Chapter 48
ABBY
We passed high fences strung with razor wire and pulled into the visitors’ lane, passing a sign that said WEAPONS PROHIBITED with the image of a handgun and a diagonal line through it.
It seemed like an obvious warning, but perhaps not.
I thought back to that morning, when I’d almost stashed a knife inside my gym bag, and then settled for a tire iron instead.
Why? Because I can’t stand blood. But the sound of a skull crunching, possibly.
I kept picturing it, asking myself if I could really do it.
Trying to prepare myself for the weight of the iron, the adrenaline pumping, the expression on Curtis’s face. Maybe I could.
A guard in a booth asked if I was on the approved visitor list.
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”
The guard looked me up. No sign that I came here seventeen years ago.
“This is urgent,” I said, leaning over to try to make direct eye contact.
“Everyone says the same thing. Your family member should have mailed you the form. Then we have to wait for processing.”
Oh, Jesus.
Robert asked, “Can’t she do one of those phone or video calls?”
Same answer. Visitor’s list.
Down at hip level, Robert flashed an ID card that I couldn’t read from a distance.
“I’m on the approved list. And I’m really hoping I can set up a video call.”
“Preapproved for this particular individual? Oh yes, there you are.”
The guard typed some data into his computer, then handed Robert a slick pamphlet with instructions.
“Good luck, and don’t even try it from your car. No loitering.”
We’d turned around, heading away from the prison, when I started thwapping Robert’s arm. “You’re on the fucking list?”
He ignored me, head ducking lower as he squinted, trying to locate the Best Western we’d seen on our way here.
“You shithead!”
“Hey,” he said without any loss of composure. “I didn’t realize they wouldn’t let you in. I thought they made me jump through the hoops because I wasn’t family.”
“Jump through the hoops when?”
After we pulled into the motel lot, he closed the car door with a calm click, leaving me to watch him saunter into reception to pay for a room we’d only be using for an hour or two. I felt angry just imagining the front desk clerk assuming we were here for sex.
When Robert came back, he opened the door and said in a low voice, “I visited him once, about six months ago. Right after you and I broke up. I thought he might have . . . I don’t know. Insights.”
“About?”
“How to get you back.”
“Curtis seems to be visiting him and talking about me. Benjamin wrote to him. You visited him. What is wrong with you people?”
I stomped up the metal steps to our second-floor room. Inside, I yanked the mustard-colored curtains shut. “That’s probably why Ewan started sending even more letters this year.”
Robert dug a finger into his eye, wiping away sleepy crust. “He asked me a lot of questions about Benjamin. He knew stuff about him, like he was getting information from some other source. It seemed odd at the time.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You would have been pissed I’d visited him in the first place. Right?”
“Right. But then I might have figured out that Curtis was visiting him. Fuck!” I shouted and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the thin door.
I took a shower because I was one big heat rash from top to bottom. Robert was in the next room, setting up the account for the online visit. When I was finished, I still needed several more minutes, sitting on the toilet, wrapped in a towel, trying to cool down.
When I came out, I heard a stilted recorded voice, full of sunshine and bullshit.
It was an instructional video explaining all the rules and regulations for the video call to come, provided by a private company.
At the top of the screen, the Stars and Stripes flapped.
This wasn’t Zoom. A reminder flowed across the screen, ticker-style, letting us know the call was being recorded and monitored live.
Violations of the agreement would lead to a visitor ban for that individual and additional restrictions for the inmate.
A final robotic voice reminder: This call is being monitored and recorded.
And there, finally, was Ewan’s face, filling the screen.
The similarities were enough to take my breath away.
Eyes—same as Benjamin’s. Large and dark brown.
Light eyelashes, but long. The same arc of eyebrow.
No wonder I preferred Benjamin in glasses.
Without them, he and my brother were nearly identical, give or take years and pounds.
Unlike those movie prisoners who spend all their time getting buff, Ewan had gone the opposite route. Wide belly and rail-thin arms. Puffy cheeks. Pale skin. Acne. A thick, soft neck, with a white scar running like a necklace above his collarbone.
“You look good,” Robert said to Ewan—one liar to another—while I stayed off-screen to avoid getting our call shut down.
“You too, dude. How’s work?”
“Changing careers, actually.”
From jobs they segued into sports, and then Ewan started talking about the appeal he planned to make, in relation to his conviction for assaulting the prison dentist, which would require a lawyer and tons of money, of course.
“You think my sister would help with that?”
“Not likely. But speaking of,” Robert said, then went conspicuously quiet.
Ewan cocked his head. I could tell he’d picked up on Robert’s silent message. In the corner of the screen, a timer had been running down from fifteen minutes; now only five minutes remained.
“Here’s a question,” Robert said, glancing my way to remind me to stay quiet and let him lead. Ewan focused, lips tighter, eyebrows lifted with anticipation. We were alleviating his boredom, at the very least.
“Your frequent visitor,” Robert said. “We need to find him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
Ewan answered quickly, like he was on a game show and determined to win. “Menkoka, near Madison, or Fond du Lac. Those are my best guesses.”
“Okay. But we need an address. Not for Fond du Lac. We’ve got that one—”
“Not the father’s house. He sold it.”
I nodded, satisfied. He knew things, and he didn’t seem hell-bent on pulling our legs from the start.
Robert said, “We could use help narrowing it down. Did your visitor explain what he planned to do . . . on his vacation?”
“Just more of what he usually does. Coaching. Teaching. Young men, especially. Fresh meat.” Ewan moved closer to the screen, head angled down, so his forehead and eyes looked too wide. “I tried to warn you in my letters. Why didn’t you listen when I said someone was asking questions about you?”
I pulled my chin into my chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable, my gut still remembering the punches he’d land if I wasn’t careful.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell,” he said. “But if you’d come in person, if you’d cared, I could have told you that someone was asking about Benjamin. I could have told you to be more careful about the men you let into your life. What do you say about that?”
We both knew the call might get cut off if I answered him.
Remembering his role, Robert said, “So, you’re saying that we’ve been missing some important information.”
“Not my fault.” Ewan grinned, lips split wide enough that I could see two molars missing, behind his right canine. Fight probably. Or maybe just rot. “About the appeal . . .”
“Yeah, maybe we can help with that. Especially if we sort out some other things. Get the family back together, first.”
“I know my sister has money—”
“Dude.” Robert’s voice changed. He’d dropped the roleplaying voice. “I’m serious. I’ll pay for your lawyer myself, if we can just get through this week with no damage. I care about this kid. With your help, we can find him. Then I’ll take care of the bill.”
“Your ‘career change’ will allow that?”
“I’ll sell my condo if I have to.”
“Swear on . . . oh, I don’t know. What should we swear on, Robert? You fail me and the Cubs never win another World Series?”
Robert answered with more patience than I could have managed. “I’m talking man-to-man, here. I’m making a pledge. We get everyone home safe, and you get a lawyer.”
Ewan sat back in his chair. “Well, we have an arrangement, then!”
Robert nodded, with a grim smile that said he was calm but still meant business. “We need a location.”
“I’d like an apology,” Ewan said primly. “A real one.”
“Your sister is very, very sorry.”
“Not enough.”
“She should have paid more attention to your warnings. It was a misunderstanding and a mistake.”
“And?”
“And it will not happen again.”
Ewan nodded. “See? I believe you, Robert. Because you understand the importance of family. How’s your mom doing, by the way?”
“Stella’s great. My brothers are great. Back to the point. Maybe there’s a specific place you’ve forgotten about. A getaway that’s been mentioned? A cabin? Maybe farther afield than what we’re assuming?”
Ewan scoffed. “Our mutual friend is not a cabin kind of guy.”
Three minutes left on the screen timer.
“Some northern place?” Robert guessed.
“Like a hunting cabin? I don’t think he’d tolerate a cabin.
Or even a motel.” Ewan started laughing.
“Though I heard that one of his pretty boys made the mistake of meeting a girl in one. Why do people go to motels? Use a van. Use a car. Enjoy yourself out under the starry skies. That’s what I miss. The open road.”
We waited silently for his daydream to end.
“I’m impressed you’re doing all this for my sister,” Ewan said after a moment. “I knew you broke up. I didn’t know you were back together. Any wedding bells ringing?”
“Let’s stay on topic.”
“Here’s a topic,” Ewan said, leaning into the screen, looking eager again. “Make sure you know the person you’re marrying. Don’t fall for any innocence act. Ask questions. Examine the product.”
Robert said, “I already know that your friend—your visitor—has been trying to confuse Abby about what happened the night of the car accident. I’m wise to it. So don’t bother.”
Ewan laughed. “I’m sure she didn’t like being reminded I was going to pimp her out.”
Robert’s eyes flashed. “So that wasn’t a joke.”
Ewan folded his hands across his belly, looking pleased with himself. “I couldn’t afford that car without a discount! Come on, man!”
I couldn’t take my eyes off that face. The one I looked up to.
“What’s the big deal? It wouldn’t have taken more than five minutes. And I needed a car. A person can’t do anything without a car. What the fuck’s a girl for, anyway?”
I could see Robert’s chest moving in and out. Even though I couldn’t hear him breathing, he was doing what he had to do. Big inhale. Big exhale. Don’t get riled up.
“I’m going to warn you, Robert. Know the product. Abby isn’t who you think she is.”
Thirty seconds left on the screen timer.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t spend even half a minute, never mind a lifetime, being too afraid to look him in the eye. I shifted over so that I was on the screen.
“Hi.” I felt thirteen years old again, and I hated him for it.
“Well hello there,” he said, with what sounded like tenderness. “Dogface.”
The name froze me.
He leaned forward. “You’re not about to cry, are you?”
I clenched my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms.
“You look surprisingly good,” he said.
Robert started to speak but I shook my head. This was my brother. My job.
“Ewan, please. We need a location. It isn’t about me. It’s about Benjamin.”
Ewan nodded. He moved even closer. Eyes right up to the camera. “Don’t worry, Dogface. I’m not going to be the one to tell Robert what you did.”
Ice crept into my veins.
“I’m asking if you know where Curtis is hiding.”
“And I didn’t tell Curtis,” Ewan said. “Not the important thing.”
“Focus,” I said. “Please.”
“I would never tell him,” Ewan said. “Don’t you owe me for that? For keeping my word? For twenty-four fucking years?”
Robert said, “Stop screwing around—”
But Ewan was done with Robert. He only cared about me, now.
Ten seconds.
“I’m glad it’s stayed between us. It keeps us connected. So that when you realize we’re more alike than different, when you’re ready to stop pretending you’re better than me . . .”
Ewan’s face shrank to nothingness. Black screen.
They’d closed the connection, possibly even five seconds early. Someone had noticed I’d joined the call. Either that or they’d heard Ewan cursing.
Robert turned to me, extending an arm for a hug, but I slid away.
“I’m sorry, Abby.”
I needed to leave this room.
I needed to leave this town.
Robert wasn’t going to ask the question and Ewan was never going to tell. But that didn’t matter. The truth was never going away, and it had nothing to do with the night of the car accident.
Ewan and I both knew what I’d done.