Blood Men: A Thriller

“I don’t judge you. I understand. I’ve lived with it my entire life.”


“I know you have, son, and you don’t deserve it. But it is what it is, and you’ll go through it in ten years or more when Sam is old enough to date. Truth be told, I think we would have been fearful no matter who Jodie brought home. It took some getting used to, with your dad’s past and everything, but I want you to know how proud we are of you, and we love you and we know how happy you made Jodie, and we have a granddaughter who means the world to us. We wouldn’t have that precious little girl if you’d never met our Jodie.”

I take another sip of beer, following his thought process, wondering if he chose those words specifically and hoping he didn’t. He’s saying they wouldn’t have Sam if it wasn’t for me. But he’s also saying they’d still have Jodie.

“I wanted to let you know how much we believe in you,” he says. “And that, well, we don’t blame you for what happened. We know how, how you called out, how you tried to stop them from shooting that woman.”

“Jodie would still be alive if I hadn’t.”

He doesn’t answer for about twenty seconds. Just keeps working away at his beer. He wipes at his mouth and turns toward me. “I know,” he says. “Don’t think that I don’t know that. And part of me, part of me is angry at you for that. Part of me thinks if you’d kept your mouth shut, none of this would be happening.”

“I—”

“Let me finish,” he says.

“But—”

“Please,” he says, and holds his hand up. “You were doing the right thing. Me, in that situation, I don’t know what I’d have done. Maybe nothing. I’d have been a coward and let that woman get shot, most probably. But you stood up. You didn’t know you were risking Jodie—all you knew was you were risking yourself. You did a good thing, but part of me is always going to hate you for that, Eddie, and I can’t help that.”

“I get it. A big part me—hell, all of me hates me too for doing it.”

“I know that. Weigh it all up, spread out the blame, and shit, Eddie, it wasn’t your fault. It was the men who came into that bank. They’re the ones responsible. Not you. And we want to let you know how much we’re relying on you now. It’s your job to take care of that little girl. You have to give up everything you can to make sure she’s raised right. And no matter what, we’re always going to be here for her. And for you. Remember that, Eddie. Remember that and you’ll do okay.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s warm and comforting. For the briefest second I believe him that everything is going to be okay. I take another drink of the beer.

It’s in your blood.

“Sorry?” I say.

“I said you’ll do okay.”

“No, after that. You said something after that.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

Suddenly I’m also sure he didn’t. It’s in your blood. It was the same voice I heard earlier, the one that told me I’d be hearing from it soon, and now I recognize it. It’s been almost twenty years, but it’s the voice from when I was a kid and the neighbor’s dog wouldn’t stop barking. It’s my dad’s monster—it found me twice when I was nine, and now it’s found me again.





chapter twelve


It’s dark by the time we get home. It’s a three-quarter moon. It throws white light over the house and reflects off the front windows and makes the house look very empty. I park the car in the driveway and can’t be bothered putting it in the garage. Jodie’s car is still parked in town near her work and can stay there a while longer yet. I grab the mail and take Sam inside. One of the things about the new house we were going to get was it had an adjoining garage. It was something we both wanted, because of the brutal Christchurch winters.

Jodie doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, now, does she . . .

“Shut up,” I whisper.

“What, Daddy?” Sam asks, her voice sleepy, her eyes half closed.

“Nothing, honey,” I say, and I carry her inside.

The house has gotten tidier over the last couple of days mainly because I found myself wandering through the rooms, never really sure what to do. Sometimes I’d spend hours in front of the TV, watching the news and staring at whatever else was on. Other times I’d surf the net, looking for updates on the case. Most of the time people would show up to spend time with us. Sam kept mostly to herself. Mogo would show up for food and nothing else. I’d clean the house sporadically, sometimes cleaning the same room only an hour after I’d last done it. I’d play with Sam. We’d watch TV together. We’d sit outside together. It was tough.