The text came in and Eric dialed the number. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered. “Concord Police Department, this is Detective Pregman.” “Yeah, Detective, my name’s Eric Holden and my roommate just informed me that you wanted to talk to me.” “Yes, we did. He actually told us you didn’t have a cell phone.” Eric grinned. “I just use it for emergencies. What can I do for you?” “Did your roommate tell you your stepfather’s dead?” “Yeah, it’s crazy. I don’t know what to think.”
“Well we have a few questions for you; I was hoping you could come down to the station and give us a statement. You know, if he had any enemies or anything like that.” The detective hesitated. “Why don’t you tell me where you are and I can just have someone come pick you up?”
The hesitation was as loud as any words: he knew. “Actually I got a class in a couple hours so I’ll be around the campus all day. I’ll come up as soon as I’m done. How’s around three sound?” “That’ll be fine. You know where the precinct is?” “Yeah, do I just ask for you?” “Yeah, me or my partner Detective Rodriguez.” “Okay, I’ll see ya at three then.”
Eric hung up and threw a ten dollar bill on the table before rushing out of the diner. It had started to drizzle and a cold breeze was quickly turning into a gale as he ran to the bus stop.
The hospital smelled like all hospitals; disease and floor polish. The emergency room was packed with people coughing, people crying, and people staring silently at nothing. Eric walked past them and made his way to the front desk. He asked a portly receptionist where Carol Steiner was and she said the third floor, room 305.
He took the elevator to the third floor and looked down the hall before stepping out. The hallway was nearly empty but voices were coming from the various rooms. Room 302 had an older woman in it, crying. She had her arms around a younger boy and the boy was crying too. 304 had an enormously fat man with a round potbelly protruding from his hospital gown. An IV was in his bicep and he had crusted white saliva on the corners of his mouth. A bag of chips was on the nightstand and the television was blaring a daytime talk show. Room 305 was next door and Eric glanced in; it was only his mother.
He went in and saw she was sleeping; an IV hooked up to her arm. She rustled and awoke at the sound of his footsteps and a smile crept to her face. The television was on; the volume turned low, the open window letting in the salty air of a rain brought in from the Atlantic. “How ya doin’ mom?” “I’m okay,” she said, reaching out and holding his hand. “The IV’s just antibiotics. The police were here.” “Yeah, I talked to ‘em.”
She looked out the window as the wind howled outside underneath the gray sky. Some pigeons were on the sill, trying to find shelter from the coming storm. “They said it’s going to rain all week.”
“Mom,” Eric said softly, “I gotta go away for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be comin’ back.”
His mother didn’t look at him but he saw the slight quiver in her lower lip and the tears that glossed over her eyes. She was gripping his hand tightly, her knuckles turning white. “I don’t remember if I left any of the windows open,” she said. “The one in the living room will get the couch wet if I left it open.”
Eric squeezed her hand, and let go. He kissed her cheek, wrapping his arms around her frail shoulders. “Bye, Mom.”
His mother grabbed his sleeve, tears rolling down her cheeks and onto the bruises on her neck. “There’s ten thousand dollars in my savings account. Take my driver’s license and get the money. If they won’t give it to you they can call me here.”
“I can’t take your-”
“I couldn’t stand it if I thought you were on the street somewhere. Please.”
He nodded. “All right.” Another kiss on the forehead and he pulled away from her, taking the driver’s license out of her purse. He looked back once when he was at the doorway and a deep sadness filled him and tightened his throat; he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again.
Eric chose a female teller who appeared young enough to be in high school. She let him withdraw from his mother’s account and he took five thousand and left the driver’s license on the counter, knowing the teller would keep it for his mother.
The drizzle had turned into a full drenching rain and he pulled up his collar as he walked across an intersection and toward the downtown city library. The city smelled like wet dirt and salt and it disgusted him.
The library was a circular flat building across the street from a small public park. It was packed with the homeless, overflow from the only shelter in town. But the dusty book smell was pleasant as Eric waited patiently to get on a computer. It took nearly a half hour-that being the limit that each person was allowed on a computer-and he sat down and stared at the computer screen before starting to type. He Googled a world map and looked at it like it had some great secret to reveal to him if he just looked long enough. He spent nearly the entire half hour just examining maps of various countries and then looking up facts about them: cost of living, ties with the United States, cost of a one way ticket there. Mexico was cheap and the law was flexible but it was too close to the United States. Europe was too expensive for how little money he had. He thought about just going to another state but decided against it since if he was even pulled over for a traffic ticket a warrant for murder would show.
There was one place he kept coming back to: Bangkok Thailand. It was one of the most populated cities in the world and a big tourist spot; he could blend right in. He found a last minute one-way ticket for three hundred dollars out of JFK in two days and reserved a seat online, printed the ticket, and rushed out of the library.
When he was on the steps of the front entrance, he froze. His passport was at the dorms.
CHAPTER
15
Eric sat on the stone steps of the library in the pouring rain, hardly noticing that he was soaked from his hair to his shoes. Jason wasn’t answering and he couldn’t trust anyone else to bring the passport to him without alerting the police that were no doubt combing the campus for him.
He had no connections to get a phony passport; this was his only shot to leave the country. It was a risk he had to take. The water dripped from his bangs into his eyes and he wiped at them and stood up, grabbed his gym bag, and walked to the bus stop.
It took nearly twenty minutes for the bus to come and by this time Eric was shivering and unable to keep his teeth still. When he got on he changed shirts and tried to dry his hair. There wasn’t anybody on the bus and about half-way to the university campus the driver, an elderly man with a constant scowl on his face and his name printed on his belt, pulled into a side-street and unbuckled his seat belt. He walked to the nearest seats, and lay down. “What’re you doing?” Eric said. “Break.” “Are you joking? I’ve gotta be somewhere.” “You got legs asshole.”
Eric stormed off the bus back into the rain. The campus was a good mile away and he started a slow jog. The sidewalks were cracked and uneven, making running difficult and dangerous; the last thing he needed was a twisted ankle. He eventually reached the campus and waited across the street from the main parking lot, just watching the cars come in and out. He popped another Lortab and checked the bandage on his shoulder. The ten stitches felt like a zipper going up his arm but there was no blood; only swelling and tenderness.
There weren’t any squad cars around but he knew detectives wouldn’t drive those. He saw a group of people running onto campus from a nearby coffee shop and he tagged close behind them as if part of the group.
They made their way past the Field House gym and around the library. Eric left the group and sprinted into the library. He walked calmly across the linoleum floors, his soaked shoes squeaking with each step, and out another set of glass doors on the other side. The dorms were just across a small grass enclosure.