Shadow of the Past Page 13

  David’s eyes narrowed, and then he said. “Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, we will. I’ll take Mark down to the police station and we’ll wait there for Mark’s lawyer. I just wanted to ask him a few questions, but if you want a lawyer present that’s your right. Agreed?”

  “Good.” Joe said, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest like he’d won something. He looked at Mark and said, “You go with him. Don’t say anything, get me?”

  Mark just nodded.

  Joe looked back at the Detective and then turned on his heel and left, not even looking at anyone else.

  “C’mon, Mark,” Detective Prescott said. “I’m parked on the street.”

  They left the building and Mark’s heart sank. David had come in an unmarked car but it was flanked by two squad cars. There weren’t any cuffs and Mark knew that you couldn’t see David’s badge, but it was obvious to anyone looking out the window where Mark was going. If Mark knew anything about high school kids, he knew they were all looking out the window.

  His guidance counselor gets killed and then he’s taken away by the cops! Holy shit he’s as crazy as they always said he was.

  Thanks Joe, he thought. I really needed a lawyer to lie and tell them that I don’t know anything.

  The questioning took a pathetically short amount of time. Mark told David he’d had an appointment with the guidance counselor during lunch that day. They talked about a fight he had been in the week previous. He hadn’t had any interaction with her before then. That night he’d been home, upstairs in his room all night. All in all, it was a terrific waste of thirty minutes.

  Mark had been more emotional in his last visit and been close to that in the Vice Principal’s office, but the car ride to the station and the wait for his Uncle and lawyer to join them did exactly what David hoped it wouldn’t: calm him down and make him less like to give something away. The lawyer that Joe Nelson showed up with looked like he’d been picked randomly from the phone book and had been barely been told what was going on. Mark, Joe and the lawyer spoke for only a couple of minutes before they told David they were ready for his questions.

  “Do you know anyone that might want to hurt her?” David asked.

  It was the one time that Mark hesitated. “No, I don’t. I didn’t really see her much.”

  “Until the fight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you two argued because why?”

  Hesitation again. “It was stupid. She was trying to help and I didn’t want her to bother me. She thought I should do mediation or something because of the fight and I just wanted to be left alone.” There was a genuine crack in his resolve then. “She was just trying to help. I wish I’d been better.”

  “Better?”

  “Nicer. I mean nicer.”

  He hadn’t meant nicer, David was sure about that, and it left him with more pieces of the Mark Watson puzzle than he’d had before. A puzzle that was like a polar bear in a snow storm.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I do not need this,” Joe shook his head from side to side like a mule. “We do not need this. First the fight and now this? You are really fucking lucky that Morty was able to come down and help you out. You’d be in deep shit if I didn’t know a lawyer, you know that?”

  “I thought Morty was a tax attorney,” Mark said, head leaning against the passenger window.

  “Yeah, but he’s all you’ve got so I wouldn’t be throwing around that lip of yours.”

  Life would’ve been so much easier on them both if Joe didn’t insist on setting Mark up like that. When he was a kid, Joe would tell him to watch his mouth and Mark would run around the house with his jaw and lips jutting out, trying to stare down at them. Clean up your act? Get me a broom. It was the only thing Mark could think of to combat the comical pointlessness of Joe’s tirade. As if that were the biggest thing Mark had to worry about.

  “I’m just saying if I am in any trouble, which I’m not,” Mark said, “he wouldn’t be able to help anyway. He’d just sit there and not say anything.”

  “Oh, he’d say something! Believe me, young man he most certainly would say something. You think you’re so smart don’t you? If he hadn’t been there they would have twisted things around and before you knew it you’d be sitting in some cell! Do you even understand that?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Now that he was too old for childish mockery this was his only way of dealing with Joe. Yes, you’re right. I’m wrong. I’m mistaken. I’m worthless. I never will amount to anything. You’re right. You’ve always been right. They pulled into the driveway and Mark got out as soon as the car stopped moving.

  “Hey! Hey!” Joe yelled, rolling down his window. Mark stopped and turned to listen. “I’m going back to work. Someone has to pay the bills around here. I want you up in that room of yours till tomorrow. I don’t want to see your ass till then, you get me?”

  “Yeah,” Mark said, “and you can kiss it then too.”

  See, you were almost free and then you had to go and do something like that.

  Joe’s eyes narrowed and he was out of the car before Mark even realized that he’d spoken. “You think you’re so goddamn smart, don’t you?” He shoved Mark hard, almost knocking him off his feet. “You ain’t too smart or too big for a beatin', I’ll tell you that right now!” There was another shove and this time Mark landed on his back.

  “I will not tolerate that kind of shit from some dumb punk who gets his dumb ass taken down to the goddamn police, you hear me? I promised your Aunt I wouldn’t take my hand to you, but I swear to GOD I will if you keep that kind of shit up, do you get me?”

  Mark nodded furiously. Joe was practically on top of him now, finger pointing, face reddening, and saliva flying. “Now, Mr. Smart, get your worthless ass in that house so I can get back to work. And don’t make any fucking plans, because you are going to be in that house for a long time, do you get me?”

  Mark nodded again, and Joe turned back to the car. Mark just sat there, and when Joe got behind the wheel and saw Mark still sitting there, he yelled “Go!” so loud Mark was sure the force of it was what pushed him to his feet.

  The ceiling above his bed was fascinating, Mark realized. He’d been staring at it for hours since he’d gotten home, hoping that he’d drift into some sort of dreamless sleep he’d never wake up from before anything else epically shitty happened to him.

  Instead, the phone rang. The chances were slim that whoever was on the other end wanted to kill him, so he figured he’d pick it up.

  “Mark, are you okay?” Christine asked.

  “Yeah, I’m alright. It was no big deal.”

  “Really? Steve said that he heard from someone that you were taken to the police station. Is that true, ‘cause that sounds like a big deal.”

  “It got around that fast, huh? Why am I not surprised?”

  “Mark, please! Are you okay? They’re saying on the news that Ms. Kennedy was killed at the school last night!”

  “Yeah, that’s what they told me. They just wanted to ask me some question because of Clara but it was no big deal.”

  “Mark,” she said, letting out a deep sigh. “These are the police, okay? They don’t just haul you down to the station and put you in a room for nothing. And . . .”

  “And what?”

  “What about those dreams? You said you told Ms. Kennedy about dreams you were having and that she thought that it was serious, but--”

  “But nothing! I don’t know what she thought! She got all weird and was making a way bigger deal about the whole thing than it really was.”

  Nice way to speak of the dead. Well, the murdered. The murdered because of . . . well, let’s not make a big about it.

  She was quiet for a long time, and then said “But why would she think it was such a big deal? What did you say?”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Mark, how could it be nothing if she thought this and now--”

  “Now what? Now she’s dead, and that mea
ns what?”

  “I don’t know what it means, Mark! It’s just weird and fucked up that this happened, again, and I just--”

  “Oh, ‘again?’ That’s great. Don’t worry I can assure you that I don’t make a habit of this.”

  There was a long pause.

  “I’m just trying to help Mark,” she said. “You don’t have to be so fucking defensive about it. This is a big deal.”

  “I know it’s a big deal! I know because it’s happening to me, okay? I’m the one whose friend was killed. I’m the one who got taken into the Police station in front of fucking everyone, okay? So don’t you tell me that this is a big deal, okay? I kinda fucking got that already.”

  The pause was longer this time. “I know you’ve had a really bad day so I’m not going to tell you to fuck yourself, which is what I’m dying to do, by the way. I’m just trying to be supportive and help you out because you’ve laid some pretty heavy shit on me and I’m just trying to figure out how to deal with it, okay?”

  He was chewing back the next wave of bile and anger when he remembered Ms. Kennedy, bleeding to death in the fire light. He remembered Clara, and her head rolling across the floor towards him. If he didn’t watch his mouth then she could be next.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help and this whole thing has just been so fucked up.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just don’t know why this is happening. Why would someone do this?”

  “I don’t know. But Christine, they were just dreams. I promise. I don’t know why Ms. Kennedy got so excited about them, but they weren’t any big deal. I promise.”

  “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. I just . . . it’s scary, y’know? And I just want to know what’s going on.”

  “Believe me, I know the feeling. I’m so sorry that this is something you have to deal with and I hate the fact that you have to put up with me being a basket case about it on top of everything else. I’d totally understand if you want to just jump ship right now and never talk to me again.”

  He held his breath though the silence on her end of the line, and then she let out a long sigh. “Don’t say that, Mark. I mean, this is pretty fucked up but I want to be able to help. I just remembered you said she got all weird and I hoped that she didn’t say something to anyone else about it and for the cops to take it the wrong way. God knows how touchy everyone is with that kind of stuff now.”

  “Yeah, I know. It was just questions, okay? Nothing major, no intense grilling. Or any of that Law and Order shit.”

  “Thank god. So . . . your dreams are okay?”

  “Not great, but nothing serious.”

  “Okay. Look, I better go. I think my Mom would freak if she knew I was talking to you.”

  “Good news travels fast, huh?”

  “Something like that. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Take care of yourself.”

  “I’m trying.”

  He was pulled awake from a shallow and dreamless sleep by the door to his room slamming open.

  “Hey!” Joe yelled up the stairs.

  “Yeah?” Mark said, looking over to check the time. It was after midnight, which meant the Drunk Uncle Index was about as high as it was going to get.

  “Hey! Get down here when I’m talking to you, dammit!”

  Mark sighed and walked to the top of the steps. “Yeah?”

  “I’m not gonna put up with that bullshit like from before, y’hear?” Joe bellowed, leaning on the door frame.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry,” Mark said. He didn't mean it and it probably didn't look like he did. Joe wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t notice.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re real fucking sorry. I bet. Get’cher phone and TV down here. You’re not gonna have any luxuries after talking that shit to me.”

  Mark opened his mouth to protest, but realized it was pointless. He unplugged the small TV first and brought it down the stairs, trying to think of anything he could say that could keep his lifeline to the outside world intact. Joe just motioned for Mark to drop the TV by the door, clear he didn’t even want Mark to see where it was going.

  “Do I really have to give you the phone, too?” he said, desperate.

  “Yes, goddamnit!” Joe barked, giving Mark a light shove back towards the stairs. “And I don’t want to hear any more of your shit, alright?”

  “Yeah,” Mark said, turning and heading back up the steps. Grabbing the cord, he had to resist the urge to yank the thing right out of the socket. He stood at the top of the steps and in his mind’s eye he could see the phone flying down the steps and smashing into Joe’s thick, drunken skull.

  Go ahead, give it a shot. You better fucking pray it knocks him out and gives him amnesia, because you can bet what the next thing to go flying down the stairs will be.

  Mark marched back down the steps and thrust the handset out, Joe grabbing it from him after a couple of tries. Mark turned to go, but Joe pushed him into the door frame with a swipe of his arm.

  “Hey, look at me. Look at me!” Joe snarled. “You listen to me real good. I’m in charge here, okay Mr. Smart Guy? I’m the boss. You, my little smart friend, are nothing. The sooner you get that through your head, the better things are going to go for you. You’re grounded. For two weeks. You’re going to come right home after school and you’re not going to do a damn thing but chores and homework. Got it?”

  “Oh, come on! You just got done grounding me!”

  “And I wouldn’t have to keep doing it if you stopped fucking up! You keep this up and I’m going to take an axe to that faggy little scooter of yours! Do you get me?”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “I get you.”

  “So I’m grounded. Again.”

  “Are you serious?” Steve said, flopping down onto the grass. Mark hated bringing up the bad news but he knew it was better sooner rather than later.

  “What happened?” Christine asked.

  “Turns out he wasn’t too happy with the whole ‘going down to the police station’ thing. So yeah, grounded. For two weeks.”

  “Christ,” Steve said sitting up with a great sigh. “Cops, groundings. It’s like you’re turning into the bad seed or something.”

  Mark wished he could prove him wrong but from the looks he’d gotten from not just students but other teachers it was clear that word of his questioning at the police station had spread as far as he’d feared. He never thought he’d wish for his painful anonymity or his crybaby reputation to return but they were so much better than “possible murder suspect.” The only thing he could be thankful for was the fact that the news crews that had been camped out that morning when students had arrived were gone by the time he’d been taken down to the station. Without much more to go on they’d been fairly stymied in their “Breaking News!” coverage, with the exception of talking heads from concerned citizens that “didn’t think something like that could happen in a nice town like this.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Christine asked.

  “I dunno. I’ve got to be home 15 minutes after school is over to get a call from my Uncle and if I’m not there then he adds another week to my grounding.”

  “Wow, that’s way harsh,” she said.

  “Oh you have no idea,” Steve chimed in. “That dude is Mister Order and Discipline. He makes the guy from Full Metal Jacket look like Ryan Seacrest. There was this one time--”

  “Look,” Mark said, not knowing which embarrassing Joe story he would trot out but knowing none of them were suitable for Christine’s consumption. “It’s not that bad. I just have to do some stuff around the house and that’s it. We still have lunch and class and we will be able to talk on the phone again soon.”

  “He took your phone?”

  “Yeah. Totally lame.”

  “One of these days you’ve got to get yourself a cell phone,” Steve said. “This ‘handset’ thing is just so . . . primitive.”

  “Any time you want to pay for it let me know. Plus he can keep track of who I’m calling with a land l
ine.”

  “No chance to try calling before he gets home from work, huh?” She asked.

  “I don’t want to risk it. He catches me and he’s going to make these next two weeks look like a vacation.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Christine said, giving him a quick kiss. Mark couldn’t help but catch Steve’s eye-roll in the background. “Steve and I are here for you. Right?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “I mean, I’m not sure what I could do but I’m here for you, 100 perfect. Go Team Grounded.”

  “Maybe you could loan him your phone or something one night?” Christine said.

  “No way, man. I’ve got dick picks on there.”

  “What? Do you mean--”

  “Yes, it’s what it sounds like,” Mark said. “One of the reasons why I’m actually glad I don’t have my own phone.”

  She looked back to Steve, who just shrugged and smiled.

  “You are so weird,” she said, leaning against Mark. “It’s only two weeks, right?”

  “Yeah,” Mark said, kissing the top of her head. He was thankful that he’d been able to catch her before she made it to homeroom that morning so she could accept a nearly tearful apology. Now thanks to this stupid grounding that kind of early morning meeting and a quick one at the end of the day were going to be the only times the two of them were going to have by themselves.

  He looked over at Steve, who tossed a potato chip into his mouth with a smile. He wanted to find a way to ask Steve if he’d be able to get the lunch period alone with his girlfriend but he didn’t really want to hear whatever excuse he’d come up with as to why he couldn’t.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The door swung open with a loud shriek or rusted metal, waking Darren. He’d fallen asleep, curled up on the concrete floor in the front corner of the cell next to the doorway, and when he looked up he saw the Shadow Man’s form silhouetted by the furnace light.

  They’d taken to sleeping during the day, but it was hard to tell exactly what time it was since it was so hard to see one of the small windows from their dark little cell and they were too dirty to let much light in. The Shadow Man spent most of the night in front of the furnace, staring into it and muttering to himself. It was during these fits that he would leap to his feet, storm to their cell in the back of the basement and drag someone out to be forced to “witness.”