Linwood Barclay: A Tap on the Window

Sanders swallowed. “After.”

“So lay it out for me. Where were you?”

There was a small structure that sat on the roof to accommodate the top of the stairwell and the door. Sanders pointed around the side. “We were leaning up against that. And then, suddenly, we heard steps, and the door burst open.” He paused. “And it was your son.”

“Go on,” I said.

“He was high as a kite, Cal. Skipping around, with a bottle of something in his hand. He was feeling pretty good.” A slightly accusatory tone, the suggestion that Scott wouldn’t have been up here if we’d kept better tabs on him.

“So he was high,” I said. “What then?”

“Rhonda and I, we knew we had to get back downstairs without him seeing us. All we had to do was slip away, and we would have done it — we almost did it — but as we were coming around the corner there, Rhonda, one of her high heels got stuck for a second in the gravel, and she stumbled. That’s when Scott turned around and saw us.”

“What did he say?”

“At first, nothing. He was as surprised to see us as we were to see him when he came out that door. It was like we’d caught each other being up to something we weren’t supposed to be doing.”

He shook his head regretfully. “But I guess, in his intoxicated state, he got over that worry pretty quickly and zeroed in on us. He knew Rhonda. He worked with her, saw her all the time. And he sure as hell knew who I was, too. He pointed a finger at us, like this, and he said something like, ‘Holy shit.’ He wasn’t so high that he couldn’t see that he’d caught us in something we didn’t want to get out.”

“What happened then?” I said. There was a cool breeze, four stories above the street, but I felt hot.

“I said, ‘Hey, Scott, it’s not what it looks like.’ And Rhonda said that too, that we’d just come up to see the stars. But the thing was, Rhonda’s blouse was undone, and so was my belt, and your son was no fool.”

Bert Sanders forced a smile. “In fact, Cal, he was a good kid. You know, he got into some bad things, but he was a good kid. Everyone, everyone at Ravelson said that. Rhonda said so, too, that—”

“Shut up, Bert.”

I paced slowly back and forth in front of him, picturing it. Seeing it all in my head.

“So he didn’t buy it,” I said. “What happened then?”

“He was kind of rambling. He was saying he couldn’t believe the two of us had something going on. Asking, wasn’t I married? Which I told him I wasn’t. And I don’t think he knew Rhonda was seeing Ricky Haines — you know about that?”

“I do,” I said. And I thought he was probably right about that. Scott might have tempered his taunts where Haines was concerned if he knew he was going out with someone he worked with.

“I said to him, I said, ‘Scott, you can’t ever tell anyone you saw us together.’ And he asked why, and I told him nothing good would come of it. And then Rhonda blurted out, she said if Ricky found out she was seeing me, he’d kill her. Scott says, ‘Ricky?’ He says, ‘Do you mean Ricky Haines, the cop?’ And Rhonda says yes. She says, ‘Please don’t say anything.’ Because there was something not right about him. I mean, we all know that now, don’t we? That Haines was sick in the head or something. Keeping his stepfather in the basement for almost a decade. He had to have a few screws loose.” He tapped his index finger to his temple twice.

“And there was more, you know. I mean, there I was, in the thick of it with Chief Perry, attacking him for how he runs his department, and I’m fooling around with one of his officers’ girlfriends. The optics weren’t good. Rhonda would be at risk, and I’d be compromised if it came out. The chief could have found a way to use it against me.”

“Scott,” I said. “What happened with Scott?”

“I was worried that even if he promised not to tell, would he keep it? When he came down off his high, when the drugs wore off, would he remember what he’d seen, but not what he’d promised to do?”

Sanders tried to look as earnest as possible, like he still believed he could count on my vote in the next election.

“How did it happen, Bert? I need to hear it from you.”

He stammered. “It— it was an accident. Really. He stumbled and—”

I closed in on him, grabbed his collar and propelled him closer to where Scott had gone off the building. He stumbled, but caught himself about ten feet shy of the edge.

“Cal,” he said. “Please.”

“If you’re honest with me, if you admit what you did, I won’t throw you over,” I said.

“He just — he started shouting. He wasn’t himself, you know. It was the drugs. But he was shouting our names. Out loud. If he’d kept it up, he was going to draw somebody up there. The police, a security company.”

I gave him another push and he tripped over his own feet, landing a little over a yard from the edge. I looked down at him, pulled back my jacket, and took out my Glock. I’d brought it along for tonight.

“Jesus, Cal, for the love of God.”

“What happened?”

“I–I tried to shut him up. I grabbed him, put my hand over his mouth. We struggled. We were fighting with each other. We were, we were right about here. I tried to get my hand over his mouth again and he— he bit me! He bit my hand. I drew my hand back and — I swear, it was just instinctive. It was a kind of defensive gesture — but I shoved him away.”

“You shoved him.”

“I swear to God, I never... I never meant...”

“Get up,” I ordered, waving the gun at him.

Sanders got to his feet, brushed some bits of gravel that had stuck to his dress pants.

“So you pushed him off right here,” I said.

Sanders nodded.

“Stand there.”

“Cal.”

“Stand there. On the edge.”

“I’m not good with heights,” he protested.

I gave him a shove. “Was that how hard you pushed him? Must have been harder. You didn’t go off.”

“Please, Cal. Please.”

“Step up.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll shoot you. If you don’t stand there, I’ll shoot you. I swear to God I will. I’ve already killed one person since this all began. Maybe it’s easier the second time.”

He put his right foot on the raised edge.

“That’s good. Now the other one.”

His left shoe dragged along the gravel. “I don’t — I don’t think I can do it.”

“Don’t look down,” I advised. “Just look straight out. Look at the tower. It’s pretty this time of night.”

Sanders stood there, his back to me, his arms out at his sides for balance. I raised the Glock and touched the barrel to the back of his head.

“Bang,” I said.

I’m not sure what I’ll do. They say you shouldn’t rush into these things. Take some time, then make your decisions.

But I can’t see what’s holding me up. There’s nothing for me here in Griffon. I don’t want to stay in this house, and I don’t want to be in this town.

Augie and Beryl already have their house up for sale. I don’t even know if they’ve decided where they’re going. Still betting on Florida. Augie wasn’t that far off from retirement, and they’d talked in the past about moving down to the Sarasota area. The trouble Augie will have is the same one I’m going to have to deal with. No matter where you go, your memories, and your regrets, move with you.

I’m thinking of going back to Promise Falls. Not to join the police. They wouldn’t have me, and that’s not what I want, anyway. I can keep making a living the way I’ve been doing it the last few years, but I think I’d rather do it in a place where I feel slightly more at home.