Page 190 of It Happened on the Lake

“Shit, son, where are you going with all of this?” Gerald was irritated. “You’re pulling things out of thin air. You sound as batty as Cynthia was!”

“Theykilled him. Makehimpay. As if the others involved in Chase’s death were already gone.”

“Jesus Christ, no one knows for certain that Chase is dead! I don’t know what you’re getting at, but this—what’s happening here?—is lunacy!”

“Is it?” Rand asked, his insides churning, the truth slicing through him like a machete. “How about this, Dad? How about Chase and his old man have it out and Tom, he decides he can’t have a kid who’s a draft dodger, the golden boy tarnished beyond repair?” Rand was watching his father. Gerald was tense, the tic full blown now, his lips thin, his jaw tight, his cigarette forgotten and burning in his hand.

Somewhere nearby a crow cawed and flapped noisily. Rand kept his eyes trained on his father.

“You think Tom and I—we killed Chase, is that what you’re getting at, boy?” His face was getting redder, his tic really going to town.

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened that night. Right here and now!” Rand jabbed at the ground, furious. How many times had his father alluded to the fact that Rand might know more about what had happened to Chase when all along, it had been the other way around? “What the hell happened to Chase?”

Gerald didn’t answer.

“Dad? It’s time. What the fuck happened?”

“Shit if I know!” Gerald exploded, then took a long drag on his smoke, the ash falling off as he did. “It was so damned long ago.”

But like yesterday.

“You weren’t where you said you were. Mom knows. You were in the boat that night, not home. What the hell were you doing?”

Finally, he flicked his cigarette onto the ground where it sizzled out with the rain. He closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly, smoke seeping from his nostrils and mouth. “I’m gonna need an attorney.”

“I’m your son. Chase’s friend. Just tell me.”

“You’re a cop now, boy. So was I. And a good one. I know the routine. If you want to do this, then run me in and let me have my goddamned attorney.” He drilled his son with disappointed, accusing eyes, then said, “And for the record, I didn’t kill Chase. Of course I didn’t. What the fuck are you thinking? We’re done here!” He started walking away.

Rand grabbed the crook of his elbow and spun him around. “No, Dad, we’re not done! Not by a long shot!”

Gerald’s muscles tensed.

His fist clenched.

He hauled back.

Swung fast.

Feinting, Rand caught his father’s wrist. With all his strength, he twisted up and backward, forcing Gerald’s arm behind his shoulder.

“Fuck!” Gerald cocked his free arm ready to strike, but Rand increased the pressure on his father’s wrist.

Gerald landed hard on his knees. “Jesus! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said through teeth gritted in pain.

“Getting the truth.”

“You’ll be up on charges!”

Rand jerked his father’s arm hard. He didn’t care about any of the ramifications and deep down, there was satisfaction seeing his old man squirming on his knees, getting his khakis wet. How many times had Gerald Watkins taken a belt to him when he was just a kid? He gave the arm another yank, stretching tendons to the breaking point.

Gerald yowled.

Rand demanded, “Tell me what the fuck happened that night.”

“I told you.”

Another jerk, and this time he thought he heard something pop in his father’s shoulder.

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