Charlie Kirby picked up the platter with two grilled hamburgers on it and held it in front of Kevin. “Want another one?”
“Okay” Kevin picked up a patty with his fork. “I’ll have some more French fries, too.”
“Marlie?”
She shook her head and pushed back from the table. “I need to get the little ones bathed.”
Charlie slid the last hamburger onto his plate, feeling more awkward than he had the first time he went to Marlie’s parents’ house for dinner. Surface talk was not something he enjoyed—and especially not with the person who knew him best.
Marlie walked to the sink and got a warm washcloth and wiped the ketchup off two little faces and two sets of hands. “Come on, Mommy will make lots of bubbles and you can play a while.”
As Marlie left the kitchen, the other children asked to be excused, leaving Charlie and Kevin alone at the table.
“Mom’s acting weird.”
“She’s a little uptight. It’ll get better.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
Charlie looked into Kevin’s eyes. “It will.”
Kevin dropped his fork and reached down to pick it up. Three cigarettes dropped on the floor. He quickly stuffed them into his shirt pocket and sat up as if nothing had happened.
Charlie held out his hand, his palm up.
“What?” Kevin said.
Kevin sighed. He reached in his pocket and put the cigarettes in Charlie’s hand.
“Where’s the pack?” Charlie said.
“I don’t have any more.”
“The pack, Kevin. Give it to me.”
Kevin got up and left the kitchen. A minute later he came back and gave Charlie a half-empty pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes.
“Sit down,” Charlie said. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About why you feel this need to rebel, and then make things worse by lying about it.”
Kevin slouched in the chair, his arms folded, and exhaled loudly.
“Son, this is not just about cigarettes being unhealthy. It’s against the law for a twelve-year-old to smoke. Where did you get these?”
Kevin shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Okay, Ricky’s brother bought me some. Big deal.”
Charlie shook his head from side to side, then leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Suppose you tell me what’s really bothering you.”
“Why? It won’t make any difference.”
“I want to hear it anyway.”
Kevin gave him a steely cold look. “I don’t think you do.”
“Yes, I do.” Charlie bowed his head and breathed in slowly, finding it difficult to mask his irritation. “I’m waiting.”
“The guys at school are talking.”
“About what?”
Kevin looked down and played with his fingers.
“Son, I’m about to lose my patience with—”
“They think what happened with Sheila was cool, all right?”
Charlie sat up straight, his face flushed. “Nothing happened. But what I’m accused of doing is anything but cool. Just look at the pain it’s caused your mother and me—all of us.”
“Well, they think Sheila Paxton’s hot.”
Charlie tried to hide his revulsion at hearing the words come out of his twelve-year-old’s mouth.
“They need to be taught to respect women.”
“By who—you?” Kevin glanced up at him and then looked away. “They see stuff on the Internet, stuff you warned me to stay away from. That’s all they talk about now. I won’t. So everyone’s making fun of me because I’m not cool like my dad …” Kevin’s voice cracked. “What am I supposed to say?”
Ellen lay in bed, reading the latest Grisham novel, and heard Guy come in and close the door. He took his pajamas out of the dresser and went into the bathroom without saying a word. A couple minutes later he came to bed and got under the covers.
“It’s a little early to go to sleep,” Ellen said.
“It beats watching TV with the FBI.”
Ellen sighed. “You still mad at me?”
“What do you think?”
Ellen marked her place and closed the book. “I think I don’t blame you.”
“Maybe I’m getting old, but I’m ready for a change,” Guy said. “I can’t go through this again.”
“Then you’re leaving me?” Ellen said jokingly.
“It crossed my mind.” He reached over and touched her arm. “But life would seem pretty shallow without you.”
Ellen lay down, then turned on her side, her face in front of his. “I’m truly sorry for getting mixed up in this.”
“That’s what you said. But here we are—again.”
“All I wanted to do was report the news.”
“Yet once again, you’re making it.”
Ellen clung to his arm. “Guy I’m scared.”
His face softened and he pulled her close. “Me, too. Jordan’s idea sounds feasible. Let’s hope it works.”
Charlie went into his study and locked the door. He fell on the couch, put his hand over his eyes, and wept.
Lord, I don’t even know what to tell Kevin. This thing is so out of hand. I’ve lost everything: my wife, my son, my reputation, my witness—and everyone’s respect. I’ve asked Your forgiveness. I don’t think I can take much more.
Charlie wept as he never had before, stifling his sobs in the couch cushion. Minutes passed. How could he ever dig out of this hole? He couldn’t imagine feeling any lower.
There was a knock on the door.
“It’s me,” Marlie said.
“Just a minute.”
He rose to his feet, took the handkerchief from his pocket, and quickly wiped the tears from his face, then blew his nose.
“Charlie, would you open the door, please?”
“I’m coming.”
He unlocked the door and opened it, hoping she couldn’t tell he’d been crying.
Marlie looked surprised but didn’t comment. “Can you handle all of us going to church together tomorrow?”
“I’d like that.”
“Nothing’s changed in my mind. But the kids need stability.”
Charlie nodded. “I agree.”
Marlie hesitated a moment, and then reached in the pocket of her bathrobe and handed him the pink rose he had left in her Bible. “I wish you’d stop doing this.”
“You used to love it.”
“That was before you …” She put her hand to her mouth and choked back the emotion. “I’m willing to pretend things are working for the children’s sake. But nothing will ever be the same between us.”
Giorgio Merlino drove his rental car down the main highway toward Ellison. There wasn’t any point in calling Ellen Jones again till she’d had time to dig. And he had no intention of hanging out in boring Baxter till then. Why not go somewhere and have a few drinks, maybe meet someone?
He wondered what kind of woman Mary Angelina had turned out to be. He’d had a crush on her in high school, but the rivalry between their two families made it impossible to do anything about it.
He’d never had much use for her brother. He thought back on his recent trip to Raleigh and his brief encounter with Vincent …
Giorgio had wasted the two feds and hauled Vincent to Haverly Park, where they took a little walk in the dark. “You’ve been away a long time, Richard. Where’s your old man?”
“I … I don’t know.”
Giorgio pressed the gun barrel to Vincent’s head. “Don’t lie to me, you lousy—”
“The feds separated us!”
“You expect me to believe you haven’t seen Spike in all this time?”
Vincent nodded, his body trembling, perspiration soaking his shirt.
“How is it you just happened to set up house with Mary Angelina—huh?” Giorgio pushed Vincent to his knees.
“The feds fixed it so the two of us could stay in contact. All we had was each other.”
“That’s touching, Vince. I want your old man.”
Vincent’s voice was shaking. “Please don’t kill me! I don’t know anything!”
Giorgio pushed the gun barrel against the back of Vincent’s head. “Think he’s worth dying for? Stop messing with me. You know where he is.”
“No, I don’t! I swear it!” Vincent began to sob.
“Well, then, Let this be a message to Spike that I’m gonna find him if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Giorgio fired, the silencer allowing him to walk away with no one the wiser …
Giorgio spotted the Ellison turnoff up ahead and got into the right lane. He might as well have some fun while he figured out his next move.