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  “Thank you, Alma,” said Stephen.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Don’t forget, you gave me final approval on everything.”

  He paused, deflated by the overconfident way she spoke. “I guess that’s true,” he said and forced a grin.

  Jacker got out of the shower and Alma went in next. Stephen used his French press to make coffee for everyone, and they discussed some of the details of the trip. Jacker had a few favorite restaurants that he wanted to stop at on the way, and Paul said that he’d made a trip out to the Ozarks on his motorcycle a few times.

  “Once you get out of Illinois, it gets a lot prettier,” said Paul. “The Ozarks are beautiful to drive through, especially this time of year. I kind of wish I was taking the bike.”

  “Why don’t you?” asked Stephen.

  Paul sat back and crossed his legs. “Maybe I will. I’ll have to see about planning a trip sometime soon.”

  “No,” said Stephen, “I mean now. Why not ride the bike behind us?”

  Paul raised his eyebrows and seemed intrigued. “I guess I didn’t think about it. I’d love to do that. It’d be a good way to get Alma to ride with me on a long trip too. She’s okay with short trips, but always says that long road trips are too much for her. This would be a good chance to get the best of both worlds.”

  “All right then,” said Stephen. “It’s settled. You can ride your bike while Jacker, Alma, Rachel, and I take the van. That’ll be perfect.”

  “Why do you seem so happy about it?” asked Paul. “Were you worried I’d be farting the whole trip or something?”

  “I was,” said Jacker.

  “No,” said Stephen. “Honestly, I had no clue how much shit my wife was planning on bringing.” He looked toward the bedroom where Rachel was still getting ready. “She’s got three bags full of shit. And I mean, big bags. I was worried we’d all be sitting on each other’s laps.”

  “All you had to do was say something, man,” said Paul. “No need to try and manipulate the situation to get what you want.” Paul tapped his finger on the contract on the coffee table and winked at Stephen. “Know what I mean?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  On The Road

  March 11th, 2012

  They left the apartment shortly after ten, far later than Stephen had planned. Two hours later, when Jacker was complaining about wanting lunch, Stephen insisted that they make up for lost time and stay on the road. He paid for fast food, but Paul couldn’t eat while driving his motorcycle, so they had to stop for a few minutes. Afterward, Alma decided to ride with Paul for a few hours.

  Illinois seemed endlessly flat, only adorned with the occasional rise and fall of small hills. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the bright green glow of spring stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see. The road was smooth, newly paved, and it was an easy ride as opposed to some of the city streets that they usually drove on.

  She wrapped her arms around Paul’s waist and wished she wasn’t wearing a helmet so she could place her cheek against his back. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have had the courage to go on this trip. Having him along gave her the strength to face…

  Widowsfield.

  She’d avoided thinking of it the entire trip so far. Alma felt the familiar pang of fear sting her heart. They were headed to Widowsfield, and the horrors that she’d been trying to hide from all these years would suddenly be in front of her again.

  314.

  She closed her eyes and shivered, not from the spring air, but from the fear that welled within her. Alma thought of her mother, and her obsession with the number that she believed could lead them back to Ben.

  314.

  Alma recalled one night when she woke up to find her mother writing the number on her arm. She tried to pull away, but her mother held fast and screamed that they had to find Ben.

  “Try to remember,” said her mother as she dug her nails into her daughter’s arm. “You have to look at the number. Okay, baby?”

  “Stop it.” Alma had been crying as she tried to get away from her mother.

  “No, Alma! Look at the number.” She was desperate and manic as she forced her daughter to look at the scrawling.

  314 was written on Alma’s forearm in thick black marker. “I can’t remember anything, Mommy. Please stop.”

  “You’re not trying hard enough. Alma, sweetie, I’m telling you this is going to work. All you have to do is try.”

  “I have tried.”

  Her mother slapped her, hard across the cheek. “No you haven’t. You haven’t tried hard enough. You let your brother die. You and your father did something to him, and now you won’t tell me. You little bitch. You fucking little bitch.”

  Alma writhed free and cowered against the wall. Her bed was pressed against the corner of the room, and she was trapped as her mother lurched over the other side of the mattress. “Mommy, please stop. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes you did! I know you did. Don’t lie to me. I know what sort of things your father was doing. I’m not an idiot. I knew he had a whore up at the cabin, and I know you lied to me about it. Don’t look at me like that. Stop crying. I know what sort of things you all did.”

  “I didn’t do anything, Mommy.”

  “You lying little bitch. Your father turned you against me. I don’t know how he did it, but he turned you against me. I loved you and your brother so much. Stop humming! Why are you humming? Open your eyes and talk to me. Tell me what you did! know you’re hiding something from me!”

  Alma kept her eyes closed and hummed, like she always did when the world was too scary to face.

  Her arms wrapped a little tighter around Paul’s waist as she recalled her mother’s insanity. She was humming as they drove, and hadn’t realized it.

  They pulled into Branson a little after eight, and went straight to the hotel that Stephen had booked. It was a Holiday Inn on the outskirts of town, but was still surprisingly busy. Alma had never been to Branson, and was shocked by how bustling the town was. Rachel was anxious to go shopping, but no one else wanted to join her. Undeterred, she set off on her own, saying that she’d meet up with the rest of them in the morning.

  Stephen wanted to get dinner, but Alma and Paul decided to get room service. Jacker decided to go with Stephen, and the group broke up as everyone went their separate ways.

  When they got to their room, Paul sat down on the edge of the queen bed and pulled Alma down beside him. “What’s up, babe?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been quiet – even quieter than normal. You okay?”

  “Yeah, just tired, and a little sore from the ride.”

  “You’re lying,” said Paul.

  Alma thought of her mother, and she took her hand out of Paul’s. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bugging you. What is it?”

  “I guess I’m nervous. That’s all. I haven’t been back to Widowsfield since just before my mother killed herself. I swore I’d never come back.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s not too late to turn around and go home.” He almost sounded insistent, as if he thought this trip was a bad idea.

  “Why? Do you think I should?”

  He put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “I think you should do whatever you want to do. Doesn’t matter what anyone else wants. I think it’s brave to go back there, but I wouldn’t think you were a coward if you just wanted to go home.”

  “What do you think about Stephen and Rachel?” she asked.

  “I like them,” said Paul confidently. He was a good judge of character, much better than Alma. “Stephen’s a bit of a snake, but not in a bad way. I think he’s just spent his life working in a shitty industry that’s filled with backstabbers. He picked up some bad habits, but I think he’s a good guy anyhow. Although I’d put good money on that tape of his, the one that got famous online, was faked.”

  “You really thi
nk so?” asked Alma.

  Paul nodded. “Definitely. Stephen’s not a bad guy, but he’s the type that will manipulate others to get what he wants. I bet he doctored that tape and didn’t tell Rachel.”

  “What do you think of her?” asked Alma.

  “Rachel is super nice, but she’s got to learn when to turn off the reporter thing. I like how she’s a straight to the point, no nonsense kind of girl, but she’s pretty brash too.”

  “I agree,” said Alma. “I didn’t like them much at first, but now I’m coming around. I’m not like you. I don’t make friends easily. It takes me a while to get to know someone. Speaking of which, I like Jacker a lot. He’s just a big teddy bear.”

  “There’s something you should know about him.”

  Alma stiffened, familiar with Paul’s tone. He was about to reveal something that he was worried Alma would be mad about. “What?”

  “He’s a heroin addict.”

  “Oh, okay.” She wasn’t upset, but hadn’t expected that.

  “That’s how we met. He’s been clean for awhile. At least until Debbie fucked him over. He relapsed, and I’ve been helping him back on the wagon.”

  Alma rubbed Paul’s leg. “You’re a good person, Paul.”

  “I’ve just got you fooled, little Miss Harper.” He walked his fingers up her leg, then up her stomach until they were between her breasts. He pushed her back onto the bed and lay down beside her. “Because I’m a bad boy. Remember? That’s why you fell for me.”

  “The tattooed bad boy my Mommy used to warn me about?” Alma pushed his hand away and then grabbed his belt buckle.

  “Wait,” said Paul. He took her hand off his buckle, preventing her from undoing it. “There’s one other thing I have to tell you.”

  “Oh crap,” said Alma, again recognizing Paul’s tentative tone. “What is it?”

  “Jacker’s in trouble with the law.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, you’re right about him being a big teddy bear. He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, but I saw a different side of him come out this week. After he found out what Debbie was doing, he flipped. He started using, and then just went to shit. I’ve never seen someone fall apart like that before.”

  “What did he do?” asked Alma. “Why is he in trouble with the police?”

  “You know how he lost his job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he lost it because he put his boss through a plate glass window.”

  Alma gasped. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, unfortunately not. And it gets worse.”

  “Of course.”

  Paul stood up and started to empty his pockets. He tossed his keys, wallet, and spare change onto the dresser. “After that, he knew he was going to get in trouble, so he went to Debbie’s work. He found the guy that she’d been cheating on him with.”

  “Oh no, what did he do?”

  “What do you think he did?”

  Alma sat up and shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed like such a passive, nice guy to me. I can’t imagine him hurting anyone. For crying out loud, he passed out from just seeing me cut my foot open.”

  “I doubt that’s the whole story with that.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Alma.

  “I think he’s been using,” said Paul. “He told me he just used once, right after he found out about Debbie, but I don’t know if I believe him. I think he’s still taking something. I’m not sure what, but he’s been acting weird all week. He’s been living out of that fucking van ever since he…” Paul stopped and rubbed his eyes as he sighed.

  “He what?”

  “He put Debbie’s boy toy in the hospital. The kid’s in serious condition. Jacker found him in the alley, on a smoke break, and beat his head against the wall until he stopped moving.”

  “Holy shit,” said Alma. “I would’ve never guessed. He seems like such a nice guy.”

  “That’s just it, babe. He is a nice guy. Seriously one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He just got pushed too far and he snapped, and the drugs didn’t help.”

  “Should we turn him in?” asked Alma.

  “No!” Paul was angry and screamed louder than he meant to. “Fuck no.”

  “But he put a guy in the hospital, Paul. I’m sure the cops are looking for him.”

  “Yeah, and he’s got priors. If he gets pinched for this, he’s going away for a long time.”

  “What sort of priors? Who is he? Are we driving around with a career criminal or something?”

  “No,” said Paul. “It’s not like that. He had a rough life, just like a lot of us. He got into some shit that he shouldn’t have, and he’s been working hard to pick himself up out of that shit. He fucked up, that’s all. And now it’s going to cost him his life.”

  “Paul, Jesus, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to react to this.”

  “I figured you had the right to know.”

  “And so do Rachel and Stephen,” said Alma.

  “No they don’t. It’s better for them to stay in the dark.”

  “Then why did you tell me?”

  Paul looked at her and reached out to hold her hand. “Because I don’t want to keep secrets from you. I want to do it right this time around. You deserve to know the truth.”

  Alma walked away from him and went to the window that overlooked Branson. “Maybe not. Maybe sometimes it’s better not to know.”

  * * *

  “Come on,” said Stephen. “Do a shot with me.”

  “No,” said Jacker as he sat beside Stephen at the bar. “Honestly man, I’m good.”

  “What?” asked Stephen as if Jacker had to be lying. “You’ve been driving all damn day. You’ve got to at least let me buy you a drink.”

  “I’ll have a Coke.”

  Stephen looked offended and ignored Jacker. “Excuse me, beautiful,” said Stephen as he waved down the lithe, pretty bartender. The girl held up her finger to let Stephen know he had to be patient.

  “I should probably head up and get some sleep,” said Jacker.

  Stephen grabbed his arm. “No way, pal. You’re with me tonight. Rachel went shopping, and I got the go ahead to have some beers at the bar. No chance in hell I’m going to let you take off on me. Sit your ass down, big guy.”

  “Hello, gentlemen,” said the blonde haired, blue eyed bartender as she came over. She had studs in either cheek that accentuated her dimples and vibrant tattoos curled up from under her tight shirt, over her shoulders. “What can I get for you tonight?”

  “Now, how in the hell am I supposed to sit here and not ask to see your tattoo?” asked Stephen as he peered at her cleavage. “Does that go all the way down?”

  “Oh boy,” said the bartender with a smile. “Are you that type of guy?” She chided him and then winked at Jacker. “Are you going to sit here asking to see my tits all night?”

  Stephen held up his left hand and showed his wedding ring. “A few years ago, yes. But I’m a married man now. My friend here, however, is all sorts of single.” He pat Jacker on the back. “Maybe if we get a few drinks into him he’ll loosen up a little and start flirting with you so I don’t have to.”

  “Well,” said the bartender as she smiled at Jacker. “I’ll certainly look forward to that. What am I getting you two started with?”

  “How about some whiskey? I’m in a bourbon mood,” said Stephen.

  “Just a Coke for me,” said Jacker.

  “God damn it,” said Stephen. “Stop fighting me on this! Tell you what, darling.” He reached out and took the bartender’s arm. “Bring me two shot glasses, same size, and fill one with whiskey and the other with water.”

  “Uh oh,” said the bartender. “Looks like we’re about to witness a bar trick.”

  “Zip it, beautiful,” said Stephen before he turned back to Jacker. “Here’s the deal. She’s going to get us two shot glasses, one with whiskey and one with water. The whiskey is mine, and the water is yours.” />
  “Okay,” said Jacker. “What’s the trick?”

  “We both have to drink our own glass one minute after she serves them.”

  “What’s the trick? Are you going to try to get me to turn around or something? Switch the glasses?”

  “Nope,” said Stephen. “And I can’t drink either of them before the one minute is up, and I can’t use a straw, and I can’t leave my seat. If I can get my whiskey into your shot glass before the minute is up, then you have to drink it.”

  The bartender had the two shot glasses ready and waiting on her shelf on the other side of the bar. She had her lips pursed, restraining a smile, and her eyes twinkled as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “Okay, you’re on,” said Jacker.

  Stephen shouted and pumped his fist as the bartender slid the glasses over. A few other patrons had gathered around them, eager to watch the trick. Stephen loved the attention, and yelled out for more people to come and watch as he took out his wallet. He showed everyone his license and then set it down on top of Jacker’s shot glass. Then he flipped the glass over, careful not to spill any of the water.

  “What the fuck are you up to?” asked Jacker.

  “Just wait a minute,” said Stephen as he concentrated on the glasses. He set the water glass upside down over the whiskey so that his license separated the two. The crowd around them started to react to every movement as the trick proceeded, and Stephen yelled at them to trust him. Some people were saying that he was going to spill the water, but he hushed them as he pinched the edges of his license. He slid the card back just enough that the water started to slide down into the glass below. The whiskey surged up, the brown alcohol swirling into the water as the two liquids exchanged places.

  “Mother fucker,” said Jacker. He was too intrigued to be upset as he watched the two liquids switch glasses.

  “You know,” said the bartender. “Usually when people do this trick it’s to get a free drink, not the other way around.”