Page 49 of Never Flinch

“They’ll keep it quiet.”

“I hope so. Good luck with Kate McKay, Hols. Send me a picture of you and her. I’ve read all her books. She rocks. And don’t let her get killed.”

“That’s the plan,” Holly says.

9

That night, Trig goes to a meeting in Treemore Village. This is far afield for him, but he doesn’t question why. Not on the surface part of his mind, anyway. A deeper part is aware of the Taurus .22 in the Toyota’s center console. It makes him think of an old AA joke about a magic trick only drunks can do: Recovery Guy is cruising along, headed for a meeting and thinking of nothing in particular, and presto, his car turns into a tavern.

The meeting is in the basement of St. Luke’s and the group is called New Horizons. There are twenty or so in attendance. The subject is“honesty in all our affairs,” and everyone has a chance to share. When it’s Trig’s turn, he says he just wants to listen tonight. There are murmurs ofright onandkeep coming back, Trig.

After the meeting, most of the alkies stand around the urn in the kitchen, drinking coffee, eating cookies, telling war stories. Trig sees a couple of people he knows from other meetings closer to the city, but doesn’t speak to them, just slips out. A mile down Route 29-B is John Glenn State Park. A young man in a duffle coat is standing under the single streetlight by the side of the road, holding a sign that says WASHINGTON D.C. When he sees Trig slowing down, he grins and flips the sign over to show OR WHEREVER. Trig pulls over and shifts into park so the young man can open the passenger door and get in.

“Thanks, man—where you going?”

Trig holds up a finger in a casualwait a secgesture and opens the center console. He takes out the gun. The young man sees it. His eyes widen, but he freezes for a lethal two seconds before scrabbling at the doorhandle. Trig shoots him three times. The young man jumps as every bullet enters his body. His back arches, then he slumps forward. As he did with Annette McElroy, Trig places the muzzle of the Taurus against the young man’s temple and fires a fourth time. Smoke drifts up. He can smell burning hair.

What are you doing?he asks himself, and this time it’s not Daddy’s voice but his own. If thoughts could scream, that’s what this one would be doing.You’ll never get all of them if you kill on impulse! Your luck will run out!

Probably true, but it won’t run out tonight. The road is deserted, and although the swing-gate is down across the park’s entrance—it closed at seven PM—he’s able to drive around it. He douses his lights and pulls into a picnic area from which several trails begin, each marked EASY or DIFFICULT or EXPERT.

Trig goes around the hood of his car and opens the passenger door. The young man in the duffle coat spills out onto the gravel. There is no blood in the car, at least that Trig can see. The young man’s heavy coat has caught it all. Trig gets him under the arms and drags him toward the line of Porta-Johns beyond the picnic area. A car comes down the highway. Trig crouches, aware of the dead man’s head lollingbetween his feet. The car passes without slowing. Red taillights… and gone. Trig resumes dragging.

In the Porta-John he picks, the pink disinfectant disc in the plastic urinal is no match for the smell of shit. The walls are covered with graffiti. It’s a poor tomb for a man who did nothing but try to hitch a ride. Trig feels a moment of regret, then reminds himself that the man’s innocence is exactly the point: he did nothing, just as Alan Duffrey did nothing. Also, Trig has to admit to himself that regret isn’t the same as guilt, of which he feels none. Didn’t he know this might be the way his evening ended, with his car—abracadabra!—turning into a murder scene? Isn’t it why he came to Treemore in the first place? Telling himself to take some time off from killing these innocents was rational. The need to get on with his mission is the exact opposite. It’s so much like the bad old days, telling himself he could stop anytime… just not tonight. The idea that murder might indeed be an addiction freezes him for a moment with the young man partially lifted onto the toilet seat.

If it is, what does it matter? There’s a cure for addiction that’s even better than AA or NA.

When the young man is seated, Trig takes one of his cooling hands and folds it over a slip of paper with the name STEVEN FURST on it. He goes back to the car and inspects the passenger side for bullet holes. He finds none, so all the slugs stayed in the young man’s body. Even the head shot, which could have resulted in a cracked window. Which was good. Lucky. There are a few spots of blood on the seat, but there are tissues in the center console. He wipes up the spots and puts the tissues in his pocket for later disposal.

You only need good luck if you do this impulsively. And sooner or later, luck always turns.

He resolves not to do any more of them according to impulse and knows he may be powerless to stop himself. As when, in the bad days, he would tell himself he would have a sober weekend, that just once he would wake up on Monday morning without a hangover. Only what was a Sunday afternoon football doubleheader without a drink or two? Or five or six?

“Never mind,” he says. “Four down, nine to go. Then the guilty one.”

He drives back to the city. He’s got a call to make.

Chapter 8

1

Holly’s flight to Iowa City on May 23rd is scheduled early and leaves late. It’s not the way she would run the world if she were in charge, but pretty much SOP for a puddle-jumper like Midwest Air Service. She doesn’t mind; it gives her time to speak to Jerome before the flight leaves.

He doesn’t pick up until the fifth ring, and sounds muzzy. “Hey, Holly. What time is it?”

“Quarter past seven.”

“Are you kidding? That isn’t even a real hour.”

“I’ve been up since four-thirty.”

“Good for you, but most of the world doesn’t run on Holly Time. Where are you? I hear planes.”

“The airport. I’m going to Iowa City.”

“Are you kidding?” Jerome sounds a little more awake now. “Nobodygoes to Iowa City. At least not of their own free will.”

Holly explains why she’s traveling. Jerome is impressed.

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