The Terror of Living (19 page)

    "There's not much down there to be neighborly with, unless you like cow shit and antifreeze."

    "The Lincoln didn't fit."

    "What's that?"

    "There was a Lincoln parked in front of the garage, didn't seem to fit that lifestyle."

    "Man, you are a detective. Let me see if we can get you on staff out here."

    Drake gave him a hurt look. "I tried to tell you about this yesterday. Wouldn't listen to me then."

    "I'm sorry about that. Thought we were saying good-bye, that's all."

    "Thought so, too."

    "You think Hunt is still alive?"

    "I don't see why else his house was burned down and his horses killed."

    "Seems like some real cold-blooded thing to do."

    "Seems like it."

    "You got time for a ride over there now?"

    Drake looked at the coffee, at the half-eaten plate of eggs in front of him. He needed to call his wife. She'd be wondering about him. About his leaving half-drunk in the middle of the night with this man they both didn't much like, a man who'd come into their lives, just as Drake had stepped into Hunt's. Drake picked up the coffee cup and drained it, feeling the hot liquid in his throat. With his wallet out, Driscoll threw a twenty down and picked up the receipt.

    THE LEXUS PULLED TO THE CURB. THE VANCOUVER heat reflected off the city streets and hovered over the cement. In the distance, large glass buildings seemed to float. "Sixty degrees today, and then forty with a chance of snow tomorrow night," the driver said. "Weird weather."

    The man in the passenger seat gave the driver a deadpan stare, then opened his door and stepped out and went into a nearby hardware store.

    Inside, he went through the aisles. He found the bin of hose clamps and picked out several of the large metal rings. In the gardening section he found a pair of thick shears with a loaded spring. He held them in his hand and undid the lock. When he came to the bin of bolts, washers, and screws, he took a small screw and held it between the blades and cut it cleanly in half. There was only the sound of the two halves falling to the floor. The clerk at the desk looked his way. The man returned a wave, then bent to pick up the two halves. When he stood up again, the clerk sat at the counter reading.

    Outside, the man opened the passenger door and threw the bag of hardware supplies in before him. When he stepped down into the car, the man in the driver's seat had already opened the bag and given its contents a quick look. "Ambitious," he said. "But not that much for plumbing supplies."

    "Convincing."

    "Sledgehammers are convincing, hatchets, nail guns, saws. Have you ever seen one of those old two-man saws - more teeth than a shark on those things."

    "Can you just drive?"

    The driver started the car. "It should be intimidating."

    "This will be plenty."

    "Do you want to grab some food?"

    "How long will it take?"

    "Are you in a rush?"

    "Just anxious. Drive by the airport."

    HUNT SAT ON THE COUCH. OUTSIDE, THE RAIN HAD stopped, and he worked his leg and thought the situation over. His father had killed himself over a situation just like this one, small-time loan-sharking with credit that wasn't his. If his mother could see him now, he thought, she might do the same. Hunt had grown up over the years, but the idea of being a continuous failure had stuck with him. He was sure of himself in all the wrong situations. A good man, made up of all the bad things in the world.

    The girl's purse lay on the table, and he went over and opened it. A passport fell out, a tube of mascara, a small stick of lip balm, some tissue, a set of keys, her wallet. He picked up the wallet and went through it, money he had never seen before. In one of the card slots he found a picture of Thu and two children. Again, he thought that if he'd had children, his life would have been different. The children were of a dark complexion, tanned, with their hair lightened by the sun. Both wore sweaters, and it made them look funny, out of place, like there was no reason to wear those sweaters. In Thus coin purse he found a Seattle address. After looking at it for a moment, he put it into his pocket.

    The thought hadn't really figured itself out yet. But it did then. He'd been thinking of the girl as a dollar figure. He felt bad for that. The two boys in the picture-Thus boys - looked up at him from the kitchen table. They smiled. How much was she worth? Ninety thousand? It wasn't enough to start a new life, but it might be enough to get him there. For a second he thought of moving to Vietnam, he thought of Thu, and he thought of Nora. He'd bet that money could do things for them there. It wouldn't be a great life at first, but they'd build it. He felt foolish. He laughed to himself, a desperate laugh, half-choked, and at the end he could feel something slick in his eyes and he blinked it away.

    He could hear Roy and Nancy talking from the bedroom. Roy came out and Hunt put the passport and makeup back in the bag. Roy stood looking Hunt over. Hunt held out the picture for Roy to see. Roy nodded, taking the picture and then giving it back. They didn't say anything to each other. Hunt put the picture back into the wallet and put it all away in the purse. He watched Roy fill a bowl of water with ice. After Roy had finished, he followed after him, holding his bad leg and limping through the hallway.

    Thus breath was starting to slow. The girl was almost unconscious, half-dead, her eyes nearly closed. Hunt and Roy were in the doorway looking in. "She's getting worse," Nancy said. "It's time we called someone."

    Roy moved for the kitchen phone, but Hunt put a forearm up and blocked him. Roy was bigger, but the move surprised him and he stopped.

    "Come on, man," Roy said. "You can't be this cold-blooded. She's going to die. Her pupils look like needle pricks."

    Hunt looked in at Thu. She'd saved his life, they all had, but he couldn't let them do it. There were other things to consider. He knew what turning her over meant, no drugs, no future, just a one-way ticket back to prison. He couldn't have that. There was a lot he hadn't done in his life. There was a lot he'd missed out on-family, fatherhood, safety-because of a past he wanted to take back every hour of every day but knew he couldn't.

    The girl's breathing had slowed, and for a while now, she hadn't opened her eyes. The room stank of her sweat. Hunt held his forearm out; he had his fingers up on the wall and his arm out, stiff as he could make it.

    Roy put a hand into the crook of Hunt's elbow and folded it back. "You're lucky I didn't kick your calf out from under you." Roy went past and Hunt followed.

    "You make that call and everyone who is looking for us is going to know exactly where to look."

    Roy held the phone. He thought this over. Hunt knew he was thinking about the boat-even with the rain, he knew it had been a bad sight. Blood all over the deck, the dust from the fiberglass like a paste over everything. Bullet holes and broken glass, it was something serious to consider. Hunt had been considering it; he knew Roy was now.

    "I'm already as mixed up in this as I care to be," Roy said. "I'm not about to have a heroin overdose in my bedroom." He put the number into the phone and waited.

    "I'll take her," Hunt said.

    "What?" Roy held a hand over the mouthpiece.

    "I'll take her," Hunt said again. "Give me your keys and I'll take her." He went over to where Roy stood with the phone in his hand.

    Roy didn't answer.

    "Come on," Hunt said. "Give me your keys. You said it yourself, you don't want to be mixed up in this anymore. We both know how this is going to turn out once they find out you've been to Monroe." The two men stood very close together. "Roy, just tell me where to go. I can get her to the hospital faster than if you call an ambulance."

    Nancy came and stood in the hall doorway leading to the kitchen. "He's right, Roy. Give him the keys. He can get her there faster than if we call it in. One of the capsules she was carrying must have burst in her."

    Roy looked from Nancy to Hunt and then back again. Someone had picked up on the other side of the line, and they were, all of them, listening to the sound of a muted voice coming off the phone.

    Roy looked down at the phone in his hand and then hung up.

    "Go on, get him the keys," Nancy said. Hunt could hear her leave and go back into the bedroom. He took Thus purse from the table and followed Nancy.

    Nancy was at the bed, the bowl of water nearby and the rag for mopping at the girl's face. From a side table, Nancy took a pen and wrote down the directions to the hospital. "Take her into the ER and they'll get her through from there."

    Hunt didn't know a thing about the girl, where her family was from, or how she'd gotten into this. He felt dazed, couldn't believe what was happening or that he was here. He looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand, the directions. Straight ahead till the stop sign, through the center of town, then a right on Blanchard. "She's going to be all right," Hunt said. And it was how he felt, how he had to feel. He picked the girl up off the bed and tried to lift her. The pain came immediately from his calf, and he dropped her to the mattress, Thus eyes shooting open for a moment. He thought for a second she had recognized him, understood what needed to be done. Hunt was still holding her purse, dumbly, unknowingly, like he was holding on to a string and plumbing some hidden depth.

    He tried to tell himself this was the best thing for her. It was the only thing he could say to make the guilt go away, though it was still there, waiting for him. How many times had she done this? Just let her go home, he wanted to say. But he didn't know whom he was asking. He thought it was more praying than anything, something he hadn't done in a very long time.

    Roy came in and gave Hunt the keys, along with the small orange survival bag he'd come off the boat with. Inside the bag was the heroin, neatly tied up in a clear plastic grocery bag. Thu must have passed the heroin in the night. He didn't know if this was all of it, but he could guess it was most. Lying on top of the small plastic balls was the Browning. He looked at Roy, but Roy didn't meet his eyes as he hoisted the girl in his arms.

    Following Roy through the house, Hunt couldn't believe he had the heroin. They came to the door and Nancy held the screen back and they went out into the light and down the stairs to a rusted hatchback.

    "You need to try and keep her conscious," Nancy said. But Hunt could see even then she was losing it. He hoped he could get her there. He hoped that she would make it and that it would mean something, that it would free her and in a way free him, but he didn't know this and he felt the worry all through him like a chill.

    He started the car as Roy leaned the girl down into the seat beside him. "Thanks," Hunt said.

    Roy looked over at him. "Thanks for what?" Roy said, and then he closed the door.

    He watched Roy pass around the car and stand with Nancy. For a moment he held the wheel and just stared at them. Thu groaned beside him and he looked at her and then backed out, and as soon as he hit the street, he pushed the car into drive and sped forward.

    It wouldn't be long now, and he tried to brace himself for the reality of the hospital. But even this wasn't a reality to him. Grady had shot the horses. It scared him. He didn't think Grady would find Nora, but he didn't know that for sure. He realized that he didn't know anything for sure now, and that there had been a point when he could have said he did.

    Nancy told him Thu was dying, and he knew there was nothing more he could do for her except drive her to the hospital and hope it all turned out.

    The car was automatic, which meant he could drive it with one leg. He rested his injured leg to the side. On his lap the Browning and the heroin stared up at him from the open maw of the survival bag. With one hand he raised the bag to his face and pulled the zipper closed with his teeth. The smell made him gag. He looked back through the rearview mirror at the road behind, then threw the bag to the backseat.

    Thus eyes had closed, and when he looked over he could see a thin line of saliva brim at her lips, then breach and come down along her chin. "Wake up," he yelled. He held the wheel in one hand and with the other he shook her till her eyes opened and she turned to him with a sleepy look.

    Hunt didn't slow the car when he came to the stop sign. He went on through, the speedometer at fifty on the pressed-gravel road. He could hear the tinging of loose rocks as they caught in the tire treads and sprayed up into the wheel wells.

    When they came into town, he caught himself and slowed the car. Thu had nodded away again and he reached out until he had her chin in his hand and shook her face and watched her eyes. They wouldn't open. He went through the main intersection and found Blanchard. With one hand on the wheel, he hit her several times in the face with his open palm. Her head bounced away, then rolled back, but her eyes didn't open, and he swore under his breath and looked for the hospital sign in front of him.

    When he found the emergency room, he pulled straight to the entrance and came out of the car yelling for help. It was a three- story hospital surrounded by pine trees and thirty parking spots at most. The sliding glass doors were the only sign that it had seen the modern world at all, and he hoped that they would be able to do something, would be able to help in some way. He was around the side of the car with Thus door open by the time one of the orderlies came out of the glass doors.