Andrew Vachss - Blossom

"What's left?"

"Lloyd didn't do it, somebody did. There's a sniper-rapist out there."

"You could find him?"

"Remember what you called me for. I don't know who he is, Virgil, but I know what he is."

"It's not yours." The kid spoke up. "Like Uncle Virgil said, it's family. I'm family. I didn't do it. But I've been talking to Uncle Virgil. I know what it takes. I won't disgrace my people— I done enough of that already."

"Who asked you?"

"Mr. Burke." The kid's voice was steady now. Not deeper, but stronger. Growing into his lines. "I don't mean no disrespect. I know what you did for me. Like Uncle Virgil promised me— you'd find the truth…make it come out. My part's now…I'll go to trial. Stand up. Like I'm supposed to."

"Yeah. You want to go to jail, Lloyd? Make it right? Your uncle Virgil ever tell you how he came to do time?"

"Burke!"

"Hey, let me tell him, Virgil. You been pushing the truth like it's cocaine. You got the boy high on it."

"Whatever I did, it's long dead. It's the past— this is now."

"What you did, you didn't have choices at the time, right? The way you saw it? We got some choices now. More cards to play." I turned to face the kid. "Your uncle, he stabbed a man. A man who needed killing. The reason's not important now— what I told you is the truth. But Virgil, he did the same thing today, he'd maybe have enough sense to know he didn't have to go to prison. See, your uncle, he didn't want the whole truth to come out…"

Virgil got to his feet. Lit a smoke, watching me closely. Not trying to stop it now.

"Listen close, Lloyd. Your aunt Rebecca, she knew a man back home. A bad man, with ugliness inside him. Rebecca met Virgil. And she started her life over. The way people got a right to, okay? She came to Chicago. She and Virgil, they got together. Got married. Virgil was working, this man came around to see Rebecca. She told him to get lost. But he kept coming back. He put some pressure on her. Virgil, you know him, he's a proud man. And Rebecca, she knew how proud a man he was. She wasn't thinking of herself, just of him. So when this other guy came back with some pictures…pictures she thought would hurt Virgil…he gave her a choice…get back together with him or he'd go to Virgil. You understand?"

The kid nodded, laser-focused on my voice, nothing else in the room for him.

"Rebecca stabbed him. A whole bunch of times. Virgil came home in the middle of it. Nobody knows whether he finished the job or if the man was dead when he walked in the door. Rebecca told the police she did it. Virgil told them it was his work. They kept it in their family— never told the Man the real truth. Never even tried to bring it in front of a jury. And Virgil went to prison."

I tapped a cigarette filter on my thumbnail. Virgil stood against the wall.

"What could they've done?"

"Who knows? I wasn't there. Put the body in a Hefty bag, throw it in the trunk of the car, take it to the city dump. Chop it into little pieces and feed it down the drain in the bathtub. Carry him up to the roof and leave him there. Pack their clothes, dump gasoline all over the body, and leave the Arson Squad to figure it out. Whatever. It doesn't matter. You try something, it don't work, you're no worse off, see? But Virgil, all he thought about was protecting Rebecca…and Rebecca, all she wanted to do was take the weight on herself. They never even got their stories straight, they was so busy confessing on themselves."

"Virgil was a…"

"A what? A hero? A chump? Who knows…all we know is he was a convict."

"I…"

"Yeah, he's so family-crazy, this was some regular killing he thought you did, he'd probably walk down to the police, tell them he did it. Like he did before."

"I wouldn't let him."

"Take a look, kid. Look at your uncle. You think you could stop him?"

The kid looked. Saw the steel Virgil used for bone marrow. "What d'we do?"

"What we do is, we make some plans. Work the angles. It doesn't play, you can always go to jail. They're always open for business."

"Uncle Virgil…?"

"Lloyd, from now on, you just call me Virgil. A man don't call another man uncle anything, okay?"

A smile flashed across the kid's face. Then it was gone. His face hardened, jaw tightened. Shoulders straightened. Getting ready for it. "Okay," is all he said.

40

I CALLED BART BOSTICK'S office the next morning. His secretary got him on the line when I told her I couldn't give my name.

"This is Bostick."

"Mr. Bostick, my name is Burke. I'm from New York. You're representing a boy named Lloyd. The kid charged with those sniper killings. There's been a change of plans. I need to come in, talk to you about it. Before I do that, you need to know who I am, whether you can trust me. My lawyer's name is Davidson. He's in New York. Manhattan. And the boy's aunt, Rebecca, if you'll go by and see her…don't call her on the phone…she'll tell you too. If you can do this today, I'll come by and see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

"You didn't give me your lawyer's phone number."

"I figured you'd want to look it up yourself. Maybe in Martindale-Hubbell. Make some calls yourself first. Know who you're talking to.

41

"IT'S ME" I told the hum on the phone line. It didn't answer. "Tell the Prof to go and see McGowan. Get a number where I can call him tomorrow night— anytime he says. And have the Prof leave a number with you too. I need to talk to him."

The hum hung up.

42

I LOOKED AT more racetrack sites until lunchtime. Found one that looked good. Stock-car track at Illiana, right on U.S. 30. In Schererville, close enough to Virgil's house so I could be in the neighborhood.

The Lake County Public Library was on the same highway. Ultra-modern, all glass. The young black woman at the reference desk showed me where to find the back issues of the Post-Tribune on microfiche. I scrolled through. Whenever I came across a story on the sniper killings, I pushed the button for a copy. My attaché case was stuffed by the time I left.

43

THAT NIGHT, we started Lloyd's survival school.

Virgil taped the kid's hands from wrists to knuckles. Slapped a wide band across Lloyd's mouth.

"That's to teach you to breathe through your nose," I told him. "When you get scared, you breathe through your mouth— take in too much air. It helps you panic. That's not what we want, okay?"

The kid nodded, watching.

"You're going to start on this heavy bag. No jabs. That's okay for the ring, not for inside. Hooks. That's all we want. Both hands. Nothing to the head. Everything to the body. Stand close. We want a hundred punches in a row. Without stopping. You're not going to get it right away— it takes time. But a hundred punches. Real punches. That's what we're working for."

Virgil stood behind the heavy bag, steadying it with his hands. The kid walked over to it, drew a deep breath through his nose, fired a left hook, a right, another left. His arms dropped— he was out of breath.

I put my hands on the back of his shoulders. He was covered with sweat under the T-shirt. "Don't take a big breath and hold it. Nice shallow breaths. In and out. You stop breathing, you stop punching, okay?"

He nodded, weak but game.

"And stand closer , Lloyd. You'll always be fighting bigger guys. Get close so their arms reach over your shoulders." Virgil left the bag, came over to stand in front of me. He was taller. I stepped into him, face against his chest, dropping my shoulders, hooked toward his body in slow motion. Virgil's long arms reached past me, hands slapping against my back.

Lloyd nodded. Stepped into the heavy bag, firing hooks, right, left, right, over and over. This time he went a good fifteen seconds before he ran out of gas. The kid raked air into his nose, holding his stomach.