Never Go Home (7 page)

Would Jack
Noble be the target?

Or someone
else?

Sean slept
for three hours. He’d said he had work to catch up on. I knew he didn’t want to
admit he was tired. I used the time to do a lot of thinking. Old friends crept
into my thoughts. They always did, no matter how hard I tried to push them
away.

It had been a
couple months since I’d last seen Clarissa. She walked out of my life in D.C.
on a spring morning and I hadn’t heard from her since. I knew I would one day,
though. It always worked that way with us.

I thought
about Bear and Mandy. Where had they settled? The big man wanted her to have a
normal life. He felt like they should go someplace where the past couldn’t
haunt her. I knew that meant a location far away from me, and it’d be best that
I never visit. We decided it was best that I didn’t know. For now, at least.
Too much was left unsettled after what we went through with Alex Parkin in
London. He’d been there, too. Things had been too close. I put the man’s life
at risk too often, and with another life to worry about, that risk was too
great for him.

I envied him
for it.

I blanked out
for a bit and just drove. It didn’t last, though. No matter how much I tried to
avoid it, Jessie crossed my mind over and over. I questioned every decision I
ever made regarding her, from leaving for bootcamp, to splitting up a few years
later. I had one last chance back in ‘02 to make things right. I’d screwed that
up too. If I hadn’t let her get away from me that last time, both our lives
would have turned out differently.

And she
wouldn’t be dead right now.

Sean woke up
around the time we entered Valdosta, Georgia. Orange street lights lit up
deserted shopping centers and restaurants. Sean yawned, stretched, rolled down
his window, stuck his head out, rolled it back up and yawned again.

The blast of
wind felt good and gave me a jolt, so I cranked my window down a notch for a
second or two.

“Valdosta?”
Sean glanced at the clock. “Already?”

I shrugged.

“You sure you
want to get pulled over?” he said.

“You left your
wallet in the console. Figure if I did, I’d just say I’m you.”

“That’s not
gonna fly.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Slow down,” he added.

“Sure thing,
Dad.” I slowed down to five over the generous seventy mile per hour speed
limit. It felt like going in slow motion the first few minutes. There weren’t
many cars on the highway, but the ones that were out started passing me. I
hated that.

“Only about two
hours from here,” Sean said.

“I remember.”

“You do? I
figured it’d be a bit hazy after six years.” He grinned, slightly.

I saw it in
time. I chose to skip the bait. Sean had always enjoyed bringing up how long it
had been since my last trip home. He’d goad me along until the urge to defend
myself arose. A tricky proposition, considering the line of work was always
classified or illegal.

Usually the
latter.

Until recently.

We crossed the
Florida state line. Two groups of palm trees sat on either side of the road and
a big sign welcomed us. A half-mile later, Sean gestured toward the rest area.
I pulled into the exit lane.

The place was
nothing special. Looked like most other rest stops. It had two parking lots,
one for truckers and one for the rest of us. A building had been stuck in
between the lots. There were enough streetlights to make one think it was
daytime. Maybe that had been the point. Weary traveler? Stop here and trick
your mind into thinking it’s only two in the afternoon.

We both got out
and headed toward the flat-roofed building. Sean went into the restroom. I
bought two bottles of water out of a vending machine. They were two bucks a
piece. Highway robbery. Literally. Coffee would have been nice, but I didn’t
see a machine. Even if I had, I wouldn’t have purchased coffee from it. We
could find a fresh pot at the next exit. And if not there, the next one.

I headed back
to the car, tossed the water bottles on the front seat. I used the empty
parking spot next to me to stretch. A woman walked two big dogs on the
sidewalk. One barked at me. The other wagged his tail and ran up to me. I
scratched his head and talked to him like he was a baby. The woman smiled,
pulled her dog back and walked away.

Sean showed up
a minute later. I got in on the passenger side as he approached.

He got in and
held the water bottle up like it had come from a polluted river in Africa. “No
coffee?”

“No machine.” I
didn’t elaborate on what I would have done if there had been one. “We’ll stop
and grab some.”

He looked at
the clock, shrugged. “I think I can make it the rest of the way. If I drink
caffeine now, I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Suit yourself.
I’m good either way.”

Ten miles
passed in seven minutes. I didn’t see any palm trees. Perhaps the tourism
department had planted the ones at the rest area for travelers who needed
another visual cue to let them know they’d reached the state.

“Tell me how
Dad’s really doing,” I said.

“I told you on
the phone, he’s OK,” Sean said.

“You were
lying.”

Sean chewed on
the inside of his cheek. He’d done it since he was a kid. It meant he was
trying to think of a way to say something to lessen the impact of his words. He
exhaled through tightly pressed lips, creating a flapping sound.

“He’s not doing
well, Jack. His memory is, I don’t know, fragile. Even more so than before. It
seems like he deteriorates week by week now. One visit he knows me, the next he
doesn’t. Sometimes he calls me by your name, other times I’m his only kid. I
honestly don’t know how he’s going to handle seeing you. He might think you’re
me.”

“We should go
together then.”

Sean nodded.
“We could. I don’t know how he’ll handle that. Last time he saw both of us was
Mom’s funeral.” He took a drink of water. “And you know that didn’t end well,”
he added.

I thought back
to that day and the fight I had with my brother.

Mom had been
the one to take care of Dad through his early days of dementia. He’d taken a
bullet to the head in Vietnam. Of all the stories the old man told us, he never
mentioned that one. We didn’t find out until we were both in our late twenties,
after he’d been diagnosed. The doctors had told him that the previous head
trauma was the cause.

The first few
years weren’t bad. Then things got worse. He started having more trouble
remembering. It was little things at first. Toothpaste and pain ointment,
things like that. His cognitive functions started to deteriorate. His movements
became uncoordinated. A few years before Mom passed, the doctors had said that
the dementia had him in a death grip, and it would progress quickly. She took
care of him as if her life depended on it.

In the end, it
did her in.

Sean knew that
he couldn’t take over for her, so he arranged for Dad to be sent to a home. I
argued up and down about it and told Sean he should take dad in. I even offered
to pay for in-home care. It was selfish of me, and he let me know that. I’d
never be around. Hell, I hadn’t since I left for the Marines some thirteen or
fourteen years earlier.

The argument
escalated, as it always did. We started cutting at each other for various
things. His wife said something to me. I said something I shouldn’t have. Next
thing I knew, Sean took a swing at me, caught me on the jaw. I hit him back. He
went down. His friends jumped me. No one tried to help me out. In the end, four
of them went to the hospital and I took the next flight out. Drove to Tampa
that night, got on a plane to New York, and never looked back. It took about
eighteen months before we spoke again.

In our case, I
believe that time had healed the wounds. We seemed to get along fine. So far,
at least.

“Anyway,” Sean
said. “I doubt he remembers that. Some days he asks when she’s coming down for
breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. The meal never coordinates with the time I’m
there.”

I said nothing
as I bounced back and forth in time.

“He loves Kelly
though. Hasn’t once forgotten who she is, even though she wasn’t even born when
he was diagnosed.”

I looked across
at him and smiled. I thought about bringing Mia up, but decided against it.
Perhaps in the morning.

We exited I-75
after passing Lake City. Our conversation stalled. It was two in the morning.
Felt like eight to me. The fumes I’d been running on were gone.

I dozed on and
off for the next hour or so until we reached Sean’s house. He pulled into the
driveway and parked in front of a two-story Spanish style home.

“I see the car
wasn’t your only upgrade,” I said.

“Had it built
three years ago,” Sean said. “Five bedrooms, plenty of space, even has a
courtyard in the middle with a small pool, and a big pool behind the house.”

I got out and
looked around. The area seemed deserted. I glanced up and saw a sky full of
stars. “Best part appears to be no neighbors.”

“There’s a few
around. Everyone keeps to themselves, which is fine with me. I’m too busy for
all that rah-rah HOA crap these days.”

I couldn’t
imagine having to adhere to rules telling me what color fence I had to put up,
and who to have build it. So, in that sense, I felt proud of Sean for breaking
free from the humdrum suburbanite zombified lifestyle.

“You still
driving to Tampa every day?” I said.

“Nah,” he said.
“I’ve got fifteen lawyers in three offices in Tampa, St. Pete’s, and Bradenton.
I mostly manage it all from here. I’m down there two days a week at most. I
don’t go at all some weeks. Anyway, I’m going inside. You coming?”

“In a minute.”

“Not gonna
smoke, are you?”

“No. I quit
some time ago. Just want a few moments under the stars.”

“Suit yourself.
I’ll leave the door open.” Sean headed toward his house, unlocked the door and
stepped inside.

I walked up to
the front, stopped and looked up. I hadn’t seen that many stars in a while. At
least, not that I could recall. The last time I’d been anywhere remote enough
to enjoy that kind of view, my life had been in danger. Hard to enjoy nature
when that happens.

Aside from the
crickets, it was quiet out. I enjoyed it for a couple minutes before turning
and opening the door.

A car passed
behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but saw no headlights or taillights. I took
a few steps away from the house. Trees lined the opposite side of the road on
either side of Sean’s house. A car’s headlights should light them up like
Christmas trees. I saw nothing, yet, I still heard the car engine. It idled
now. I started toward the street.

“What’re you
doing, Jack?”

I stopped and
turned. “How close are those neighbors?”

Sean shrugged.
“I don’t know, maybe quarter-mile or so. Why?”

“Any of them
work at night?”

“What’s this
about?”

“A car just
went by, but I swear it didn’t have any headlights on.”

“Guy next house
over is a doctor. Maybe he got called to the hospital and is returning home
now. Come on in. You’re gonna draw all the mosquitoes out of hiding.”

I didn’t move.

“You’re not
thinking of walking down there, are you?” he said.

I was.

“Jack, get in
here.”

The engine had
cut off. I heard a door slam shut, though I couldn’t tell if it was a car door
or someone’s front door.

“It’s just my
neighbor,” Sean said.

I took five
steps back, scanned the area the entire time.

“You really
should get on some meds for that paranoia,” Sean said. “You’re a wreck.”

“I’d be dead if
I wasn’t.”

We went inside.
I made sure he locked the door. He led me upstairs to my room. I’m sure it was
nice, but I didn’t bother turning on the light to take it in. I found the bed,
fell onto it and went to sleep immediately.

The Tercel
ticked and clicked for several minutes after Leon pulled onto the dirt road a
couple blocks after the house the Mercedes had parked in front of. The stupid
Toyota was going to get him killed. Or at least spotted.

Which meant
he’d have to kill.

Not that he
was opposed to that. He wanted to get home to North Carolina, not spend the
night in the middle of Florida. He hated everything about the state, starting
with the mosquitoes. They surrounded him now, and they would for the rest of
his time here. It always worked that way.

He slammed
his car door shut, hoping to mimic the sound of someone going inside. The noise
echoed against the dead night. The crickets around shut up. The cicadas didn’t.
Leon stepped toward the road. The crickets resumed their shrill singing. Leon
stepped a little heavier with their noise, masking some of the sound he made.

The wind
carried whispers of voices, but they were too far away to decipher. He hoped
they stayed that way. It was dark, and the territory was unfamiliar. He was a
spotlight beam away from being taken out for being a predator in a sleepy,
backwoods Florida town. They’d probably bury him in the woods and sink his car
in a lake and no one would be the wiser for it.

He crept
toward the final strand of trees, then headed toward the main road. Leon
stopped across from the house where the Mercedes was parked. He shielded
himself from view and watched.

The porch
light shut off, then the landscaping lights. The windows of the home darkened.

Leon didn’t
move. He wanted to get a better look at the Mercedes to figure out what he was
doing there. However, he assumed a house like this would have security inside
and out.