Where the Broken Lie (26 page)

Wipes a hand across his mostly bald head, which is starting to glisten with sweat.

I continue.

“So, I take that hair of yours and the bag of evidence and I take them to this girl I went to school with—Laurie Monroe. You remember her, don’t ya? Norma and Glenn’s daughter. Real smart girl. Anyway, I take them to Laurie at the county hospital to do a DNA comparison. You know they can do that now? I mean, technically Laurie shouldn’t be doing this, but you know how it is with old friends.”

Best buds forever.

Suddenly, like someone has just yelled “draw,” Grandpa turns to face me with his trigger finger pointed at my chest.

“Jesus Christ, Tuck! You, you, what, you hear some bullshit story from a hundred years ago and just, what, just forget everything else? Just forget everything and turn on your own family?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say. I just, I haven’t been myself lately—you know, with the baby and all—and then Keller hits me with this stuff and…I don’t know, I guess I needed something else to think about.”

Outside, a boy and a girl ride by on their bikes.

Maybe they’re going to The Garden.

“Well … what can these tests prove anyhow?” he asks.

“The truth. That you’re innocent and I’m an ass for ever thinking otherwise.”

“Ok, good. That’s good.”

A puzzled look falls over him. He is processing things. Again he starts to say something and stops himself.

He turns away from me and looks out the window.

“Well … what if …”

This is it. This is where he breaks.

Or where he doesn’t.

Seconds pass. Life stops. And then …

“What if they make a mistake?”

And
I know
. With that one little question I now know for sure.

I know
.

And part of what I know is how wrong I was about everything I ever thought I knew before.

The clocks begin ticking again. Life has returned.

“A mistake?”

“Well, yeah, sure. What if they do something wrong and it looks like they might match or somethin’?”

“No, Grandpa, it doesn’t work that way. If they match, well then …”

He turns to look at me.

“Then that would make you Katie’s killer.”

I inch toward him.

“So it’s not going to match, right? Right, Grandpa?” I repeat louder.

Then lowering my face in front of him to catch his gaze.

“Right?”

He jerks his eyes back up, back to the moment and says, “What’s that?”

“How else could your DNA match the DNA from Katie’s underwear?”

“A mistake. Like I said, they could make a mistake.”

“No. I told you, it doesn’t work that way. They can’t make a mistake like that.”

“Christ, Tuck, I wish to hell you hadn’t dragged me into this mess. That was a hundred years ago. It was someone else.”

And now for my bluff.

From my back pocket I pull out the envelope that contains Grandma’s hospital bill. I flash it in front of him long enough for him to see the hospital logo.

“As luck would have it, I got the results back from the hospital today. Didn’t think Laurie would be able to run the tests so quickly, but here we are.”

He stands in silence. Blood gone from his face. Air wheezing from his mouth and nose. Big circular stains have formed each armpit. His chest is heaving so hard I wonder if this is what a heart attack looks like from the outside.

“What am I going to find in here, Grandpa?”

Again the look on his face takes me back to the night Katie had gone missing when I had begged him to tell me he was going to find her. A look that a child might see as sorrow, but an adult recognizes as guilt.

I thought about the doctor from my nightmare. How he had winked at me and smiled that razor-blade smile, holding the dead child out in front of him. The same way Grandpa had done with Tory that day she’d gone missing. Had I somehow known this all along?

I begin to tear the envelope open.

“Tuck,” he says, thrusting a hand out toward me.

“What, Grandpa? What is it? Is there something you want to tell me?”

I pause, think about Katie. Maybe it was a prayer.

“Pedophile,” I say, spitting the word at him.

“Killer.”

The words come out in a voice that I don’t recognize as my own.

He gulps and lowers his hand.

“No,” he says. “No. That wasn’t me. That’s not who I am. That was a hundred years ago.”

The clocks tick through the moment. The only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped again.

“Tell you what,” I say. “I don’t want to know what’s inside. You understand me? I DON’T WANT TO KNOW!” I yell, slapping him across the face with the envelope at the same time.

I pull back, step away, catch my breath. He cowers in his chair, unwilling to look at me.

“I already know, but I don’t want to know. So, here’s what I’m going to do. It’s nine o’clock. I’m going to put this envelope back in my pocket and I’m going to walk up to Mustang’s and I’m going to drink until I can’t see straight. And when the bar closes at two and it’s time for my drunk ass to come back here, I’m going to open up this envelope and I’m going to read the results. Then I’m going to come back here, Grandpa. Once I know what I already know, I’m going to come back here and I’m going to … I’m going to deal with it. You understand me? Five hours from now, I’m going to deal with things. Don’t waste these five hours trying to come up with excuses or lies. Use these hours like they’re your last.”

Slowly, I carry my bluff to the front door, open it, and walk out without looking back.

He is gone when I get home from Mustang’s that night. I couldn’t see where he had packed anything, no real signs that he’d left for good. In fact, there were only two things that I knew for sure were missing. One was his pick-up truck and the other was that picture of him and Grandma on their wedding day. That picture of the person he always wanted to be. And had been, I suppose—a hundred and one years ago.

Disappearing right after his wife had died, everyone could only speculate that the grief had been too much for him.

“Poor old Hollis,” friends said, “he couldn’t stand the thought of being without her.”

“Poor Dad.” Paula said. “It hurt him so much to see mom in pain that he couldn’t even visit her in the hospital.”

“Poor Grandpa, he’ll be back in time. When he’s ready he’ll come back to us.”

But I knew. I knew that the place he had gone was not a place you come back from. Ever.

Poor old Hollis Gaines.

The day after Grandpa left, I found another grave letter at Ethan’s grave. Between what was written on the lines of those pages and what I read between them, I finally found out the truth of what had happened to Katie Cooper …

Katie had come looking for me that afternoon, wanting to make sure I was okay after what had happened at the basketball court with Edie and Son. But Grandma had taken me, Gavin, and Heather shopping in Glidden. Grandpa was home alone watching television and drinking whiskey from his flask when Katie came to the front door looking for me.

“He went to town with his grandmother,” he said, hiding the flask behind his back.

“Oh,” she said. “Ok. Um, Mr. Gaines, did he seem okay?”

“Yeah, sure, far as I could tell he seemed fine. Why, what’s wrong? You want to come in and wait? They won’t be gone too long.”

He shut the door behind her and took another swig of whiskey, then again tucked it away in his back pocket.

“Have a seat, sweetheart. I’ll turn something on the television for you.”

He watched her as she walked across the room to the couch, running her hands behind her as she sat to press down a skirt she wasn’t wearing. His eyes burned and he swallowed the cotton out of his mouth. Licked his lips. He felt old Jack Daniels walking around inside him. Warming his belly, stirring him, inviting in those unnatural thoughts that his sober mind constantly struggled against.

He wasn’t struggling now. It felt good not to struggle.

Then, falling back in the chair across from her, he said, “Well, well, you are sure turning into a fine young lady, Miss Katie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gaines.”

“Yes. Yes, indeed. Miss Katie, the fine young lady. Come on, stand up and let me get a good look at you.”

When she politely refused, something inside him began to rise up. The rebirth of something that had always been alive, but didn’t always live—because of the struggle.

But he wasn’t struggling now.

He pulled the flask out of his pocket and drank until it was gone. He tossed it to the side and said, “Okay, then. I guess I’m just going to have to come over there.”

He moved next to her on the couch and cupped her face, holding her head up like an offering. Then he lifted her from the couch and made her stand in front of him.

“Yes, indeed. Miss Katie, the fine young lady.”

Looking down his nose and smiling, he said, “Such a pretty little girl. Step back for a second, let me see the whole picture.”

“You sure are growing up fast, aren’t you, Katie?” His heart raced as he took her hands in his.

Frightened now, Katie just shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, come on,” he slurred. “You must know what a big girl you’re becoming, don’t you?”

“I guess,” she said with a shrug. “I should probably get going, Mr. Gaines. Could you tell Tucker I was here?”

“And so pretty, too. Pretty all over.”

“Pretty here,” he said touching her face.

“Pretty on the outside and pretty on the inside,” he said, pressing his hand against her chest and holding it there.

“In fact, you are so pretty, Katie, that I could just eat you up.”

The last few words were growled out as he lurched at Katie, grabbed her by both shoulders and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms completely around her.

“I need to get going, Mr. Gaines. My mom’s expecting me,” she said in a meek voice that made him think of Little Red Riding Hood.

Then, cheek to cheek, he said to her, “What’s the matter, Katie? Don’t be afraid. Do I look like the Big Bad Wolf to you, Katie?”

Strangely, when she began to cry, it calmed him completely and he said, “Ssshh. Don’t struggle, Katie. Trust me, it feels good not to struggle.”