David Bell - The Hiding Place

Michael stood up. “We have to call the police.”

“And tell them what?” Janet asked. “That a man had an affair twenty-five years ago and probably fathered a child out of wedlock? What’s the crime?”

“He was there,” Michael said. “At the scene. He walked through there.”

“Again, not a crime.”

“But the police should talk to him about it.”

Michael paced around the small room. He walked to one end and then the other and back again. Janet saw the tension in his posture, the tendons in his neck stretched taut. Janet waited, hoping he’d settle down on his own. Together, they could decide what to do and what it all meant.

Then Rose said, “When your father came home that day, his pants were dirty.”

Michael stopped pacing and turned back to her.

“What?” he said.

“His pants were dirty. He said he fell on the path. He came in and threw the pants into the washing machine.”

Janet turned to Michael, but he was already moving. He was through the door before Janet even made it off the couch. She followed him outside. When she came out into the hot night air, she saw the car backing out into the street, then the taillights receding into the distance.

She had to follow him.

Janet called Detective Stynes from her car. She drove with one hand and held the phone with the other. When Stynes came on, she didn’t know exactly what to tell him, so she tried to make it as simple as possible.

“Detective, I need you to get to Ray Bower’s house.”

“Janet?”

“Ray Bower’s house. Can you get there?”

“I can. What’s wrong?”

“It’s too much to explain right now.”

“I’m on my way to the door and getting my keys. Can you at least give me a sense of what I’m walking into?”

She stumbled a few times trying to find the right words. Finally, she said, “It’s about Justin’s murder. I think Ray Bower killed him. And I think Michael is going over there to kill Ray.”

Janet parked in the driveway behind Michael’s car. She went straight into the house without bothering to knock. She hadn’t been in there for years, not since high school. The Bowers’ house had been so familiar to her as a child, almost a second home. Growing up, she attributed the tailing off of the friendship between the families to the sudden shock of Justin’s death, to the slow descent of her mother into illness and death. But it was so much more-more than she ever could have imagined.

The living room sat empty. Janet knew the Bowers had a family room at the back of the house, which used to be filled with two large recliners and an overstuffed couch. They watched TV there. As Janet moved in that direction, she heard a rustling and something thumping against the floor.

“Michael?”

An angry voice came from the rear of the house, something like a shout.

Janet stopped, considered turning and waiting outside until the police showed up. But she knew the state of mind Michael was in when he’d left Rose’s house. She feared what he might do.

“Michael?” she said again, her voice a little louder.

The rustling again. Quick movements. Janet stepped to the doorway that led into the back room and came face-to-face with Michael.

He reached out with both hands and took hold of Janet’s shoulders, his grip so tight she yelped.

He didn’t let go. And she stared into his eyes. They were wide and full of tears, as much red as white in the sclera. He looked different. Crazed with some combination of grief and anger.

“Michael,” she said. “It’s me. It’s okay.”

“Janet.”

He said her name. It sounded like a plea.

“The police are coming. I called them.”

“Janet,” he said again.

“Michael, let go. You’re hurting me.”

Her knees started to buckle from the pressure he was exerting on her arms. She felt the pain shoot through her body.

He let go and stepped back.

“Just wait,” Janet said. “The police are on their way. They’ll take care of it.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes turning more hurt than angry.

“They can’t help, Janet.”

He dashed away, toward the front of the house. Janet wanted to go after him, but she heard another voice from the back room. A moaning, keening sound.

Janet rubbed her arms as she went into the room.

Ray Bower lay in the middle of the floor. A glass tumbler, liquid spilling out of it and soaking into the carpet, sat on the floor next to him. Janet took two quick steps toward him.

One side of his face was bruised and bloodied, the eye swollen shut already.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Janet dropped to her knees next to him. She leaned in close, listening for breathing. It came, raspy and short.

She started to reach out, to provide a comforting touch on his arm. Then she remembered who this man was. And what he had done.

She recoiled, pulling her hand back. He had killed Justin. This was the man who had killed her brother and buried him in the woods.

Ray’s lips moved. They struggled to form words, twitching like swollen pieces of meat. Janet couldn’t make out what he said. She didn’t want to know. But she had to know.

She leaned forward, listening.

“Michael…”

“He’s gone,” Janet said. “And the police are coming. Did you hear me? The police are on their way here. Right now.”

“Michael…tell Michael I’m sorry.”

Janet heard the door open, Detective Stynes’s voice filling the house, calling her name.

Janet watched Ray as his head fell back against the carpet.

“Back here,” she called. “The damage is done.”

Stynes watched as the paramedics loaded Ray Bower into the ambulance and drove off, taking him to Dove Point Memorial Hospital. A good crowd of neighbors still stared, drawn by the flashing police lights and real-life drama. It beat sitting inside on a hot summer night and watching reruns of sitcoms that had originally aired in the winter.

Stynes went back inside the house and found Janet Manning on the living room couch. She sipped from a glass of water, her face wearing a distant, distracted look. Her eyes didn’t track him as he came in and sat next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She snapped out of it, turning her head to look at Stynes. “I’m fine,” she said. She looked down at the glass of water in her hand as though wondering how it had ended up there. “How’s Ray?”

“Pretty banged up. He has a concussion for sure. Some broken teeth. They’ll X-ray him at the hospital. He’ll be out of commission for a few days. But, all in all, I’d say he’s kind of lucky. It looks to me like his son wanted to kill him. And might have if you hadn’t walked in.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I just showed up.”

“I had a teacher in high school who said ninety percent of life is just showing up.”

Janet didn’t smile. She stared at the glass.

“I have to ask you, Janet-you said something on the phone tonight about Ray Bower killing your brother. Do you want to tell me about that?”

Janet looked up. “I found some things out.”

“Did these things arise from the news I told you earlier?” Stynes asked.

“Yes,” Janet said. “I spoke to my father. He told me some stuff I hadn’t known.” She swallowed hard. Stynes could almost hear the gulp. “And then I talked to Rose Bower, and she provided some more details about the time when Justin died.” She stared at the glass again, as though trying to divine some secret meaning from the water. Then she looked back at Stynes. “It was Ray Bower. He killed Justin that day in the woods. It all goes back to him.”