Chapter 9
Vivian watched as Wilden moved swiftly but silently through the forest. They’d come into this park area from an entrance that she didn’t know, but one he was obviously quite familiar with.
She had to wonder what his childhood and teenage life had been like, such that he had so much time to spend enjoying the outdoors. Of course he was young back then, before his father showed up, making his life more hellish than most people could possibly imagine. She couldn’t imagine that either.
He stopped suddenly, put a finger to his lips, and then slid forward silently. Just that change in his movement, so quiet, was something she didn’t even know how to respond to. It showed a level of expertise and a need and an awareness she couldn’t even imagine.
Suddenly they heard someone running, and this time it was away from them.
Wilden relaxed slightly, and Sarge jumped forward on his leash, pulling hard as if to go after them, but Wilden called him back.
“It’s okay, Sarge. We’ll leave it for now.
” Sarge didn’t like hearing that. He turned on Wilden several times, barking mad, as if telling him it was time to go, but even Vivian could tell that the person was long gone.
In the distance, she heard a vehicle start up and tear off out of there.
She turned to Wilden. “Apparently he had someplace to go in a hurry.”
He smiled, a little grimly, but still, it was a smile. Then he nodded. “I’m sure he absolutely did. What do you want to bet that was our mystery man in this whole mess?”
“You mean, the third bully, Larry Hinkle?”
He looked at her briefly and then nodded. “Yes, it would be the third, wouldn’t it?” He shook his head. “My dear old dad would have been the first. The second is Harley Cooper. Now, with him in jail, we know who is left, but we don’t have the confirmation we need to prove it.”
“That’s the challenge.”
They continued to walk, with her saying it might be good to let the dogs settle back down before turning around. Wilden and Vivian were finding joy and a certain amount of peace now that they knew they were alone, and it felt empty around them.
The animals reacted completely differently as well. Sarge calmed down when he realized they wouldn’t give chase, but he seemed to shoot Wilden a look of disgust, as if to say, We could have got him, you know?
Wilden tugged on his leash and said, “I know, buddy. You were right there, and we could have gotten him, but we weren’t alone, and we always have to consider the other people and the other dogs with us.”
Sarge seemed to calm down after that, as if he understood the words.
She chuckled. “You two make a great pair.”
“Maybe, and, if there’s ever a need for Jackson to rehome him, I would take him in a heartbeat,” he offered, giving Sarge a pat down. “Unless you want him.”
“I think you guys are a pair already, so I’m not even sure how that would work if something happened to poor Jackson,” she noted, “because Sarge is pretty paired up with him too. He was inconsolable before you came and spoke his language, which settled him right down.”
“It’s loyalty, right?” he asked. “Over time, you treat him nice, and he’ll treat you nice, and, before you know it, a bond has developed, and it’s not one you can just shut down because you’re busy or have other things to do.
I hate it when people get dogs as a trial to see if they’re ready for kids, and then they turn around and get rid of the dog once they have a kid,” he explained.
“A dog is part of the family, then suddenly they’re outcasts. It’s really rough on the animals.”
“I’m not sure who you think you’re talking to,” she teased, “but I deal with that all the time.”
He flushed, looked at her, and nodded. “Sorry, I do get a little carried away at times.”
She laughed. “It’s the right kind of carried away, and I’m right there with you. I see it way too much.”
He shrugged. “I don’t understand how people can have a pet and then toss them away because they don’t fit into their life anymore. It’s pretty sad.”
“I know. I hate it so much,” she muttered.
They continued to walk, enjoying the afternoon, and he finally broke their silence. “I was thinking maybe we could do dinner one day this week.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, with a chuckle. “I can’t say that I was looking for a relationship when you walked into town,” she admitted, “but it’s nice to find somebody who thinks more like I do.”
“I agree with you there,” he said, with a smile.
“In the spirit of honesty, I didn’t come to stay.
… I came to check on Nan and to confirm that my father was truly dead and buried.
I know that sounds terrible,” he added, as he threw up his hands, “and I certainly don’t mean to be a jerk, but I didn’t want him popping out of the woodwork, running another con, putting my grandma through even more of his BS. ”
“He really left an impression, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he sure did,” he noted.
She hesitated. “And just because I’m a bit of a skeptic by nature, did you check the body to confirm it was him, and he wasn’t still potentially alive and kicking somewhere?”
He gave her a grim expression. “Believe me that’s the first thing I did.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, because the last thing I want to think about is him popping out of the woods someplace like this, with us thinking that he’s gone and that we’re safe from him at least.”
“No, I absolutely checked,” he stated. “And even though I know a lot of the people in town here knew him by sight, I didn’t want to take a chance, same as you, that he could suddenly show up again like some big joke, which would be right up his alley.
But I did look at the body, and it definitely was him, and he was shot as described, which is an interesting twist.”
“And yet you’re not surprised?”
“Not with the things he was doing, no. Either somebody he double-crossed or stole from probably killed him. I don’t know for sure, not yet,” he clarified.
“However, it’s obvious that the man had more enemies than friends, and I can’t really blame anybody for shooting him after all the terrible things he’s been putting people through.
This morning, when I heard he wouldn’t let Nan have her medicine, I was ready to shoot him myself. ”
“I was thinking about that,” she shared. “It seems weird that nobody knows anything about what happened to him.”
“Or rather they all know but aren’t rushing to fix it,” he replied. “That’s probably a fair, if rough, assessment, but more than likely the truth,” he added. “It’s tough knowing everything hinges on finding out who killed him, yet I don’t really care. Dad’s gone, and that’s the bottom line for me.”
He took a moment and added, “For my grandmother, it’s more complicated.
That’s her son, and she feels guilty for how he turned out, even though she did everything she could to raise him right.
Maybe he was just a bad seed. I don’t want her feeling guilty.
She raised me too, and I think she did a pretty-good job. ”
She chuckled. “I’m sorry she feels that way, but I might feel that way too if it were my son,” she pointed out. “I don’t know.”
They continued to walk and talk. When they heard a shout up ahead, she frowned, as they continued on the trail, walking toward it. “The dogs seem a little upset.”
He nodded. “It’s a public park, so all kinds of things could be happening. It’s good for them to experience that and to realize that everything isn’t an emergency and that some things just aren’t our business. Plus, in this setting, sounds aren’t always what they seem.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
He shrugged. “When lots of people are around, sounds become very distorted, and what you thought was something clear-cut, like kids playing, could end up being something very different, or vice versa.”
She nodded slowly. “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”
He stopped to ask her, “You want to turn around and go back?”
She hesitated and said, “I kind of do.”
“Perfect,” he replied. “There are lots of other places we can go for a walk.”
As they turned around, an older man stood there, a big grin on his face. “Look at that. You must be John’s son.”
Wilden stared at him and asked, “Why must I be?”
“Because you look like him, and I figure, if you look like him, you got to be him.”
“I might look like him,” Wilden acknowledged, “but I am nothing like him at all.” He held Sarge back, noting the man before him was no friend and had a weapon. He held the gun down by his side.
“I don’t know about that,” the gunman replied, “because that dad of yours was one sly convict. He was supposed to hand over a bunch of money to us, but that slimy old bastard just kept it for himself. I want to know where that money is.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll get nowhere asking me,” Wilden replied. “I’m just glad the asshole is dead and gone. I have nothing to do with him, nothing to do with his money.”
“He’s your father,” he stated, staring at him.
“You couldn’t prove it by me, and I’m still glad he’s dead and gone.
And, if you think any money is coming your way from him, you’re wrong.
There ain’t jack shit.” Wilden didn’t say anything about the money he had discovered but surely that belonged to his grandmother after everything John had taken from her.
“I don’t believe you,” the gunman stated, “and there’ll be hell to pay. So, you better come up with some of that money or else.”
“Or else what?” Wilden asked in a lazy tone, still hanging on tightly to Sarge’s leash. “What will you do?”
“I can do almost anything you can think of.”
“In that case, I’ll just assume you’re the other asshole who’s been picking up veterans around town and popping them.”
“Popping them?” he repeated, his eyes going wide. “Hell no, we ain’t killed nobody.”
“Yeah, well, what happened to Mark Lindstrom then?” he asked, thankful he remembered the name of the other vet who had disappeared.