over her shoulder at my father’s dark silhouette. “Is that how you found out, Dad? You came home and found the deputy here and wondered what was going on. You were suspicious and angry and you scared her and that’s when she told you about the rape.”
He put down the whiskey bottle and studied the back of her head for a long time before speaking. “She said he wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“Don’t listen to him, Jack.” She slid off the table and approached him, holding the.44 loose in one hand. “He’s just trying to confuse you. That’s why he’s saying these things.”
“You said that cop was stalking you.”
“He was!” She pressed herself against his chest and gazed up into his eyes. “Why would I help you kill him after that meeting? Why would I tell you where to ambush him if I didn’t want him dead?”
“Because you were afraid,” I said. “You knew what my dad would do to you if he found out the truth about you and Brodeur.”
“Screw you!”
“She set you up, Dad. You killed those men because of a lie she told you, and now you’ve killed two more. All because of her. She’s played you, and she played me.”
She pressed one hand flat at the base of his throat. “Don’t listen to him.”
“She tried to seduce me, too,” I said.
He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard me clearly. “What?”
“Less than an hour ago in your cabin. She took her clothes off.”
She spun around and aimed the handgun square between my eyes. “I swear to God I’m going to shoot you if you don’t shut your mouth.”
Reaching out, faster than I could have imagined possible, my father jerked the Ruger from her hands. I was surprised it didn’t go off as he pulled it loose.
He leaned his face close to hers. “Is that true?”
“No! He’s lying again.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I swear.”
“You little bitch.” He raised his hand as if to pistol-whip her.
“It wasn’t like that! I just wanted to keep him from coming over here until you had a chance to do what we said.”
“So you spread your legs for him?” he said, his hand still poised to strike.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You know I love you.”
“You don’t!”
“I do. I do. Please, Jack. I’ll be good, if you let me go. I’ll be a good girl for you. Please.”
For an instant I thought he might punch the pistol grip into her face. But instead he tossed her down to the ground. She collapsed in a ball at his feet.
My father and mother had fought like this. I remembered how many nights the threat of violence had hung in the air of our rented trailer. But, unlike Brenda, my mother had never been a drunk. There is no desperation like that of two alcoholics clinging to each other even as they drive each other to madness. I felt as if I was witnessing something between them that no third party ever should. Was this why he came back for her-because she shared his particular insanity?
His eyes were wet with tears. “Why do you do this to me?”
She shook her head and sobbed. “I don’t know.”
I had been trying to wriggle my arms free, but it was no use. The ropes only tightened. The nerves in my hands began to tingle as the blood flow dammed up.
He tucked the.44 into his belt. “Get up,” he commanded her.
She crawled to the nearest bench and pulled herself up to a sitting position. She hung her head so that her dark hair hid her face and she rubbed her wrist with her good hand. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
My father stood over her, breathing heavily. “I don’t, either.”
Brenda raised her head suddenly. “What’s that noise?”
At first I heard nothing but the refrigerator whirring in the kitchen, then I became aware of a faint drone, almost a whine, growing louder. I’d forgotten about Charley in all that was going on.
“It’s that old game warden!” she said. “They were on the phone before.”
“You didn’t tell me he was coming back.”
“I didn’t know.”
“It’s not just Charley Stevens,” I said. “The police are on their way, too.”
The plane was approaching fast. Through the plate-glass window we saw it zip suddenly into view, headed down the lake away from us-white and red against a smoke-gray sky. In a few seconds Charley would circle around to bring the plane down on the water, facing the camp.
“Please, Dad,” I said. “You’ve got to give yourself up. It’s not too late.”
My father twisted around, his mouth tight with rage. It was not the expression of a man about to surrender. I felt a shudder ride up my spine. Then he slid the hunting rifle off his shoulder and shoved aside the door.
“No!” I said, rising to my feet.
Brenda rushed to the window and pressed both palms to the glass.
As Charley turned the Super Cub toward the camp I saw my father, standing with his back to the window, legs planted apart, lift the semiautomatic rifle and aim it carefully at the cockpit of the plane. The shots were sharp, percussive, and evenly spaced-one after the other after the other-and the plane gave a sudden jerk, like a flying bird wounded on the wing, and rolled to one side. I saw the exposed white belly of the plane and thought it might spin completely over, but instead it righted itself briefly and turned away again, steadying.
But already my father was taking aim again. More shots rang out. The plane began to wobble as it retreated farther and farther down the lake. Charley couldn’t hold the wings level.
The plane hit the water first with its pontoons but it bounced up again and when it hit the second time, it came down at an angle. One wing knifed the surface and broke apart. Far down the lake, half a mile or more, too far for me to see anything clearly, I watched the wing fly off and the aircraft go sharply down. With a tremendous, soundless splash it came to rest, floating, no longer a plane, just a white and red wreck. It was gone in less than a minute. I stumbled backward, knocking against a table.
My father loomed in the door. He had the face of a stone statue.
I couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak.
My heart was as big as the room.
32
For the longest time I couldn’t will myself to move. Then rage began welling up inside of me, and the numbness went away. I struggled against the straitjacket of knots.
“You son of a bitch!”
“You should have told me he was coming back.” He lifted the whiskey bottle from the table and drank as if to quench a desperate thirst.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” I said.
He wiped his mouth and shook his head as if he felt sorry for me. He knew exactly what he had done.
“You’re a goddamned coward,” I said.
“Shut up, Mike.”
“Fucking coward!”
The punch he gave me across the chin felt like a glancing blow from a sledgehammer. It snapped my head around, and I lost my balance and fell backward across a table. I tried to get up, but he grabbed me around the throat with one hand, thumb and forefinger digging into the nerve bundles beneath the jawbone, and he held me down with his weight until fireworks exploded across my retinas.
“I told him to call the police,” I gasped. “They’re coming right now.”
