Gun Lake (35 page)

Sean didn’t answer. He was getting antsy, bored with the conversation, tired of Kurt getting all goofy on him.

This was a setback, definitely. But there was still a lot to do.

Someone else had a debt to pay. And notice had been served.

The clock was ticking.

None of the guys knew it yet, but the clock was ticking fast.

It would be over soon enough.

THEY WALKED SILENTLY, one by one, away from the covered hole and body. Ossie went last, praying to his heavenly Father.

He knew that all this was coming to an end—or the end was already here. And Ossie was ready to go home. He’d done enough. He’d fulfilled his promise to Sean and tried to share a little of what God had done in his life, though none of the guys had wanted to hear about it and none of them cared.

More and more, he had been daydreaming about his little apartment. About cooking for himself and watching TV and just sitting there and enjoying the quiet. He’d been careful to send in the rent check when it was due. He’d even called Marissa and told her he had a family emergency and asked her to check on things.

He knew he’d lose his job, probably had already lost it. And he’d spent a lot of time working his way up to number-three man in the farmstand department. Maybe his boss would understand
—though what could he tell him? What would he tell anybody? Everything got looked at in a different light because he was an ex-con. An ex-con who “got religion,” as they always said.

What he was really missing was his church. The chapel here was all right, but it wasn’t the same. He could almost feel those smooth, worn pews, hear the lively singing, smell that familiar aroma of dust and furniture polish and hymnbooks and perfume. He wanted to talk about the Lord with people who loved him too. He was hungry for that, tired of hanging out with this raggedy bunch who thought Jesus was just a cuss word and being saved was not an option.

Lord, you saved me
.

Ossie thought of Craig. He wasn’t saved. He’d died in an awful way and been buried with a handful of men—thieves and murderers—surrounding his body.

Someone else died that way too
.

But the difference is that one had hope. Craig had never had hope, not really. You could love movies all you want, you could memorize who was in them and watch them with fascination and enjoyment and make lists about them all day long, but none of that mattered in the end. At the end, you either had hope or you didn’t. You either knew where you were going or you didn’t.

Thank you, Jesus, for saving a wretch like me
.

Ossie knew he wasn’t any better than these men he was walking by. He knew that he was just like them.
Just
like them. Maybe even worse. And the worst thing he could ever do was to think that he was better than they were. Being saved had nothing to do with what kind of guy he was, what he did, or even what he believed. He was a sinner—born a sinner and destined to die a sinner. But blood, sweet precious blood had flowed from Jesus’ side for his sake. He was marked with it. And that meant he was no longer tainted with the blood of that man he’d shot so many years ago. For years he’d carried the blood of that man on his soul, along with the guilt of all his other sins.

That was why he wasn’t any different than Sean, or Kurt, or Wes, or Craig. The only difference is that he’d said yes to the blood of Jesus, and they wouldn’t do it.

Lord Jesus, help me. Help me to give them words from you. Help
me to know what to say, and when to say it. And help me to know when it’s time to leave. When I can go home…

“Hold on,” Sean said.

They were maybe another ten minutes away from the cabin. Sean looked to his left and listened for a moment. He looked back at Kurt and Ossie.

“You guys hear that?”

Suddenly, there was a complete hush in the forest.

Sean waved his hand for them to not say a word, to just listen.

Somewhere out there, bushes crunched and moved. Branches broke.

“Wes,” Sean said in a frantic whisper, “you come with me.”

“What’s going on?” Ossie asked.

“I think we might’ve had a visitor in these woods tonight.”

“Sean—”

“You guys go back to the cabin, okay? Clean the shovels off and put ’em back like we found ’em.”

“Sean, come on—”

“What?”

Ossie looked on as Sean and Kurt stared one another down.

“Make sure no one’s spying on the cabin. I’m gonna make sure someone wasn’t doing a little peeping in the woods tonight.”

Sean and Wes stepped off the trail and into the woods. Sean carried one of their flashlights, but kept it switched off.

Kurt shook his head as they continued down the trail.

“Here’s your big chance,” he told Ossie.

“What’s that?”

“Take off. Take the keys to the Chevy and take off.”

“What about you?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“And Sean?”

Kurt let out a bitter curse. “I’m tired of thinking about Sean. I don’t care. You do what you want. I just don’t care anymore.”

Ossie continued to follow Kurt on the trail until they reached the cabin. Too much was happening for Ossie to leave. He felt responsible, as though his departure would ensure more deaths.

Lord, help this man
, Ossie prayed.
Help all of them. Bring them to you
.

He knew God heard prayers. But he also knew God didn’t always answer prayers the way people thought he should. God did things his own way.

As much as he trusted Jesus, that had Ossie a little worried.

THE SOUND OF THE DOOR opening woke Michelle from her doze on the couch. The light in the kitchen was on, and she squinted her eyes as they adjusted.

“Jared.”

“Yeah,” the low voice answered.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I just went out.”

“Where?”

“Just around.”

She was tired. Tired from worrying, from praying, from asking God why, from wondering how she could manage to let God handle Jared and still be a responsible mother. For now, she had decided to back off. She knew he would return eventually. She knew he probably wasn’t drunk or high. She was too tired to get into an argument. All she wanted—at the moment—was to know he was back here and okay.

She expected Jared to go to his bedroom. She was going to do the same. Instead he sat next to her on the couch. She could see the sweat on his neck and forehead.

“Hey, Mom, I—uh, look, I’m sorry I went out without telling you,” he said. “And for the things I said earlier. And for—for a lot.”

She nodded, looking at him, too tired to try to find the right thing to say back.

“It’s just—well, uh—I’m kinda scared.”

“What?” she asked. “What for?”

“I’m just—I’m glad to be here.”

“Jared, what happened?”

“Nothing. Really. I just—I want to go home.”

She watched him carefully, trying to determine if his “nothing” was really something. She finally decided he was all right. “Actually, I think we might do that.”

“When?”

Jared sounded eager enough to go home right this very moment. She pushed aside the temptation to be hurt over his eagerness to get away from her.

“Maybe in a day or two. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” But he looked a little disappointed, like he’d rather it be sooner.

“We can talk about it in the morning,” she said, then noticed the clock. Two thirteen. It was morning already.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked carefully.

“Uh, around,” he repeated. “Nowhere, really.”

“Well, let’s get some rest.”

Jared went to his bedroom but didn’t shut the door like he usually did. Michelle wondered what had happened to him, and why he had suddenly come home a bit more responsive than normal. Maybe her new attitude was paying off already. Maybe all those prayers were finally kicking in. She didn’t know the answer.

She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

IT WAS MONDAY, August 9,

How long have I been off work?

Don knew that he was on the verge of getting his big break. A promotion, sure, but so much more than that. If this was handled carefully, if it was handled the way it needed to be handled, he could be a hero. Maybe he’d be featured on the evening news with Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw or Peter Jennings or find his face in the papers—and not just the local ones, either.

This could be huge. And it could be the one thing he needed to get Collette back.

It was around ten in the morning and he was at a pay phone. Somewhere in the course of the long weekend, he’d misplaced his cell phone. He dialed the number he’d already recognized and heard the voice of his mother-in-law.

“Is Collette there?”

“I don’t think she wants—”

“Just put her on the phone,” he said, not bothering trying to appease Jacquelyn.

There was silence for a few minutes, then shuffling sounds, then distant voices arguing. For some reason, on this bright sunny day, his eyes hidden behind shades, Don pictured the last time he had made a big mistake and been forgiven.

It wasn’t the words that did it—the apologies and the promises. It was the hug. There on the living-room sofa, Don had sat beside his wife and gently kissed her cheek and pulled her to him in a great big hug. Collette was still in her pajamas, without makeup, her pretty, tired face looking doubtful and hopeful at the same time. They held one another close, and when he kissed her cheek again there were tears running down it. He still remembered their salty taste.

I’m so sorry
, he told her now in his mind, wishing he could hold her close and show her how sorry he was.
For everything
.

“What do you want?” Collette’s voice on the phone disrupted the memory.

“Collette—”

“Yes?”

“Look, I—I needed to call you. I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know that something big has come up.”

“What are you talking about? Did you win a big hand at poker?”

“Come on, Collette. That’s not what I mean.”

“I don’t have any idea what you mean.”

The anger laced in her voice was still thick and real. Her mood had not subsided.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m trying here. And that something big has come along. Something that will show you how … how I’ve changed.”

“You’ve changed, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you pick up the phone the other night when I called?”

He thought for a moment.

“When did you call?”

“A couple of nights ago. Saturday, I think. Around eleven, twelve. Then I called Pete down at the Joint and he said you’d been there. Big change, huh?”

“You called Pete?” Don asked in disbelief.

“I was worried, Don. I actually got worried. I wanted to—it doesn’t matter what I wanted.”

“I was just at the Joint for a little while.”

“I tried calling again around one. Then around two. Which means either you were too drunk to answer the phone or you were still out. Which was it?”

“Collette—”

“Tell me.”

“I think I must have just been too tired to hear it.”

“I let the phone ring forever. I kept calling back. I wasn’t about to leave a message.”

“Look,” he said, “I didn’t want to tell you because I need to keep things confidential, but I was working. I got a hot tip and had to follow it up.”

“That’s right,” she said. “You’ve got some big thing happening. Is it legal?”

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

“I hate what you’ve become. I hate the things you do. In some ways, yeah, I guess I do hate you.”

Don pictured the scene again—the tears, the sweet and loving embrace between the two of them. That seemed so long ago now. Would he ever be able to hug her like that again, knowing that she still loved him, that she still cared, that she still needed him?

At this point, he doubted that she needed Don Hutchence at all.

“What if something happened?” he asked. “What if I proved to you that I’ve changed?”

“It’ll take more than one event, Don.”

“But what if …” He let his voice trail off before he added,
What if you read about me in the newspaper?

He couldn’t tell her everything. Because it might compromise the investigation, even put her in danger. And because if things didn’t work out, she’d call him a joke and a failure.

“I just wanted you to know that there’s a big case I’m working on.”

“I was told you weren’t working,” Collette said.

How many people has she been talking to?

“This is on the side.”

“Don’t get yourself arrested.”

He wanted to be angry at her, or more hurt, or to slam down the phone and forget about her for the time being. But he had done all that before. Many times before. And it always came back to the fact that
he
loved her, that
he
cared about her and needed her.

The tension was when he needed other things. Like when he needed to go get plastered.

“Look,” he said, “I just—I’m trying. I’m really trying here. And soon enough—soon enough I’ll be able to show you how.”

“Okay.”

She sounded skeptical and cynical and unflappable and several other words that sounded the same. He didn’t dare say he loved her. He just told her to tell the boys that their father said hi, that he was getting better, that he would see them soon.

And then it was done.

He got back into his car. Not the cruiser, but his personal car. He wanted to be inconspicuous.

He needed to check out one of the cabin rentals in the Yankee Springs area and look into a group of youth pastors sharing a cabin not far from the Devil’s Soup Bowl. Nothing wrong with that, of course. But Don didn’t remember ever seeing a group of youth pastors camp out together for weeks at a time. He’d just drive by and casually check things out. He’d be meeting up with Mike tonight. Mike had called him and left him a message about the youth pastors.

“You might want to just swing by and take a look at them.”

First, though, he needed to compile some information on the Stagworth Five. The photos he had culled from the stack of old newspapers in the garage had given him little to go on—just grainy black-and-white faces the size of his thumb. He couldn’t go to the station to get better shots because he wasn’t supposed to be working and didn’t want to make his colleagues suspicious. And he was horrible with the Internet, so that wasn’t an option. His poky old computer wasn’t able to handle downloading things anyway.