My Brother's Keeper (17 page)

Jon picked it up. He squeezed and it wheezed out a cry. When Jon looked up, Rudy stood in front of him.

There was no childlike wonder in Rudy’s expression, no smile, no sense of innocence.

Rudy took the duck from Jon’s hand. “The Big and Terrible is here. I don’t want anyone to think I don’t take care of Ellis so I’ve done what I could.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Rule number four: it has to happen. Rule number five: everything happens for a reason.”

Jon opened his eyes to a stained popcorn ceiling and the flash and glow of the muted TV. He ran a hand over his face. Lead weighed him down and a dull drum beat his skull with every pump of his heart.

By the time the grogginess receded enough for him to stand, his bladder ached.

The first step was always the worst. He gritted his teeth and let his weight down on his bad side. His knee popped, shooting a jagged shockwave up his thigh. For some weird reason it made him even more desperate to relieve himself.

The pain dissipated enough for him to limp to the bathroom.

On his way back out the air grew heavy and the subtle sounds of the motel room silenced. What was open space was displaced as if someone had stepped up beside him.

Jon forced himself to walk across the room and sit on the bed.

A year ago, his breakdown hit hard, cracking open his reason and pouring out reality. Crying turned to laughing and laughter transformed into uncontrolled rage. The emotional rapid fire stripped him of his will, leaving him crumpled and unable to move.

But this was different. The fear was there, but it was pure. Born of the unknown, carried on the back of cold chills, and birthed from unseen eyes watching him.

Jon counted the seconds and the seconds became minutes. He pressed his fingertips against his eyes and growled to himself.

The sense of occupied space did not change. He knew when he looked, there would be someone behind him. Not a shadow, not a fleeting image, but a person.

It would be his brother.

Jon calmly turned.

Danny stood in the corner of the room, looking just like Jon remembered: dark, tousled hair, freckles, and long, lanky arms and legs. He wore hand-me-down overalls that were too short to cover his ankles, and they made his feet look big. Every bit of bare skin had a light tan. Jon had been a mirror image of Danny at that age.

He met Jon’s gaze and held it.

“I don’t know if you’re real or my brain is fucking with me.” Jon took a few tentative steps. “Are you real, Danny? Or are you just another piece of me that’s broken off?”

Silence.

“You know what? I think I’ve flipped my lid again. This shit with Lenny, then letting Ellis down. That’s the worst, you know. Fucking up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Is that why I’m seeing you again?”

Jon inventoried his brother, from the top of his head to his toes. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that told him this wasn’t real. During the breakdown, images from the past and present often overlapped, leaving Jon confused as to where or when he was.

But in that moment the presence of his brother didn’t overlap with reality. A realization that was far more frightening than an apparition.

Danny blinked, his nostrils flared when he inhaled, and the pulse tapped in his neck.

“Talk to me. Say something.” Jon fought to keep the tremor out of his voice. “Please Danny, please. I need to know I’m not crazy. Tell me I haven’t lost my mind.” He stopped in front of Danny. A tear rolled down Jon’s cheek and landed in a perfect circle on Danny’s chin.

Jon laid his hand on Danny’s shoulder. Body heat radiated from his skin. Real flesh. Firm flesh. Jon’s fingertips brushed the frayed strap of Danny’s overalls.

Jon’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out.

This was no hallucination.

He threw his arms around Danny, crushing him against his chest. Danny smelled like clean sweat, hay, and the old Borax washing powder their mother used on the laundry.

Danny wrapped his arms around Jon and held him. The words he spoke warmed the shell of Jon’s ear. “Now you will understand.”

The space in front of Jon emptied and he fell to his knees. “No!” The carpet was still warm from Danny’s feet. “No. No, goddamn it. No. No. No.” Jon balled his fists up in his hair. Anger and grief set fire to his cheeks. No more. He couldn’t take it. Everything, every loss, every ragged memory piled down on him. His heart shuddered under the weight.

Hooking up with a bottle would shove him to rock bottom, but it would numb the pain.

Or at least fuck him up so he wouldn’t care.

Jon fled the hotel. He didn’t even bother with his car. The package store was up the street and to the right of M’s Café.

Red and blue lights streaked the road in front him, bouncing off the side of the motel, and glinting against the windshields of parked cars.

Most people used the bypass, so traffic on Grant Road was minimal. At this time of night, it was desolate.

Multiple cruisers, a van, and an ambulance. No tow truck, no signs of wreckage.

Jon found himself walking toward the scene. The floodlights edging the shoulder were not a good sign. It meant they planned on being here a while.

Curiosity became a need and Jon’s pace turned into a jog. Sweat beaded on his skin. He passed one car, then two.

A blue bike with a white swoosh on the chain guard lay at the shoulder of the road. The mangled rear tire remained stationary while the front one couldn’t seem to quit spinning. Its reflector winked in the strobe lights.

The bones in Jon’s neck creaked with the effort it took to turn his head and look at the body. A pair of familiar red Converse stuck out form under the sheet.

“Jon?”

He kept staring, willing this moment to be a nightmare.

George emerged from the small crowd of personnel. “Jon?”

He licked his lips. “Yeah.”

George gripped Jon’s arm. “I don’t have to tell you who that is under the tarp.”

Jon shook his head. “Does Ellis know?”

“I called him, but I didn’t tell him anything. He doesn’t know, Jon. And I don’t know how to tell him.”

Because there weren’t words gentle enough to voice this kind of tragedy.

Ellis pulled up behind a police car blocking the lane. The other people walking around didn’t look like cops.

“Rudy?” Ellis headed toward the floodlights. “Rudy?” The small crowd of people shifted and a crumpled wheel caught the floodlights. There were people wearing blue rubber gloves, gathered near a van.

Ice filled his veins.

Closer, the shoulder of the road fell away.

Voices, police cars, deputies disappeared. There was only the stark glare of the floodlights on a field of white. The air turned to mud. It filled Ellis’s lungs and sucked at his legs.

No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

A Converse sneaker stuck out from the edge of the tarp.

The scream tore out of Ellis. Ragged and brutal, it scraped his throat and burned his vocal cords. Strong arms wrapped around Ellis’s waist and lifted him off the ground.

Ellis kicked and punched. He kept screaming.

“Ellis!”

There’d been a time he knew that voice.

“Ellis, stop. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Let me go. Let me go, goddamn you!” He twisted from Jon’s hold, tearing his shirt. Ellis charged through the officers and shoved the people wearing rubber gloves out of his way. The ground dipped and he stumbled, sliding to a stop beside the solid form under the tarp. Ellis yanked it back.

Blood caked Rudy’s face, and his right eye was lost under shards of bone and torn flesh. His lip was split and the side of his face was bruised to a shade close to black.

Everything else was erased by a wash of crimson.

Ellis brushed Rudy’s hair back and congealing blood stuck to his fingers. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m not mad. You’re not in trouble. I’ll even make you waffles tomorrow or banana pancakes.

“Whatever you want. Anything you want. They can fix you up at the hospital, but don’t be scared, I won’t leave you there. I’ll sit right by the bed. Right there and hold your hand.” He looked up at the people standing in a loose circle. All of them had the same sad look, same dark eyes. “What’s wrong with you? He’s hurt. He needs to go to the hospital…” No one moved and Ellis’s voice boiled to a scream. “Help him. Goddamn you, help him!”

“Ellis.” Jon appeared from nowhere.

“Rudy’s hurt. He’s hurt, Jon, and no one will help him. Why won’t they help him?” Jon pulled Ellis to his feet. “No, I have to stay.” He tried to pull away. “Let go of me, I have to stay. He’ll get scared.” Jon hooked an arm around Ellis’s ribs and hauled him back up the hill. “Help him.” They were near the ambulance when Jon put Ellis down.

Jon turned, blocking Ellis’s view. He found himself encased in Jon’s arms and shielded by his body; wrapped in warmth and muscle. Jon smelled like peaches, fried chicken, and over perfumed soap.

“Let me go.”

“Shhh—”

“Let me go. I have to stay with him.”

“Ellis.”

“I have to. He’ll be scared.” Ellis’s voice fractured into a broken whisper.

Jon petted Ellis’s head. “He’s gone.”

“No. No.” Ellis choked on his inhale. “They can take him to the hospital. They can make him better.”

“He’s gone, baby. Rudy’s gone.”

“No.” Ellis slumped. “No, please.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon pressed his lips to Ellis’s ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’re going to go up north. Just a little while. That’s what I told him. He misses you so much. He wanted bananas in his pancakes this yesterday morning because you like them. We’re going up north. We are.”

“Shhhh.” Jon kissed his temple.

“What am I going to do?” A tremor rocketed through Ellis. “I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

Ellis clawed at Jon’s shoulders and buried a wail into the crook of his neck. Jon petted him, held him, and told him everything was going to be all right. But Ellis couldn’t stop. The grief and anger wouldn’t let him. It grew into a monster taking him to the ground. A vicious creature that eventually would rip him limb from limb.

But first, it would break him, eviscerate him, and skin him alive.

At some point one of the officers loaned Jon a department cell phone.

He dialed Mike and, for Ellis’s sake, prayed he was at home.

A sleepy voice answered, “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“What’s wrong?” Sheets rustled and a woman spoke in the background.

“I…” He strangled on a breath.

“Jon? Jon, are you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…here.”

“Are you drinking? You sound hoarse.”

“No, I’m sober.” After tonight he would need the whole goddamned bar. “Listen, I need to ask you a huge favor.” Ellis sat on the bumper of the ambulance. They’d put a blanket around him, but he wouldn’t even hold it on his shoulders. An EMS worker held him up. The tears, the screaming, had stopped. Now he stared with a blank expression.

Seeing Ellis like that scared Jon more than the former.

Static crackled over the line.

“Where are you?”

“I’m on a cell phone.”

“You said you needed a favor.”

“Yeah.” Jon told Mike about Rudy.

Mike’s exhale rattled the speaker. “Damn, Jon. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. I need you to come down here. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I really…” A sob threatened to break free. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“No. It’s not. I’ll catch the next flight out. I should be there in a few hours.”

Jon gave him the name of the motel and his room number.

He returned the phone to the officer.

As Jon walked over to the ambulance the EMS worker gave him a small nod. An acknowledgement of understanding in a situation no one could possibly understand. Jon took her place next to Ellis. He rested against Jon’s chest.

“I’ve got a friend coming down to see you.” He pressed his cheek to the top of Ellis’s head. “I’m going to take you to the room I’m staying in. Is that okay?” The last place Ellis needed to be was home. Not with Rudy stamped into every inch of the house. “C’mon.” Jon pulled him to his feet.

They’d just crossed the road when George caught up. “You’re not taking him home, are you?”

“No. I’ve got a room here.” Jon nodded at the brick building.

Sheriff glanced back at the scene, but nothing had to be said. They would take Rudy to the morgue, autopsy him, write their little notes about his injuries and how he died. They would never know who he was—an innocent who liked baseball cards and ice cream, but didn’t like yellow.

Knowing his partner had been reduced to a number and report had bothered Jon, but knowing Rudy would become a few sheets of paper in a file cabinet killed something inside him.

Jon pried his gaze from the scene.

“Call me if Ellis needs anything,” George said. “Or you. If you need anything, you’re welcome to call too.”

Jon nodded.

Inside the motel room, Jon held Ellis up with one arm so he could pull back the covers on the bed, then helped him lay down. Jon removed Ellis’s shoes. He didn’t have on any socks, so Jon pulled the covers up enough to keep his feet from getting cold.

It would take Mike five to six hours to get here. That is, if there were any outgoing flights to Atlanta. Then it would take at least another hour to make the drive into Gilford.

Jon rubbed his burning eyes. There were no tears, just a continuous ache. His knee wasn’t happy either, and the rest of his muscles joined in with a wash of weakness.

It wasn’t the need-for-sleep kind of exhaustion, but the type of fatigue he’d often experienced after going on a bust or from staying up all night and day to move a high risk witness from one place to the other. It would take more than a night’s rest to make him feel normal again.

Jon caressed Ellis’s cheek with his knuckles.

But normality was gone for Ellis. And there was no way to get it back.

Jon lay down and held him.

“I’m here.” Jon ran his hand up and down Ellis’s back. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”