No Mercy. John Burley

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       Chapter 2

      The first thing Ben noticed as he approached the house was that Susan had beaten him home, her gray Saab already parked in their driveway. He pulled in behind her, got out, and retrieved his briefcase from the trunk. Having heard him drive up, his wife had stepped out of the house and was walking down the front steps to greet him. Even after all these years she was still beautiful, Ben thought, with dark black shoulder-length hair and chestnut eyes he had difficulty looking away from. Her tall body had remained slim and agile, despite the two children she had carried. And although Ben himself was of similar athletic build, the years, he felt, had taken a harder toll on him, the responsibilities pulling steadily at the corners of his eyes, his brown hair now speckled generously with strands of gray. He smiled up at her, but the smile faded as she drew nearer.

      ‘Tell me you’ve spoken with Thomas this afternoon,’ she entreated, her hands clutching at the sides of her dress.

      ‘Why? What’s wrong?’ he asked, his mind automatically flipping through a list of the most catastrophic possibilities. Something was very wrong indeed, he realized as he studied her features. Susan was afraid – but she was much more than that; she was on the brink of hysteria.

      ‘There’s been a death at the school,’ she blurted out. ‘One of the high school kids, they think.’

      Ben looked at her, dumbfounded. ‘What?’

      ‘Someone was killed this afternoon,’ she advised him. ‘Initial news reports said it was one of the high school kids, but they don’t know for sure.’ Susan’s voice shook. ‘Where in the hell is Thomas?! He should’ve been home an hour ago!’

      ‘He has a baseball game at Edison,’ Ben reminded her. Edison High was located in the neighboring town of Richmond. A bus was scheduled to transport the team after school. But there were other, more pressing details to be considered. He was still trying to work his mind around what Susan had just told him. ‘What do you mean someone was killed? There was an accident?’

      ‘An accident? Don’t you listen to the radio?’

      ‘On the ride home,’ he answered. ‘But they didn’t say anything about—’

      ‘Honey, it wasn’t a car accident.’ Susan’s voice continued to waver as she spoke, as if it were riding precariously along on one of those small-time roller coasters erected at carnivals. ‘One of the high school kids was murdered on the way home from school – in the woods along Talbott Drive. Ben, he was stabbed to death and just left there to die. They don’t even know who he is yet.’

      For a moment, Ben was too stunned to say anything. What his wife had just told him was so implausible that he felt the urge to argue with her, to tell her that she was being ridiculous. Wintersville was a quiet midwestern town of about five thousand inhabitants. The town’s occupants were mostly middle-income conservative families who presumably preferred the sort of small-town life that could be enjoyed here. Golfing, fishing and hunting were popular pastimes, and in early December folks came out for the annual Christmas parade. Tax evasion, shoplifting and the occasional drag race along Kragel Road were the most hardcore criminal activities this town had seen over the past decade. After four years in Pittsburgh, it was one of the things that had initially attracted him. He had decided a long time ago that he did not wish to fall asleep to the sound of sirens. As for the murder of a high school child on his way home from school, it was simply not the type of thing that happened here. Ever.

      ‘They won’t release the victim’s identity until after the family has been notified,’ he heard himself reply numbly. ‘That’s how it’s done.’

      Susan came to him then, putting her arms around him tightly. She was trembling, Ben realized, and he hugged her back. He felt sick to his stomach, and his legs were wooden and uncertain beneath him. He was thankful at that moment for someone to hold on to.

      His wife looked up at him, and for a moment it seemed as if she was uncertain how to proceed, as if she was struggling with a decision that only partially involved him. Then her eyes cleared and seemed to regain their focus. ‘Honey,’ she said, her voice just above a whisper, ‘we’ve got to find Thomas. I’ll feel better once he’s home. They would’ve canceled the game, don’t you think? Or at least phoned the parents to let them know what was happening?’

      Ben thought this was probably true. Whose number had they given the school as an emergency contact, anyway? He separated himself enough from his wife to place his briefcase on the hood of the car, fumbling with the latch. ‘Where’s Joel?’ he asked.

      ‘Inside,’ she replied. ‘I picked him up from Teresa’s on the way home.’

      Ben swung the case open to reveal a haphazard array of documents and medical journals. He reached inside one of the interior pockets and retrieved the phone. The digital display indicated that he had two new messages. He flipped the cell open and punched the button to access voice mail. The first message turned out to be from Susan, asking if he had heard from Thomas, and imploring him to call her as soon as possible. The second message was from Phil Stanner, Thomas’s baseball coach.

      ‘Ben, this is Coach Stanner,’ the recorded voice announced, and Ben felt a wave of dread rising within him. He put the phone on speaker so that Susan could hear.

      ‘Listen,’ Phil’s voice floated up to them from the phone’s tiny speaker. ‘You’ve probably already heard, but someone was killed this afternoon in the woods close to the school. The police have the whole area cordoned off, which is making it difficult to get into and out of the school parking lot. All after-school activities have obviously been canceled. Thomas is fine, and I’ve got the entire team here with me in the gymnasium. We’re asking parents not to come up to the school to pick up their kids, but instead to wait at the designated bus stop where their child is usually dropped off after school. Buses will be bringing students home starting around six-thirty p.m., but kids won’t be let off of the bus unless there’s an adult there to meet them. Thanks for your cooperation. If you have any questions, you can contact the school, but even with four people answering phones, the lines have been pretty tied up this afternoon, so don’t call unless you have to.’

      The message ended and Ben closed the phone and placed it in his front pants pocket. Susan’s hand was covering her mouth, and she looked up at him with a mixture of relief and sadness. Her other arm had wrapped itself protectively around her waist. It was 5:52 p.m. Ben put an arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her body against him. He looked up at the large bay window that marked the front of their house. It offered a limited visual portal into their family room, and he could just make out the top of Joel’s head, his familiar brown cowlick arching upward like an apostrophe, as he sat on their couch watching television – hopefully not the news, Ben thought.

      He kissed the top of Susan’s head, wondering if even at this very moment there was a Sheriff’s Department cruiser pulling into someone’s driveway. In his mind, he could see it clearly: the car rolling slowly to a stop, two uniformed officers stepping out and making that long, awful walk to the front door. He imagined them ringing the doorbell and listening to the sound of shuffling feet approaching from the foyer just beyond, a small voice calling through the closed door: ‘Who is it?’

      ‘Sheriff’s СКАЧАТЬ