Perri O'Shaughnessy - Presumption Of Death

“That’s it. There are little lakes high up in the mountains. A place called Ginny Lake like a blue jewel-right, like a jewel…”

They were loving the adventure, and all the good sense in the world went bye-bye temporarily. He played the radio stations they liked, and for a while, they pretended to shoot out the window with cocked fingers aimed at enemies all around. He knew they stood out and the Jeep was a gas hog, so as soon as he could, he switched it for an old Ford Explorer at a rest stop while the kids and the owners were in the bathroom. Luckily, the kids came out first and off they drove. The SUV had leather bucket seats, bottled water, all the conveniences.

Danny felt like laughing, though the money front was pretty dire. He’d killed Donnelly over seventy-five bucks in Donnelly’s wallet. He’d been sure Donnelly would have a lot of cash somewhere at his place, but before he could find out anything Donnelly came at him and-and-

And Donnelly lost. Dumb speed freak, he only weighed about a hundred fifty, what made him think he could take Danny?

“We need something that’ll take the bumps up in Tahoe,” he said. “My friend switched with me for a few days. You ever fished before?” Neither one had fished, and they were both eager to try it. So they accepted what he said the way kids sometimes did, whatever, shrugs, after a few more easy lies.

In Dixon, they stopped for shakes and burgers at the Carl’s Jr. They fought over what channel to listen to on the radio, but after a while, the carbs and fat did their dirty work, putting both the kids out for the rest of the count. By the time they woke up, it was morning. He had already stopped at his mom’s for his fishing gear, some sleeping bags, and traveling money, and they were at the Gerdes cabin, hungry again.

“Best way to catch fish in most of the lakes up here is with Power Bait,” Danny said. “Orange. For some reason, that works.” Maybe the fish up here were deprived of the bright colors fish in warmer waters saw every day. They saw the orange bait as something unique and maybe especially tasty, like candy.

They were sitting by what was really nothing more than a dammed-up part of a stream, but it was big enough to excite Mikey, and Danny needed something to get the kids off his back until he could dope them both up good for the night. He was running on adrenaline, scared, thinking how the whole state would be alarmed by now, thinking about the turning lights on the tops of the sheriffs’ cars. But the kids couldn’t see his fright.

Having them around comforted him. He had always liked stories about mountain men, off in the woods surviving on the land, but always knew he couldn’t stay out for long because he couldn’t stand being alone. Sitting on the damp new ground cover, looking at the mule ears pushing up from the ground the snow had finally left, he could rest for a second. Mikey swished his little pole through the water and Callie wandered around, and Danny wished like hell that none of it had happened.

He should have thought up a better cover story. Like, a kidnapper was after them and their parents wanted them to hide out with Danny for a few days, that would have been so much better. But he never seemed to have time to plan right. He’d get the germ of an idea about how to handle something and the next thing he knew, it blew up into something awful.

They had spent the morning hours finding and setting up a camp. He liked this location, with the tents butted up against the rocky caverns that kept hibernating bears cozy in winter. He got on his dead phone twice and pretended to check in with George and Darryl. “Yeah, we gotta stick it out tonight all by ourselves, something came up,” he had told them.

He’d give old George a real call pretty soon, when it was convenient. Good old George, called him a loser, then begged him to do his dirty work, then stiffed him.

“But we don’t have anything orange,” Mikey was saying, peering into the small fishing kit.

“We got worms, though.” Danny brought out the night crawlers he had picked up in town, and showed Mikey how to thread one up the shank of a hook, leaving some dangling over. “Use a number six hook for this bait, and blow ’em up with a worm blower.” He showed the kids how. “Another trick is using sugar cubes on a bigger hook,” he said. “That’s the method in clear lakes like Emigrant and Margaret. You fix ’em on the line with rubber bands. You got to cast real carefully, but when they melt in the water, the rubber band comes loose and the worm looks real natural. Or you can always try grasshoppers.”

“I’m hungry,” Callie said.

“That’s why we’re catching fish, Callie. To eat. This is Outdoor Camp,” Danny said.

“I’m cold.” She hugged her little sweater tight.

“You can’t be cold. It’s eighty degrees!”

“I am.”

“Well, sit down here in the sun. That’ll warm you up.”

“No.”

“Then go back there in the tent and get your bag to wrap up in,” Danny said, working to keep the meanness he felt out of his voice. “Go on.”

“No.”

“Fine.” He ignored her and worked on getting Mikey set up. After a few minutes, she went back to the tent. She came back wrapped up in an old sweater of his mother’s he had brought along.

You would expect that the one who would be hard would be Mikey. Although he was little, he was nearly thirteen and seemed on the ball, but he bought Danny’s every story. Callie was something else. She doubted every word, and wouldn’t let up, wanting to call Jolene. He let her drive the big black Explorer a few feet up the jeep trail, but even that just scared her. She cried when they came to a big rock and he made her go over it anyway. She had to learn, didn’t she? Fear was no protection. You had to do what you had to do.

He felt sure this time, he would get action. They had food, bait, and plenty of fuel. All the Siesta Court Bunch had to do was pay him what they owed him and he would go to Arizona or Montana and get lost. If it took the kids to get their attention, okay.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t get his twenty thousand. He had been stupid, giving the whole down payment to Coyote. But Coyote knew the ridge mountains, Coyote could get the kerosene in a way that wouldn’t point at Danny, and Coyote was company, like the Lone Ranger and Tonto.

Coyote turned dangerous with his loose lips, though. The whole thing would have been much more fun with Wish. But he had known early on that Wish wouldn’t follow him anywhere anymore.

A chill settled over the stream and around them. Callie went a little way away to pick wildflowers. “Remember what I told you about the bears. Stay in sight,” he reminded her. Working bait on a hook, with Mikey happy beside him, butt firmly embedded in the loose dirt, Nikes kicked off, Danny couldn’t help thinking about when he first arrived in Carmel Valley to live with his tío Ben. Why, he had been happy, it was incredible to think that now. He had loved the parties, hanging with the guys on the deck, shooting the shit, even taking his turn with Britta, a kind of initiation rite.

You did everything right, you tried to be a friend to people, someone they could call on for help. In return, you got cheated and put down. Those chiselers on Siesta Court had reeled him in with their grand plans, acting like his good buddies, not a single one with the balls to see the thing through except him!

And then they turned on him. Stiffed him. Whined, Oh, we never asked you to set those other fires! We never meant you to kill anyone!

Well, they had put toes over the line when they had hired him to burn across the river and decided to break the law. They went from being respectable to being criminal, and there was no way to go back ever again. You couldn’t wipe the slate clean once you took that first little step over.