Gun Lake (12 page)

The liquid burned and even bubbled slightly, and he cursed and could see the tears in his eyes. Tears from pain.

Things definitely weren’t going according to plan. But the information he’d gotten back in Texas had been pivotal. Even better, Rita’s information seemed to be leading authorities in the wrong direction, just as he had hoped. While the authorities followed rabbit trails out West, nobody would be looking in Chicago.

He soaked the wound once more and grunted out loud.

Images from the Steerhouse filled his mind, but he squelched them. It wasn’t like he felt bad about them. But they had ruined his goal of wanting to be inconspicuous. The plan didn’t include killing strangers. The plan was to disappear—at least until he could do what he set out to do.

They would disappear from here on out. The other guys didn’t need to know the specifics about being here in Chicago. They would probably learn them eventually. But by that time, it might all be over.

And then they could all do anything they wanted.

“Top five all-time gangster films?” Craig asked Kurt.

They sat next to each other, propped up against the wall as they lay on one of the double beds in the motel room Lonnie had just rented. Lonnie looked the least suspicious of all of them, with his boyish, all-American looks. Sean was shot and Wes looked like a bouncer and Craig’s face too memorable, and then there was Kurt, scruffy in a beard but with the same eyes the news channels had been showing to the world. Craig and Kurt watched the news and other channels on the small television permanently attached to the dresser in the room. Sean was in the bathroom, working on his wound. And Wes and Lonnie had gone to take care of the vehicle.

“So?”

“I don’t know.
The Godfather
, surely.”

“Aw, come on,” Craig said, his chubby cheeks wrinkling in a disappointed glance. “You can do better than that.”

“Uh, okay, let me see—”

“My number five is
Scarface.”

“Now why do you do that?” Kurt asked.

“What?”

“You ask me, then you give your answer before I can.”

“Because you take way too long, that’s why. Come on.”

“Scarface
is a gangster movie?”

“Crime movies—whatever.”

“How about
The Craig Ellis Story?”

Craig nodded and didn’t even smile. Sometimes Kurt still couldn’t get this guy. He’d laugh at the dumbest things, then wouldn’t even get obvious jokes like the one Kurt just uttered. Not that it was remotely funny. But sometimes he’d land a good one that would make Craig guffaw.

“Number four is
Goodfellas,”
Craig said.

“Yeah, that was a good one. That goes on my list.”

“You can’t take mine.”

“All right, I said
The Godfather
, so you can’t take that.”

“I’ll take
Godfather II
, which some think is a better movie than the first.”

“Didn’t they make a
Godfather III?”

“Don’t even think about choosing it,” Craig said, with a look so serious one might have thought somebody told him the police were outside their hotel room door. “Not even comparable to the first two. Should’ve never been made.”

“Uh, I don’t know.
Casino
, then.”

“Can you think of other Scorsese flicks?”

“Truth is, I haven’t been seeing a lot of movies lately, especially not that kind.”

“They need to have mob movie night at Stagworth,” Craig said, making himself laugh. “That would get them fired up.”

“You have three more to go.”

“No, two,” Craig said. “Remember, I got
Godfather II.”

“That’s right.”

A deep, guttural bellow came from the bathroom.

“You okay in there?” Kurt yelled out.

“Awesome!” Sean screamed back.

“Get Carter.”

“What?” Kurt asked.

“Get Carter
. The original version with Michael Caine.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Come on, man.”

“Yeah, I know. I need to get out more, huh?”

That made Craig laugh.

“It was made in the seventies.”

“My folks took me to a lot of bloody movies when I was a little kid,” Kurt joked.

“Really?” Craig asked.

“No. But my father tried to make my life a horror movie, so it evened itself out.”

“All right,” Craig said, uninterested in changing the subject. “The fifth on my list is
The Untouchables
. Ever see that one?”

“With Sean Connery?”

“Yep. And De Niro. And that other guy, the one from the baseball flick—you know,
Bull Durham
. And the wolves movie.”

“Kurt Russell?”

“No, man. He’s not a Kurt. Oh, it’s Kevin. Kevin Costner.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

The bathroom door opened, and Sean walked out wearing only jeans. His long hair was wet and pulled back, still dripping. His pants were spotted with red, and his chest was wet with perspiration and blood. A once-white towel, now crimson and damp, wrapped his arm.

“Remind me to take the towel when we leave,” Sean said, falling back on one of the beds.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I cleaned it up, no problem.”

“Hurt?”

Sean looked over at them and gave them a look that answered the stupid question.

“You guys left off a great flick,” he said.

“What?” Craig asked.

“Heat
. My number-one gangster, crime movie. De Niro and Pacino. Awesome.”

“Yeah, but you know what happens to De Niro at the end of it, right?” Kurt said.

Sean nodded. “But it doesn’t always have to end like that. Sometimes the good guys get shot and the bad guys get away.”

“And sometimes no one gets shot,” Kurt added, his tone different than before.

“Sometimes,” Sean said, staring at him with a distant, far-off look. “Remember what De Niro says at the end of the movie?”

Kurt shook his head.

“He goes, ‘Told you I’m never going back.’”

“Personal motto?” Kurt asked him.

Sean raised an eyebrow and smiled. “That’s the motto for all of us. And you better get used to it.”

“WE NEED TO TALK,” Michelle said to the closed door.

“What?”

“Are you up?”

“Yeah,” her son’s groggy voice said.

“Then I want you to come downstairs.”

“What for?”

“Open this door, Jare,” she ordered.

The door opened to a dark room with bright light from outside dying to be let in. Michelle walked over piles of clothes and opened the blinds, making Jared squint and moan like a prisoner being let out of solitary confinement.

“Come on. Get on some clothes and come downstairs.”

It was the second day after she had picked Jared up from downtown, and they still had not addressed the issue. The various issues. Michelle had a laundry list that she could go down, but she knew she was still so angry and disappointed that all she would be able to do was yell and plead to no avail. That was why
she had let a day pass—so Jared could sleep off the night before and Michelle could cool down and think of what to say. She had thought things through and talked with Ted last night, and they’d come up with a suggestion.

She sat at the table in the small kitchen of their house. It was unbelievable what the price of a three-bedroom house in Naperville had been when they bought this house seven years ago, and even more ridiculous what they went for now. If her husband’s job had been more stable, they would have sold this house and bought something bigger. But they had remained here, knowing this would probably be the last house Jared lived in with them. The last house he would be grounded in.

Jared came down to the table wearing long basketball shorts and a Nike tee-shirt. He slid into his chair and sat looking at the centerpiece without an ounce of emotion on his face.

“Your father and I talked last night,” Michelle began, her intense stare unacknowledged by her son.

She had opened the patio door so the screen separated them from the outside. A warm breeze blew into the kitchen. A napkin from the set on the counter drifted over to the table. Michelle picked it up, wadded it in a ball, and threw it in the wastebasket. She missed.

Jared continued staring at the silk floral arrangement in the center of the table.

“Since you haven’t gotten a job and have basically decided to be a bum all summer, we figured you could at least be a bum somewhere else. So this coming Monday, we’re going to Michigan to spend some time up there.”

The eyes moved and found her gaze. That was good. A sign of life. Of acknowledgment. Of something.

He heard me
.

“I want you to pack enough clothes for a month.”

“What?” Jared said, suddenly alive, suddenly caring.

“You heard me.”

“For a month?”

“Yes.”

“Where am I going to go for a month?”

“You’re lucky you’re not being carted off to jail.”

Jared stopped looking at her and resumed his tortured, angst-filled teenage posture at the table. Michelle wished Ted were here. He had an amazing ability to scare the light and the love of Jesus into Jared, but she wasn’t able to. She was the mom, the one who had usually spoiled Jared and the others more than Ted. Was this her fault? she wondered again. She couldn’t help wondering that. It was a billboard she passed every time she traveled down this road with Jared. ATTENTION MICHELLE MEIER: YOU ARE AN UNFIT MOTHER, AND THIS IS ALL YOUR OWN DOING. She knew it wasn’t, knew that Jared was a young man and responsible for his own decisions. But he wasn’t grown yet. She was still responsible.

She tried to reel him back into the conversation.

“The Groens from church have a cottage up on a lake. They said we could feel free to use it anytime. They’re actually traveling, and Ted got ahold of Pat and got permission.”

Jared glared at her, then stared outside.

“It’s just going to be you and me going up there,” Michelle said.

“What about Dad?”

“He has something you might
—might
—understand one day. It’s called a job. It’s what pays for the food you eat so heartily every day. For the roof over your head. For the clothes you wear.”

“And Lance? Ashley?”

“They’ll be staying here with your father.”

Jared was about to say something; it was at the tip of his tongue and Michelle knew it. But he remained silent, indifferent, unfazed.

“Jared, I’m tired of this—this act. Of this attitude. And I swear, your father and I promise you, if it does not change, and change soon, you’ll be in a lot of trouble. You can’t go out into the world with an attitude like that. People won’t put up with it.”

“People won’t be grounding me for life. Or shipping me off to boarding school.”

“You knew exactly what we were going to do if you got in trouble. Sulking isn’t going to change things.”

“I’m not trying to change anything. I want to leave this dump.”

“You’ll have your chance very soon,” Michelle said.

“And what am I going to do in Michigan?” he asked.

“It’s what you’re
not
going to do. Your friends won’t be around. There won’t be any pot for you to buy and smoke. You won’t be able to sleep your days away and party through the night. It’ll just be you and me.”

“I can’t wait,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

After several minutes of silence, Michelle stood up and went to open the pantry that had the cereal in it.

“Want me to fix you something?” she asked him.

He shook his head and didn’t look at her.

“You sure?” she asked in a tone that tried to say,
This is hard on both of us, but I still love you, and I’m still your mother
.

Again Jared shook his head in disgust.

“Then you can go,” she said.

He stood and walked back to the stairs to go back to his room. Michelle stood in the kitchen watching him go, listening to the bedroom door shut—not slam, but simply shut. She wondered if they, if she, had made the right decision. She honestly didn’t know what else to do. A change of scenery and location might help. Or it might make things worse, make them both miserable.

God help me. Give me the right words
.

She knew the words that came from her mouth were often spiteful and sarcastic. Sometimes she even cursed at Jared. She knew she shouldn’t do this. She just wanted to get his attention. Somehow. Dragging him to Michigan would probably do that. But what then? What next?

“Mom!” Michelle heard Ashley calling from the vicinity of the laundry room. She sighed and went to answer.

The hot day beckoned. She didn’t have the luxury of going to her bedroom and shutting the door and listening to rock and feeling full of angst. She had work to do. She had a life she needed to live. And Jared was only part of it.

THE MORNING HAD WAKENED with rain, and now the storm clouds contemplated drifting away. Don Hutchence drove his cruiser without urgency, knowing the drill, knowing what he’d find once he got there. The knowledge brought horrible thoughts, the kind he would never share with anyone, not even Collette years ago when they could actually talk with civility. He hated to admit it, but he knew the yearning deep down.

Just once, he’d like to go out on call and find something that would justify his existence. Something that, in the end, would be featured on
World News Tonight with Peter Jennings
. Something that was bad, sure, but that could’ve been far worse had it not been for the heroic actions on his part. Just once, he would like to use his three-fifty-seven magnum for more than simple apparel.

He needed just one thing to give this life he led more purpose, more meaning. One thing that could bring significance to everything. Just one thing. He’d settle on that and then be fine. Perhaps then he could show his true worth, his true colors. Perhaps even get Collette’s attention.

The car headed down Adams Drive toward Piedmont. He was northeast of the lake, about fifteen minutes from the nearest tip. The last time Don had made this trip to the Pattersons was last month—June 12, he believed. It was almost like a regular monthly visit. Perhaps the Pattersons were like him—needing something more, something bigger and better in their lives. Living together just didn’t cut it, so they felt the need to spice up things, so to speak.