Brian Freeman - Spilled Blood

Olivia went to the full-length mirror on the closet door. The flaps of the navy blue tie hung down her T-shirt.

You left me.

She took the fat end of the tie in her hands. She stared at her face and imagined it purple, her tongue swollen, her eyes bulged out like a boxer dog. Hideous.

She heard Kimberly’s voice in her head, and she knew what her friend would say. ‘Don’t you dare, Livvy.’

Olivia sighed, knowing that Kimberly was right. She couldn’t do it. She wrapped the fat end over the skinny end and pushed it over the loop on her neck. She tucked the flap back into the knot and adjusted it so that it was perfect. It was just a tie now, not a noose. She stuck out her tongue at herself, and then she stripped off the tie and threw it back in the closet.

Olivia heard a sharp ping on her bedroom window. Sometimes a bird flew into the glass. Sometimes the wind blew acorns against it. She glanced toward the river, and as she watched, it happened again. A rock struck the window and bounced away. Someone was down there, throwing stones to attract her attention.

She knew who it was, and her heart raced. She ran to the window and saw him hiding in the trees on the river bank, waving at her.

Johan.

Olivia threw open the window, but she thought better of calling to him. She didn’t think her parents would want them talking to each other. Instead, she made her usual escape, clinging to the gutter, jumping to the ground. The fall hurt this time. She ran for the trees, and before she could say a word, he pulled her toward the river bank, where they were invisible from the house. He reached out and held her fiercely.

‘Those bastards,’ he whispered. ‘Are you okay?’

She could feel him quivering with rage. When he took her elbows, she had a chance to look at him, and he wasn’t the Johan she knew. It wasn’t just the cuts and welts on his face. His eyes were different. She didn’t recognize him.

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

‘You’re lying.’

She was, but he didn’t need to hear the truth. ‘Don’t worry about me. How are you?’

He shrugged, as if his own injuries were nothing. ‘It was Kirk,’ he said. ‘Him and the others. They did it.’

‘Big surprise.’

‘I made Lenny tell me.’

Olivia looked at his hands, where the knuckles were bloody. ‘Johan, what did you do?’

‘Nothing compared to what I’m going to do.’

She’d heard that hatred in the voices of other St. Croix boys, but never from Johan. ‘Don’t take this on,’ she told him. ‘Please. It’s not your fight.’

‘Yes, it is. I’ve listened to my father for years, but he’s wrong. You can’t just take it. You can’t lie down and let them kick you. Sooner or later, you have to fight back.’

‘You’ll get hurt or you’ll get in trouble. That won’t change what happened.’

‘I don’t care. I can’t take doing nothing. Look at what they did to you! Look at what they did to Ashlynn!’

‘Nothing you do will bring her back or make this go away for me. You’re only going to make things worse.’

Johan sank to his knees. When he spoke, his throat was tight with grief. ‘She was pregnant, Olivia.’

‘I know.’

‘The baby was going to die. Our baby. She had to have an abortion.’

‘I heard. It’s awful.’

‘It’s their fault. All of them. Florian. Mondamin. Kirk. Barron. I have to do something.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Olivia asked.

‘I’m going after Kirk tonight. With him gone, the feud will collapse. It’ll be over and done.’

‘ No. For God’s sake, Johan, do not do that. I won’t let you.’

‘I’m doing it for you. And Ashlynn. And Kimberly, too.’

‘All you’ll do is throw your life away. I don’t want to lose you, too.’

Johan got up and pulled her with him. ‘I tried peace. I tried turning the other cheek. Look what it got us. I’m not lying down anymore. I’m fighting back.’

‘I’ll tell your father. I’ll tell the police. They’ll stop you.’

He grabbed her and shook his head. ‘Don’t.’

‘Damn it, Johan, I will. This is crazy.’

‘If you still love me, don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell them what I’m going to do.’ He kissed her, as if he knew she couldn’t resist him, and whispered, ‘Please.’

She tried to hold him, but he ran along the river bank without looking back. He was swallowed by the woods, but she could still hear his footsteps trampling the brush. She stood by the water, torn with indecision. She told herself that he wasn’t really serious about Kirk. He wouldn’t do it. Not Johan. He would be like her, thinking crazy thoughts and finally pulling back before it was too late.

His eyes said something else. His eyes said murder.

She had to stop him.

33

Chris awoke to a buzzing noise, like an insect flying around his face. He opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented. He was alone in Hannah’s bed, and the house was filled with the greasy, seductive aroma of frying bacon. The buzzing noise was his phone, vibrating in the pocket of his pants, which he’d tossed on the floor as he undressed. The slacks were now neatly folded on top of Hannah’s dresser.

Naked, he climbed out of bed and retrieved his phone. He found a text message from Michael Altman on the screen.

I need to see you. MA.

Chris texted back to the county attorney. One hour in your office?

He took a shower and dressed again. Downstairs, he found Hannah at the stove, with an apron over her work clothes. Olivia sat at the butcher-block table, pushing around a runny egg on her plate and chewing a piece of crisp bacon. His ex-wife nodded her head at Olivia and gave him a meaningful glance. He understood. What had happened between them was a secret from their daughter.

He sat down at the table, and Hannah put a mug of coffee in front of him and a bowl of granola. Olivia’s face was dark, as if her mind were far away. Her leg drummed restlessly like a piston under the table.

‘You okay, Olivia?’ he asked.

His daughter didn’t look at him. ‘Yeah, fine.’

‘You sure?’

She gave him a smile, but it felt false. ‘I’m sure.’

He didn’t push. She’d been through enough. If she needed time, he wanted her to have it.

Hannah sat down between them. She gave him a tiny, embarrassed smile that their daughter didn’t see. They ate mostly in silence, but he realized how much he had missed their morning routine since the divorce. It was like the old days in Minneapolis, each of them getting ready to go their separate ways. When he finished, he put his bowl in the sink and kissed his daughter on the head. She hugged him around the waist, and it felt good.

‘I’ll walk you out,’ Hannah told him.

She accompanied him to his car. It was a gray morning, promising more rain. They lingered on the sidewalk, aware of the awkwardness between them and not sure how to make it better. He thought about kissing her, but he didn’t. They were acting like teenagers again.

‘That was nice,’ Hannah said finally.

‘Yes, it was.’

‘It’s been a long time for me,’ she added.

‘For me, too.’

Hannah smiled. ‘Oh, sure, likely story. What’s a long time for a guy? A month?’

‘A year and a half,’ he told her, ‘and even that was a stupid onetime bar fling.’

‘Really?’ She looked surprised, but then she shook her head, as if she were mad at herself. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business. I don’t know why I’m talking like this. I never expected this to happen between us.’

‘Neither did I.’

‘Everything that’s going on. The cancer. Olivia. I just—’