I’m sure very few of these assholes—I mean customers—used their names, but some of ’em are real recognizable. They’ll be offered all kinds of deals to get to us. You better disappear too; when this gets out they’ll be after us with torches and clubs.”
Beat.
“We knew this was the risk. I had my getaway planned a week after we got into this shit.”
Another beat.
“Stack is on his own. The stuff with the Wells kid and the Clinton kid and those two classy girls from over at Highland were his brainchild. He knew what he was getting into. Hell, he gave us the classy bitches. Knew they wouldn’t talk ’cause of the kinds of daddies they got; and he knew the best threats. That boy is one sick fuck.”
Beat.
“I know. He didn’t just want a piece of the action. He had a whole list of kids at school he wanted to take down. Gets off on screwin’ his friends at the same time they’re thankin’ him. Smart boy.”
Beat.
“Naw, he’s no more loyal to us than them. They catch him, he’ll squeal like a pig. He might be smart, but he’s a goddamn kid. We gotta shed him. I’ll call him to meet and pay him off. He’s taking care of that Hannah girl. No point to it now but he left before we knew there was no chance to get to the teach.” Rankin laughs. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, too.” He flips off the cell.
The light in Hannah’s bedroom goes out and the door on the passenger’s side of the Audi opens silently. A dark figure, familiar with the surroundings, walks silently across the street and around the house, looking for an entry point.
Logs lies curled in the fetal position on the rough wooden float, shaking, sliding in and out of consciousness, trying to solve the unsolvable. The water temperature is warmer than the air; it has to be. But water is dense and therefore exudes greater influence on body temperature. Any mammal’s inner heater has a better chance against air than water. Or is it the other way around? Air. Water. Density. Gehrig. How warm that little fuzz ball would be to lie against right now. All those women. The ones he should apologize to. He always meant to. It was selfishness; the reason he’s dying alone. He needs to tell the kids. The Period 8 kids need to know what to avoid. Paulie and Hannah; especially Hannah. Zero tolerance of anything is, well, zero. He needs to warn the Wellses. Kylie. In danger. Ah, Mary. Where are you, Mary?
He sees himself as a young man, always believing he had one more chance, and then pretty soon, all his chances were spent. Concentrate on the good things. You did some good things. Consciousness comes and goes in soft waves. It’s so goddamn cold, and then it’s not.
Justin Chenier’s stepfather, Landry Faulk, approaches Diamond Lake at twenty-five miles above the speed limit, Justin turned around in the seat beside him watching the ski boat bouncing like a toy as they shoot down the two-lane. Paulie pulls on a set of Justin’s sweats.
“Don’t know who we’re gonna run into at that dock,” Landry says, “but I’ll swing around and back this baby in before anybody can say shit to me. If there’s trouble—hell, if there’s trouble or not—y’all jump in the boat. Paulie, you undo the safety chain and unhook the hitch; Justin, you crank ’er up and go.”
“What if—”
“No what-ifs. If Mr. Logs is on that piece of wood, he’s in a bad way. Blanket’s in the boat; you get it on ’im. That man been nothing but good to us—to you—and he gets payback.” He pats the U.S. Army forty-five in his lap. “Didn’t think I’d ever have reason to use this again an’ I hope I don’t, but nobody’s gonna fuck with y’all an’ nobody’s gonna fuck with Mr. Logs.”
As they crest the hill directly above the loading dock, heads turn and men scramble, some moving toward their cars, others bracing themselves. Landry Faulk doesn’t know what he’s coming into but he’s coming fast. He wheels the pickup toward the dock, swings the full one-hundred-eighty degrees to point the back of the boat directly at the water, hits reverse, and backs in. Men yell. Three jog toward him. With one eye on the side window and the other on his rearview mirror he backs the trailer into the water.
“Go!” he hollers, and Justin and Paulie pile out, Paulie