My Brother's Keeper (23 page)

While Jon was in the shower, Ellis looked for the gun.

He pulled Jon’s duffle bag from under the bed. T-shirts, jeans, a pair of socks. Ellis checked the side pockets.

Nothing.

Where else could it be? He checked the drawers with Jon’s clothes and then the box of pictures he’d never unpacked.

What if he’d gotten rid of it?

Ellis chewed his thumbnail. He needed the damn gun.

He made one more lap around the room, lifted the mattress, checked under the bed.

Jon walked in rubbing a towel over his hair.

Had he seen him?

Jon tossed the towel on the bed. His dark skin was flushed from the heat and he’d shaved his beard down to a shadow, the way Ellis liked it.

“I’m going to ask you something and I don’t want you to get mad at me.” Jon went to the dresser drawer and pulled out some boxers.

Ellis squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Jon knew. Damn it, he knew. Ellis sat on the edge of the bed. “What?”

“First you have to promise me you won’t get pissed.”

“I’ll try.”

“I know you don’t like them. I know after what…” He growled under his breath. “I’m doing a really shitty job at this.” Jon sat beside Ellis and took his face in his hands. “I need to know I can protect you. I love you. But in order to keep you safe, us safe, I need my gun.”

Ellis swallowed several times. “Where is it now?”

“In the car. I have it in a lock box in the trunk.”

The car. Ellis didn’t even think to look in the car because they’d come home in the truck.

“Please don’t hate me.” Jon kissed Ellis on the forehead

“I don’t.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“I understand.”

A V cut between Jon’s eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Ellis pulled away. “I don’t want the gun in here,” No matter how hard he tried, he could not lift his head and meet Jon’s gaze. “But I understand why it needs to be in here.”

Jon pushed his fingers through Ellis’s hair. He couldn’t help but lean into the contact.

How could I even think of betraying this man’s trust?
The question pained Ellis, but his grief for his brother was not going to let it stop him.

“Thank you.” Jon stood.

“Where are you going to put it?”

Jon finished pulling his boxers on. “Where would it make you more comfortable?”

Ellis shrugged. “Where would it be easiest for you to get to?”

“Anywhere near the bed. During the day I’ll keep it on me.”

Had their lives really come to this? Carrying guns around because of one man’s insanity? It had. All the more reason Lenny needed to die.

“How about the nightstand?” Ellis dug his nails into his palm.

“It would be easy to access. Or I could just put it under the mattress on my side.”

“I don’t like the idea of sleeping on a gun.” One of the few truths in Ellis’s growing stack of lies.

“As long as you’re okay with it.”

“I wish I didn’t have to be.”

“Me too.” Jon picked up his robe and put it on. “I’ll be right back.”

Lightning streaked beyond the windows, illuminating the night sky. A deep rumble followed. Thunderstorms weren’t common this late in the year.

But when they happened they always left a scar by destroying something.

This time, when Jon dreamed, there was only the house. He stood on the porch, screen door propped against his shoulder and his hand on the door knob. He didn’t remember putting it there, but it wasn’t the first time something like that happened.

As usual he was unable to stop himself from going inside. Rain made streaks down the living room window. The light coming through was slate gray.

Once again, the room was empty except for a solitary object lying on the floor. Jon picked up his gun. When he stood, Rudy was in front of him.

Rudy took the gun out of Jon’s hands. “Rule number six, Jon. Protect the innocent.”

“I didn’t do a very good job of that, did I?”

“Rule number four: it has to happen.”

“And rule number five: everything happens for a reason. Right?”

“You have to take care of Ellis for me.”

The burn in Jon’s eyes became tears. “I will.”

“I love him.”

“I do too.”

Rudy nodded. “Don’t let him make this mistake.”

Jon scrubbed the tears away. “What mistake?”

Rudy pointed the gun at the wall. A row of rubber ducks rode along a conveyor belt behind a wave of blue painted plywood. A street sign, with the name Grant Road, sat at one end and Major’s Road was at the other. “Let’s smoke some ducks, Jon.” Rudy pulled the trigger. Shot after shot, the ducks were transformed into shredded bits of rubber. The conveyor belt continued to rotate and the empty spaces were refilled by baseball cards. Only that wasn’t right. Jon squinted and took a few steps closer.

Lenny’s ugly grin flashed every time a card went by. A hole seared through one of the cards. Then another, and another. Each shot Rudy made took out the face. The gun clicked empty and Jon turned around.

“He’s gone to slay the monster, but the monster will slay him. Rule number six—”

“Protect the innocent.”

Rain droplets caught the headlights, blurring the night beyond the truck’s windshield. Torrents of water hid the lines edging the street.

Ellis slowed the truck. Tree branches glittered in black lines and dead leaves built dams that made it difficult to tell where the asphalt ended and the shoulder of the road began.

A flash of white against a swatch of dull green reflected the headlights. Ellis scrubbed the steam off the driver’s side window. The sign for the old mining road was almost lost under a clump of withered honey suckle vines. Just beyond that, a mailbox marking the corner of a drive way stuck out from some weeds.

The name Whitman had been painted on the black metal.

Ellis pulled into the cave of shadows created by the wood. A few yards in, the valleys cutting into the mud made getting stuck too big of a risk to go any farther.

He pulled up the hood on his jacket and grabbed the flashlight. The gun bumped against his leg inside the pocket of his raincoat as he trekked up the path.

The last time Ellis had driven on Major’s Road was when Rudy rode his bike into town.

Somehow Ellis made a wrong turn and, instead of taking a cut through to the bypass, he’d wound up here. He used the mining road to turn around and that’s when he saw the name on the mailbox.

He never imagined coming back here. Of course he never imagined being able to kill someone either.

At the top of the hill, Ellis checked his position from the truck. The driveway to Lenny’s house couldn’t be very far. Even if it was, Ellis would walk it. He was willing to walk across the entire country if it meant getting rid of that bastard.

As the trees thickened, rain pooled in the crooks and valleys of the branches over head. Swollen droplets pelted Ellis’s jacket, adding a sharp tap to the mellow rush of rain. The dead and dying leaves dragged to the ground, stuck to his clothes.

Light flickered through a gap in the underbrush from the direction of the street. The high beams of the vehicle washed into the woods. The glare caught the wet bark and Ellis took a couple steps back to avoid being seen.

The dirt shifted under Ellis’s heels. He made a grab for some vines, but they tore loose from the trees. His ass slapped against the sloppy soil and a rock jabbed him in the hip sending a shock of pain through his leg.

Earth sloughed off the side of the hill and Ellis slid down the incline. His shoulder caught a sapling. The sudden break in momentum tossed his legs into the air. Grit sandpapered his cheek and dirt clogged his nose as he rolled.

Mud filled the gaps in his clothes. Sticks scraped his flesh. He made a grab for underbrush only to wrap his hand around a mass of briars. Thorns ripped, burning lines across his palms.

Then it all slowed to a stop at the bottom of the gully.

Ellis rolled on his side. Blowing his nose cleared the mud from his sinuses, but no matter how much he spit, it still scraped his teeth.

Bits of light escaped from under the blanket of leaves near his ankle. Ellis pushed himself up on his elbow and vertigo shoved him back to the ground.

This was useless. He was useless.

A bit of rain, mud, and dead leaves had already kicked his ass. Did he really think he stood a chance?

The nausea receded and Ellis was able to stand. He retrieved the flashlight. He scraped off the muck coating the lens.

A hard wind shoved the rain sideways and his raincoat slapped against his legs. The weight in his pocket was gone.

Ellis kicked aside layers of debris. Nothing.

He backtracked to the hill where he’d fallen.

Mud, rocks, leaves, sticks, but no gun.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, he was too close.

Ellis pounded a fist against his temple. Think.

The gun was here. It had to be. He made the trip again, following the torn earth and tossed leaves to the bottom of the gully.

As he turned a slice of black gleamed next to a rotting oak. He picked his way off the path. The .38 lay in the curve of the roots.

Dirt caked the butt of the gun and he used his shirt to clean off what he could.

Would it still work?

It would. It had to.

Ellis put the gun in his coat pocket.

Back at the top of the hill he continued in the direction of Lenny’s house. It wasn’t long before the hollow sound of falling rain was overpowered by the ping of droplets hitting a metal roof.

Ellis turned off his flashlight.

His eyes adjusted and faint highlights made a pattern between the trees. He used his hands to feel his way past the saplings.

A bare light bulb illuminated the front side of a modern style farmhouse. Two rocking chairs on the wrap around porch flanked the door. A pair of hunting boots sat next to the chair on the right.

Lenny wasn’t supposed to live in a place like this. Monsters like him belonged in pits of rank slime, some ten levels down the bowels of hell, because even the devil wouldn’t claim them.

Light pooled out into a sparse front yard and crawled up the empty driveway.

It had to be close to two a.m. The bars in Gilford closed by one. So where was he? His girlfriend’s? It was possible.

What if he didn’t come home?

He would. All nasty crawling things ran back to their nest in the daylight.

Ellis stayed inside the wood line until he got to the side of the house where the shadows were thick. He took the steps on the back side of the porch.

The substantial overhang couldn’t stop the wind from tossing rain against the side of the house. Ellis huddled in his jacket.

Thunder followed a flash of lightning that lit up the clouds. Another sideways gust slapped his cheeks with liquid ice and pushed his hood back. He fought to keep it up.

Every passing minute, the bite in the air sharpened until Ellis’s exhales turned white and inhales burned. An ache set up in the joints of his hands. He cupped them around his mouth and blew. With his clothes soaking wet, tucking them under his armpits was useless.

Fatigue ate into his bones and he listed against the side of the house, but he refused to give in.

This was for Rudy. This was for his brother. This was to get rid of Lenny because no one else would.

A pair of headlights broke through the trees, crawled over the driveway, and a deep rumble followed.

Ellis moved into a crouch.

The truck stopped and the lights flicked off. The driver’s side door opened and Lenny fell out on his knees.

“Fuck.” He braced himself against the side of the truck. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His slipped and wound up on the ground again, then rolled on his side. One more try and he made it to his feet. He was at the bumper of the truck when he turned around and went back to the driver’s side.

The effort to push the door shut sent him off balance. He grabbed the handle and managed to stay on his feet. Half way up the steps Lenny bent over the railing and vomited into the bushes.

Ellis pulled the gun from his pocket.

At the top of the steps Lenny stopped again and leaned against the post. He felt around in his pockets.

“Where the fuck?” He glanced back at the truck. “I put the goddamned things…” He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and they flipped out of his hand. “Fucking bullshit.” He picked them up. Dropped them again. “Motherfucker.”

Ellis eased around the corner.

“Goddamned keys. Goddamned door. Goddamned shit town.” Lenny chased the keys around of the wet porch until he caught them.

Ellis raised the .38.

Lenny lifted his head. “What the fuck are you doing at my house, Queer Boy?”

The gun kicked, knocking Ellis’s hands back, and the bullet plugged the post next to Lenny’s head. Bits of wood sprayed his face.

He threw up an arm. “What the fuck?”

“Feels shitty to be on the other end of one of these, doesn’t it, asshole?”

Lenny glanced over his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? What do you think you’re gonna do, Queer Boy? Shoot me?” He pointed at Ellis. “You.” Then himself. “Shoot me?” Lenny laughed.

“Yeah. I do.” Ellis took aim.

Lenny tried to turn but the sole of his boot slid off the edge of the porch. He made a grab for the railing, missed, and landed on his ass at the bottom of the steps.

Ellis pulled the trigger again.

The second bullet struck one of the concrete paving stones. Concrete shrapnel left cuts on his cheek. He rolled to his side and looked up.

For the first time the cocky expression on his face was gone. With his hair plastered to his head and his clothes clinging to his skin, he became a man. Just a man sitting in the mud and getting rained on.

A man was mortal. He was not untouchable. He broke. He bled.

And he could die.

“I don’t know who you think you are—” Another shot. This one hit close enough to burn a line on the inside of Lenny’s jeans and plant the round between his legs. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He staggered to his feet. “Put the gun down.”

“You killed my brother.”