The Silver Gun Page 13

  We were both sitting on the ground. His back was leaning up against a wall and I was sitting in front of him, leaning up against him. “Where are we? What happened? How are we going to stop Danny?” I asked, trying to get up.

  “Hold on, Lane,” he said with a soft chuckle, pulling me back down toward him. “Don’t run off just yet. We may be in a predicament ourselves, here. The debris has us a bit trapped, but it’s not too bad. I just can’t clear it from here without bringing more down. I think it best we wait for some help. Clearly, Roarke found the explosive that Danny must have set.”

  “I overheard him say that he’d put something where no one would find it. Apparently it wasn’t that good of a hiding place. He really isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?” I remarked.

  “I’m certain it wasn’t supposed to go off yet; Roarke probably hit a trigger when he grabbed it. Bloody lucky he got it to the river.”

  “Do you think they can get us out of here pretty fast?” I asked quietly, not liking the feel of this stifling darkness. “I’m, ah . . . not very fond of dark, confined places.”

  “Don’t think about it, Lane. It shouldn’t be long for them to get us out. It won’t take heavy equipment or anything.” He stayed quiet for a while, still stroking my hair.

  “Lane,” he said. “What happened?”

  I was quiet for some time. I’d been asked that question ever since the accident, when kids would wonder what happened to my parents. I made up all sorts of stories, not wanting people to really know. Everything from fantastical pirate kidnappings and fights with tigers to plain old illness. I hated reliving it.

  But there was something therapeutic about thinking it through, here with Finn. A feeling that if I could work it through this one time in this darkness, it might not have as strong a hold on me. Like when you have a piece on the piano and you know if you could just conquer this one, terribly difficult measure, the rest would melt into place.

  I took a deep breath and dove in. “Well, I don’t remember much, really. Except the music—I always remember the music. ‘Without You’ by Nora Bayes, ‘Pretty Kitty Kelly,’ ‘When My Baby Smiles at Me,’ even ‘The Love Nest,’ which was so scandalous back then,” I said as I smirked into the dark.

  “Anyway, when I was ten, my mother and father and I went ice skating on the lake in our little country town. I remember my dad’s tan barn coat and scratchy red wool mittens. My mom had on a long, dark gray coat with a brilliant blue scarf. The whole town was out, just enjoying a normal winter day. My dad had a habit of racing around the far edges of the rink. He must’ve been a hockey player or skater at some time in his life.” I heard a soft sound from Finn, like he was smiling.

  I took another deep breath as I reached the part of the story that I dreaded. “After we’d been there a while, my father was still racing around, and my mother and I decided to chase him. We raced to catch up with him, and just as we were about to reach him at the outer edges of the rink near the middle of the lake, there was a loud crack and then screaming. I was instantly in the water. I never felt anything like it. The cold was so fierce, so painful, it just sucked the air right out of me. I could barely move; my clothes and skates were pulling me down. And then . . . everything was just black.” Finn had grown perfectly still, his hand resting on the outside of my arm.

  “After feeling like I crawled through a heavy, thick darkness and finally made it to the top, I opened my eyes, and I was in the hospital. The first face I saw was Aunt Evelyn’s. When my parents went on various trips, she would come and take care of me. We were very close, even then.”

  I started to talk faster, as I wanted to get the rest of it over with. “But I couldn’t ask about it; I’d never been so tired. After a couple of days waking up for a drink of water and going right back to sleep, I was finally able to stay awake for more than a few minutes, and I heard the news of what had happened. My parents both died, along with one other man from town. I had been in a coma for several days before I’d first opened my eyes. Occasionally, my heart still does this fluttery thing, and I have to be careful of getting pneumonia, but other than that I am none the worse for wear. I don’t even remember how I reacted to the news of my parents, that part’s still a blur.

  “I came to live with Aunt Evelyn; I don’t have any other relatives. Mr. Kirkland and Aunt Evelyn gave me what I needed—space and some silence. Slowly, very slowly, life here began to be normal.”

  I dreaded what Finn would say. But he surprised me. He said nothing; I felt the soft press of a kiss on the top of my head, and his hand began stroking my hair once again. I relaxed into his chest, letting my head rest on him.

  After several minutes of just lying there, I asked quietly, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  I felt his body tense a little, like I had asked some kind of forbidden question. “You don’t have to say anything, Finn,” I offered quietly. “I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I had someone here with me, who helped me remember my parents. Someone who shared my past, who would make that home in Rochester seem more real, more like a real home,” I said, thinking that thought for the thousandth time.

  His body relaxed as I talked. This darkness was a place of confidences. I let the silence roll on, and it wasn’t uncomfortable. I subconsciously nuzzled the side of my face further down into his chest, feeling an inner chill despite the intense heat of our cave.

  He broke the silence with a soft, “I have one brother. Sean.”

  “Is he older?”

  “Younger. By two years.”

  “Do you stay in touch?”

  “No. No, we don’t.” And whatever past he had, those small words held a mountain of pain, disbelief, and sadness.

  “Are your parents still in the UK?”

  “Yes, same house I grew up in. I don’t really keep in touch with them, either.” He seemed embarrassed by that, and I felt bad for opening old wounds.

  I thought he’d leave it at that. But after several more minutes he must have felt the darkness prompt him, and he forged on. “Sean, my . . . my brother . . . and I were close when we were little kids. But something changed. He changed. The four of us hadn’t been the family of the ages or anything, but pretty close. Then, when we were teenagers, Sean started to turn . . . devious.

  “Once, I think we were about thirteen or fourteen, he took a girl’s bicycle and threw it into a stinking marsh. He’d convincingly blamed it on the local bully, and the boy was whipped by his father for it. And once the deed had been done, Sean realized there was an opportunity to gain even more than that luscious brutality on an innocent boy. He retrieved the bike, cleaned it up, and brought it back to the girl. He was a hero.

  “I tried to talk to my parents about it, but they couldn’t see Sean’s deception. They only saw his big, innocent eyes. Not the eyes that turned harsh and mocking as soon as they looked away.” His voice burned with bitterness.

  “He became a master of manipulation. But he always stayed true with me, even talked of his exploits in a self-deprecating way, like he was not being as bad as it looked, just having a little fun. He even had my back several times over insignificant boyhood issues that came up.” It seemed like this was a big mystery to Finn; he was still working it out, and part of him wanted desperately to believe that some truth he had found was not really the truth.

  “And then something happened, didn’t it?” I asked, knowing there had to be more.

  He sighed raggedly. “Yes. Sean eventually found a woman he wanted to marry. By that point I knew there was much more to Sean than met the eye, and I was anxious about the marriage. I knew it was something that he was working on, like a business venture or a manipulation, versus love. His fiancée and I had been friends for years, and I tried to talk with her about Sean and my concerns while trying not to look like the jealous brother. But she remained steadfast; she wanted to marry him. So she did.”

  “And you loved her,” I said, very softly.

  He was quiet
for a long time. “I thought maybe I did. But she wasn’t right. She wasn’t . . . She just wasn’t.” And he left it at that.

  I had no words, so I tilted my head and kissed his neck, giving me a feeling as warm and familiar as the sun baking my skin at the beach.

  CHAPTER 14

  The beginning is perhaps more difficult than anything else, but keep heart, it will turn out all right.

  —ML

  I suddenly heard scraping and digging noises, then a loud, “Lane? Lane! Are you in there?” It was Roarke!

  I yelled back, “Yes! We’re okay! We’re in here! Can you get us out?”

  “Oh, God, thank God.” And then a large window of light suddenly broke into our cave of darkness, making me squint in its harsh brightness. It was the most glorious thing I’d ever seen. Roarke’s head peeked into the hole he’d created.

  “Roarke! Are you okay? We saw you with the bomb!”

  “Who the hell is this we you’re talking about?”

  I turned to Finn and said with a smirk, “He’s all right, he’s just grumpy.” Finn chuckled. We could hear more rocks and debris being moved. We inched over to the light as best we could and started moving little bits. Quite quickly, we made a hole big enough for me to squeeze through. I squished myself out and threw my arms around Roarke’s neck.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right, Roarke! I can’t believe you found the bomb!”

  Roarke was scowling a scowl worthy of Fio. “Yeah, and I almost killed us in the process, Lane!”

  I had started removing more debris on my own, making a bigger exit for Finn to come through. “So? Who’s in there with you?”

  I was so elated to have him alive and to be out of the dark that I didn’t care one iota that he was being surly. Despite sounding like he was peeved that he hadn’t been my only rescuer, he had begun to open up the hole with me. Finn’s hand came out. Roarke took it and heaved him out.

  Finn brushed himself off, looked at Roarke, and then looked at me. Then, smacking Roarke’s back with great vigor, said, “Well done, Roarke. Well done. And uh, thanks for digging us out, as well.”

  Roarke turned to me. “This is Finn, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah, Roarke, this is Finn.” Roarke looked mutinous and suspicious, like an eight-year-old who wasn’t getting his way.

  But then a couple of sirens sounded and were rapidly coming near, forcing us to pull it together. Finn said, “Roarke, did Danny take off? Are there any others around?”

  Roarke quickly responded, “As soon as the explosion went off, Danny jumped in his car and sped off. It looked like there might be a couple of other guys with him in the car. I haven’t seen anyone else yet. The cleaning crews were on the other side of the building, so they might not have known what the explosion really was. There really isn’t that much damage. Nothing that can’t be cleaned up in a couple of hours. I don’t think we have to cancel the opening.”

  “How did they know to come over here?” I asked, looking at the police cars coming closer.

  “I made a call to Fio right before I met up with you, Lane,” said Roarke.

  Just then, two police cars pulled up with a black sedan right behind. Pete leaped out of the first squad car, only to be beat by Fio and Val out of the sedan. They all pounced at once.

  “My God, are you guys okay?”

  “Jesus, Lane, what is with you?”

  “What happened?”

  These questions, among some mild swearing, were all peppered on us at one time with increasing volume. The three of us must have looked so shell-shocked that they all shut up at once. Concern replaced their looks of outrage as we were ushered over to the squad cars with gentle care. I gave Roarke a quizzical look, and he raised his eyebrows in an I know salute. I looked at Finn and saw him shrug and give in to Fio’s attempt to put an arm around his shoulders, hunching down to receive it.

  Val had her arm around my shoulders, and she whispered down to me, “Really, Lane, are you all right? I know it was more than a construction issue. Having you, Roarke, and Finn in one place, with an obvious disaster? That is way more than a coincidence. Are you hurt at all?”

  “No, I’m actually fine.” I relayed to her as quickly as I could everything that had just happened. She shook her head in disbelief as I talked.

  “I have no idea what to say. But I brought you an extra set of clothes from the office.”

  “How did you know . . . Never mind.” I put my head on her shoulder, and she gave me a one-armed hug as we walked along.

  She smiled. “Well, it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know that you are a master at getting yourself into scrapes. And that you wouldn’t be caught dead running home to change and possibly miss something.”

  I laughed and took the towel she gave me, rubbing my face to clear off some of the dust. I took a quick inventory. A couple more bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious—the usual.

  “Hey, Lane, I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” said Val. I looked, and Finn was on the sidelines of the circle of police, motioning me to come over. I walked toward him.

  “Lane, I’ve got to go,” he said, looking at me with an apologetic expression. But then his face took on a hard, stony look. “I’ve got some things to attend to.”

  “You know, Finn, we’ve got to talk soon. Really talk.”

  He looked down at me, taking a minuscule, restrained step closer, and said softly, “I know. I want to. Things are . . . complicated right now.”

  I hated that word. Complicated. My face must have clearly told him my thoughts, because he said with an even softer tone, “No, Lane. It’s not like that. I want to tell you everything, but I can’t. Not yet. But I will. I really will.” He paused, and I looked up at his dark gray-green eyes with crinkles at the corners, his worried brow, that tantalizing jawline. “Can you trust me, Lane?”

  I took a breath and let it out slowly. “Yes.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day didn’t stray too far from the original plans. The cleaning crews were recruited to pick up the rest of the construction mess. A few hours later, the crowds started rolling in. Roarke had given our statement to Peter, and additional police presence was called in. No other threat was discovered, so they decided to keep the attempted bombing quiet until they could figure out what had really gone down. A diver was sent into the river to see if he could find anything that would help the investigation, and an APB on Danny was issued. The new arena was opened with all the pomp and circumstance.

  Late in the afternoon, my work was finished, and I was dog tired after a full day on my feet and wrangling Fio to all his appointed venues. I had one last issue that needed wrapping up. I found the press guys in a huddle down by the entrance to the new field. A couple of them saw me coming and elbowed Roarke before I could get there. He strolled over to me.

  “Roarke, you want to grab dinner? I really need to know what you found out in Michigan.” I looked up at him in earnest, willing him to see how deeply I needed know what was going on.

  “Let’s go now before I get roped into covering another story tonight. Besides, I’m dead on my feet. I’ve gotta get something to eat, then go to sleep.”

  “Yep, I’m right with you. Wait a minute, how are you so clean, and how did you get new clothes? You even shaved!”

  He grinned. Val had brought me my set of emergency clothes from the office, which consisted of a pretty generic cream dress with fitted sleeves and ruffled cuffs, but I doubted that Roarke had a best buddy who would do that. I self-consciously put my hand up to my hair, which would once in a while issue forth a hidden piece of dust or cement. Roarke looked like he’d gotten a full shower and time at a day spa with a beautifully cut tan, double-breasted suit complete with white shirt and light blue tie. So infuriating. Roarke looked closer at my face, licked his thumb, and made like he was going to spit-clean my chin.

  “Cut that out!”

  We went to a little bistro on the east side, Firenze. Small didn’t quite descri
be the place. Try itty bitty. But it was private, dark, and they served very good food that we could afford.

  We ordered and then shared a bottle of cheap wine and a loaf of buttery bread. I was famished and ate half the bread and drank my whole glass of wine before I felt the hunger pangs abating. It hit me that only three years ago, we wouldn’t have been able to order this wine. It was hard to believe that Prohibition ended such a short time ago.

  Roarke broke into my moment of delicious food-induced reverie by diving right in. “So, I’ve had this feeling lately. Like there was something that we weren’t seeing in these circumstances that have been happening, and if we could just get the key to the puzzle, it would unlock the mystery. And Lane, my dear? I believe you are part of that key.”

  I gulped down the big bite of bread that I’d just bitten off. “I have to admit, I’ve started feeling like I’m in a spotlight of disaster.” Roarke laughed out loud. It felt good to see him laugh with his dimples in full force; it had been a while. It erased some of the strained lines on his brow.

  Our salads arrived and we immediately started eating, both of us understanding that right now, first things first. The salad was covered in a light dressing of fresh lemon juice, olive oil, and big grains of kosher salt and pepper. It was delectable.

  “Okay, continue on, D—” I said, cutting myself off.

  “You were not about to call me Dimples,” he said, utterly offended.

  “No! I would never do that,” I said vehemently. I would definitely do that, especially after not much sleep and this much wine. I quickly made something up. “I was about to say Doc. You know! Doc Savage.”

  “Hmm . . .” he said, rubbing his chin, looking like he was caught between being unsure if I had just come up with a masterful cover-up and feeling gratified that I was comparing him to the famed man of adventure. He gave it up, probably settling on the latter. “Well, I’ve never heard you talk much of your past, but I knew you grew up in Rochester, Michigan, and that your parents died under suspicious circumstances.”