Envy the Night

chance.

“Where did she go?” AJ repeated.

“Tell you where you can go. Straight to—”

This time the maul was swung with far greater force, straight into Jerry’s thigh. He heard the bone snap a tenth of a second before he felt it, and this time he couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t have screamed if he wanted to. The pain slid into his brain like a fast-moving storm cloud and he faded beneath it. AJ’s voice was somewhere outside the cloud, questioning him, maybe the same question or maybe another; he no longer could translate the words of his own language.

“You’re going to die.”

He got that sentence, held it for a second, figured it out. Yes, the man was telling the truth. Jerry was going to die.

“One more chance, Mr. Dolson.”

So maybe he was not going to die? One more chance. That meant a chance to live, right? Had to. Jerry tried to look at his leg, expecting to see bone and blood. There was nothing of the sort. Just his jeans going down to a foot that he could no longer move. Could he? He tried and nothing happened. Or was he even trying? So hard to tell. So hard to know what to do.

There was something between his eyes and that immovable foot now, swinging in the air. What was it? Oh, shit, the maul. He remembered the maul. It was what had caused all of this. Thing shouldn’t even be in the body shop. It was for splitting wood, but he’d brought it down because it was heavier than the hammers and easier to use than a sledge, a good all-purpose pounder. He hadn’t considered this purpose.

“Where did she go?”

Where did she go. That question again. Asking about Nora. Don’t tell him. Remember that, Jerry. Don’t tell him. The pain’s going to come back soon, going to make you forget some things, but don’t forget this.

“You’ve got to start talking again,” AJ said. “Does she have the tracking device? I don’t think she does. You said it was in your locker yesterday. I bet you still have it. You wanted that money.”

AJ moved away and the pain moved back in. Jerry took in a long breath and choked on it. There was so much spit in his throat. Or was it blood? You wouldn’t bleed in your throat from a broken leg, would you? No. No, that didn’t seem to make sense. His leg was in two pieces. That didn’t make any sense, either.

“Thatta boy,” AJ said, and a locker slammed shut. What was he so happy about? Oh, right, the tracking device.

“You got it,” Jerry said. Tried to say, at least. The words were tough to form. AJ had the tracking device now, so he would leave, right? He would leave now, go away and let Jerry alone.

“Yes,” AJ said. “I got it. But that’s not the only thing I need. Where did he go, Jerry, old buddy? Where is the guy who goes with the car?”

Jerry didn’t know. Nora hadn’t told him. Maybe Nora didn’t know. He couldn’t remember anymore. Wait—AJ had the tracking device, and that meant Jerry had failed. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Not to give him the tracking device. No, the point was Nora. Not to tell him where Nora had gone. Where had Nora gone? The Willow, that was it. She’d gone after the kid at the Willow.

“What’s that?” AJ was standing above him now. “What are you saying?”

He’d been talking. No good. Don’t talk, Jerry. Keep your damn mouth shut, for once in your life.

“Willow?” AJ said. “Is that what you said? Keep going. Keep talking.”

Don’t keep talking. Don’t say a word. You almost made a mistake, a bad mistake. Don’t say anything, Jerry. Bite down on your tongue. Is that your tongue? Doesn’t matter. Bite it. Bite it and hold it and don’t say a word.

“Okay,” AJ said. “I think you’re running out of usefulness. Good news is, you’re not going to feel that leg anymore.”

The maul was gone, discarded in favor of a knife with a small blade. Good. Jerry didn’t know if he could take another swing from the maul. Snapped that bone, probably the thickest bone in his body, like it was a piece of rust. No, he couldn’t take another one like that. But the knife wasn’t good, either, was it? Not in AJ’s hand. He should ask AJ to stop. Just stop and go away. Jerry was hurt. Couldn’t he see that Jerry was hurt?

17

__________

It’s not going to be quite that easy,” Frank Temple said as Nora drove down Business 51 and into Tomahawk. He’d been offering so many comments of this sort that she was beginning to feel uncomfortable with him. Even if everything he’d told her was the truth, it seemed odd to be so leery of calling the police. She was telling him, flat-out, that there was going to be a meeting with Jerry and these guys, and he was still trying to discourage her from calling the police. Who did that? Any normal person would be ordering her to call them. So was there something more involved here? Was the man in her passenger seat connected to these guys somehow?

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. I’m saying, if they do it right, this is a good chance. These guys think Jerry’s working with them, Frank.”

“I don’t know if they really believe that.”

“Well, they agreed to the meeting. And at the time that he set it up, he was all about giving them that tracking device, too. So I don’t think his demeanor would have done anything to create suspicion.”

“Guys like these don’t need something to create suspicion, Nora. The idea of going for some sort of trap with a handful of small-town cops whose idea of high crimes probably includes poaching seems like a piss-poor plan to me.”

“You spent this morning convincing me that I should be terrified of these men.”

“That wasn’t the idea.”

“Well, it was the effect. You do that, and then I tell you that there’s a good opportunity to have them arrested, and you’re trying to discourage it. Forgive me if I say that doesn’t seem right.”

“All I’ve said, Nora, is that I’m not sure you appreciate the background these guys have.”

“You don’t know what their backgrounds are. You said that was just a lot of guessing.”

“Very educated guessing.”

“In your own opinion, sure. I don’t know if the police, if the people whose jobs it is to deal with situations like this, would agree.”

She was snapping at him now and didn’t want to be, so she stopped talking before any more hostility crept into her words. He was quiet, looking out the window, and she felt a quick pang of foolishness and guilt. Why, though? Why should she believe him? He was a twenty-five-year-old kid who wanted to be a writer, for crying out loud. Just because his father had killed some people didn’t mean he was James Bond. And who knew if any of that was even true? What she should have done was get on the Internet and see if she could verify his story.

It was ridiculous not to go to the police. Ridiculous, and probably dangerous. She didn’t really know Frank Temple or anything about him, and that odd sense of trust she had in him could be simply the product of the way he’d come to her aid. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d read something like that in a psychology class. Her emotions from the previous night were causing her to put too much faith in him, when he could be just as dangerous as the men she was worried about.

“I’ll let you talk to Jerry,” she said, “but then I’m calling the police. Okay? This is not your decision. I was the one they attacked yesterday, that damn car is in my shop, and it’s my responsibility.”

He just nodded.

“So it’s up to me to decide what we do, and we’re going to call the police and give them that little box Jerry found and tell them about the meeting. I can’t make you tell them any of the things that you told me this morning, and I won’t try. That’s up to you. But I will tell them everything I know.”

Again he didn’t say a word. Fine, Nora thought. In an hour or so the