An Incidental Reckoning (33 page)

“I’m sorry. There were some complications. Things didn’t go as smooth as I had hoped but I think we made it.”

“Okay,” she said.

He allowed a sigh of relief to escape. She began to lower the gun but then something moved within her and she slowly raised it up again. Her eyes held steel and her jaw muscles tensed as she gritted her teeth.

“Hey, wait. I swear that’s the truth.”

“Maybe. Damn you, Brody.”

“But I’m not…”

He sunk to his knees as the explosion reverberated through the room, his world slowly receding as if looking through the peephole again, but this time from the edge of a great darkness.

...
Brody Stape,
he thought
,
and then even that little window closed and the darkness swallowed him whole.

Erin walked through the parking lot, her eyes fixed on the curtain of the motel office. She thought she saw it twitch, waited for a face to peer out and catch her standing frozen in the lot, but the face never came. She focused on drawing deep even breaths, then forced her feet to move. She pushed away thoughts of the morality of what she had done, didn't think she would ever spend much time trying to sort it out. No matter what other emotions her act evoked - terror, anger, fear of being caught - she could not muster any sorrow for killing him. Especially if it turned out Jon was dead.

She hiked down the road, the gun tucked away in her purse, and almost missed her car parked in an abandoned Tastee-Freeze lot. She got in, threw down her purse on the passenger seat and sobbed, her entire body shaking: in response to the trauma of taking a life, for the harrowing period she had endured while waiting for this night, and especially for what might have befallen Jon.

She didn't know if Brody had told the truth, but after the first lie she knew she could never believe anything else he said. And then she knew that it had become her duty to kill him. How could she encourage Jon and then give herself a pass? For what other reason had she bought the gun, and taken classes to learn to use it while supposedly at some home decor party or watching a movie at a friend’s house so that Jon wouldn’t know? She had more scented candles picked up at Wal-Mart on the way home to fool him than she knew what to do with. She didn't relish killing Stape, but people did things all the time they didn't want to do, and sometimes a thing just needed done.

On Friday morning, Erin had dressed after a quick shower, hiding her clothing beneath her robe. After a flurry of kisses and a long hug that felt too much like a final goodbye, Jon had left. She waited a few minutes and followed, easily catching up on the two hour trip north on route 79. Once she had spotted his car, she hung back just far enough to keep him in sight but remain out of his.

She then played a nerve-wracking game of remaining hidden but staying close enough to keep tabs on him. Erin decided that she had no choice but to check into the same motel. She felt ridiculous in a pair of oversized sunglasses and the wig transforming her into a brunette, and the clothes designed for a woman half her age purchased at the mall. She needn’t have bothered. The few times she saw her husband, he was so distracted that she could have walked past him naked without him noticing.

She remained vigilant, running to the window anytime she heard the sound of a car starting in the lot. Her diligence paid off when on Friday night she got outside just in time to follow him to the warehouse. She had gone straight when he had made the final turn, after noting his taillights signaling that he had braked and slowed down, and quickly cut her lights and pulled to the curb, getting out of the car and watching over the roof. Another man had gotten into the car with him at the gate, and she burned with hatred on seeing Brody Stape, the source of so much misery, for the first time.

She then discretely followed the white Toyota back to the hotel, waited until Jon had gone inside, waited in the car a while longer to see if he would leave again, and then reluctantly returned to her room to get some sleep. She had no idea what she could possibly accomplish, except be near for her husband's sake while feeling so very far away. She only knew that she couldn't bear to sit home, waiting for a call from the police to notify her of his death, or a call from Jon himself from inside the police station.

She awoke to the sound of a car idling and, still groggy, rushed to the window as the white car left. She had slept in her clothing, and so hurried out the door in pursuit. Back to the warehouse. This time, only Brody came out. Both Jon and his vehicle were stashed inside. She fought the temptation to follow Stape, but couldn’t leave Jon. Surely Brody would be savvier to a tail, anyway, and she refused to jeopardize Jon's safety or force them to abort this mission and possibly begin the cycle all over again. She couldn't bear that without going insane.

Brody didn't look like much from a distance: tall and skinny, like a banker or car salesman. Certainly not a killer. She wondered why she had only seen two men, where Will fit in all of this. Maybe inside too. She hoped so; hoped that, for all her disdain of Will, he and Jon could at least draw strength and support from each other. For now.

She sat at the curb a while longer, watching for activity. Traffic increased as the rest of the world woke up. A man walked by with his dog and then stared at her while the animal watered a sign post. She knew she had to move before arousing suspicion, maybe attracting the police. She started the car, and for the morning and afternoon drove varying routes, learning this scruffy section of Erie by heart, always swinging back by the warehouse. Nothing had changed, but for all she knew Jon wasn't inside anymore, could have slipped out at any time. But her gut told her that this is where it would happen, and at night made the most sense. She battled both terror and boredom, a strange mix of emotions but appropriate for the strangest day of her life.

Finally she had parked across from the bar facing back down the street and went in to use the restroom, have a quick drink to calm her nerves and get some food to bring out and eat behind the wheel. She had to fight off the advances of a man with a thin mustache and slicked back hair so dark to appear that a raven had perched on his scalp in order to return to her vigil. As dusk became darkness, she made a quick trip to a convenience store for the bathroom, some junk food and caffeine pills. She came back to park in the same spot, and so welcomed the first drunk of the evening staggering out and taking a piss in the middle of the street beside her car. He noticed her in mid-stream, offered her a salute, fumbled himself back into his jeans, and finally swayed off down the road. Erin laughed uncontrollably for a few minutes, glad for the man’s antics to lighten her mood, if only for a short time.

Just after midnight, thoroughly sick of the same few songs played over and over on a popular radio station and fighting to keep her eyelids open, the armored car had turned into the gate. From her perspective it had appeared locked, but the truck simply bulled through and the two segments flung open with a sharp bang. Nobody got out to close them, and now wide awake she understood this was it. Erin sucked in a quick breath at the enormity of the crime. She listened for police sirens and watched for other vehicles but the few cars that passed expressed no interest. Though terrified, she began to feel hopeful. Maybe they could pull this off and Jon could make it home in one piece. The other two could spend the rest of their lives in prison for all she cared, but for now she wished them all well.

When Jon’s car had pulled back out onto the street, she again followed, taking special care now that a crime had been committed. The occupants would be hyper-vigilant, and she didn’t need Stape or even Jon shooting at her from out of a window. And if Jon recognized her, he might be forced to protect her, and come to harm where he otherwise wouldn’t. The sirens had begun wailing, from a distance but closing, as she pursued them. She chose to believe that Jon rode up ahead. He had to be there.

She knew she had fallen back too far when, on rounding a bend, no tail lights marked the car's progress on the stretch of road ahead. The driver must have sped up. Erin panicked and increased her own speed, but then slowed down and began looking at houses and buildings at roadside, for motion or the flash of an interior light. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she was seized by indecision, finally concluding that she could only keep going.

She nearly drove past the little motel, did not expect to see the car facing the road and waiting for her to pass, barely had enough time to signal and slow to an almost normal speed and turn in. But she saw the man driving, and it was not Jon. No one else appeared to be with him. He had stared at her when she made the turn, and it had taken all of her self-control not stare back. Brody Stape again. Erin turned off her lights and drove back to the edge of the road, saw the car turn left a short ways down the highway and disappear into the trees. She nearly decided to follow again when she spotted the white Toyota parked in front of one of the rooms. Perhaps Jon waited inside. She fought the urge to go to the door and knock, knew how foolish that would be. Suddenly the whole trip seemed utterly stupid, like the actions of some crime gang groupie, hanging out at the motel after the heist and hoping for a glimpse of the felons.

She pulled out and drove down the road, turned around and came back, slowed, and then pulled into the lot again, into a spot against some trees on the far side away from the motel. If the door would open, if she could just see Jon, she would go home and wait it out.

Erin didn’t notice Brody return on foot until she caught him staring at her as he walked past. He looked hard, his quick gait slowing, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her heart jumped in panic. He seemed unsure whether to approach or go back to his room. A desperate idea popped into her head and she acted before she could think it through, plastered a smile on her face and got out.

“Hey, honey,” she said. “You looking for some company?”

She had driven away from that initial contact in desperate frustration. She didn't know if he told the truth about being alone, but her heart told her he had. She had pushed it, she knew, by trying to find out, but she had so desperately wanted just a crumb of good news to provide her with hope. If she had given it more thought, it wouldn’t have made sense for Brody to leave and dump the car if he had lesser accomplices to handle it, to take all of the risks when her husband and Will were easily more expendable. She had pulled into the lot of the boarded up Tastee-Freeze and considered her options. However troubling his absence, without Jon to worry about her options opened up, and she nearly pulled out her phone and called the police. But what if Jon did get away, or had taken a different route to meet up with Brody and Will at the motel? How ironic if he arrived just ahead of the cops and ended up in prison for a decade because of her tip. She only knew for sure that Brody was there, suspected him to be alone, and had the means tucked away in her purse to take care of that single biggest problem.

Erin put her car in drive and left the Tastee-Freeze and Brody’s corpse behind, planning to go home to endure an agonized wait for word of Jon, when her phone rang. She fumbled for it, spilling the purse and its contents on the passenger seat. She only paused to replace the gun, prevented from throwing it out the window only by its link as evidence to the crime scene a mile behind her.

She looked at the number. Jon. Breathlessly, she answered.

"Jon? Jon, is that you? Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I don't know for how long. There are police all over. Stape is dead. He was already dead. Will set this up. I just want to tell you that I love you. No matter what happens."

Erin was torn between concern for Jon – she detected sharp exhalations after each brief statement signaling some degree of pain or distress - and the realization of what he had told her. She hadn't killed Brody, but Will. She would need to know more before drawing any firm conclusions, but maybe in the end it amounted to the same thing. She pushed it away. Right now Jon needed her.

"Where are you, Jon? Are you still near the warehouse?"

A pause on the line populated by his hard, ragged breathing, and she remembered that he didn't know she had come.

"I'm here in Erie, Jon. I followed you. Where are you?"

"Erin, why..."

"Later. Where are you?"

"In an alley back behind the warehouse. Near some train tracks. I think I have some busted ribs."

"I know where that is. Stay put, I'm coming. Look for my car."

She hung up the phone, started the engine, and drove as fast as she dared. She didn't pass the warehouse, but circled around and arrived from the opposite direction, a course she had taken several times earlier while on her private tour of the city. The flashing of the cruiser lights that bounced off of the houses and the people standing on steps and porches reminded her of the summer carnivals she used to attend as a kid.