“You hurt bad?”
“Sorta,” Brian said.
“I’m taking you back to the hospital.” He moved to put the truck into drive.
“Not... yet. Can I sit here a minute?”
Albert turned the ignition key to the off position, killing the engine. “Sure. What happened, Brian? Talk to me.”
The young man was struggling not to cry. “So I met this girl. Jessica. We went out a few times. I thought she was kind of nice.”
“Okay.”
“I was supposed to call her. But then this thing happened, and this shit got written on my back, and I lost the last two days, so I didn’t call her.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand.’
“Yeah, well...”
“What?”
“I wanted to explain to her why I didn’t call. They... they stole my cell phone and my wallet and everything, so I decided to walk to her house. I knew where she lived. But she didn’t know that.”
Albert had questions, but decided to let Brian tell the story his own way.
“A little girl answered the door. And I thought, whoa, has she got a little sister or something? And then Jessica came to the door, looking all scared shitless, you know. Telling me to go. And then this guy appears.”
“Oh oh,” Albert said.
“It was her husband.” His eyes searched his father’s. “I didn’t know. Honest. I wouldn’t go out with someone who was married.”
“I believe you.”
“You raised me better than that.”
“Sure.”
“I wanted to explain. But then Ron—”
“Ron?”
“That’s her husband. He wouldn’t let me, and then he pushed me off the front step. And then he kicked the shit out of me.”
Albert felt a hot wave of rage wash over him. “No,” he said.
“He said something like I deserved everything that happened to me. I think he knew that Jessica was seeing me. He called her a whore. I think... I think maybe she was seeing other guys, too.”
Albert was replaying in his head what the man had said to his son.
“He said you deserved everything that had happened to you?”
“Something sort of like that. I got what was coming to me, I think it was. Maybe, if he knew Jessica was foolin’ around on him, he’d been following her around. Maybe he saw us when we went to the BestBet.”
“The hotel?” Albert said. “On the highway to Albany?”
Brian looked sheepishly at his father. “Don’t be mad. I wouldn’t want Mom to know I did that. Going to a hotel with a girl without, you know, being married.”
“It’s okay,” Albert said softly, putting a hand on his son’s arm.
Brian sniffed. “I liked her. I thought maybe there was something there.” He bit his lip. “I’m such a dumbass. I should have known better. Maybe she thought I was good enough to cheat with, but really, why would anyone want to be with me for the long term?”
Albert squeezed his arm. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
Brian sniffed again. He popped open the glove box with his free hand, found a tissue, and dabbed his cheek. “I’m a nothing.”
“Stop it. Stop it, Brian.” Albert paused, then said, “Tell me again about Ron, what he said and what he did. Everything you can remember.”
Brian went over all of it again.
“If he knew you’d been seeing his wife,” Albert said, “he’d have plenty of reason to be mad at you.”
Brian blinked away some tears. “What are you saying?”
Albert hesitated. “Maybe he’s the one. Maybe he’s the one that did that to your back.”
Brian contemplated the possibility. “I don’t know. But what’s the part about Sean mean?”
Albert thought about that. “I don’t know. Maybe this Jessica was cheating on him with another guy with that name. And he thought you were that guy.”
Brian nodded his head slowly. “I guess that’s possible. I could tell that guy from the police.”
“You could,” Albert said. “That’s a good idea. That’s what we’ll have to do.”
“Except,” Brian said, “what if it isn’t?’
“What do you mean?”
“You should have seen her face.”
“Whose face?”
“Jessica. After Ron kicked me, and went back in the house, she looked terrified, you know? Really scared. If the cops come by and see him, he might go crazy. He might hurt her. I mean, she really messed me up, she lied to me, but I don’t want her husband to kill her or anything.”
“The man attacked you,” Albert reminded him. “Even if he didn’t put that tattoo on you, he attacked you.”
“I know, but... I mean, I did sleep with his wife. Like, if I was in his shoes, I might have lost it and done the same thing.”
“That’s no excuse,” Albert said. “But maybe...”
“Maybe what?” Brian asked.
“Nothing,” his father said, thinking. After a few seconds, he asked, “Just where does this Ron guy live?”
Nineteen
Barry Duckworth rapped lightly on the door to Craig Pierce’s room. It was already open an inch.
“Craig, it’s Detective Duckworth.”
No response.
He knocked a second time, but no harder. Maybe Craig was asleep. Duckworth wasn’t sure he wanted to wake him.
But this time, a voice. “Yeah, come in.”
Duckworth pushed the door open. Craig, dressed in a dark blue bathrobe, was sitting in an overstuffed pink easy chair with his back to the detective. His mother was right. He’d positioned himself in front of the window with a good view of the street. The chair was a step away from the bed, which was neatly made. The walls were decorated with movie posters. Star Wars, Star Trek. There was a small flat-screen TV on top of the dresser, turned off. Next to it, a cardboard shipping parcel, opened, bubble wrap spilling out of it. There was a collection of superhero action figures on a nearby shelf, and Duckworth wondered if Craig had ordered some new ones.
Duckworth could see, even though Craig had his back to him, that the man had a laptop in front of him.
“Hey, Craig,” he said.
As Craig started to turn to face Duckworth, it became clear he was in a swivel chair. He turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees.
Duckworth hoped the shock he felt didn’t show on his face.
Craig Pierce was missing a significant part of his own.
His nose was gone. The cheeks were missing large chunks of flesh. Least damaged was his mouth, but his upper and lower lips were ragged.
He looked at Duckworth with only one eye. The left was mostly unscathed, but the right was closed and covered over with rough skin.
“It’s okay,” he said. “If you have to throw up or something, I’ll understand. Bathroom’s right across the hall.”
“I’m fine,” Duckworth said. He pointed to the bed. “Can I perch myself there?”
“Sure. Be my guest.”
Look him in the face, Duckworth thought. Don’t look away.
“I just had a chat with your mother,” he said. “I didn’t know your father had passed away. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Like I said, some people just want to barf. Dad went the full Monty and had a heart attack.”
Duckworth thought it looked as though Craig was trying to grin.
“He’s the lucky one,” Craig said. “You carry a gun?”
“I do.”
“I’d ask you to shoot me, but that’s probably against some kind of regulation, right?”
“Kinda,” Duckworth said.
“Arrest someone?”
“No.”
“Could have guessed. At least they put the dog down.”
“I want to go over a couple of things again.”
“Super!” Craig said. His buoyant response was jarring. “I can’t imagine anything I’d like more! Which part do you want me to relive? When the pit bull was ripping my face off, or when he was making a meal out of my—”