James Swain - Bad News Travels

“We all make mistakes, Martin.”

He slowly opened his eyes. “Thank you for saying that. The problem is, I kept making the same mistakes, and dug myself a hole I couldn’t get out of. The inability to learn from one’s mistakes is a neurological problem that is treatable, yet I refused to correct my own problem. I failed myself. And I have no one but myself to blame for what happened. It’s all on me.” He kicked the empty can sitting next to his chair, and sent it clattering across the backyard. “May I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“I’m no longer a policeman. I can’t arrest you.”

“Did you bring a cop with you to do the job? Maybe out on the street in a car?”

“I came alone. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“And talk we did. You’re a good man. I can see why Beth’s attracted to you.”

“I appreciate that, Martin.”

Martin came out of his chair and got his paddleboard and oar. Without a word, he walked down the driveway to the cracked sidewalk in front of the house, took a left turn, and headed down the street, with Lancaster trailing a few steps behind. They walked to a vacant lot, which had a cutoff that took them down to a deserted beach.

The beaches of Key West were small and filled with sharp rocks that would cut your feet, and Martin carefully maneuvered his way to the shore. Once there, he kicked off his sandals and peeled off his shirt. His body was bronzed and trim, and as he waded out into the surf, Lancaster realized what was happening. Martin was going to paddle out a ways, pick a tranquil spot, and dive in. He would go down to the bottom and stay there for a while, beholding the colored fish and coral reefs, and when his lungs felt ready to burst, he’d open up his mouth and be done with it. The final journey.

Lancaster tossed his watch and cell phone on the sand, then waded out as well. By now, Martin was waist deep in the water, and preparing to climb upon his board. He shot Lancaster a disapproving look that said, That’s far enough.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

Lancaster could think of many reasons. Beth and Melanie were at the top of the list. And of course Nicki. And all the friends in Saint Augustine who cared deeply about him. Those were good reasons, yet they weren’t good enough. Martin was so ashamed that he’d convinced himself that only by ending his life could he erase that shame.

But what exactly had Martin done? Although stupid and vain, it wasn’t a crime to have a relationship with a younger woman, or to continue to love her, even when she didn’t love you. Nor was it a crime to fall prey to a ruthless extortionist, or to protect a loved one from the same extortionist’s threats. Martin’s only crime was that he’d betrayed himself, and couldn’t live with his conscience.

Lancaster took a chance, and waded closer. When they were nearly touching, he put his hand on Martin’s shoulder. Martin looked at his hand, and then at him.

“Say it,” the older man said.

“You did nothing wrong,” Lancaster said.

Martin started to protest. Lancaster cut him off.

“I looked at the evidence. You were the victim, which makes the things you did excusable. The sheriff in Saint Augustine isn’t going to arrest Dr. Matoff, and he won’t arrest you. It’s Sykes he wants.”

“But I did so many bad things...”

“For a reason.”

“But I hate myself. That’s why I came here, and created a new identity. I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror in the morning. Do you know how that feels?”

“Your heart betrayed you. It happens to the best of us.”

A school of fish swam between their legs. Then, in a flash, they were gone.

“What are you saying? That I can just start over?”

“Yes. It’s like running a race. You take one step at a time.”

Martin shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”

“I didn’t say that it was.”

Lancaster reached for the board. He took it as a good sign when Martin didn’t resist. They waded back to shore, and he retrieved his cell phone and pulled up Beth’s number. He handed the cell phone to Martin, who stared painfully at the screen.

“You want me to call my daughter.”

“That’s right. She’s suffered terribly, so you should start there.”

“What should I say? That I’m sorry for being such a horrible father?”

“Tell her you love her. That’s your first step.”

“Do you think she can ever forgive me?”

“Yes, Martin, I do.”

They stood there for a while. So long that the sky changed color, and the temperature dropped. Martin took several deep breaths and shuddered, like an animal shedding its skin. Then, with his eyes fixed on the horizon, he pressed the “Call” button, and lifted the cell phone to his face.