Acoustic Shadows. Patrick Kendrick

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СКАЧАТЬ bed. Why was a forty-one-year-old man hanging out with a nineteen-year-old kid? How and where did they meet? And what about Erica Weisz? What was her story? How did she get a gun? Why would she chance taking a loaded weapon to school? And what gave her the wherewithal to aim and shoot it? Most people couldn’t do that, even once. She managed to do it twice. He made a note on his iPad to check with the school board’s human resources department to see if her employment background revealed anything.

      Thiery’s head slumped to one side. The reports and his ever-present iPad slipped from his hands as sleep overcame him. He welcomed the coming slumber and managed to slip off his loafers and slide his feet under the covers, though still dressed. The mattress was too soft for his liking, but felt like a mother’s embrace as the window-banger AC unit hummed a soft lullaby.

      His slumber lasted about one minute before his mind, as weary as it was, clicked back on, repeating the questions: What did Frank Shadtz and David Coody have in common? A mature, adult man from out of town and a nineteen-year-old, pimple-faced, hayseed kid. How had they met and joined together with the common idea they should shoot up a school?

      ‘Shit,’ he said aloud, rolling out of bed, his head swimming. ‘Goddamnit, man! Turn it off,’ he admonished himself. He got up, went to the bathroom, and unwrapped a tiny bar of soap. He washed his face and rinsed, then looked at himself in the mirror, though he had to squat to do so. His brown eyes were bloodshot, his face salt-and-pepper-whiskered, and his hair greasy. Someone once told him he looked like George Clooney on steroids. Right then, he was closer to Mickey Rourke on a bender.

      He shuddered and looked at his watch: 5:15. He couldn’t talk to the dead Shadtz and doubted if Coody was out of the coma yet. Maybe he would never come out of it. He needed to talk to Erica Weisz and Sally Ravich, the adult survivors, as well as some of the children. It kept coming back to that. But, it was so frigging early, or late, or whatever and he was just too damned whipped.

      He went back to bed and drifted off. This time, he slept almost seventy minutes before his cell phone rang.

      Away from his father, Julio Esperanza was the man. No one would have ever guessed he cowered under the glare of his father’s gaze. Few people had seen what his Papa did to those who crossed him. Just the thought of his father’s displeasure turned Julio’s blood to ice.

      When he was eighteen, his father had told him to pack a bag; they were taking a trip out to the ocean. Just the two of them. They drove from Ciudad Juarez, a city his father literally owned, all the way out to the coast in his fancy new American car, a Lincoln Continental.

      They travelled to a small town called Puerto Penasco where Emilio owned a rather large beach house neither Julio nor his mother had known about. There, the father told the son he was now a man, and he allowed him to drink his very fine, aged tequila. Julio had never felt so close to his father, sipping the golden liquor on the warm sand overlooking the blue ocean. He felt as though they were buddies for the first time in his life.

      One morning, Emilio told his son he had friends coming from Tijuana. They were bringing Julio presents in honour of his birthday, because they respected Don Emilio. The men arrived, oddly, driving two beat-up vans. One man got out of his van and, grinning, went to the back and opened the side door. A half-dozen perspiring but beautiful women emerged from the back, as if a genie’s bottle had tipped over and spilled its lovely contents: blondes, brunettes, even a redhead who looked like the American movie star, Ann-Margret. They wore lots of make-up, and low-cut blouses that pushed their breasts up into nice, plump, fleshy pillows. A couple of them wore fishnet stockings. Julio almost drooled looking at them and found himself becoming both excited and a little nervous.

      The sun was setting, casting a warm, welcoming, orange glow over the ladies and the idyllic beach setting. Emilio told the women to go inside the house and freshen up. They walked close to Julio. He could smell their perfume and their sweaty sex. A couple of the mujeres winked at him. One brushed by him, slowed, and dragged her hand across his still hairless chest, letting her fingers linger on his nipple and giving it a little twist. Goose bumps broke out all over his body and an erection grew, noticeably, in his swim trunks. The men laughed good-naturedly.

      From the other van, two more men got out. Both of them had automatic rifles and pistols and stayed near their van. No one got out of the back.

      Julio was not frightened, or even surprised. He had seen the men who worked for his father carry guns before. In fact, most of his father’s ‘friends’ had one in a belt or shoulder holster, under their jackets. He knew his father’s businesses made lots of money, so it made sense these men armed themselves, particularly in Mexico, where kidnapping and murder were very common.

      ‘Go in the house, Julio,’ his father ordered. ‘The girls are sweet. They will take care of you.’ Julio grinned as if he’d just given him the best present in the world. No one had to tell him twice. He was ready to bust.

      For the next couple of hours, Julio lost his virginity to a variety of willing women – all pros – using a variety of positions, angles, and tricks that aroused and satisfied him over and over again, until he thought he would die from exertion. They had gathered in the bedrooms upstairs, showered, and played until everyone worked up a voracious appetite. A few of the women had gone downstairs – tired of the insatiable needs of the boy toy – and helped Emilio cook a grand dinner for everyone there. They gorged themselves on paella and homemade sangria.

      After dinner, Emilio told the women to clean up the dishes. He and the men were going outside for a walk and a cigar. Julio was exhausted, but his father insisted he come along.

      ‘The initiation of your manhood is not complete,’ he said. Julio grinned wearily and tagged along behind his father and the other men.

      They strolled down the drive and approached the van the other men still guarded. Julio had forgotten about it and wondered what was inside that was so important as to keep these men out here while the others had enjoyed such a sumptuous meal and the company of the ladies.

      Emilio nodded to the men and told them to get some dinner. They nodded back, gratefully, and one of them said, ‘The tools you need are in the front.’ Emilio said, ‘Bueno,’ then went to the back of the van and opened the doors.

      Inside, hidden in the shadows, were three men, all bound, their hands behind their backs. Bandanas wrapped tightly around their eyes. Sweat-soaked clothing stuck to them like a second skin. Emilio reached in, grabbed one of the men by his arm, and guided him out, telling him to watch his step as he climbed out of the van.

      Julio grew uncomfortable now, but said nothing. A warm wind came off the ocean like the breath of a killer whispering in his ear and he felt sweat form in his scalp, then trickle down and hang on his chin for a moment. When it fell, he thought he could hear it hit the ground.

      Emilio went to the front of the van and looked around in the cab. He came back brandishing a machete. He approached Julio and put his hand on his shoulder.

      ‘These men stole money from me.’ he said, gesturing with the blade. ‘When I tried to get it back, they threatened me and my family. We cannot allow this. Do you understand, son?’

      Julio nodded, but a lump of fear grew in his throat, and he could not swallow, though he desperately needed to.

      Emilio pushed the blindfolded man to his knees, his once pressed, linen suit, dishevelled and filthy as a beggar’s. The man began to cry and plead for his life. The other men inside the van began to whimper like puppies in a sack that was weighted down for the river.

      Emilio brought Julio over to stand with him and said, ‘Watch what I do СКАЧАТЬ