Spilled Milk, no. 1 Page 14

  What right did I have to involve a high school kid in my dispute with the law? Though given the seriousness of the charges facing me, endangering the welfare of a child seemed a minor infraction and unlikely to change the outcome of a future trial, should I get caught.

  I stifled my anxieties and tried to focus. It took a moment to get through to the police. “Detective Rogan, please.”

  “Who shall I say is calling?”

  “An old friend. I’m returning his call.”

  After a moment, the call connected.

  “Gerrold, you son of a bitch! What did you do with him?”

  Who? I thought. I chose to play dumb. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

  “You know who I mean. The amnesia patient. The one whose room you torched. Where is he?”

  I chuckled when I realized he still hadn’t figured it out. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  “I ain’t playing games, here!”

  “And neither am I.” My voice grew sharp. “Now, did you bring my kids?”

  “Yeah. Believe it or not, they’re in the lobby. Scared half out of their wits, too.”

  “Put them on the phone.”

  “I’m on the fourth floor!”

  “‘Kay. I’ll call you back in twenty.” With that, I hung up.

  The front door banged open, and Melissa bounded out of the house, looking like a kid who just found a puppy and wanted to show her mother. I half expected her to ask, “Can we keep him?”

  She brought her friend over to the side of the car. I shoved my cell phone into my pocket and unrolled the window.

  “Misty, I’d like you to meet Mr. Gerrold Smith.”

  Misty stared down at me with brown eyes in an oval face framed by long, curly locks of auburn hair. Her lips were set in a doubtful frown. I stuck out my hand. She stared at it as if I’d just offered her a loaded gun.

  “Y-you’re not, like, gonna hurt us, or anything?”

  I glanced at Melissa, who smacked her shoulder. “He’s not like that. I told you!”

  “You also told me he car-jacked you.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “I did car-jack her. But that was me texting you on the phone. Not her.”

  Hesitantly, she said, “Oh,” and finally took my hand.

  “I don’t bite,” I said.

  She managed a limp smile and said, “W-would you like to come inside?”

  “Thank you. That’d be nice.” I opened the car door, and she actually jumped back a bit. I wondered if she wasn’t going to pee herself. As I closed the car door, I caught her staring at my bandaged face. I managed a smile. “It looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?”

  “What happened?” Her voice sounded full of awe. There was only so much of this hero-worship that I could take.

  “Didn’t get out of the truck in time. It caught fire on the bridge. I had to climb out through the windshield. At least, I think that’s when it happened. The whole thing’s kinda blurry.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Constantly. This isn’t TV, ladies. Come on.”

  I led them to the front steps and waited until Misty passed by me and opened the front door.

  “Melissa tells me you set up the fan page,” I said as we passed through the foyer. The house was a spacious, middle class suburban home, with fine oak trim and scrollwork on the stairs, and broad crown molding running along the length of the walls. The living room was painted the color of lima beans with white trim. Against one wall sat a brick fire place, with a matching green couch and love seat arranged in front of it over white, Berber carpet. It was exactly the sort of living room that my wife Mary had always admired: the sort of thing depicted in her ladies’ home magazines as the epitome of the American Dream. She used to shove various pictures of these perfect homes beneath my nose, usually when I was paying bills or something like that, and coo about how one day we’d have a home like that. I think she meant to give me hope. Instead, it just felt like pressure. I did my best to not let it show, and I must’ve succeeded, ‘cause she never stopped doing it. Staring at the room now, I realized that I’d never have a room like that. In fact, I’d be lucky if I had anything more than a pine box or an eight by eight foot cell.

  “Nice house,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she answered. “Can I get you anything? Beer, maybe?”

  “Sure.”

  I followed them into the kitchen, where she opened a stainless steel fridge and pulled out a six pack. She tossed a can to me and a second one to Melissa. I watched as Misty cracked hers open and guzzled about half of it. I opened mine and took a swallow.

  “Listen,” she said. “About the fan page? I can totally take that down. I mean, I never—”

  “No, it’s all right.” I cut her off. “Guess everybody needs a cause. Here’s the thing. I’m no hero. And I don’t want to be treated like one.”

  After a moment, she nodded and took another swallow of beer. I resisted the urge to ask her if her parents knew that she drank. How couldn’t they? Surely, they could count the cans in their own fridge.

  “Told ya,” said Melissa. “Old School.”

  “Wow,” Misty said, staring at her beer. “A parent who actually gives a damn.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Melissa intervened. “Uh huh. He doesn’t like swearing.”

  “Seriously?” she gaped.

  I said, “Imagine how I feel about underage drinking.”

  Melissa sprayed her beer. Misty tossed her a towel. She wiped up her mess and put her can in the sink, and then reached for Misty’s as well. She surrendered it after a final swallow.

  “I’m not trying to be your father,” I said.

  “No, don’t worry about it. Kids shouldn’t be drinking, right? They should be playing hop scotch and wearing poodle skirts.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, that was low.”

  “Mel’s got Daddy issues,” Misty offered.

  “Like I said. I’m not trying to be your father. I’m just trying to save my kids. Same as any parent would do.”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “I could disappear for a week and my step-dad wouldn’t notice. And even if he did, he’d feel relief.” She emphasized the word “step.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” I said.

  “It’s true,” Misty said. “It’s like they can’t wait for us to leave or something. Like we’re a burden.”

  “I’m sure they don’t feel that way. Your parents love you.”

  “Get real,” Melissa said. “All we have to do is text our ‘rents that we’re doing a sleep-over at the other’s house, and we can disappear.”

  “They never check?”

  “They haven’t yet,” Misty said.

  “We’ve done it for years,” Melissa explained. “At first it was cool, thinking what we could get away with. Now it’s just lame.”

  I set my beer down. “So this is some kind of cry for help, huh?”

  “Sure whatever.”

  “Well, just for the record. I would never do that. I hope you realize all parents aren’t like that.”

  “Yeah?” said Melissa, “Well, that’s what makes you a hero, whether you like it or not.”

  “That,” added Misty, “and the fact that you blew up the school.”

  Both girls giggled.

  Chapter 24

  I still wasn’t comfortable with the hero-thing, but I doubted I’d get anywhere with it by arguing with them. Instead, I chose to focus on the task at hand.

  “Either of you got a map of the city?”

  “Come on,” Misty said, pushing away from the counter. She and Melissa led me upstairs to her bedroom. As we entered I glanced around, pursing my lips. The room was done up in pale blue and white with soft pink pillows on the bed and fuzzy stuffed animals arranged neatly on a nearby chair. A poster of some young stud in a vampire movie I’d heard about clung to the wall above her bed. The room seemed somehow out of kilter for a seventee
n year old girl drinking beer and hanging out with a wanted felon like me. Maybe the girls were right, and their parents didn’t know them at all. Maybe they didn’t want to know. It was always easier believing illusions about our children when they painted a better picture than the reality. I thought about Matt’s reaction to me at the hospital. What illusions was I carrying about who he really was? How had the last six months changed him in ways that I hadn’t seen? Regardless, I’d made a point of it to find out.

  At her desk, Misty logged onto her computer and brought up Google Earth. In a minute, I had a bird’s eye view of the city.

  “What are you looking for?” Melissa said.

  I crouched down and studied the overlay. “I’m not sure just yet. I need a place I can control. Someplace I can lure Rogan into with my kids, and then separate them from him and get away without being seen. Preferably with a hefty lead, or it’s going to be a real short trip.”

  “You could always use the zoo,” Misty said.

  “The zoo?”

  “Sure. I work there part time. In the gift shop from three to close. The zoo is mostly contained, like you said, so it’ll give the cops the illusion of control, but its spread out enough that you can always slip through the cracks.”

  “Huh. You sound like you’ve done this before.”

  She shrugged. “The zoo makes a good place to buy and sell. Especially if you don’t want to be seen or you need a quick getaway.”

  “Buy and sell what?” I wondered aloud. The girls exchanged glances and gave me lopsided grins. I grimaced. “Never mind. All right, the zoo it is. We’ll figure out a strategy that involves separating Rogan from my kids. I think I’ve got something I can use toward that end. Next project.” I turned to Melissa. “You said you might be able to hook me up with someone who can do ID?”

  “Jeremy can,” said Misty. Melissa shook her head.

  “Who’s Jeremy?” I said.

  Misty looked ready to argue with Melissa. “He always gets us ID to get into the clubs. Primo ID.”

  “He doesn’t do that anymore,” said Melissa.

  “This has got to pass muster at the border,” I added.

  “He would if you asked him.”

  “I told you. He’s trying to go straight. I don’t wanna involve him.”

  “Who’s Jeremy?”

  “Her boyfriend.”

  “Ex-boyfriend.” Melissa flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “He went and found God. I’m not on his radar anymore.”

  “He still likes you.”

  “Well then, he’s not on my radar. Seriously. I don’t want to ask him.”

  “Who then?”

  “I was thinking Gill.”

  “No way.” Misty shook her head firmly.

  “I’ll bite,” I said. “Who’s Gill?”

  “Gill’s hard core,” said Misty. “Bad news through and through.”

  “No he’s not. He’s a pussy cat.”

  “He is to you. That’s just ‘cause he’s got a thing for you. Let him inside your pants just once and he thinks he owns you. Trust me. I ain’t going through this again.”

  “Can he do the job?” I asked.

  Melissa raised an eyebrow, staring at her friend. Misty glanced between us, sighed and said, “Yeah. If he can’t, he knows someone who can.”

  “Good. Then put me in touch with him.”

  “It’s gonna cost you,” Misty said.

  “I’ve got funds.”

  “Not you,” she said. “Her.” She met Melissa’s eyes. “No way he’ll let you string him along anymore. Not once you owe him a favor.”

  “You let me worry about that,” Melissa said.

  “Wait a second. I’m not gonna let you put yourself at risk on my account. And definitely not like that. He takes the money, or there’s no deal. This is non-negotiable,” I added when I thought she’d object.

  She shrugged. “Whatever you say, Old School.”

  “Okay. I think that about does it.” I rose to my feet. It had been twenty minutes at least, and Rogan was expecting his phone call.

  “Not yet,” Melissa said. I frowned. “We’ve got to get you some decent clothes,” she said. “And a bath.”

  I furrowed my brow. Misty gave a confirming nod. “I’ll see what my Dad has in his closet,” she offered. “Shower’s down the hall and to the left.”

  “All right then. Thanks.”

  I shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, went inside and closed the door. In the broad mirror behind the sink, I got a good look at myself. No wonder they thought I needed a shower. I looked like a refugee from a war zone. The skin grafts around my face looked like they were healing nicely. The bedraggled clothes I’d stolen from the old man across the hall had stretched to the limit of their capacity, and I’d already torn a hole in the shoes from cramming my oversized feet into them. I sat on the toilet and peeled them off, massaging the soles. I was getting blisters on the toes. I hoped Misty’s father had something better to wear.

  Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed Rogan’s number. Once connected, I gave him the bad news. He wasn’t catching me that easy.

  “Got my kids, now, Rogan?”

  “Yeah. I got ‘em. They’re sitting right here in front of me.”

  “Good. Put them on the phone.”

  I heard the phone change hands, and then Matt’s voice came through loud and clear. “Dad?”

  “Hey, Buddy.”

  “Daddy!” Sara’s voice came over loud and clear.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Can you both hear me okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I miss you, Daddy.”

  “I miss you, too. Both of you. I want you to know I’m working on a way to see you again. I know the cops are saying they’re going to arrest me and all, but I think I know a way we can get past that. Not just for a little bit. I mean, forever. Well, until you grow up, at least. Thing is, we’re going to have to make some hard choices, and I don’t want to make those without talking to you guys about it first. So before I do anything, I’ve got to know one thing: do you want to be with me?”

  Sara answered almost immediately. “I want to be with you!”

  Matt took a minute before saying, “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Okay. Sara, I need to talk to Matt privately for a minute. He’ll tell you what you need to know.”

  “Okay. Bye, Daddy.”

  “Bye, sweetheart. Matt, you still there?”

  “I’m here, Dad.”

  “Rogan nearby?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. Listen up. Number one: not everything those cops said to you was a lie. I don’t know what they told you, but I have done some pretty terrible things. I’m being honest with you, ‘cause it’s important you know the truth. Thing is, Matt, I’m at war with these people. And when you’re in war, sometimes you have to do terrible things. It’s not ‘cause you want to do them. It’s ‘cause you have to. Last time I was at war, I was fighting for my country. I had to do some terrible things then, and some innocent people got killed. I’m very sad about that, but it couldn’t be helped. It happens. This time, I’m fighting for my family. For you and your sister. ‘Cause what those cops and judges have done to us is wrong. And they think they can do whatever they want because they’re bigger than us, and because they put some words on a paper and called it a law. But that don’t make them right. It just makes them a bully. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Let me put it to you this way. In your history class, did you study Nazi Germany?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Everything the Nazis did was legal. Did you know that? It was legal ‘cause they were the government. They were in charge. The Germans had elected them. And they passed their laws. But what they did was wrong. It was legal, but it was wrong. Stopping them, resisting them was illegal, but it was the right thing to do. It’s not supposed to be that way. Laws are supposed to protect the innocent and punish the guilty. But sometimes things get tu
rned around, and when that happens, the right thing to do is to break the law, to protect the innocent and punish the guilty even if it’s illegal to do so. Now, I’m not trying to punish them—well, maybe a little bit. What I’m really trying to do is get you guys back with me. They’re a bully. And I’ve taught you what to do with a bully, right?”

  “Stand up to them.”

  “Exactly. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “I get it.”

  “Okay. I love you, Matt. I’m going to try to make this happen soon.”

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “Bye son. Go ahead and put Rogan back on the phone.”

  The phone changed hands again. Rogan said, “All right. You spoke to them. I held up my end.”

  “So you did.”

  “Now you—”

  “Whoa. Hold on a second. We don’t have a bargain. What we have here is me with the upper hand, and you doing as I say, so nobody else gets hurt. Are we clear on that?”

  After a moment he said, “We’re clear.”

  “Good. Take my kids to the park. The one with the big play ground by the mall. Buy them both some lunch. You’ll find an organic food store across the street. The kids will know what to order. Better yet, let Matt place the order himself if he wants. He’s a growing boy.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you all can eat some lunch. I’ll be in touch. Say, in about two hours.”

  I hung up before he could say anything further, and then sat there a few minutes with my chin on my knuckles, trying to picture my kids. My God, Matt had understood what I was trying to do. He even accepted it.

  That was far more than I could have hoped for.

  Chapter 25

  I peeled the clothes off my body and let them fall to a heap on the floor, and then stepped into the shower.

  The nurses at the hospital had kept me clean with sponge baths, and I hadn’t had a proper shower in several weeks. In fact, the last time I’d seen a shower was at the truck stop the day I made my bombs. No wonder the girls thought I needed one.