see there? Our own son- Evan!”
“He thinks our son is damned and going to go to hell,” Gabby said, “for killing himself. He can’t accept that.”
“Charlie, I got a call last night…” I leaned forward and put my hand on his wrist, and he tried to pull it away. “A threatening one. The caller told me to go back home. To get my nose out of where it didn’t belong. You know what he was talking about, right?”
“I know my son’s in hell and I’m gonna go there too…”
“Before he hung up, he asked me if I smoked. I couldn’t figure out what he meant, but now I know. I ran to the door, and there was a lit cigarette butt burning on the mat. Now this…”
“You ought to go back home, Jay.” His eyes were runny and confused. “You should listen to what they’re saying to you, little brother. I don’t want you here.”
“Who is Susan Pollack, Charlie? Think back. You knew her, didn’t you? She was with you, wasn’t she, on the ranch?”
“Why does everything have to relate to the ranch? The ranch is dead, Jay. It’s been dead for more than thirty years. I told you to go home too, didn’t I? Before it takes you too.”
“I’m not going home, Charlie. Not until you tell me. You knew Susan Pollack- Maggie -back then, didn’t you? I need you to focus on this. I need you to tell me what she wants with you now. What she might have wanted with Evan. She was with Evan, I think. The day he died. As was Zorn. I think it wasn’t about Evan, Charlie. I think by killing Evan, they were trying to hurt you.”
He looked at me. One second his eyes sparked alive, as if with recall and clarity; the next they were as dim and dull as a lunar eclipse. “What does it even matter now, Jay? What if Jesus went down to hell? What if he went there and looked around and said to the devil, ‘Hey, man, this ain’t so bad. I sort of like it here.’ What if this is hell, Jay? Look around. This hole. It sure looks like hell, doesn’t it?
“That big fucking rock-what if it’s all just a game, Jay, and everyone’s trying to make their way to heaven, thinking, This is the right way to salvation, but what if the devil is already there-he’s beaten them to it! And he’s laughing at everyone, going, ‘Come on in! This way, everyone…’ What hope is there then, Jay?”
I looked at my brother, the flickering patina in his eye. The way he was acting suddenly didn’t seem far from the crazed dropout ranting about Jesus and Lennon in my mother’s dining room forty years ago. It scared me.
“This is how he gets,” Gabby said, “when he doesn’t take his medications. Isn’t that right, Charlie? You know that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” my brother chortled dismissively. “See, Jay, this is how I get.”
“He’ll be better tomorrow,” Gabby said. “Right?”
“Charlie…” I pushed my chair close to him. “Zorn tried to contact Evan and warn him about something. Maybe it was to warn you. A woman was with Evan when he went up to that rock. I’m sure it was Susan Pollack. You might be right, Charlie-about what you first said. That maybe Evan didn’t jump off that rock. But I need to know what they think you know, Charlie. Or what you did back then.”
“What I did? What I did was send my only son straight to hell, Jay. So what does that make me?”
“This is for Evan, Charlie.” I squeezed his hand. “For him. What do these people want with you, Charlie? What did Walter Zorn know?”
“For Evan…? ” He turned to me. “Maybe Zorn was the devil, Jay. What do you think? That gimpy bastard, he surely walked like the devil. That’s what they say, you know, how you can tell it’s him-the limp.”
Gabby came over to me. “There’s nothing you can do when he gets like this.” She leaned over and draped her arm caringly around my brother’s neck. “He’s like his own son. You can talk to him all day-but he’s not here… He’s somewhere else.”
He took another sip of coffee and caught my eyes. “For Evan, Jay.”
I stood up and squeezed my brother softly on the shoulder as I went past him out to the narrow, fenced-in yard. I sank down in one of the cheap folding lawn chairs and looked up at the blue sky.
In my life, I’d never felt the fear of being in danger-or that I was putting others in danger. I knew the next time it might not be a warning. I thought about Evan, what he might have gotten involved in unwittingly, what might have happened up there, on the rock, and I knew I owed him something.
Two things drummed in my mind.
What if Jesus went to hell and said it ain’t so bad here and just stayed, my brother had said. What if heaven is hell?
I realized I’d read something like that before.
From Houvnanian’s ramblings. The other night, online. The End of Days.
But it was the second thing that really worried me. Not about Charlie but Zorn. The slight limp he carried.
Charlie had mentioned it. Miguel had mentioned it too.
What was worrying me was that in all the news reports and coverage, I was sure that had never come out before.
Chapter Forty
S herwood sat at his desk, cradling the phone. He looked at the number he had scribbled on his pad, conflicted. It was the number of an out-of-state detective someone in the sheriff’s department had known. He leaned back and looked at the mountain outside his window, hesitating before he dialed.
He glanced at the photograph of his wife on the credenza.
Dorrie, you’d probably say I was crazy for doing this, wouldn’t you?
No. Sherwood chuckled to himself. She would not.
What she would say was, God’s given you a second chance, Don, so why not use it, right?
He had this job courtesy of a friend in the sheriff’s department. Mostly in recognition of what he’d put in for the past twenty-five years. And he was good at it. Usually, no one was down his back. He didn’t have to solve murders anymore, just figure out if they warranted solving. And pass it along. He didn’t have to beat the leather all around town-chase suspects, appear in court, buck up against the state authorities. Or put himself at risk…
The press didn’t get on his back, making life miserable.
It was a nice, stress-free existence, a way to end his career. And he was lucky it came his way. After he’d gotten sick, the position had opened up. Perokis, his lieutenant, always gave him a lot of space. He’d earned a certain respect. He did his work; cases got disposed of; the files went down. And like clockwork, others always came.
Then this one. He didn’t have to get deeper involved.
It was just that this nagging voice had been needling him over the past week-telling him that maybe he hadn’t done all he could. Maybe there was something there, these threads of doubt knitting together. Now the voice had turned into a jabbing presence in his mind.
Dorrie’s voice.
And what had happened to the doctor last night only intensified the voices even more.
He stared at the mountain.
What if Erlich was right? What if Zorn’s murder was connected? What if he had known something he was trying to share? Warn them. What if the “eyes” did mean something? What if Susan Pollack was the woman the street vendor had seen?
He rubbed his jaw-the joint felt like someone was sticking a needle in it. It was telling him to back off. He had already turned this case over. Let the solved cases be.
No, he knew, it wasn’t saying that at all.
He glanced at Dorrie. God gave me a second chance, huh?
It was saying, Use it.
He chuckled, cradling the phone against his shoulder, and punched in the number. So how come it feels like my last?
After a few seconds, someone picked up on the other end.
