She paused on the step into the motor home and didn’t look at Stenko when she said, “I have a couple of bakers. Will they do?”
“Perfect,” Stenko said.
She turned. “Why do you need two potatoes? Aren’t there three of you? I see two more heads out there in your car.”
“Sylvia,” Marshall said, “would you please just get the man a couple of spuds?”
She stomped inside and returned with two and held them out like a ritual offering. Stenko chuckled as he took them.
“I really do thank you,” he said, reaching inside his jacket. “I appreciate your time and information. Ten years on the road is a long time. I envy you in ways you’ll never understand.”
She was puzzled now. His voice was warm and something about his tone-so sad-touched her. And was that a tear in his eye?
INSIDE THE HYBRID SUV, the fourteen year-old girl asked the man in the passenger seat, “Like what is he doing up there?”
The man-she knew him as Robert-was in his mid-thirties. He was handsome and he knew it with his blond hair with the expensive highlights and his ice-cold green eyes and his small, sharp little nose. But he was shrill for a man his age, she thought, and had yet to be very friendly to her. Not that he’d been cruel. It was obvious, though, that he’d rather have Stenko’s undivided attention. Robert said, “He told you not to watch.”
“But why is he taking, like, big potatoes from them?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
Robert turned and pierced her with those eyes. “They’ll act as silencers and muffle the shots.”
“The shots?” She shifted in the back seat so she could see through the windshield better between the front seats. Up the hill, Stenko had turned his back to the old couple and was jamming a big potato on the end of a long-barreled pistol. Before she could speak, Stenko wheeled and swung the weapon up and there were two coughs and the old man fell down. The potato had burst and the pieces had fallen so Stenko jammed the second one on. There were two more coughs and the woman dropped out of sight behind the picnic table.
The girl screamed and balled her fists in her mouth.
“SHUT UP!” Robert said, “For God’s sake, shut up.” To himself, I knew bringing a girl along was a bad idea. I swear to God I can’t figure out what goes on in that brain of his.
She’d seen killing, but she couldn’t believe what had happened. Stenko was so nice. Did he know the old couple? Did they say or do something that he felt he had to defend himself? A choking sob broke through.
Robert said, “He should have left you in Chicago.”
SHE COULDN’T STOP CRYING and peeking even though Robert kept telling her to shut up and not to watch as Stenko dragged the two bodies up into the motor home. When the bodies were inside Stenko closed the door. He was in there a long time before tongues of flame licked the inside of the motor home windows and Stenko jogged down the path toward the SUV.
She smelled smoke and gasoline on his clothes when he climbed into the cab and started the motor.
“Man,” he said, “I hated doing that.”
Robert said, “Move out quick before the fire gets out of control and somebody notices us. Keep cool, drive the speed limit all the way out of here…”
She noticed how panicked Robert’s tone was, how high his voice was. For the first time she saw that his scalp through his hair was glistening with sweat. She’d never noticed how thin his hair was and how skillfully he’d disguised it.
Stenko said, “That old couple-they were kind of sweet.”
“It had to be done,” Robert said quickly.
“I wish I could believe you.”
Robert leaned across the console, his eyes white and wild. “Trust me, Dad. Just trust me. Did they give you the numbers?”
Stenko reached into his breast pocket and flipped the spiral notebook toward Robert. “It’s all there,” he said. The girl thought Stenko was angry.
Robert flipped through the pad, then drew his laptop out of the computer case near his feet. He talked as he tapped the keys. “Sixty to eighty thousand miles a year at eight to ten miles per gallon. Wow. They’ve been at it for five years and planned to keep it up until they couldn’t. They’re both sixty-five, so we could expect them to keep driving that thing for at least ten to fifteen years, maybe more.” Tap-tap-tap.
“They were farmers from Iowa,” Stenko said sadly. “Salt of the earth.”
“Salt of the earth?” Robert said. “You mean plagues on the earth! Christ, Dad, did you see that thing they were driving?”
“They called it The Unit,” Stenko said.
“Wait until I get this all calculated,” Robert said. “You just took a sizable chunk out of the balance.”
“I hope so,” Stenko said.
“Any cash?”
“Of course. All farmers have cash on hand.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-seven hundred I found in the cupboard. I have a feeling there was more, but I couldn’t take the time. I could have used your help in there.”
“That’s not what I do.”
Stenko snorted. “I know.”
“Thirty-seven hundred isn’t very much.”
“It’ll keep us on the road.”
“There’s that,” Robert said, but he didn’t sound very impressed.
As they cleared the campground, the girl turned around in her seat. She could see the wink of orange flames in the alcove of pines now. Soon, the fire would engulf the motor home and one of the people in the campground would see it and call the fire department. But it would be too late to save the motor home, just as it was too late to save that poor old couple. As she stared at the motor home on fire, things from deep in her memory came rushing back and her mouth dropped open.
“I said,” Stenko pressed, looking at her in the rearview mirror, “you didn’t watch, did you? You promised me you wouldn’t watch.”
“She lied,” Robert said. “You should have left her in Chicago.”
“Damn, honey,” Stenko said. “I didn’t want you to watch.”
But she barely heard him through the roaring in her ears. Back it came, from where it had been hiding and crouching like a night monster in a dark corner of her memory.
The burning trailer. Screams. Shots. Snow.
And a telephone number she’d memorized but that had remained buried in her mind just like all of those people were buried in the ground all these years…