Too Close to Home

“I was with her when she died,” Drew said. “I got released just in time to be with her. I was there with her nearly every minute of her last week. She told me about all the mistakes she made, how much she wished I could have been there through the bad times. And I found her book, her little notebook. She wrote down everything. Phone numbers, names, license plates. Most men, they didn’t give their real names, but with the other information, I was able to piece things together. I’d call a number, get hold of a guy, tell him I wanted to hire him for a job, anything to get a face-to-face with him, you know? Then sound him out, maybe ask him if he knew where I could hire a girl for some fun. Gradually, I found out who some of the sick fucks who used her were. I told her, before she died, that I was going to make it all up to her. I promised her. But I didn’t track you down through that book. But I found your buddy Lance. He did your dirty work for you. He set things up for you. He told me everything before he died.”

“Listen, pal-”

Drew cut Randy off. “You killed her! You and all the others! You might as well have gotten a gun and shot her yourself. Maybe that would have been better. At least it would have been quicker, you bastard!”

“Jesus,” Randy said. “Look, I’ve done what you wanted. I told the people what you wanted me to say. I came out here so you could give me shit. So we’re good, right? You’re not going to kill me.”

“Yes,” Drew said. “I am.”

The mayor’s cheeks, so red earlier, were quickly draining of color. “Hey, come on. A deal’s a deal.”

“And not just you,” Drew said. He looked over at me. “You too, Jim.”

“No,” Ellen whispered.

“Come on, man,” said Derek.

I was just thinking about how I could reach up and grab the blade, but stopped when Drew turned his attention to me. “I know you don’t think I did enough where Sherry is concerned,” I said. “And I’m sorry about that. I really am. I’ll always regret it.”

“Not for a whole lot longer,” Drew said.

“What would you have done, Drew? Just tell me. Suppose the roles had been reversed. I’ve got a daughter, her life’s gone off the rails, and you happen to bump into her. She’s a total stranger to you. But you see she’s in trouble, she’s made some bad choices. So you give her your name and number, tell her if she wants help you’re available. And she doesn’t want that help. What would you do?”

Drew’s eyes appeared to sparkle for a moment, and then I realized they were moist, that he was trying to hold back tears.

“You were her only chance,” he whispered. “You were what I prayed for while I sat in prison. That someone would see the trouble she was in, and help her, until I got out and could do it myself. But it didn’t happen. And by the time I got out, it was too late.”

I glanced again at Ellen, her eyes wide with fear. Then at Derek, wide-eyed as well, but not with fear exactly. Like he was looking for an opening, an opportunity. If someone in the room could provide some momentary distraction, anything, just engage him in conversation for a second, Drew would look away, and maybe that would give me just enough time to grab the tractor blade, attack him with it, use it like a machete or something.

I might end up getting shot, but if I could manage to inflict a little damage, I might be able to save my wife and son.

It was Randy who stepped in. “I’ll tell you this much,” he said, and Drew looked his way. “You’re right to think you could have expected more of him, but me, come on, everybody knows what I’m like, so-”

Everything after that happened very fast.

I swiveled around, wrapped my hand around the heavy steel blade. I’d yet to sharpen it out in the shed. The edges were blunt and rounded. But at a foot and a half in length, it would still do a lot of damage if I could hit Drew with it.

Drew, even though he’d been distracted by the mayor, spotted that I was up to something, because he’d snapped his head around to look at me, coming at him with the blade, and now his gun was up, and there was a loud noise, like a cannon going off, and I felt something hit my shoulder and knock me back up against the bookcase.

Ellen screamed. Derek yelled, “Dad!”

The blade went flying out of my hand and hit the wall.

With all this sudden commotion, no one, Drew in particular, heard the steps on the front porch, so it was a shock to everyone when the front door flew open and Conrad Chase, clutching a small, shallow box in his hands, came into the room.

Drew, gun still extended, whirled around, bug-eyed.

Conrad barely had a chance to say “Jesus! What the hell’s going-” before Drew shot him in the head.

As Conrad was jerked backward, the box flew from his hands and opened in midair, hundreds of pages of manuscript spilling onto the floor.