Last section from Chapter 33
JOE - 6:45 PM GOING TO GRIEF SUPPORT MEETING AT ST. MAXIMILIAN KOLBE CHURCH
My cab pulls in front of the church.
"Fifty bucks," the cabbie says.
I hand him the money and step out of the cab.
There are a few cars in the parking lot. I am too nervous to sit waiting for the group to start.
I walk upstairs to the church and sit in a pew.
"God, I'm scared. Help me," I think.
I close my eyes. I'm walking down the hall in junior high school.
"Hey, dummy! How does it feel knowing your brother got all the brains in the family!" Someone shouts.
They vanish into the crowded hallway.
"Bet your parents wish they stopped at one!"
I steel my face to show no emotion and keep walking.
"Your dad has two sons - super smart and
special needs!"
The bell rings.
"Hey, you ok?" Iola asks.
I nod. It's all I can manage.
We always sit with the our friends at lunch, but today Iola leads me to an empty table by the windows.
"How do you feel?" Iola asks.
I start to make a joke to hide my feelings, but I stop.
"Broken," I whisper.
Iola grabs my hand.
"God works with broken."*
The memory fades. I glance at the clock. It's time for the grief support meeting. I kneel by the pew, make the sign of the cross, and leave.
My stomach lurches as I walk downstairs. The lights are on in the front, but the rest of the room is in darkness. Plastic chairs are spread out in rows. I sit in the back row behind a pillar.
If only I had saved Iola, things would be different. Truth is - unless we are solving a case, I feel useless.
October twenty fourth terrifies me. It was the day Iola died. It's been eight years. I should be over this. Am I crazy?
"Welcome. I am Dr. Charles Tager. My wife died years ago of cancer. I miss her every day."
Maybe I'm not crazy.
"Our group has a few rules. No yelling, no judging and no swearing. Who would like to start?"
"My sister died eight years ago."
I know that voice. Chet Morton.
"When my sister died, my world ended. My parents were a mess. I needed my best friend, but he deserted me."
Frank. He didn't leave my side after Iola died.
"Then my friends deserted me."
I was barely surviving. I couldn't face Chet or his family. Did Biff, Tony, Phil and Callie desert Chet because of me?
"I'm mad!" Chet says. "My sister should be alive! Joe flirted with another girl in front of her! My sister got angry. She walked to the car to get some privacy. The car exploded."
This isn't happening.
"If Joe Hardy hadn't treated my sister like trash, she would be alive today!"
I have to get out of here, but my legs won't move.
God, help me.
* Father Mike Schmitz, Bible in a Year online, sorry I can't remember which day.
Frank - St. Max Kolbe Church
My hands clench the steering wheeling tighter as I get closer to St. Max Kolbe Church. For the past eight years, I have avoided this church, this street, and this whole side of Bayport. Iola's funeral was at this church.
I force down my emotions and concentrate on driving.
My life is divided into two parts - before Iola died and after.
Dad was not around a lot before Iola died, but after her death he vanished.
Joe thought Dad blamed him for Iola's death, but I think Dad worked cases nonstop to avoid Bayport. I think he felt guilty Iola died.
Keeping Joe alive took all my time and energy. I was operating in crisis mode. If I couldn't be with Joe, I made sure Phil, Biff or Tony had their eyes on Joe.
Avoiding Chet was wrong, but I would do it again. Taking care of Joe is my job. I am his big brother. Unfortunately, logic has never stopped me from feeling guilty.
I enter the church and go downstairs.
"My sister died eight years ago."
Chet?
"When Iola died, my world ended."
For a minute, I stop in shock. But emotions are a luxury, I can't afford.
I scan the basement. Besides Dr. Tager and Chet, none of the people look familiar. Where is Joe?
Biker walks downstairs.
"Hey, some punk in the parking lot was opening car doors," Biker says.
Everyone abandons the meeting and runs up the basement stairs.
"Where is Joe?" I ask.
"Haven't seen him," Biker says
"You killed my sister," Chet says.
Chet walks closer. His red face and clenched fists tell me Chet wants to fight me.
If Joe wasn't missing, I would let Chet punch me. I deserve it.
"No. I killed Iola," Joe says, as he steps between Chet and I.
Joe, in a walking cast, is trying to protect me. Ridiculous.
"What's going on?" Biker asks.
"Get Joe out of here," I growl.
"I'm not leaving you," Joe says.
Biker punches Joe in the face. Biker catches Joe before he hits the ground.
"Was that necessary?" I growl.
"Only way he to get him to leave," Biker says.
He slings my unconscious brother over his shoulders. Biker goes up the basement stairs. When I hear the church door slam, I shift my focus to Chet.
His black hair and blue eyes remind me of Iola. But his eyes look tired and worn - like he has seen a lot of pain in his twenty-eight years.
Chet is living my worst fear - his sibling is dead. I don't think I would survive if anything happened to Joe.
"How did Iola die?" Chet growls.
I close my eyes and sit down. The worst day of my life is never far away. I see Iola running out of the mall. Joe chases her. He shouts an apology. I am five feet behind my brother. I see Iola open the door of Dad's car.
My next memory is being on my back in the smoky parking lot. I see a yellow blur - Joe's hair. My brother struggles to his feet. He stumbles toward the flames.
I scramble to my feet. I tackle Joe ten feet from the flames. My brother won't stop. He is determined to rescue Iola. She died the moment the car exploded, but Joe hasn't accepted it. He fights me as I try to pull him back from the flames. Joe hits me with a lucky punch. He stuns me. I see Joe walk closer to the flames. Without thinking, I lock my arm around his neck and put him in a chokehold. I drag Joe back from the flames as he kicks me. My strength is giving out, when Joe slumps in my arms.
I open my eyes.
Chet stares at me.
I shove my shaking hands into my suit pockets.
I don't have words or the strength to describe any of it. What can I give Chet?
"S-she died instantly," I mumble.
Chet's phone rings.
"Hello," Chet says.
As he listens, he clenches his jaw.
"Be there in five minutes," Chet says.
I follow him upstairs.
Chet stops by a black Ram 1500 TRX pickup truck with a flat tire.
"N-need a ride?" I ask.
I hate my nervous stutter.
Chet nods.
It takes Chet three tries to open the door handle. Something has him spooked.
"Where to?" I ask.
"Slick's."
Great. We are going to the worst dive bar in Bayport. I drive past two-story houses built in the 1950s. Turning right, I drive past the McMansions on Mortgage Hill. Five minutes later, the one-story ranch houses we pass get smaller and messier.
When I drive over the bumpy railroad tracks, we are officially on the bad side of Bayport.
Every house needs painting, every window has bars over it and every yard is just a patch of dirt.
I occupy my mind by reading graffiti. Then I notice tall, red letters spray painted across an abandoned supermarket:
KILL HARDYZ
I clench my teeth and keep driving. Maybe Joe and I should leave Bayport. We could move somewhere and start over.
I pull my car into a parking lot full of motorcycles, monster trucks and souped up cars.
"Let me out," Chet says.
Ignoring him, I park in the back of the parking lot.
Graffiti covers the outside walls of the bars. None of it is about me.
Most of the red neon letters over the door are out, but "SL" flickers on and off.
The place smells like cheap beer and sweat. I walk through a puddle of what I hope is beer.
Chet pushes a hundred dollar bill across the scarred bar to the bald bartender.
He slips the money into his jeans pocket and nods toward the men's room.
A thin, unshaven man wearing torn jeans and a vomit-stained shirt sleeps in a heap on the floor.
Chet gets a wet paper towel and cleans the guy up. He throws the shirt away - it's beyond fixing. Chet wraps the guy in his jacket, then lifts him in a fireman's carry.
Now all we have to do is make it out the door.
Could it be this easy?
"Hold it, Morton! Your dad owes me a thousand bucks!" a muscular, tattooed guy in sunglasses shouts.
Dad? This shell of a person is Chet's father?
This guy used to be my Boy Scout leader. He was a healthy, happy man who worked around the clock on his farm.
"Ace, I'll get your money," Chet says. "But I don't have it now."
When Ace gets up from his chair at the rickety table, I step between him and Chet.
"Double or nothing," I growl.
"Looks like we're playing poker," Ace says. "Mandy, bring me a beer!"
A red-haired waitress with pigtails heads to the bar.
Ace sits down at a table and shuffles cards.
"Go," I mumble and slip Chet my car keys.
Joe - Biker's House (Across the street from St. Max Kolbe)
My right eye throbs.
Something cold is dropped on it.
The pain hits a new level.
I growl, grab the cold thing, and throw it.
Someone groans.
I open my good eye.
Biker glares at me.
"What?" I ask.
"You hit me with a five pound bag of frozen tater tots!"
Biker trips over a tater tot. He lands on the floor.
My headache throbs.
"Where am I?" I ask.
"My house. Great-aunt left it to me."
"She must have liked you."
"Naw, I'm just her only relative not in prison."
I try to focus.
I am sitting in an avocado green recliner. A green, yellow, black and white plaid couch sits across from me. A green shag rug leads into the kitchen.
"Must be hallucinating," I mumble.
"What do you see?" Biker asks.
"Big orange and pink plaid daisies. Think I'm gonna throw up."
"It's the kitchen wallpaper," Biker says. "Makes me nauseous too."
I need to remember something, but my mind doesn't want to.
"What happened? Where's Frank?"
"What do you remember?"
"Tony drove me to physical therapy this morning."
I try to remember, but my headache gets worse.
I close my good eye.
Where is Frank?
I need to text him, but I'm tired.
Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a minute.
Frank - Slick's
"You are ten kinds of stupid," Mandy says. "Ace hasn't lost a poker game all day."
Ace is cheating. I just have to figure out how.
"Does Ace always play at the same table?"
"No. He just always wins," she says.
I stand at the bar.
"Who did Ace play today?" I ask.
"The guys playing pool," Mandy says.
A group of tattooed men in jeans and leather vests glare at Ace. Possible allies.
"The guys at the dartboard."
Four men in flannel shirts and jeans growl in Ace's direction. More potential friends.
"Oh yeah, the guys throwing beer bottles at the band lost to Ace too," Mandy says.
I watch a guys in a cowboy hats throw their beer bottles at the off-key band.
Plenty of people don't like Ace. I just have to figure out how he cheated them.
I slide into a scratched wooden chair opposite the table from Ace.
He slides a big pile of ten, twenty and fifty dollar bills across the table.
"Won too much money to count," Ace says loudly.
Through the crowd, I see Chet carry his dad out of the bar. I have to focus, but I can't. Seeing Chet has stirred up all the old memories I try to lock away.
"Focus, Sherlock. You only have twenty bucks in your wallet," Joe's voice says in my mind.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"Getting you out of here alive."
I take off my watch and slide it across the scratched, wooden table.
"Hey, I bought you that watch!" Joe says.
You bought it for me after you pushed me into Barmet Bay.
"You slipped off the dock," Joe says. "I bought it to shut you up."
"Focus. How is Ace cheating?" I think.
"Marked cards," Joe says.
"Let's open a new deck of cards," I say.
"No. These are the only cards I have," Ace says, as he licks his bottom lip nervously.
"One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong," Joe sings in my mind.
"Come on Sherlock, it's just like the Sesame Street game on TV. What makes Ace different than everybody else in the bar?" Joe asks.
"Sunglasses," I say.
Ace tries to jump up and run. A couple of guys hold Ace down in his chair. One of them tries on his sunglasses.
"Next card is Ace of Diamonds," a tattooed guy in jeans and leather vest says.
I turn over the card.
Ace of Diamonds.
Somebody breaks a chair over the table. Ace lands on the table with a bloody nose. The table breaks. Someone punches me. I fall on the sticky floor.
"Grab the watch!" Joe shouts.
My watch strap sticks out from a piece of table wood. I grab it, shove it in my pocket, and stand up. I stumble out the door. A car speeds toward me.
Before I can dodge out of the way, the car swerves and stops.
I jump through the open passenger window as a beer bottle shatters over my head.
Joe - Asleep at Biker's House Having a Nightmare
"Joe?" Frank asks, as he puts a hand on my shoulder
I do not want to deal with Frank now.
"Do you work out everyday at the gym?" A beautiful redhead asks, as she squeezes my bicep.
"I need to borrow my brother," Frank says, as he pulls me away.
"That was rude," I say.
"No, rude is how you are treating Iola," Frank says.
I look at Iola. She glares at me from across the mall.
I messed up.
Iola walks out of the mall. I run behind her.
"I'm sorry!" I shout.
Iola keeps walking.
She opens the car door.
I land on my back in the mall parking lot. Smoke covers the blue sky. The smell of burning gas fills the air.
I look for Iola, but all I see are flames and pieces of twisted metal.
Where is she?
I stumble toward the flames, but someone grabs me.
"Joe, she's gone," Frank says.
I turn around and hit Frank with a left jab.
When he lets go of me, I get closer to the flames.
"Iola!" I shout.
She has to be alive. It can't end like this. I love her.
Frank - In the Parking lot of the Stumbling Inn
Chet hits the gas pedal. The car fishtails out of the parking lot.
"Nobody is tailing us," Chet says, about a mile later.
He pulls the car into an abandoned car wash.
I hit the inside passenger door handle with my hand. The door pops open. I fall out onto the cracked, dirty cement floor.
"Thanks for giving me a ride out of there," I say.
Silence.
"I stuck around cuz of your dad," Chet says, as he gets in the passenger seat.
"Dad?"
"The checks he mailed us kept the bank from foreclosing on our farm," Chet says.
"My dad sends checks?"
My phone rings.
"Hardy."
"Joe is having a nightmare. I can't wake him up," Biker says.
"Iola!" Joe screams. "I can save her!"
I hear the sound of breaking glass.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Your brother is destroying my house while asleep!" Biker shouts.
Chet steps on the gas pedal.
I close my eyes.
Keep Joe safe or protect his privacy?
Forgive me, Joe.
"He has night terrors. You can't wake him up. Just keep him from hurting himself."
"Frank, let me go! I can save her!" Joe screams.
I hear a loud crash.
"Not working!" Biker shouts.
"I usually hold his arms down and talk to him."
"Usually? How often does this happen?" Biker asks.
I didn't mean to let that slip.
"Let me talk to him," I say.
"Have to save Iola," Joe mutters.
"Joe, Iisten to my voice. This is just a dream," I say.
"Gotta save her, tell her 'I'm sorry,'" Joe mumbles.
"Biker, give me your location."
"Blue, two-story house, across from the church," Biker says.
Chet pulls in front of the house. I open the door and run up the front porch stairs.
Joe is covered in sweat. He sits on the floor with blood running down his arm.
I shove Biker out of the way.
"Hey, it's time to leave," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.
"Gotta get Iola! My fault!" Joe screams and shrugs off my hand.
This isn't working. I can't talk him back. God, if You exist, give me the words to get Joe back.
"Joe, I'm in trouble."
"Frank?"
Joe's voice reminds me of a scared child.
"Joe, I need your help. Can you follow my voice?" I ask.
"I can't see you."
I put my hand on Joe's shoulder.
"I'll lead you out."
"Frank? I'm scared. I want to leave, but I can't. I never got to tell her I was sorry," Joe whispers.
"It's ok. We'll figure it out tomorrow. When I squeeze your shoulder, you open your eyes, ok?"
"..kay," Joe says.
I squeeze Joe's shoulder.
One blue eye opens.
"What happened?" Joe asks.
"You got a black eye," Biker says, with a guilty look.
I put my hand on Joe's shoulder.
He shrugs it off.
"Who are you?" Joe asks.
He stares at me blankly.
God, please help me get my brother back.