These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (35 page)

            “Duane,
he takes his plan real serious ‘cause his friend Mark didn’t get the chance to
get that snitch. Somebody took him out before he could track him down, see? And
maybe this guy is comin’ for him, too. Maybe he better do them both, so he
covers all his bases.”

            Gideon
knew there was no point in explaining that he’d been wrong to kill Mark Daniels
and that he had no plans to kill Duane Banner. Without breaking eye contact, he
took a step backward, then another. The man didn’t move, but his smile widened.
Gideon felt the knob of the door under his hand and flicked his gaze to the
anti-theft mirror over the counter. The path to his car was clear as far as he
could tell. He turned the knob, stepped to the side, and backed out. The man
didn’t follow, but let out a low chuckle as the door swung closed.

            Gideon
scanned the empty lot, his heart pounding. His palms were slick with sweat. He
inhaled and smelled the prison cafeteria. He could almost see the green bean
casserole, overbaked tater tots, the plastic forks and knives. Gideon pulled
his keys from his pocket and flicked open his Swiss Army knife, still scanning
the area, adrenaline pumping through his system.

            He
backed toward his car, glanced into the back seat, almost certain he’d see
someone crouched behind the driver’s seat, or a dead body. Nothing. He slid
behind the wheel and locked the doors. Within seconds he was pulling away,
breathing shallowly, watching his rear view mirror.

             They
had been following him, waiting for the right moment to threaten and
intimidate.
They.
He wasn’t even sure who they were.

            Gideon
turned onto the highway and headed home. The roads were clear ahead and behind
him, but his heart was in his throat. Duane was getting out of prison in a week
and he was going to murder someone else. And not just anyone. He was going to
kill the person who made sure that Gideon’s family got justice, and then he was
going to come for Gideon. Again.

                                                           
***

            It
hadn’t taken very long to clean up the mess. The broken chair and side table
were piled behind the house. There hadn’t been any blood on the pine floors,
but there was a lot of fingerprint dust on the surfaces. The police and coroner
had tracked in dirt but that was easy to vacuum. In a few hours, it looked
pretty much the same as it had before but it didn’t feel like his home anymore.
There were very few places he had felt at home, but this old farm house had
been one of them.

            His
rocked slowly in his favorite chair, trying to calm the chatter in his head. The
sun streamed through the old leaded windows over the door and he watched the dust
motes swirl with the tiny currents of air.

            The
sound of a car pulled him out of his thoughts. He leaned forward and watched through
the screen door as a car drove slowly down the dirt road that led to his house.
In minutes, Tom was walking up the steps and letting himself inside.

            Tom
settled into the couch and let out a sigh. “You okay?”

            “Still
here.”

            “You
look tired,” Tom said.
“You need to sleep.”

            Gideon
didn’t answer.

             “Have
you eaten anything? I can make some breakfast.”

            “Not
hungry.”

            Tom
leaned forward and said, “Talk to me. You found a dead guy in your house and
you’re acting like everything is normal.”

            “What
do you want me to say?”

            “I
want you to tell me how you feel,” Tom said without any hint of sarcasm.

             “There’s
nothing to say. Someone dropped a dead body in my house and now I’ve lost my
job. How do you think I feel?”

            “They
fired you?”

            “On
leave. The same thing, really.”

            “Gideon,
I’m so―”

            He
held up his hand. “Don’t.” He just couldn’t bear the sympathy right then. “I
understand why they did. It looks bad. And there’s nothing I can say to change
their minds.”

             “You
seem pretty resigned.”

            “I
can’t expect them to look any closer than what they saw on the news.”

            “Why
do I get the impression you know a lot more about this murder than you’re
saying.”

            “You
think I’m involved?”

            “Involved
covers a lot of territory. You didn’t kill him, but I’d bet you know who did.”

            “I
don’t.” There was no way he was going to speak his suspicions out loud.

            He
sat back and watched Gideon for a moment. “Remember when we camped out on that
bench in front of Henry’s apartment?”

            “Of
course,” Gideon said.

            “You
told me that I understood why you were there because I knew what darkness there
was in the world, what kind of evil walks beside us. You don’t need to protect
me, Gideon.”

            “This
is different. The less you know, the better.”

            “And
how about the police? Are you protecting them, too?” Tom asked.

            “If
I say anything, it will get back to the people who did this. There’s no way the
police can guarantee anyone’s safety. Even twenty five years later.”

             “What
do you mean? You think this is related to your family’s murder?”

            Gideon
rubbed his face, surprised for a moment when he didn’t feel his beard. “Forget
it. I shouldn’t have said that.”

            “No.
Explain yourself.” Tom was the friendly one, the guy everyone felt comfortable
with, the one the old men wanted to take fishing and the young women wanted to
bake cookies. But at that moment, Gideon saw a fierceness in him that harkened
back to the childhood spent hiding from a drunk, violent father.

            Gideon
shrugged and told him about the gas station, the convict, the threat. He could
hear the lack of emotion in his own voice and part of him worried. The other
part knew it was better if he didn’t feel anything at all. He had an unpleasant
task ahead.

            “You
need to tell the police what you know. They’ll find the informant and give them
extra protection,” Tom said. “You’ll have to keep your eyes peeled. Maybe move
temporarily until they get him back in jail.”

            Gideon
shook his head. Police could only do so much. Retraining orders were just
pieces of paper. Duane would just wait for another chance.

            “You
have to do something. You can’t just ignore it,” Tom said. Then he seemed to understand
and he shot out of his chair. “You’re not― You can’t.”

            “I
don’t have any choice.”

            Tom
raked his hands through his hair and paced the room. “That’s not true, Gideon.
We’ve been through this. Both of us. And this time I won’t stay quiet.”

            “Do
what you have to do. I’ll do what I have to do.”

            “Stop
acting like this isn’t wrong,” Tom shouted.

            “Someone
has to stop him.”

            “But
not that way. Not by taking his life. It’s a mortal sin.”

            “It’s
nothing I haven’t done before,” Gideon said.

            “And
what, you’re just going to say you’re sorry after? It doesn’t work that way and
you know it.”

            “I
knew what I was doing the first time.” Gideon remembered the first time Tom
insisted he could ask forgiveness for Mark’s murder. Gideon had laughed in his
face.

            “You
didn’t completely understand the ramifications of your actions. You didn’t have
a full grasp of the spiritual stakes. You were fifteen and a victim of a
violent crime yourself. Knowing you would face a court of law and knowing you
were committing a sin are totally different things.” Tom stopped in front of
him, despair etched on his face. “But now you do.”

            He’d
never really felt like anything but a murderer. He would miss this house, his
quiet life, his little creature comforts. Fresh brewed coffee, long walks in
the evenings, his favorite chair. But he’d always known, deep down, he couldn’t
stay. “I don’t think I can drive out of town without being stopped by the time
I get to New Orleans but I bought plane tickets. Return trip so it didn’t raise
any suspicions.”

             “Tickets.
You bought tickets.” Tom closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re not thinking
straight, Gideon. You had a huge shock when you found Barney dead in your
house. And now this guy shows up and tells you Duane Banner is going to kill
someone and come after you. I know you hate it when I talk psychology, but I’m
absolutely certain you have PTSD.”

            Gideon
shot him a look. Of all the times, he really didn’t want to discuss Tom’s ideas
about his mental state right now. “Post traumatic stress disorder? I disagree.
But even if I did, it wouldn’t keep from seeing what I need to do.”

            “You’ve
never gone through any therapy or talked about what happened to your family, or
what you did, or what happened in prison. You don’t understand it affects your
view of the future, of your relationships, of your own worth. In prison, you were
always on guard and ready to fight. You could trust your first instincts and
you survived, but you can’t trust them right now. Not in the real world.”

            Gideon
didn’t bother to respond. If he couldn’t trust his instincts, then he wasn’t
even sure why they were talking. They were all he had.

            “I’ve
never forced you out of the bubble you lived in because you seemed like you
were doing okay, but this is self-destructive, maybe even suicidal. It’s wrong,
Gideon.”

            “I’m
not afraid of dying. I never have been.”

            Tom
stropped pacing. “I know that. And that wasn’t natural, either. But I let it go
because you didn’t seem like you were going to harm yourself.” He stared at the
ceiling. “Okay, let’s say that guy is lying. Maybe Banner has changed and only
wants to live a good life, and the guy is gunning for him. You’d be playing
right into his hands.”

            “I
can’t take that chance.”

            “What
about Vince and Sally? What about Austin?”

            Austin
had been wary, cautious. He wouldn’t be too surprised when he heard what Gideon
had done. But Sally would. She’d never stopped loving him and Vince had always
believed he could change. “I can’t worry about what they’ll think.”

            “So
you’re willing to go to prison again?”

            “I
don’t have anything left to lose. The board suspended me this morning. Everyone
already thinks I’m guilty. So, if it means saving this person’s life, then yes.
If it means keeping I care about safe, absolutely.”

            He
could see Tom mentally changing direction but he still wasn’t ready when he
said, “Have you asked Henry what she’d want?”

            Gideon
felt a rush of pure anger quickly replaced by the same dull ache he’d felt
since the fire. “She’s still not speaking to me. She won’t after this. And that’s
fine. I wasn’t really meant to live out the rest of my days here. I was doomed
a long time ago, maybe from the beginning.”

            “That’s
bull,” Tom bellowed. “You decide your fate.”

            “It
has to be me. I can save someone’s life without anyone else bearing the guilt.
My life is already ruined.”

            “Ruined
when you murdered Mark Daniels or ruined when Henry dumped you?”

            Gideon
shrugged.

            “So,
is this about Henry? She’s temporarily unavailable so you might as well give
up? Your life is getting complicated and not everything is under your control,
so you’ll just go murder someone?”

            “It’s
not about Henry.”

            “I
think you’re lying.” Tom was calmer now, as if he’d found the key to convincing
Gideon. “I think you let yourself open up to someone for the first time and
when it hit a bump, you lost confidence. You just need to give all of this some
time. ”

            No
amount of time would change what had happened and as much as he didn’t want to
talk about Henry, he found himself opening his mouth anyway. “She’s one of the strongest,
most caring people I’ve ever met. She has a beautiful soul. But I…” His throat
closed around the words. He couldn’t even begin to describe the darkness and
despair he felt. “You told me I was changing and you were right. I was becoming
a better man. But the best part of me was her.”

             “Maybe
she sees you the same way.”

            It
was laughable to even consider it. “That doesn’t explain why she won’t speak to
me now.”

            Tom
walked to the window and looked out. “She said some things when you were in the
basement.”