When It All Comes Down to Dust (Phoenix Noir Book 3) (24 page)

BOOK: When It All Comes Down to Dust (Phoenix Noir Book 3)
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Tommy was on the floor, his head covered by a burnt, bloody pillow.

Laura sat on the couch. Frank almost didn’t recognize her at first, because of the mess of her face. She was wearing a business suit, but it was covered in dirt and blood.

“Oh,” Frank said.

“You should have known I’d find you,” she said.

“I did. I told Tommy you’d come.”

“I checked land deed records. The cops will too.”

“Tommy hurt you.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. I waited hours for you to come back.”

“I came back.”

“Is the little girl coming back?”

He looked away, like a child caught in mischief, and shook his head.

“Oh God, Frank.”

“I’m sorry.” He started to cry. Laura sat there and watched him.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you come to me instead of taking the girl?”

“I wanted to. But I promised you I’d leave you alone.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“I missed you all those years,” he said.

“I know, Frank. I missed you too.”

“Did you really?”

“Yeah. You were the first person to show me any love when I was a girl. Nobody else ever did. If they had, you wouldn’t have gotten me.”

“Laura, I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“I know. It’s okay. Come here.”

He went and sat beside her on the couch. “It’s okay,” she said again as he cried. She put her arms around him and kissed his tears away with her bloody mouth.

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” he said.

“You know I can’t, Frank. You’ll hurt little girls.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“They hurt me in prison.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m really scared. They’ll hurt me again.”

“No, they won’t.” She stroked his hair. “I won’t let them.”

“They will. You can’t stop them.”

“Yes, I can. I’m not a little girl anymore, Frank. I’m big now, and I’m going to protect you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. You know I love you. I’ll protect you.”

“I love you too,” Frank tried to say, but he couldn’t say it because Laura brought up her gun and shot him in the head. Still holding him, she felt his body shake, his blood hosing over them both, and he pissed in his pants. She let him fall to the floor, and shot him until the gun was empty.

Her ears rang and she felt dizzy from the noise of the gunshots. She went to the bathroom, got a smelly towel, and wiped off as much of the mess as she could. Then she walked outside and got in her car. She wondered if anybody who heard the shots would call the cops, or if they’d think it was just business as usual for the local yahoos.

She felt calm as she drove to Tempe. She didn’t see any of her neighbors as she walked from her car to her apartment. She stripped off her soiled clothes, threw them in the trash, and then took a shower. She stayed there for a long time, until the water that ran down the drain was no longer red. She kept expecting the cops to knock on her door, but they didn’t. Maybe it’ll take them a while, she thought.

After showering, she put on jeans and a T-shirt and pulled her wet hair up under a baseball cap. She looked in the mirror at the ruin of her face. She checked her cell phone, which she’d turned off earlier. She had a bunch of voice messages, but she didn’t listen to them. She fed Tubby Franklin, then went out, got in her car, and drove to central Phoenix. The car stank of death, but the windows were rolled down and the desert night would soon suck the smell away.

She went to the Emerald Lounge. Nobody said anything about her face, thinking the obvious. She got a beer and went and sat at a table by herself. As she drank, she wondered if David would keep his promise never to write about her again.

We don’t know when the first star exploded, or when the sun caught on fire. We don’t know when the sun will stop burning and turn cold and dark, though we know it will.

In between the fire and the cold, life beginning and ending, Laura, sometime after being born and before dying, talks to children she has never met and never will meet.

On a speck of dust in what they call the universe, David and Frank no longer search for Laura. 
La Llorona
searches for her children. Whitney is no longer sad. They have all found love, but love was not what they thought it would be.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

––––––––

T
he places described in this book are real. The depiction of Phoenix is accurate. The Federal Public Defender’s Capital Habeas unit does exist. However, this is a work of fiction, and all of the characters (with the exception of public figures such as the artists and politicians named) and events are the product of my imagination.

For support and encouragement, I’m grateful to Mr. Larry Fondation, Mr. Nick Hentoff, Mr. M.V. Moorhead, Mr. Dale Baich, Mr. Patrick Millikin, Ms. Cecily Dubusker and Ms. Lonna Kelley.

As always, there are people who have helped me who, for reasons of good taste or cases pending, would prefer not to have their names mentioned here. My gratitude to them is no less.

Most of all, I thank Ms. Daishin Bree Stephenson, for everything.

BG

Sitting Frog Zen Center

Phoenix, AZ

Year of the Dragon

REQUEST FROM THE AUTHOR

I
f you enjoyed this book, please review it on Amazon, and on any social media that you use. Thank you.

About the Author

Barry Graham is a novelist, reporter, columnist, poet and Zen monk, and the author of more than a dozen books. Originally from Glasgow, Scotland, he lives in Portland, Oregon. Readers are welcome to email him at [email protected].

BOOK: When It All Comes Down to Dust (Phoenix Noir Book 3)
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