Junior got his bloody clothes, raked the shit out of his jeans - wallet, change, keys, comb, an extra headache pill - and redistributed it in the pockets of his clean pants. He hurried downstairs, stuck the incriminating garments in the washer, set it for hot, then reconsidered, remembering something his mother had told him when he was no more than ten: cold water for bloodstains. As he moved the dial to COLD WASH/COLD RINSE, Junior wondered idly f his dad had started his hobby of secretary-fucking way back then, or if he was still keeping his cotton-picking penis at home.
He started the washer going and thought about what tc do next. With the headache gone, he found that he could think.
He decided he should go back to Angle's house after all. He didn't want to - God almighty, it was the last thing he wanted to do - but he probably should scope out the scene. Walk past ana see how many police cars were there. Also whether or not the Castle County forensics van was there. Forensics was key. He knew that from watching CSI. He'd seen the big blue-and-white van before, while vidting the county courthouse with his dad. And if it was at the McCains'...
I'll run.
Yes. As fast and far as he could. But before he did, he'd come back here and visit the safe in his dad's study. His dad didn't think Junior knew the combo to that safe, but: Junior did. Just as he knew the password to his dad's computer, and thus about his dad's penchant for watching what Junior and Frank DeLesseps called Oreo sex: two black chicks, one white guy. There was plenty of money in that safe. Thousands of dollars.
What if you see the van and come back and he's here?
The money first, then. The money right now.
He went into the study and for a moment thought he saw his father sitting in the high-backed chair where he watched the news and nature programs. He'd fallen asleep, or... what if he'd had a heart attack? Big Jim had had heart problems off" and on for the last three years; mostly arrhythmia. He usually went up to Cathy Russell and either Doc Haskell or Doc Rayburn buzzed him with something, got him back to normal. Haskell would have been content to keep on doing that forever, but Rayburn (whom his father called 'an overeducated cotton-picker') had finally insisted that Big Jim see a cardiologist at CMG in Lewiston. The cardiologist said he needed a procedure to knock out that irregular heartbeat once and for all. Big Jim (who was terrified of hospitals) said he needed to talk to God more, and you called that a prayer procedure. Meantime, he took his pills, and for the last few months he'd seemed fine, but now... maybe...
'Dad?'
No answer. Junior flipped the light switch. The overhead gave that same unsteady glow, but it dispelled the shadow Junior had taken for the back of his father's head. He wouldn't be exactly heartbroken if his dad vaporlocked, but on the whole he was glad it hadn't happened tonight. There was such a thing as too many complications.
Still, he walked to the wall where the safe was with big soft steps of cartoon caution, watching for the splash of headlights across the window that would herald his father's return. He set aside the picture that covered the safe (Jesus giving the Sermon on the Mount), and ran the combination. He had to do it twice before the handle would turn, because his hands were shaking.
The safe was stuffed with cash and stacks of parchment-like sheets with the words BEARER BONDS stamped on them. Junior gave a low whistle. The last time he'd opened this - to filch fifty for last year's Fryeburg Fair - there had been plenty of cash, but nowhere near this much. And no BEARER BONDS. He thought of the plaque on his father's desk at the car store: WOULD JESUS APPROVE OF THIS DEAL? Even in his distress and fear, Junior found time to wonder if Jesus would approve of whatever deal his dad had going on the side these days.
"Never mind his business, I gotta run mine; he said in a low voice. He took five hundred in fifties and twenties, started to close the safe, reconsidered, and took some of the hundreds as w;ll. Given the obscene glut of cash in there, his dad might not even miss it. If he did, it was possible he ct understand why Junior had taken it. And might approve. As Big Jim always said, 'The Lord helps those who help themselves.'
In that spirit Junior helped himself to another four hundred.Then he closed the safe, spun the combo, and hung Jesus back on the wall. He grabbed a jacket from the front hall closet and went out while the generator roared and the Maytag sudsed Angie's blood from his clothes.
4
There 'was no one at the McCains' house.
Fucking no one.
Junior lurked on the other side of the street, in a moderate shower of maple leaves, wondering if he could trust what he was seeing: the house dark, Henry McCain's 4Runner and LaDonna's Prius still not in evidence. It seemed too good to be true, fir too good.