Jane made her way along the dirt path toward the clearing. She found Kurt sitting on a tree trunk, just where he said he’d be. “I got your text,” she said, sitting down next to him.
“Thanks for meeting me.”
“Why here?” she asked.
“I wanted someplace private. And … because this is where it happened. I’ve been such a fool, Jane. I don’t even know where to start.” He rose, moving a few feet away. “I was interrogated by the police this morning. During the interview, I was given a piece of information that absolutely froze my blood. What I thought happened to Sam that morning … it was all a lie.”
Jane’s heart sped up. “I don’t understand.”
“It was an execution, Jane. Right in front of my eyes, and I never saw it.”
A shiver passed through her.
“Look,” he said, squeezing the back of his neck, “I should be telling this to the police, I know, but because of Dave Tamborsky, I can’t. As I see it, you’re the only person who’s really been looking into Sam’s murder. The police investigation is a sham.” He began to pace. “Dave told me that they’d received an anonymous letter telling them to talk to Jim Hughes, Darius Porter, Scott Romilly, and me. I believe it was just a way to muddy the waters, to give the cops something to do that would have absolutely no meaning.”
“You’ve lost me,” said Jane.
“Hughes knows nothing. Neither does Darius or Scott. The only one who does know what happened is me, and whoever wrote the letter—I think it was Monty Mickler—was counting on me to keep my mouth shut. I was there the morning Sam died, Jane, so I bear some of the blame. When this all comes out, and it will, I’ll probably go to prison.”
This wasn’t a time for recordings or note taking. Jane needed Kurt to stay in the moment, with no distractions. “Why do you think it was Mickler not Dave who sent it?”
“Because Dave isn’t that devious. He’s not an idea guy, he’s a follower. Mickler has always been the driving force in what happened. I see that now. Look, I realize you’re only a podcaster, but you seem serious about getting to the truth. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
Jane couldn’t believe her luck.
“This may take a few minutes.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
He nodded, sitting back down. “Okay, it all began with Becca’s rape. You already know about that. She refused to press charges against Dave. Sam couldn’t stand the idea that Dave would get away with it, so he went to him, told him that if he didn’t tell the police what happened, Sam would. Mickler showed up right about then. When he caught the drift of what was being said, he laughed at Sam, said even if Becca herself talked to the cops, nothing would come of it. Dave could just say it was consensual. They were both drunk and stupid, but that’s all. It was his word against hers.
“If Sam had a weakness, it was his need for justice. He’d been sexually assaulted by an older man when he was in his early teens. He knew how it felt. That guy got away with it, but if Sam had anything to do with it, Dave wouldn’t. He came up with this idea of a duel. They’d find some guns and square off in the woods.”
“Dave agreed?”
“Not right away, although he was as hotheaded as Sam. He and Mickler met with him the next day and brought their own spin. They’d asked this guy, Ty Niska, to get them two matching handguns and a bunch of ammunition. They’d each have a few days to practice their shots, and then they’d meet here, in this clearing, at daybreak the following Saturday morning. Ty would be here to load the guns and do the countdown.” He stopped and looked up. “I can’t believe anybody’s that crazy.”
“How were the stakes defined?”
Kurt rose and began, once again, to pace. “If Sam won, Dave would go to the police and confess. If Dave won, Sam agreed to never bring the subject up again. No talking to the cops or anyone else about it. Ever.”
“What did winning look like?”
“If one of them was shot, that was a win.”
“And if nobody was shot?”
“There were supposed to be two rounds in each revolver. If nothing happened with the first shot, they’d repeat it, countdown and all. If nothing happened the second time, it would be considered a draw. In that case, they’d have to agree to another duel, or some other way to settle the matter.”
“Like what?”
“It was never specified, at least to me.” Kurt picked up a stick and began to break it in pieces. “You’re going to hear this soon enough, so I might as well tell you. Sam and I were lovers.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re gay? I … I guess I have terrible gaydar.”
He looked like he might say more, but left it there.
“You said you were with Sam when he died. How did you get involved?”
“Sam had been nervous as a cat the last few days before the duel. I could tell something was up, though I had no idea what. He called me at home the night before, said he had to talk to me, but he couldn’t do it until the following morning. He told me to meet him just before sunup at the graveyard behind Holy Trinity. It all seemed very covert, like we were in a spy novel. He also said he had a gift for me, something special, so I better show up. He made me promise—no, not promise, swear—that I’d be on time. Honestly, he scared me. So I got there early and was waiting for him when he arrived. That’s when he told me the whole thing. Needless to say, I was appalled. I tried to talk him out of it. I begged him to come home with me so we could figure out another way to make Dave pay. He wouldn’t even consider it. He needed me to be his ‘second,’ to be another pair of eyes and ears, just to make sure Dave didn’t try anything funny. Mickler was Dave’s second. Sam seemed so desperate. He wanted me there with him. I couldn’t say no. The last thing Sam said to me before we walked into the clearing was that he doubted most guys could hit the broad side of a barn when they were nervous. That I shouldn’t worry.”
“What was the gift?” asked Jane. She didn’t want to interrupt his story, but she didn’t want that detail getting lost.
“I’d completely forgotten about that part of our conversation until this morning. During my interview with Saltus … he showed me a gold band that was found in Sam’s wallet. Sam had our initials engraved on the inside. And the word forever.” He folded his arms and bent over, clearly in pain.
Jane started to get up, but he held out his hand. “No,” he said, his other hand pressed to his eyes. It took nearly a minute before he straightened up. “I never expected to hear from Sam again. I can’t begin to tell you what that felt like.”
Watching him, Jane’s heart nearly broke.
“Anyway,” he said, his face turned up to the sky. “Everything happened very quickly after that. While Niska was loading the revolvers, Mickler began to clutch his stomach, like he was about to throw up. Just before Sam and Dave walked their ten paces away, he said something like, ‘I’m gonna puke.’ He ran into the woods. Because I felt the same way, I didn’t think anything of it.
“Niska waited until they were in position, then counted, one, two—and then, when he said three, there was this loud discharge. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Sam fall. We all ran over to him, but even at a distance, I could tell he was gone. His—” Kurt’s voice broke. “His … head wasn’t … part of it was missing. I collapsed next to him and held him, rocking him, whispering to him. Niska took off running and never came back. Mickler, at that point, was still missing. Dave stood over us, the revolver at his side. When I looked up, I saw that he was crying, too. He just kept saying stuff like, ‘I didn’t mean, I didn’t know, I never wanted…’ Mickler eventually appeared and more or less took charge. He said he and Dave had prepared a place in Holy Trinity cemetery, ‘in case the worst happened.’ His words. They’d dug under the grave of a woman scheduled for burial that morning. I remember being amazed that they’d thought so far ahead. But even in a daze, I was angry. I told Mickler we had to talk to the police. He leaned down very close to my face and said that wasn’t going to happen. We were all in it together. Did I want to spend the rest of my life in prison? It was still early, maybe an hour after sunup, so Mickler insisted there was nothing to worry about. Nobody would be in the cemetery at this time of day. It was risky, I guess, but he and Dave must have felt they could get away with it.
“Mickler’s idea was for the three of us to carry Sam there. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of him. It’s so long ago now, and I can’t recall my exact thoughts, but I do know part of me wanted to die. Mickler had to drag me away from him. He actually had to uncoil my fingers from Sam’s clothing. He told me to run, to make sure I got rid of my clothes, which were covered in blood. I remember standing up, watching Mickler and Dave carry him away. I couldn’t move. I could hardly breathe. I sank to the ground, buried my hands in the dirt, and cried. And then—I have no idea how long I stayed there—I ran home. Mickler said we’d meet up later to talk about it. When we did, he had another choice threat. He said if I ever said anything about what happened, I might not get hurt, but someone I loved would. He left it hanging in the air like that, then moved on to some self-serving crap about how we all needed to stick together. We’d done something truly terrible, but we had to move on to salvage what was left of our lives. He said Sam would have wanted that. I hated him more in that moment than I’d ever hated anyone in my life—before or since.”
Sitting back down on the log next to Jane, Kurt continued, “Life resumed. Classmates wondered where Sam had gone, and I did a lot of shrugging. I also spent a bunch of time that fall in the bathroom, dousing my face with water and smiling at myself in the mirror. I had to practice because it was like I’d forgotten how. Most days, my face felt like concrete.”
Kurt squeezed his hands together and looked off into the woods. “This was what I thought happened. Dave shot Sam and he died. But then, this morning, I learned something that changed everything. Saltus told me that both of the revolvers had been loaded with blanks.”
Jane already knew as much, but hadn’t seen any point in mentioning it.
“So, for the last couple of hours, I’ve been asking myself, if the revolvers had no actual bullets in them, how did Sam die? There’s only one answer. I didn’t know Mickler all that well, but I did know he liked guns. He brought a rifle with a big, expensive scope to a party once—a month or so before the one at the farm. He seemed so proud of the thing, he couldn’t stop touching it. I always gave him a wide berth because I thought he was sort of shady, and this was just one more reason.”
When Kurt looked down and stopped talking, Jane prompted him, asking him what he thought had happened.
“It was Mickler. I’m sure of it. He’d run into the woods saying he was sick, but that was only a ruse. He must have had the rifle stashed somewhere. He took up a position, sighted Sam through the scope, and on the count of three, fired. I figure he relied on the fact that I was so jumpy and otherwise crazed that I wouldn’t notice. He was right. Like I said, it was just one huge, loud bang. Instead of a duel, Mickler and Dave had pulled off an assassination.”
By the end of the telling, Kurt’s voice had grown hoarse.
“I don’t know what to say,” said Jane softly. “I can’t imagine living through something like that.”
Wiping a hand over his eyes, he said, “The whole duel idea was idiotic from the outset, but Mickler, in his Machiavellian way, used it to put a lid on the rape. Becca wouldn’t talk. Sam was dead. He knew Sam was going to ask me to be his second, so my participation in the duel effectively silenced me. With one shot from a rifle, Mickler had given Dave back his life and, in the process, provided himself with a little light entertainment.”
“You really think he’s that evil?”
Kurt turned to face her. He didn’t need to say it out loud. The answer was in his eyes.
When Jane’s cell phone rang, she jumped. She pulled it from her pocket to see who was calling, but didn’t recognize the number. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have turned this off. Would you mind if I took it?”
“Go ahead.”
She said hello.
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Monty Mickler, the manager at the Avalon Motor Inn. Say, I’ve spoken with my assistant manager and apparently the man who’d requested unit one won’t be able to make the trip after all. I would be happy to rent it to your friend for tomorrow night and Saturday night—as long as she understands that the room doesn’t have all the standard amenities.”
“That’s welcome news,” said Jane. “None of that will be a problem.”
“Excellent. Oh, and you can pick up the key anytime. You think she’ll be arriving around ten?”
“I talked to her this morning, and yes, that’s the plan.”
“Did you mention you’d talked to me?”
“No, should I have?”
“No, no. If I’m not here when you stop by, you can get the key from my assistant manager.”
“Thanks again,” said Jane.
“You’re more than welcome.” He cut the line.
“Sorry for the interruption,” she said to Kurt.
“Sounds like good news.”
“It is.” Maybe for both of them. “Will you tell Emma what you just told me?”
“Yeah, after the reunion meeting tonight. Wish me luck. I’m not sure she’ll ever speak to me again after she finds out what I did.”
“I don’t think you did anything,” said Jane, “except try to help the man you loved. As you said, you couldn’t change his mind.”
“Seems pretty weak though, doesn’t it? I should have done something.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each absorbed by their own thoughts.
Finally, leaning back, Jane said, “I want you to know that I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me.”
“Just nail those two bastards.”
“I’m working as hard as I can. This will help.” She wanted to tell him what she had planned, but because she had no idea if it would work, she couldn’t. Even so, he seemed more at peace now that he’d told someone the truth. She had to be satisfied with that.