Wired (6 page)

Bright sunlight threw a golden glow over the fading grass. The first freeze had already sent the summer stand of flowers into
full fall retreat. Most of the ones planted last May were wilted and nearly dried. The front lawn had an inviting look, but
the green would soon disappear.

Maria noticed a man standing across the street watching her. Partially hidden behind the massive oak in the neighbor's yard,
the man's disheveled appearance made a sharp contrast with the wealthy neighborhood. Wearing a dirty shirt and worn sweatpants,
his hair was unusually long; the bum needed a good scrubbing. Maria stared and he withdrew behind the trunk of the tree.

Trying to avoid the appearance of scrutinizing the stranger, Maria turned back to her work in the garage. She moved several
boxes of old Fourth of July decorations toward the back door. Maria wanted to throw them out without asking, but Jackie might
have some objection.

She gave a quick glance out of the corner of her eye to catch what the bum was doing. She looked a second time. The man wasn't
there. He might be hiding behind the oak, and that would truly be suspicious. A couple of steps out in the driveway ought
to clarify the situation. She strolled out and looked again, but it appeared the man had walked on.

Maria felt relieved and started back to work. She didn't like weird characters showing up around their house. Years ago types
like that would never have shown up around her home. My, but how everything had changed! Life was so secure thirty or forty
years ago, but that era was gone now.

Maria stared out the back door, remembering the past. She hadn't been one to go to church much, but she believed those things
were important. Of course, she'd sent Graham. Every child needed a good dose of religion. It made them into better people.
Maria had enjoyed those times when she did attend a church. She had met friends there and liked the warmth of the people.
At that moment she saw George walking down the sidewalk.

“Georgie!” Maria hollered. “Hurry on home!”

George waved back and picked up his pace. “I'm coming.” He started running.

Maria put her hands on her hips and watched the little guy hurry up the street. She had always loved George and he was easy
to work with. Mary wasn't. Maria always found her granddaughter to be on the belligerent and difficult side. She'd argue and
try to act like she didn't hear when Maria asked her to do something. Well, George wasn't that way and she liked working with
him. He made being a grandparent fun.

“Hi, Grammy. Looks like you're already hard at work.”

“Not really, George. I've been sort of rearranging some of the mess out here.” She bent over and whispered. “I was actually
waiting for you to come home.”

“Great!”

“We've got lots to do.”

“I'll put my books and stuff in the house. Gimme a minute.”

“You do that. I'll get a few other items in order.”

George disappeared through the garage door into the house. Maria watched him hustle off to his room like a good boy. Maybe
she shouldn't have favorites, but George came close to being her number one grandchild. Of course, Matt off at Northwestern
University still remained a top contender for the number one spot. Matt was such a thoughtful boy.

“What do you want me to do?” George bounded out of the back door.

“I see you changed your pants in about half a second. That'll keep your mother happy.”

“Got to make Mom smile.”

Maria smiled at his thoughtfulness. “What'd you learn at school today?”

“We learned about biology.”

“In elementary school?” Maria shook her head. “My, my. Isn't that something. How everything has changed. To an old woman like
me, it's almost unbelievable you learn such.”

George smiled. “But we do!”

“Sure.” Maria pointed to the workbench. “Now you start by helping me clear the trash off the top. Most of that stuff is nothing
but leftover trailings of
your
projects.”

George grinned. “Maybe Jeff did it.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “Jeff's too small too much at that workbench, young man. Takes somebody
your
size.”

“Can't ever tell,” George teased.

“George.” Maria stopped and looked through the open garage door. “You didn't see anybody standing outside when you came walking
up? A man maybe?”

“What d'you mean?”

“A bum was standing out there.” Maria pointed across the street. “Did you see a such a feller?”

George shook his head. “Nope. Why?”

“I saw a man across the street. We use to call em panhandlers. And… well… him standing over there bothered me.”

“Maybe he was looking for a girlfriend.” George grinned.

“Now, don't you get smart with me.” Maria shook her finger in her grandson's face.

George kept grinning. “Come on, Grammy. Be honest.”

Maria hugged her grandson. “Okay. Okay. Maybe I'm overreacting.”

“Yeah, I think you are. I didn't see anybody. Maybe the guy was nothing but somebody hanging around from last night in a Halloween
suit.”

Maria snickered. “George, I swear to goodness! You've got the biggest imagination I ever saw.”

“No!
You've
got the imagination, Grammy. Don't kid me.”

“My, my, what a household I live in. Okay, George. Let's see how much we can get done. Time is flying.”

“Grammy,” George said more thoughtfully. “I overheard you talking about evil last night. You really believe in it?”

“Why would you ask me such a strange question?”

“Nobody in my school believes in such stuff. I think the devil is just a big joke.”

Maria frowned and looked perplexed. “Don't believe? I'm sorry, George. I still live in a world where evil really means something.”

George shrugged. “Well, it was just a thought.”

“You're a good boy.” Maria patted him on the shoulder and turned away. She didn't feel comfortable saying much on this subject
and Maria didn't want to upset her grandchild Better leave it alone.

The back door suddenly swung open and hit the wall with a bang. “Don't move!” a man demanded.

Maria stared. The same person she had seen standing across the street stood there in his unwashed look. Only then did Maria
realize he was holding a 9mm pistol.

“Make a noise and I'll kill you,” the man growled.

Maria stiffened and grabbed George, pulling him close to her.

“Who are you?” Maria demanded.

“Shut up, you old fool. I'm hungry and I want your money.”

“Get out of here!” Maria demanded.

“I ain't goin’ nowhere.” The man motioned with his gun toward the house. “Keep your voice down. I don't like loudmouthed women.”

Maria pushed George behind her. “Listen, you punk. I'm not afraid of you. Don't think you can scare us.”

The man raised the pistol to shoulder level. “Don't mess with me, grandma freak. You get me riled up and I'll kill you.” His
hand started to shake.

Maria watched his eyes. The man looked terrified and high on something. But for some odd reason, she didn't feel particularly
afraid of him. The bum seemed more intent on frightening her than anything else.

“You better get out of here,” Maria threatened. “Our house is filled with people who could walk out here at any second.”

“I don't think so,” the man said. “Ain't nobody in there.”

“You don't know about the upstairs!”

The intruder blinked his eyes nervously “I didn't need to know about the upstairs. Ain't nobody up there either.”

“Yes there is!” Maria insisted.

“Then, I'll take their money too.” The man gestured with his gun toward the house. “Go on in or I'll kill all of you out here.”

“Listen!” Maria shook her finger in his face. “I'm not afraid of you. You're trying to scare us. Well, get this straight.
I'm not giving you a dime.”

“You want to die?” He cocked the pistol.

“Watch out!” George warned his grandmother. “He's crazy.”

“You give me that gun.” Maria took a step forward. “I'm not going to put up with this nonsense any longer.” She abruptly thrust
her hand straight toward him.

The bum's eyes widened and suddenly he fired. The booming explosion echoed through garage with a deafening roar. The large
pistol jerked straight up and the burglar stepped backward and fired again.

Maria felt pain rip through her abdomen. For an instant it felt like a knife had struck her stomach and gone on through her
back. In the next second, she knew her abdomen was filling with blood. Never in her life had she felt such sensations, but
she knew life was running out of her. In a matter of seconds Maria felt horrible lightheadedness. The garage filled with a
blinding whiteness that quickly turned into blackness like someone had turned off all of the lights in the world. Maria felt
her knees buckle. Her reeling fall was the last thing she experienced. The crunch of her knees smashing against the cement
floor never registered in her mind and neither did any pain when she fell face forward into the cement.

George couldn't move. Every muscle in his body froze and his feet melted into the cement floor. The intruder took a couple
of steps backward. He didn't say anything, but turned and ran out the back door. George could hear him rushing across the
backyard and hitting the back fence. A crashing, crunching noise erupted off in the distance and then silence.

“Grammy?” George reached out, but was afraid to touch her. Two crimson stains spread across the back of her blouse. He reached
out again to touch her, but drew his hand back.

“Grammy?” George said louder. She didn't move.

George opened his mouth but nothing would come out. The last thing he remembered clearly was his feet breaking loose from
the floor and running out of the garage toward a house, any house. Somewhere halfway out in the street his voice returned
and he couldn't stop screaming. He didn't remember anything else until long after the police arrived. Mary was holding him
then. They both kept crying, but that's all he could remember except that strange men in blue uniforms kept going in and out
of their house.

W
HEN GRAHAM
and Jackie peck pulled up in front of their house on Crown Point Street, police cars were everywhere. The front lawn around
the entry to the house was sealed off, but the garage door was still open and parked police cars blocked the driveway. From
his car he could see a crumpled form lying on the garage floor under a sheet. Graham opened the car door slowly and walked
halfway up the driveway. He stared at the figure under the shroud.

A policeman stepped in front of him and grabbed his arms. “Please, sir. You can't go in there.”

Graham nodded, but didn't move. He muttered, “She's my mother.”

“Of course,” the policeman said. “We've identified the body. This is a sight you certainly don't want to see. She's been shot
a couple of times and the situation is difficult. Please come inside and talk to your children.”

“We understand.” Jackie clutched Graham's arm. “We're deeply concerned about our kids.”

For a moment Graham's head spun and a flash of blinding light obscured everything around him. Slowly the whiteness dissipated
and his breath returned. “Yes,” he resolutely agreed.

“The coroner's officials will here shortly and they'll take your mother away,” the policeman said. “That's standard procedure.
You'll need to tell us the name of a funeral home where they can take her after their work is done.” He started pulling Graham
toward the front door. “Let's go inside”

Graham's feet kept moving, but his legs seemed like pillars of wood inching forward, plodding toward the front door. The distance
felt like miles and miles.

“Please go on in,” the policeman said, pushing the front door open.

Cops were everywhere. Police kept walking back and forth, in and out of the room. In one corner Mary was sitting in an overstuffed
chair, holding George in her lap. Jeff was huddled up in a ball at her feet.

“Oh my children!” Jackie gasped and rushed across the room. “My babies!” Jackie knelt beside them, hugging, clutching, weeping.

Graham sank down on his knees beside Jackie and pulled all of them toward him. They cried with a passion beyond anything that
any of them had ever known before. All sense of time had disappeared.

“She's gone,” Mary finally said. “Grammy's gone.”

“I know,” Graham said. “I know I can't believe it.”

“A man shot her,” Mary said. “For no reason except to rob us. He killed Grandmother.”

Graham reached out for George. “You were there?”

George didn't look up or answer. He kept shivering and holding his arms together.

“You were with your grandmother?” Graham asked again.

George squinted his eyes together with fierce intensity as if he were trying to squeeze the memory out of his mind or erase
what he couldn't stop seeing. He only nodded his head slightly.

“George… George… can you talk?” Graham said.

George didn't answer. Tears ran down his cheeks again and he appeared to be frozen to Mary's side.

“Son, we're going to get through this,” Graham said. “We can make it together.”

“Mr. Peck,” a plainclothes detective said from behind them. “May I speak to you for a moment.”

Graham pushed himself up from his family and turned. “Yes sir.”

“Let's walk back here to the kitchen.” The detective gestured for Graham to follow him into large kitchen area. “My name is
Smith. Mac Smith, and I'm a homicide detective.”

Graham stumbled and sank into one of the chairs around the deacon's table. “Yes sir,” he barely mumbled.

“Your older son was in the garage when the shooting occurred,” the detective said. “We haven't been able to get him to say
anything, but we know he saw the shooter. Your boy doesn't seem to be able to talk right now.”

“I understand,” Graham said.

“We need him to help us identify the killer.”

Graham nodded.

“I want to give you my card. I need you to call me the moment you think the boy is ready to identify pictures. Our computerized
system will allow us to move through thousands of pictures quickly, but we need his help.”