Interpreter for the Dead Read online

  One more call, the last one before Emerson called him to say he had a deal.

  He spotted a portable toilet across the street and ran to it, dodging cars. Nearly knocking the whole thing over, he leapt inside and slammed the door.

  "Whittaker residence" said Dane; the plastic shed giving his old-man voice a little more bass.

  He gave Emerson the same routine, changed up only slightly, and finished the call just before a large semi-truck came rolling by.

  Chapter 26

  Dane still hadn't heard from Emerson by the next morning.

  Probably wanted to break the news to the board first, Dane tried to convince himself, as he dug through the cupboards looking for a can of coffee. He hoped the old man hadn't sent the will over to the lawyer to check, but he had all the cell phones nearby just in case.

  No coffee anywhere.

  The milk in the fridge smelled rotten so he dumped it down the sink. All that was left was beer. Assuring himself he was victim of circumstance and not an alcoholic, he pulled one out of the six-pack and twisted off the cap. Flat, but cold. Pressing the bottle to his forehead he closed his eyes, wishing he'd bought more aspirin.

  C'mon Emerson, just make the damn call.

  He took another drink and hopped up to sit on the counter beside the answering machine - willing it to ring. Nothing.

  He scrolled through the caller ID one more time just to be safe. The only call had been from AJ the night before, telling him she had fed the horses, and asking that he call her back and let her know what had happened down in Denver.

  Knowing she would want to go to the police, if only for her own family's protection, he held off on calling her back. How much protection would they get? And for how long? They sure as hell didn't have enough to get the Baxley boys arrested, let alone put away. Everything was circumstantial, and tampered with at that. Baxley's lawyer would have a field day.

  Dane finished off the beer. He tried to convince himself it was a good thing the co-op wouldn't be around anymore. Better for Oren and AJ to have to move somewhere else than to wake up some night with their house burning down around them.

  Time seemed to move in reverse as he waited impatiently for the phone to ring. He grabbed another beer, peeling the label off as he paced back and forth.

  The real question wasn't what the McConnells and the rest of the co-op families were going to do; the question was what he was going to do.

  The others were bound by rules, but he was not. The others were limited to merely grieving, but he was not. The others could take comfort in thinking that justice might someday be done, if not in this life then the next. But he could not.

  He recalled everything his father had ever done to him, every beating he had taken, and still he couldn't just walk away. His father had been murdered. If he, his son, did not do what needed to be done, then who would?

  He gripped the empty bottle in his hand, his knuckles white.

  The phone rang and he rushed over. The call was from Emerson. Dane wanted to hear the words as Emerson spoke them, but forced himself not to pick up the receiver.

  He needed the words to be recorded.

  "Mr. Dane. This is Dr. Emerson from the Boulder School for the Deaf and Blind. The offer was generous, but we feel it's just not right making deals with someone over the issue of a will, particularly with someone of your background. We are moving forward with litigation."

  Dane stood stunned, listening to the silence.

  He played the recording again, sure he'd heard wrong. This time the silence that followed the call was replaced with the roar of blood pulsing in his ears.

  All that had happened to him came back in an instant, from the day he first talked to Caywood to the smug look on Spurlitz' face yesterday.

  He picked up the answering machine and threw it across the room, shattering the pictures hanging on the wall.

  They wouldn't make a deal with him, but they would with McConnell? Just as his father had always treated his deaf friends better than his hearing son, the school would sooner take its chances with its own kind.

  Hurling the beer bottle through a window, the sound of shattering glass quickened his pulse.

  "Fuck you," Dane shouted out the jagged hole, oblivious to the glass cutting into his feet.

  "Fuck you all!"

  They didn't care what happened to him. They didn't care when his father whipped him so bad he bled and they didn't care now that he was going to prison.

  Dane turned over the kitchen table and went into the living room, hearing himself yell obscenities as he smashed furniture and tossed boxes and embedded the table lamp into the TV set.

  A picture of AJ and Oren with his Dad smiled up at him from the buffet table and without hesitation he brought his fist down into it.

  They wanted the land, they could have it. When they woke up some night with Roger Baxley smiling at them from the other end of a gun, they would remember just how much it cost them.

  Dane found a suitcase in his parent's closet and shoved his things inside. He wasn't going to hang around and let himself be thrown in jail.

  He found his shoes and put them on, not caring about the blood.

  Slamming the front door, he headed for the old truck. He threw his bag into the cab, and then hopped in and tried to start it. Nothing. He ranted again, popping the hood. He found the battery charger and hooked it up, his hands shaking, hearing his teeth grind inside his own head.

  He wasn't going to let them win. He wasn't going to play their game. They were all going to get what they deserved, just like his father got just what-

  Dane leaned against the side of the truck and wept, sure he'd lost his mind.

  Air. He needed air.

  He got to his feet. He heard the horses whinny and nodded his head mechanically. Feed the horses, feed the horses, he had to do his chores. He snatched up a bale of hay and strode toward the paddocks on autopilot.

  Something snapped beneath his shoe and he stopped, kneeling down to pick it up.

  His father's pager. The casing was cracked, but numbers still displayed across its screen. He pushed a button and a message was displayed.

  ARE YOU OKAY?

  Dane laughed. He was definitely not okay. He pushed the button again.

  DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?

  Just a couple hundred thousand dollars. Dane laughed again.

  CALL ME HENRY, PLEASE.

  Dane stopped laughing. The date on the message was the day before his father died. He thumbed through the messages again

  ARE YOU OKAY? DO YOU NEED ANYTHING? CALL ME HENRY, PLEASE.

  None of the messages had been answered. Where was his father?

  Burying the dog.

  Dane swallowed his tongue thick in his throat and sweat dripping in his eyes. The flu. Caywood had given him the flu...

  Dane pressed the button again.

  DR EMER.

  It was the final message his father had ever sent. Dane looked up, and he knew he was seeing the same things his father saw when he had died. The foothills, orchards, horses.

  He was kneeling in the very spot where his father died.

  He looked back down at the pager. No declaration of undying devotion to his family. No final words of apology. Just a plea for help.

  Dane felt his heart thump like a jackhammer. He stood and wiped the sweat from his face.

  Pain in his hand jarred him back to reality. He'd gripped the pager so tightly it had cut his hand open. Blood coated his palm, dripped down his fingers.

  The horses bellowed again, breaking the trance. He dropped the pager on the ground, leaving it behind as he intended to leave all this behind.

  Leaving. He was leaving.

  Now AJ could deal with the Baxleys and the horses and the evil realtors and the dead fathers. She'd been there for him in life; she could be there for him in death.

  You really going to leave her open like that?

  She's a big girl. She got herself into it, she can get herself o
ut.

  But what about your father?

  His buddy AJ can deal with that, too.

  Why are you so mad at her?

  I'm not mad!

  His heart was going like crazy now. Pushed to the limit. It finally dawned on him...

  Never trust a woman.

  AJ, it had been AJ that found his father. AJ found the dog too.

  Dane fell to his knees, his breath coming in quick shallow gasps. He thought his heart was going to explode.

  The beer. It had been drugged.

  He careened to the ground like a rag doll, and as he fell he caught a skewed image.

  A truck coming down the drive.

  AJ's truck.

  She was always there, and now he knew why.

  Chapter 27

  Dane pushed himself to his feet and stumbled back towards the barn. He heard the truck door slam and looked over his shoulder. She was running toward him, gaining fast.

  The dog was still in the truck. He had a chance.

  But his feet betrayed him and he fell again and felt her hands on his back.

  "No!"

  He spun around, swung wild and sent her flying backward.

  He got up and tried to run again. The barn blurred in and out of focus, the ground swung back and forth. So close.

  He looked back again and she was running toward the truck. The dog. Dane stumbled and fell, got back up again, and made it to his truck.

  His legs gave out and he fell to the ground, watching helplessly as she moved toward him and raised the gun.

  A pain in his chest and everything went black.

  His mind swirled, images and words overlapping. He could hear her voice, taunting.

  "I'm just angry you talked me into destroying evidence."

  Like a puppet, she had pulled his strings.

  "I should have told you about the Baxleys' threatening me sooner."

  Now it was time to cut the strings...

  "Throw up, goddamnit!"

  He felt her fingers in his throat.

  "Throw up!"

  The sensation of vomiting brought him back to his senses. The contents of his stomach were splattered on the ground, on his jeans, and his hands.

  Focus. Focus on AJ.

  Through the tears he could make her face out. His body was quaking. His heart was at an erratic gallop. She held him steady as he doubled over with dry heaves, and in response he recoiled from her.

  "I didn't do this, Michael."

  He tried to concentrate, tried to think.

  Think!

  "How did you...how did you know I was-"

  "I saw you staggering around out of your mind. You were rambling, saying you'd overdosed on speed. Your heart is going like a trip hammer. I shot you with a sedative, it should counteract it."

  The drugs hit his system and he felt his heart slow somewhat, then intermittently speed up again.

  She pulled the cell phone off her belt.

  "I'm calling an ambulance." If she was trying to kill him she was going about it all wrong.

  Dane lunged at the phone and ripped it from her hand. He tried to speak, but his dry heaves kicked in again.

  "Give me the phone, Michael. This has gotten way out of hand."

  He shook his head, choked out the words.

  "They'll call the cops."

  "Well, if they don't, I sure as shit am."

  She made a grab for the phone. He fell back and dropped it on the ground, smashing it beneath his knee.

  "You are out of your mind."

  "I've been booked for possession once. They'll put me away."

  "Better alive in there than dead out here. This is over, Michael. I'm serious."

  "I'd rather be dead."

  She walked away.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To use the phone in the house."

  "AJ-"

  Too late, his insides did a flip and sent him back on all fours.

  By the time he got to his feet she was on the front porch. Dane stumbled to the house, and followed the telephone line from where it exited the roof to a pole less than fifteen feet away. He yanked it loose, and then slowly made his way up the stairs. His head started to clear a little, but his body was still shaking, the two drugs battling it out inside his veins.

  "What did you do to the phone?" She held the dead receiver in her hand, surveying the damage he'd done in his drug-induced rage.

  "You can't call them AJ," he said, collapsing on the couch.

  AJ crouched down next to him, a look of concern on her face.

  "Someone drugged you!"

  A loud rap on the screen door nearly gave them both a heart attack. Grasping her chest in surprise, AJ spun around to see who the intruder was.

  Spurlitz.

  Dane was too messed up to react.

  AJ's maternal instincts kicked in as she left Dane lying on the couch to answer the door. She spoke through the screen.

  "Can I help you?"

  Spurlitz grinned, looking over her shoulder at the wrecked living room and Dane askew on the couch.

  "Did I miss the party? Or was it just a little domestic dispute?"

  AJ wasn't about to let him get the best of her.

  "Oh that? My crazy dog got in here, she's such a pest. Michael is really ill, with the flu, he needs to rest. Why don't you come back later?"

  The smile dissipated quickly.

  "No can do Miss. He owes me a urine sample."

  Dane had managed to make it to the door, and was leaning against the wall, glaring at Spurlitz through the screen. The smell of vomit was thick in the air.

  "What are you doing here? I filled out my weekly report yesterday."

  "Yep, but in all the confusion, I plum forgot to get a urine sample from you. I just wanted to make sure all my kids were healthy and happy before I left for Vegas. Got a week's paid vacation," he winked at AJ, "hope now's not a bad time."

  "Unbelievable," AJ shook her head, fed up with Spurlitz's line of shit.

  He moved in closer, with his nose practically on the screen. "You feeling okay, Mikey? Your pupils are like little pinpoints," he said, then addressing AJ. "Usually that's a dead giveaway for drug use, but not here, because he doesn't do drugs. Isn't that right?"

  "Just give me the fucking bottle." AJ couldn't keep the look of shock off her face.

  Spurlitz pulled open the screen door and stepped inside. "Hope you don't have shy kidneys. Rulebook says I gotta watch you do it."

  "Guess you were right about why he likes his job so much," AJ said.

  "See you got yourself a gal with a sense of humor," he paused, taking in the scene in the living room with great satisfaction. "Chop, chop Mikester. I gotta get this back to the office before the courier picks up today."

  An odd look passed over Dane's face. AJ caught it. She thought he almost smiled as they walked by. Dane struggled to walk straight, bracing himself on the furniture and the wall as he went. Spurlitz practically did a happy dance as he followed him to the toilet.

  A few minutes passed before Dane and Spurlitz returned from the bathroom. AJ chewed her fingernails while she waited, the shattered photo of her and Dane's father catching her eye. She touched the broken image sadly, realizing what had driven him to smash it.

  "Well, I'm sure this will come back clean of course. You kids continue with whatever it was you were doing," Spurlitz said as he rounded the corner and beelined for the front door.

  He could barely contain his glee, knowing full well Dane was on something. In that moment Spurlitz knew he was going to nail him after all.

  The screen door slammed shut behind him.

  Frantically he started digging through the piles of papers and crap on the coffee table, nearly toppling over as he searched wildly through the mess.

  "What are you doing?" AJ couldn't believe what she was seeing. He'd practically overdosed, wouldn't let her call an ambulance, and now was searching for god only knew what.

  Triumphantly, he held up his car k
eys. Swaying like a drunken sailor on leave, he headed for the door.

  "Where are you going?" she said, astonished at the whole display.

  "I'm going to get my piss back."

  A look of understanding washed over her face, as she realized what he intended to do.

  "Oh, no you don't." She skirted around the sofa and cut him off before he reached the door. "Give me the keys."

  "You can't stop me, AJ."

  "I'm not trying to stop you dumbass, I'm going to drive you there. There's no way you're going to get to that courier in time, in the shape you're in."

  Despite himself, Dane smiled. He grabbed an empty Big Gulp cup from the table by the door and handed it to her.

  "Here, fill this up."

  "Fill it up? Do you need something to drink?"

  He arched an eyebrow.

  "AJ, if I can get to those samples, I have to switch my urine with someone else's. I'm sure as hell not taking my chances switching it with some other con's."

  He liked the way her freckled nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of peeing in a cup.

  "Have you done any drugs lately?" he asked her.

  "Very funny, it's nice to see you've still got a sense of humor after nearly dying."

  She snatched the cup from his hand.

  "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, turning tail and heading for the bathroom.

  While she did the deed, Dane rounded up a couple things from the house he knew he'd need. The primary tools an Exacto blade, screwdriver and Acetone nail polish remover.

  AJ returned a moment later, holding the cup, her face turning pink in embarrassment.

  "Let's go."

  Chapter 28

  AJ watched him from the corner of her eye while she drove through Boulder. Dane alternated between wide-eyed hyper-alertness and semi-consciousness as the two drugs battled it out inside his system. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn the truck around and take him to the hospital.

  "Just run it," he urged her at every red light, AJ only sometimes obeying.

  "He can't be that far ahead of us" she argued, cutting off a Jeep as a line of orange cones forced her to merge right. "We aren't going to get anywhere by getting pulled over."

  "Turn," Dane told her, reaching out and pushing against the steering wheel, his eyes rolling in the sockets.