Already Gone

PART III





– 46 –



We take one of the SUVs and drive out of the lot and across town toward the university and Doug’s house. I stay in the car while Diane runs up the driveway to the front door and knocks. The snow is falling heavier now, and she folds her arms across her chest as she waits.

I lean back and close my eyes.

When I open them again, Diane is standing at the passenger door, pulling me up, telling me not to fall asleep.

Doug is on the porch, watching.

I grab the edge of the door and ease myself up to standing, then we walk up the driveway to the house. Doug holds the front door open. Once we’re inside, he leads us to the kitchen and I sit at the table.

Diane asks Doug for a washcloth.

“There’s a closet in the hall,” he says. “Towels, washcloths. Grab a few.”

I look at Doug. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “I think I look worse than I feel.”

“That’s good, because you look like shit.” He frowns. “You need to go to a hospital, buddy.”

There’s no wink, no lighthearted comment, and that scares me more than anything. I try to smile. “Do I look that bad?”

“You want a mirror?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I just need to rest for a while.”

“Fine, but then we go to a hospital.”

I hear a door open in the hallway and Diane shouts, “Can I use any of these?”

Doug tells her she can.

“No hospital,” I say. “If I check in, the police will pick me up right away.” I lean forward and cough into my palm. The pain shudders through me. “That’s why we came here. There’s a cop car parked outside our house.”

“Maybe you should talk to them.”

“Turn myself in?”

“You didn’t do anything, right?”

“I didn’t kill Nolan, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then give a statement, answer their questions. If they can’t pin anything on you, they have to let you go.”

“There’s more to it.”

Doug waits for me to go on.

“It’s not just the cops I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it?”

“Gabby.” I adjust myself in the seat. “He’s looking for us. I think he’s going to try to kill Diane.”

“And there’s my next question.” He motions to the hallway. “You want to explain her to me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is, but we’ve got time.”

I start to explain, but then Diane comes back into the kitchen carrying a towel and several washcloths.

I look at Doug and shake my head.

“Are these okay?” she asks.

“They’re fine.”

Diane turns the water on in the sink and holds her fingers under the stream, testing the temperature.

Doug stares at me. “How can I help?”

“We need a place to go. Just for a while, until we can figure out our next move.”

“You can’t stay here. The cops came by this afternoon looking for you. It’s not safe.”

“No, not here,” I say.

Doug frowns. “Then I’m not following you.”

“You mentioned your place in Mexico.”

“The beach house?”

I nod. “Would you mind?”

“I haven’t been down there in a couple years. I’ve got no idea what kind of shape it’s in.”

“That doesn’t matter. We just need a place to lie low for a while.”

Doug leans back against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. “How do you plan on making it to the border? The cops are everywhere down there.”

“We’ll make it.”

Doug turns to Diane at the sink and says, “It’s an old house, hon. That’s about as hot as it’s going to get.”

Diane runs a washcloth under the water, then kneels in front of me and starts wiping the blood off my face.

I reach up and take her wrist, soft. “I’ll do it.”

She hands me the washcloth.

For a few minutes we’re all quiet. Then Doug pushes himself away from the counter and says, “I don’t know, Jake. I think it’s a bad move.”

“Is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that. I just think it’s a bad move. Have you thought it through?”

“We have to go somewhere, the farther away the better. We’ll figure out everything else once we’ve gone.”

Doug pulls a chair from the table and sits. “It’s late. Stay here tonight. We can talk in the morning.”

“We should keep moving.”

“I’ll pull your car into the garage where no one will see it.” He looks from Diane to me. “You can both get a good night’s sleep. If you still want to leave in the morning, I’ll give you the keys to the beach house.”

Diane looks at me, shrugs.

“I want you to be sure,” Doug says. “Because once you run, you’ll have to keep running.”

I turn to Diane. “What do you think?”

She takes the washcloth from me, touches it against my forehead, and says, “I think he’s right.”





Doug leads us back to a spare room and turns on the overhead light. “Bathroom’s across the hall. You already know where to find towels.” He points over his shoulder. “My room is down there if you need me. Get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning.”

We thank him and close the door. There is a double bed against one wall and a rocking chair in the corner. The room is filled with cardboard moving boxes and stacks of literary journals and magazines.

I sit on the edge of the bed and ease back.

“Are you okay?” Diane asks.

“Sore, but I’ll make it.”

Diane climbs onto the bed and lies next to me. “Take a hot bath, it’ll help.”

I tell her I might, but I don’t move.

“Do you think what he said is true? That once we run, we’ll have to keep running?”

“Probably.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“What if we talk to the police?” She props up on one elbow and looks at me. “I heard what Doug said, and I think he’s right. Maybe you should answer their questions. They can’t charge you with something you didn’t do.”

I laugh. “Even if that were true, what would we do? Go back to our old life? I start teaching again, you go back to the gallery? Do you see that happening after all this?”

“It could.”

I shake my head. “That life is over.”

Neither of us says anything else.

Diane watches me for a while longer, and then she lies back on the bed. A few minutes later, I hear her crying, soft and quiet.

I roll over and try to sleep.