true Aussie, raised in the blistering
heat and scorching sun, his free time spent exploring both the bush
and outback alike; that is when he wasn’t surfing or trolling for
girls along the sandy beaches of Melbourne. He didn’t remember the
dreary rain of London as I did. It was little things like this that
exemplified the core differences between us. Though we looked very
much alike, we couldn’t be more different, right down to our
accents.

“We need to go east up here on I-90,” I said,
pointing at the sign ahead.

Nick and I chose to stay in a small town just
outside of Maguire’s. Issaquah, Washington was nestled between
several small mountains in the foothills of the Cascades just ten
miles east of Seattle. It was a quiet bedroom community overloaded
with teriyaki restaurants, two Starbuck’s at every strip mall, and
well-dressed, SUV-driving soccer moms who trolled about with their
young children strapped into car seats while they gossiped through
blue-tooth devices stuck into their ears. I watched the people
venture about, doing their business. Even in the rain no one used
an umbrella, and very few wore rain coats or even pulled hoods up
over their heads. They simply ignored the spitting sky. I shook my
head and chuckled in amusement as Nick pulled the car into a Motel
6 near the freeway.

“I’ll go get a room,” I said. “Why don’t you grab us
something to eat and bring it back. I want to go over the map, get
an idea of where I’m going once I get up into Maguire’s
neighborhood.” Truth was, I couldn’t wait a minute longer for a
drink. I needed one. My hands had been shaking for the last eight
hours.

Nick nodded. “All right. I’ll call to see which room
you’re in.”

I grabbed the bag of alcohol, walked into the
office, and secured a room. I opened the motel room door for Nick
when he returned twenty minutes later. He tossed me my own bag of
food then threw his car keys onto the small table where I had
spread out a map. A bottle of tequila and a glass half full held it
in place.

“I found Maguire’s street,” I informed him as I
swallowed the contents of the glass, immediately pouring myself
another. “It’s only about five or six miles from here. Think I’ll
drive up and take a look.”

Nick looked me over then focused on the glass in my
hand. “Ty, you really need to slow down on that stuff and get some
rest. We’ve been up twenty-four hours straight. I don’t know about
you, but I’m beat. ” He yawned and stretched, emphasizing his
point.

“Nick, come on—”

“No, Ty,
you
come on. I’m dead tired and need
some shut-eye.”

I looked at him closely, noting the dark circles
under his eyes. “Right. Okay, well, maybe just a few hours.”

I reached out and pushed him backwards, and he
plopped into the middle of the closest bed. It squeaked in protest
and bounced under his weight. He pulled out his fast-food breakfast
from the bag still clutched in his hand, wolfing it down as he
studied me.

“Ty, you look like shit,” he mumbled with his mouth
full of food. “Your eyes are all bloodshot. Why don’t you go take a
shower? And shave while you’re at it. You look like a goddamn
bum.”

I ran my hand over my jaw and chin. I had remained
unshaven for nearly two weeks, the grey in my beard a reminder
that, as I grew older, Jillian did not, a motivating factor that
helped keep my mind on task. I grunted a reply and turned back to
study the map and eat my lukewarm meal.

Satisfied and weary, Nick folded a thin pillow up
under his head and sighed. He was asleep in no time, snoring
quietly. I had always envied how easy it was for him to fall
asleep. After Jillian died, I craved sleep. It was the only place
where I could see her, talk to her, and hold her in my arms. I
could almost feel her there and breathe in her scent. But as time
wore on and I drank more, I grew restless, and though I wanted to
sleep more than almost anything in this world, it eluded me most
days. Now was no exception.

I moved to sit on the edge of the other bed and
stared at my brother lying opposite me. He was oblivious to the
turmoil that raged inside me. I would keep it from him if I could.
This was, after all,
my
battle,
my
demons that drove
me foolishly into danger. As Nick slept, his jacket fell open at
his side, exposing a gun strapped securely in a holster. I was
shocked to see him carrying a weapon. I glanced back at his face,
serene and youthful in sleep. I stood up and, leaning over him,
pulled the gun from its sheath, watching his face for any sign of
detection.

Sitting back down at the table, I held the gun in my
hand and checked it for ammunition. It was fully loaded with the
safety off. I looked down the barrel and along the sights before
placing it on the table. It made me uncomfortable just having it in
front of me, but at the same time it inspired a sense of confidence
that had otherwise been absent, though anxiety continued to twitter
restlessly in my stomach. I poured myself another glass of courage
and turned my attention back to the map, noting the best route to
Maguire’s house.

As Nick lay sleeping, I hammered the rest of the
tequila and started in on a six-pack of beer to wash away the sour
taste. My head began to spin as I contemplated the table cluttered
with the remains of my binge. It disgusted me, the way I drank, but
it was the best company I had to ease my loneliness, and the
bitterness I felt because of it. It was also the only buttress
strong enough to bolster my resolve. I ignored the feeling of
uncertainty and refocused on my goal. As I turned to Nick and
studied his sleeping form, I made my decision to drive to Maguire’s
house, alone and without his knowledge. It would be better if he
didn’t know what I was planning. I stuffed the gun into my jacket
pocket, grabbed Nick’s car keys and the map, and quietly left the
room.

My hands trembled as I climbed behind the wheel of
Nick’s Jeep. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, but it
did no good. I threw open the door and puked onto the pavement of
the parking lot, though whether it was from anxiety or the
excessive amount of tequila, I couldn’t be sure. I washed out my
mouth with some bottled water then laid my head back, breathing
slowly and evenly. Though my vision still danced about at times, my
mind grew calm as I focused once again on the reason I was there. I
started the car and drove off.

Maguire lived up in an area called The Plateau, a
tall, narrow hill which rose steeply above Issaquah and the
sparkling Lake Sammamish below. The forest was thick and
impenetrable around the narrow, two-lane roads I traveled. Schools,
lakes, and parks dotted the landscape, and deer foraged unbothered
on the lush vegetation along the roadside. This was a community
full of large, well-manicured homes. Expensive cars sat idle in the
driveways while professional landscapers pruned the already neatly
groomed trees and mowed the large parcels of plush, green lawn
surrounding them.

As a young mother pushed a baby carriage along the
sidewalk, I recalled Jillian asking for a jogging stroller, the one
I destroyed in a fit of rage. I stared at the woman. Her face
blurred, and Jillian’s focused clearly in its place. Anger
welled-up inside me again, burgeoning against the confines of my
flesh. I looked around me, noting the level of affluence, and
remembered the modest home we had tried to buy and the child we
were supposed to have. All of it stolen from me through the
careless disregard of a greedy woman who, in all likelihood,
already had more than I could ever hope for. Tears stung my eyes,
but I shook my head and tempered the anger down. I had a mission,
and I vowed not to let my drunkenness or the rawness of my emotions
turn me from it.

I found Maguire’s house nestled in a large expanse
of verdant, manicured lawn. A long aggregate driveway, edged with
brick and lined with flowering trees and shrubs, snaked through it,
while tall pines leaned over the elegant, custom-built home,
expensively faced with real stone all the way to the roofline. I
passed the house, turned around, and parked a short distance away
in front of a pond rimmed with narrow evergreen bushes. From there,
I could watch the house and not attract attention.

The only people about were a few landscapers, mowing
and trimming for the wealthy homeowners, even in the dismal rain.
They didn’t seem to notice me skulking in Nick’s Grand Cherokee. My
head was pounding from the tequila I had downed, something which
had been happening more often of late. From my jacket pocket, I
pulled out the bottle of Nick’s OxyContin I’d lifted from him weeks
ago. I only took them now and then when the pain in my head was too
much to bear. After waiting twenty minutes for the incessant
throbbing to ease, I climbed out of the Jeep in search of the best
and least detectable way onto Maguire’s property. Luckily, there
were no fences, which made it easy to meander from one property to
the next. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching me.

The rain showered down in pale grey sheets and
soaked me through in minutes. My wet clothes were heavy and
uncomfortable, a dead weight that hung from my shoulders. I
suddenly felt the endless hours I’d been awake added to the tequila
and the pill I’d just taken. My head was spinning much more than I
was used to, irritating me further as I walked through the pouring
rain, hiding within the bushes and behind trees.