What was that other noise?
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what I was hearing.
Oh, Jesus Christ, my parents were having makeup sex.
The urge to slam my hands over my ears and sing “I can’t hear you la la la la la la la!” was strong, but I focused on the task at hand and got my boots, a heavy jacket, gloves, a hat that I didn’t like to wear because it itched, and a scarf out of the closet. I got dressed quickly and quietly, thankful that the noises were limited to moans and creaking bedsprings rather than graphic declarations. Technically, this was a rare moment of good luck, since if my parents were focused on carnal pleasure they were less likely to hear me sneak out of the house…but it was an element of trauma I really didn’t need right before I headed out to face off against a serial killer.
I tiptoed into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and took out the same knife I’d brought the last time. Stuck it in my inside jacket pocket.
I went out through the back door.
Before visiting Ed, I’d taken a shovel out of the garage and left it by the back corner of the house, along with a flashlight. I’d also taken Dad’s pistol out of the closet in his office, loaded it, and stashed it in the inside pocket of my jacket next to the knife. Yes, I would’ve preferred another untraceable gun, but I had to work with the options available to me.
I picked up the shovel, left my yard, and walked to the end of the block. I was a few minutes early, but a brown car with a cracked windshield, splotches of rust, and apparently no muffler was already there waiting for me.
The driver got out. I would’ve known he was Ed’s older brother even if I’d run into him at the grocery or something—they looked almost exactly alike. He walked around to the back of the vehicle and opened the trunk. “I’m Mick,” he said.
“I’m Curtis.”
“Well, duh.”
I put the shovel in the trunk, where it joined four others. There was also a gasoline can, several flashlights, some rope, and a rifle. I hadn’t asked him to bring a rifle.
“Thanks for doing this,” I said, shutting the trunk.
“Whoa, not so hard,” Mick said. “You want to break it? This ain’t a Rolls Royce.”
“Sorry.”
“Get in before we both freeze to death.”
I opened the back door. There were already three people sitting there. Ed’s buddies Burt and Josh, and between them, Tina.
“Tina!” I said, because sometimes you say unnecessary things out loud.
“Get in and close the door,” said Ed from the front seat. “You’re letting in cold air.”
“I’m not sure there’s room,” I said.
“Everybody scoot over. No, let Tina sit on his lap.”
Burt got out of the car, followed by Tina, and then Burt got back in while Tina gave me a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she said. “There was no way my dad would’ve let me call you.”
“Get in the goddamn car,” said Ed.
I got in, and Tina sat on my lap. We closed the door.
“Where to?” Mick asked.
I gave him directions to Mr. Martin’s house.
“You surprised?” Ed asked me. “I figured you’d want the chance to see your girlfriend again.”
I had conflicting emotions about it. I was thrilled to see her again, and I was not opposed to having her sit on my lap, but we weren’t on our way to a party. This could get bloody.
“I told my dad I was spending the night at a friend’s house,” said Tina. “Since I haven’t talked to you in almost two months, he didn’t think anything was weird about it.”
“Ed told you what we’re doing, right?” I asked.
“Yes. I know it’s dangerous. But you need help.”
We drove into Mr. Martin’s subdivision. A few houses away, I told Mick to stop. He parked on the side of the street and shut off the headlights.
“It’s just going to be me, Mick, and Ed for right now,” I explained. Mick was going to pick the lock. Ed was going to hold the flashlight for him. And I was going to keep watch.
The three of us got out of the car and retrieved a couple of flashlights from the trunk.
Then we walked toward Mr. Martin’s house.
19
It was after midnight. There’d been snow since October, but winter had officially begun.
The Northern Lights were out in full force, displaying beautiful green streaks across the night sky. Nobody ever got used to them. You didn’t look up at the Aurora Borealis, shrug, and say “Eh, seen it.” Even now, I took a few seconds to admire them, before turning my attention to the extremely unpleasant task ahead.
We quietly walked up Mr. Martin’s driveway and around to the back of his house. Mick, armed with a straightened-out paper clip, began to work on picking the lock to his back door. Ed held the flashlight beam on the doorknob. I stood there and wondered what the hell I was doing here.
This could go so horribly wrong, and I could drag others down with me.
“Hurry up,” Ed whispered.
“Shut up,” Mick told him. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
“You said you could do this.”
“I didn’t say I could do it fast.”
“It’s okay,” I quietly assured both of them. “We’re not in a hurry.”
We were in a hurry, of course. Every extra second we were out here carried the risk of getting caught. But I didn’t want them to keep bickering, and I didn’t want Mick to get flustered. We’d be fine.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Ed whispered, ten minutes later.
“Kiss my ass,” said Mick.
“No, because my lips would freeze to it. Can you pick the lock or not?”
“It’s not the kind of lock I thought it would be. And it’s cold.”
“What does it being cold have to do with anything?”
“Metal contracts in the cold.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Guys, you’re being too loud,” I warned.
