The Dead of Summer (27 page)

“Are you okay?” I asked. It was a stupid question. How could anybody be okay after the day we had?

He gazed at the ground for a second before swooping down and snatching up a twig. “I want to tell you something…but you have to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?” He lifted his eyes; his gaze was fixed on me, intense.

“Um, after all I’ve just told you? You even have to say that?”

Carson shook his head. “It’s bad. Trust me. Even worse than your story.”

“Okay,” I replied, my gaze dropping to the leaf filled forest cover, not sure what could possibly be worse than a dead daddy in the basement.

“I’ve never told this to another living soul. The only person who knows is my daddy.” His eyes warned me of this story’s significance.

I nodded solemnly.

“My mama and sister were not in a car accident or anything. That’s not what I meant when I said ‘accident’. They were killed by an intruder,” he said quickly, as if speaking the words in a rush would be less painful, like ripping off a band aid on a festering cut.

I inhaled sharply and spun my head toward him, completely in shock as I covered my mouth with my hand, mostly to prevent anything stupid from escaping my lips.

What the hell do you say when someone tells you something like that, Kennedy? I mean, is
‘I’m sorry’
appropriate?

So instead of saying anything, I stood open mouthed and rooted in place. I reached out to touch his arm, cringing because I didn’t know if he wanted to be touched; maybe he would pull away from me, maybe he would turn tail and run home, Colt hot on his heels.

But instead, he started walking, farther down the tree-lined path. He began to speak as he walked. “It was over two years ago. My dad had been working that night. I was supposed to be in my room, working on a term paper, but I had blown it off to go meet some of my buddies down by the creek.” He didn’t look at me, instead he stared down at the ground kicking an invisible rock. “We used to drink and stuff like that down at the creek. Experiment with drugs and that sort of thing.”

I tried not to register surprise on my face, not that he would have noticed, walking with his head down like that. Colt chugged along beside me; I couldn’t see him well because it was getting so dark, but I could tell his floppy tongue was lolling out of his mouth and I could hear his panting.

“So this guy broke into the house, he knew my dad was a cop and he wasn’t home at night. My mama was a vet with her own practice, so we were pretty well off and lived in a nice neighborhood. We didn’t have a lot of high tech stuff—my mama liked us to read and talk to each other instead of watching TV and playing video games. She didn’t like jewelry, either. So we really didn’t have stuff a robber would normally look for when breaking into a house. Nothing he could really sell and get rid of quickly. I don’t think my daddy was ever worried about intruders because the security cameras that came with the house were never turned on. But this guy…” He choked back a sob. I reached for him, but he waved me off.

“This guy saw me leave that night. I used to climb out through the window in the bathroom because it dropped directly into the backyard and out of sight of my parents’ bedroom windows. I actually
left
my
window open
for the asshole.”

“The guy came in through that same window and shot my mama and my six year old sister while they slept. The coroner said that neither of them even woke up or knew what had happened. Guess that’s at least something.”

He paused and I could see from his silhouette rocking that he was fighting back tears. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and let him cry on my shoulder, get all his grief out. As nervous as I was about being so forward, I did just that. My arms enveloped his body in a warm embrace. If Carson was shocked or unnerved by my actions, he didn’t make it known. In fact, he leaned his body into mine and held me for a long time.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Carson! My God! How—”

He cut me off as he said, “If I was home, it wouldn’t have happened.” He pulled away from me and took a step back, running his fingers through his hair with such ferocity that I thought he might actually pull it out by the roots. “Nobody knows this, Kennedy, not even my daddy. But, I used to sleep with a loaded gun under my pillow when my daddy was working the night shift. He had instilled in me at an early age that it was my job to be the man of the house when he wasn’t at home and I usually took that very seriously. Well, until I started hanging around that crowd that I was with that night by the creek, my mama and my sister—” His voice actually cracked as he turned away from me. “If I had been there, I would have been able to prevent it…” His voice trailed off.

“You don’t know that, Carson. Maybe you would have been killed, too. You don’t know that you could have saved them.” And then in a sudden fit of brazenness, I added, “Don’t you think your daddy blames himself for not being there that night?” I reached out to touch him, but he was pacing angrily.

“Hardly. He blames me. As well he should. He’s never gonna forgive me and I’m never gonna forgive myself,” Carson replied sadly.

His words tore at my heart. It was tragic enough losing half your family in a grisly murder, but then to blame yourself? Poor Carson was in a hellish nightmare I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around. There was nothing I could say to ease his pain.

“The worst part wasn’t even that I had no idea what had happened and I
slept
in the house that night.” He glanced at me and I tried my best not to look shocked. “And it wasn’t even stumbling into my mama’s bedroom to wake her up for work and discovering half her brain splattered against the wall. . .” I sucked in my breath as I actually envisioned this nightmarish scene as Carson described it. “No, that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst part was my baby sister in her fuzzy pink feet pajamas curled up in a ball with her arm wrapped around her favorite doll and her thumb stuck in her mouth looking like she was sleeping. That animal killed a baby. She was
six years old
. She just lost her first tooth the week before. She had her whole life in front of her and I threw it away to get stoned with a bunch of guys who didn’t even have the decency to come to the funeral.” His back was to me but I could see his shoulders shake as he spoke.

I didn’t know what to do to comfort him. I wasn’t very good at this, not usually having to comfort anyone. Carson continued to sob and I finally was able to move toward him, my hand awkwardly rubbing up and down his back like I was petting a dog.

Carson turned around and smiled weakly at me. My eyes must have been adjusting to the darkness because I felt like I could make out every detail to his face. “I got Colt right after that. My dad said he didn’t want to be in a home without a dog after that. We purposely named him after a gun.”

“Wow,” was all I could say. I didn’t think he could shock me more. Until he uttered his next sentence.

“Then, my dad killed him.”

My mouth hung open. “What did you say?” My ears must need fine tuning because I thought he said his dad “killed” him. Was he talking about the dog? Who was he talking about?

“My daddy found the animal who killed my mama and my sister. Apparently it was some guy he had put away years ago, a guy whose wife and kid up and left when he was in prison and he couldn’t find them. He was a thug who wanted to get even my daddy. He had been bragging to some buddies that he fulfilled his vendetta. One of those guys went to the police station and snitched to my dad. That day when he got home, my daddy told me to pack up my stuff; we were going for a ride. I was confused, but my dad told me to just listen to him. He had his gun in his holster, so I knew he meant business. My dad drove to the guy’s apartment in the projects and cornered him.” I could hear a sob rise up in Carson’s throat. He choked it back as he finished, “Daddy shot him and wiped him off the face of the earth so he couldn’t hurt anybody no more.”

My face must have appeared horrified because he grabbed my arm. “It’s okay, I didn’t see it. I was in the car. But as soon as he did it, he came running out of the building, blood splattered all over his shirt and got in the car, taking off. That was three months ago and we’ve been on the run ever since.”

I gasped. The connection I had felt with Carson
was
real. We were both on the run, running from our parents’ past. We were two innocent teenagers (for the most part), that were bearing the brunt of our parents’ poor decisions. Both my mama and his daddy felt there was no other way out besides to take the law in their own hands.

“We’re probably going to have to leave, too,” Carson said. “As soon as the police find the body in your basement, there’s going to be cops crawling all over this town.” He stared up at the sky pensively. “I don’t think my daddy can run the risk of someone recognizing him.”

“Oh Sweet Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

Carson grabbed my hands and pulled me closer. “Don’t be.”

Tears were stinging my eyelids and I let them fall. “I should be. It’s my fault you can’t stay here! If Mama hadn’t—” I was nearly hysterical.

Carson pressed his finger against my lips. “Shhh! Stop, Kennedy.”

I stomped my foot, just like I had witnessed Lindy do a thousand times before. “I can’t!”

He reached around me and pulled me close. I inhaled his scent sobbing into his shirt. I was trying to calm myself, but knowing I wouldn’t get to ever do this again made me cry harder. “We would have had to leave eventually. Besides, I don’t want to be in Novella if you’re not here with me.” His soothing voice made me wail even harder

“I don’t know where I’m going to be, even. I have no idea where we’re gonna end up.” I was nearly hysterical, which caused Carson to hold me tighter. I wanted nothing but to stay like this forever. His arms were the only place where I felt safe.

“Me neither,” Carson remarked sadly, using the top on my head to rest his chin on. “I’m probably not going to be able to contact you either.”

Startled, I lifted my head to look at him. “But I have my phone…”

Carson shook his head. “My daddy won’t let me have a cell phone. He’s afraid people will be able to trace me. I won’t be able to call you unless I can get a hold of a phone somehow. And that’s hard because almost everyone has cell phones—there’s no pay phones.”

“But I can give you my number and you can try,” I said hopefully.
How unfair
was
this? I finally
had
an honest to goodness ‘boyfriend’, and within
24
hours, I
had
to up and leave? I finally find someone who understands me,
someone
that I feel a connection with, and it’s over before it can begin?
My heart was ripped out—it felt
worse than Romeo and Juliet
, and both of
them
died.

For the first time in my life, death seemed more appealing than life without Carson.

He dug his hand in his pocket and brought out a small object. “I want you to have this,” he said as he laid it in my outstretched palm.

I examined the plain brown stone quizzically. “It’s a rock.”

“I picked up this rock that night I was at the creek, the night my mama and sister were killed. I don’t know why. But it was in my pocket that next day—the worst day of my life—and it was oddly comforting. Since then, I’ve never gone anywhere without it. It’s a reminder to me of where I’ve come from.”

“I can’t take it,” I stammered as I held the stone out to him. This gift was more personal than I diamond ring.

He shook his head as he closed my fingers around the rock and pushed my hand toward my chest. “I want you to have it. So you can remember. I know I will always remember.”

I nodded and touched my hand to my heart, almost overcome with emotion. Then an idea occurred to me. “We could run away together,” I practically shouted. “We could leave now and just. . .go. And we wouldn’t have to worry about your daddy or my mama. And it’s not really our fault what they did…” My voice trailed off. Carson was shaking his head.

“We’re two teenagers without jobs or a car. What are we gonna do for money? Where would we live?”

I would live in a sewer grate in the middle of Manhattan if you were there, Carson.

He pulled me in for a hug. “It would be great, but it wouldn’t work, Kennedy.”

I knew he was right, but it didn’t stop me from wishing.

“But in three years, you’ll be eighteen,” he said.

“I’ll almost be nineteen in three years,” I pointed out, gazing up into his eyes.

“Even better. In three years, I’ll have a job and a car. You will have graduated from high school. What do you say, in three years, we meet right here, right in this very spot, on this very day and see where it leads us,” Carson said.

I studied his face. His gaze was steady, his lips set into a firm line. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes. I will be here. Come hell or high water.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me till my phone started buzzing. It was Mama, anxious to go.

I broke away from Carson with one word. “Remember.”

With a heavy heart, I helped Mama pack up our belongings into as many suitcases and bags as could fit into the trunk and backseat of the car that we parked in the garage. Mama didn’t know where we were going or what we were gonna do once we got there. Since Mama never left the house, nobody would get suspicious about not seeing her for quite some time. As long as we kept paying rent the landlord probably wouldn’t even notice we were gone. We could probably get clear across the country and into Mexico before they figured out we had left. And once we got away…well, Mama was pretty good at getting us new identities apparently, so I guess I’d be a whole new person all over again.

I didn’t want to think about that as the tears trickled down my face while I shoved socks into every crevice of my suitcase. I was going to have to leave again. A place with people that I had grown to love. Some easy to love and some difficult.

We left under the dark cover of night, cramping all of our possessions in our car that had definitely seen better days—other than me driving it up and down the driveway on occasion, it never got run for four years. Mama and I drove for days on end, much like we had all those years ago. We drove south and then west, and finally north again. We went as far as Portland, Oregon, only to pack up two weeks later and take a northern route back east. When we reached Bangor, Maine, we stopped. And there we stayed for the next two years. Mama thought it would be good, being close enough to Canada and all if we had to make a run for it again.