The Truth We Bury: A Novel



She didn’t think she would sleep, but she did, falling off the ledge of consciousness into an abyss so deep that when she heard the phone ring—the landline out in the hallway—she had the sense it had been ringing for hours. It was a struggle to waken, to lever herself into a sitting position. She ran her hands through her sleep-matted hair, registered the glowy red numbers, 6:25, on the nightstand clock. Her mind felt logy and soft. She wasn’t certain of her footing and staggered a bit when she stood up, catching her hand on the mirrored vanity corner to steady herself.

She heard her dad’s tread on the stair.

“I’ll get it, Dad,” she called out to him.

He flipped on the hallway light, and their eyes met, blinking. She saw her own worry reflected in his gaze.

Lily picked up the heavy receiver. “Hello?”

“Lily! Oh, Lily, thank God!”

“Winona?”

“Yes, yes. Can you come? It’s Erik. He’s here.”

“Where are you?”

“Home. I got in a few hours ago. I didn’t expect Erik would be here. He scared me when I came in. He was sitting on the couch, in the dark. He—Lily, he has a gun. He says he hurt AJ. Is it true?”

“Oh my God, Win! You have to get away from him. Where are you now? Where is he? Did you call the police?”

“No. I’m in the bathroom. He is still in the living room, I think. He told me—he said the girls, Becca and Kate, Shea’s and AJ’s friends—Erik says they’re dead, that he—he—” Win’s voice broke and fell into small hurt sounds.

“Win? Oh, Win—” Lily fought to keep the panic from her voice. “Hang on, okay? I’m coming. I’ll call the police. Just stay away from him, okay? He’s not—not stable, not right in his head.”

“I know. He’s talking so crazy, going to shoot me. Going to shoot himself. What is the matter with him? Do you know? He was fine when we last talked—yesterday. I think it was yesterday—”

“What’s happening? Is it Erik? He’s there with her?”

Lily glanced at her dad. “Yes. He has a gun. He says he’s going to kill them both.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“We need the police.”

“Call them, but I’m going now. You don’t wait for the cops when a dog’s gone mad.” He disappeared down the stairs.

“Lily? Is it true, all these terrible things Erik is saying? He’s never harmed anyone in his whole life. I want someone to wake me up, to tell me—oh no—” Win’s protest ended in an abrupt shriek.

“Win?” Heart beating wildly in her chest, Lily called her name. She heard a crack as if wood had been splintered. She heard angry shouts and recognized Erik’s voice. She heard a clattering sound, as if Winona’s phone had fallen to the tile floor, and then she heard . . . nothing.

Nothing.

“Winona?” Lily bit her teeth together, waited.

Nothing.

Dropping the receiver back into the cradle, she shouted, “Dad? Daddy, wait, I’m coming with you.” Lily went into her bedroom, pulled on her boots, got her cell phone. She was dialing 911 as she ran down the stairs. There was no one in the kitchen. She flew out the back door just as her dad was wheeling the Jeep around the corner of the barn toward the old service road.

She shouted, running after him, waving her arms. She’d almost given up when he stopped. Reaching the Jeep, she yanked open the door, threw herself into the seat. “Go!” she said to him. “Hurry.” And when the 911 dispatcher asked, Lily gave the woman their location and a brief summary of the facts. But it wasn’t really necessary. At the mention of Erik Ayala’s name, the woman indicated she knew the police were looking for him.

The operator left the line for several moments, and when she came back, it was to advise Lily that patrol cars were en route. “How far out of town are you?” the woman asked.

“Thirty minutes, at least,” Lily answered.

“A lot of damn shit can go down in thirty minutes,” her dad said.

Lily looked at him, and then down at his shotgun firmly wedged between the seats.





22


Winona’s house looked deserted. The front porch was shadowed, the windows dark. Except for the slow, measured crunch of the Jeep’s tires against the caliche, there wasn’t a sound. Not even the birds were awake.

“Let’s wait for the police, Dad,” Lily said.

“He’s not going to try anything with me.” Her dad pulled off the road, some fifteen feet from the porch. “I’ve got the shotgun if he does.”

“But Winona’s in there.”

“Stay in the Jeep, Sissy.” He issued the order as she was getting out, and when he saw she had no intention of obeying him, he said, “I shouldn’t have let you come.”

She held his gaze. “Winona said he was going to kill her, Dad, and then himself.”

“He’s not going to hurt anyone else if I’ve got one goddamn thing to say about it.”

The front door opened suddenly, making Lily flinch. Her dad raised the shotgun.

Erik came out onto the porch. His clothes, filthy and wrinkled, were the same he’d been dressed in on Thursday when he’d made lunch in the kitchen at the xL. “AJ is my brother,” he’d said that day. “You’ve been like a mother to me,” he’d told her. Incongruously, his feet were bare, and for a moment, Lily’s attention was riveted there—to his feet—but then he said, “I wondered when you’d show up, old man,” and her gaze rose, first snagging on the gun in his hand—she recognized AJ’s .45—then going to Erik’s face. His gaze was locked on her dad. Lily wondered if he even realized she was here.

“Put the gun down, Erik,” her dad said.

Lily heard the sound of tires and prayed it was the police, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw a faded red SUV, coming fast around the curve, dust swirling in the new-morning light. Dru? But no, it was Shea driving, Lily saw, and AJ was riding in the passenger seat.

“What are you doing here?” Lily asked AJ as soon as he’d maneuvered himself out of the car. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You’re white as a sheet.”

“Get back to the hospital.”

“No, Granddad.” AJ gripped the top of the SUV’s door, keeping himself upright.

“He made me bring him.” Shea pulled crutches from the backseat. “He was going to hijack an ambulance, or something worse.”

“But how did you—?” Lily’s uncertain glance wavered from Shea to AJ. He was dressed in scrubs. The right pant leg had been jaggedly scissored off at the thigh to accommodate the compression bandage.

AJ thrust his chin at Erik. “He called Shea and told her there was something he needed me to hear before he checked himself out.”

Lily took a few steps toward AJ, as if to force him back into the car. “You’re bleeding.”

He looked at the bloom of red midway down his thigh. “It’s fine.”

“Hurts like a bitch, I bet,” Erik said.

“Put the gun down, Erik, and we’ll talk.” Lily’s dad’s voice was quiet. It was the voice he used with the livestock when they were spooked and liable to go berserk.

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