Lucas wasn’t sure if his head was going toexplode or implode, but he knew he couldn’t take the pressure formuch longer.Tell the truth, be yourself, make people happy, lookafter Sean, don’t get too close, don’t fight, help your friends,follow the rules, act like you used to.
“I don’t think I can, Mrs.Gage.”Lucas knewhis voice was more ragged than it should be, but he couldn’t eventry to control it.Instead, he slid away along the wall.“I wouldif I could.I swear.But I don’t think I can.”
Her smile faded.“You don’t look too good,Lukey.Have you seen a doctor?Are you okay?”
“I saw a doctor.”That was the easy questionto answer.Was he okay?Of course not, but that wasn’t what shewanted to hear.“Don’t worry.”
“It’s my house,” she said suddenly.“I saywho lives there.You need to come home with me.We’ll get youcleaned up, have a good meal, and everything will look brighter.Everything will be fine.”
God, it was tempting.To pretend, just for alittle longer, that everything hadn’t changed.But Lucas hadalready chased the priest out of his job, and now he was going tochase Sean out of his house?No.“That’s not a good idea,” he said,and he slid a little farther along the wall.“But thank you.Foreverything.I mean it.For helping me when I was growing up, andcoming to see me in jail, and for taking me in again.Thank you.”It was stupid, but he could feel the tears welling up behind hiseyes.“Goodbye, Mrs.Gage.”
She made a frustrated noise and reachedtoward him, but when he kept moving away, she didn’t follow.Hestumbled down the street, trying not to think about anything otherthan placing his feet more or less straight and keeping himselfupright.
Sean.Mrs.Gage.The whole Gage family,really—just one more thing Lucas had messed up.And for what?Itwasn’t like his life was getting better as he ruined things forthose around him.He’d worked so hard in prison, trying to improvehimself and earn a second chance, and he’d almost allowed himselfto believe that it might all work.But of course he’d been wrong.Stupid, like a little kid who thinks he can have a do-over justbecause he really, really wants to stay in the game.
But the game was over for Lucas.It probablyhad been even before things had gone so horribly wrong that nightin the bar, if he was being honest with himself.Now, the bestthing he could do would be to retire gracefully, without messing upany more than he already had.
He leaned against another store wall andwatched as an eighteen-wheeler rumbled by.He tried to imaginehimself stepping out in front of it, but his mind recoiled from theidea in horror.No.His annoying, reptilian instinct forself-preservation kept him from taking the easy way out.But hecouldn’t keep going as he had been.He wasn’t strong enough.Hewasn’t ready.God, he wished he could go back in time and tell thecounselor at the prison to forget about the whole early release.Lucas snorted out a rough approximation of a laugh.He’d actuallyapplied for this shit.Jumped through every hoop they told him to,been a good boy, said “yes sir” and “no sir” at all the righttimes.He’d abased himself before the very authority he and Seanhad always rejected, just so he could come out to deal with allthis.But thinking about Sean wasn’t a good idea.Not a good ideaat all, his inner lizard told him.
Lucas pushed away from the wall so violentlyhe stumbled, but he caught himself and turned to look at the storehe’d been leaning on.Suddenly, it was all so clear.There was noneed for any of this to continue any longer than it already had,and Lucas was the one who had the power to stop it.Well, Lucas anda little help.He took a deep breath, then turned toward thesliding glass doors just a few feet away.Help.Lucas had foundhelp in this store countless times before, and there was no reasonhe should abandon the practice now, not when he needed it most.
ChapterSixteen
It was the second night in a row that Mark’sevening at home was interrupted by a phone call, and once again,the person on the other end wanted to talk about Lucas Cain.Thistime the call was from the police station, not the hospital.
“We called Darren Samms first,” the femalevoice told him.The officer sounded young and not entirely sure ofwhat she was supposed to be doing.“It seemed like a job for aparole officer, for sure.But Darren’s out of town, down in thecity at some meeting or something.He said you could probablyhelp.”
“I don’t understand,” Mark said.“What is ityou expect me to do?”
“We’re hoping you can intervene,” she said.“I mean, Cain’s breached his parole in half-a-dozen ways, but he’sdone it so blatantly—we learned about this in school, and Darrensaid he agreed—it’s not uncommon for recent parolees to getoverwhelmed by the freedom and deliberately reoffend just as a wayto get back inside.That’s pretty clearly what’s going on here.Isn’t it?”
Mark was certainly familiar with thephenomenon, and he had to agree that Cain’s behavior seemed to meetthe criteria.“But what can I do?Aren’t you obligated to arresthim?”
“We’re keeping an eye on him,” she said.“We’ll make sure he doesn’t go anywhere or do anything stupid.Morethan he already has.But if we arrest him, he’s going to be back inthe system and it’ll be a lot harder to find a good solution, youknow?”
This was kinder, gentler treatment than Markhad really expected a convicted killer to receive.“You don’t thinkhe should go back to jail?”
“Hewantsto go back.It’s not reallypunishing him if we give him what he wants.”
That logic was hard to argue with.Mark gavehimself a moment to think, and was relieved to find that he wasn’tfighting back anger or resentment.“I’m not working at the halfwayhouse right now,” he said.“But I’ll call the person who is.We’llhave someone come down as soon as possible to see what we cando.”
He hit the button to disconnect the call,then reactivated the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.But there was no answer on Terry’s cell.Mark carried the phonewith him to the corner of the living room where he’d set up an oldwooden desk and scuffed through the papers on its surface until hefound the list he was looking for.But there was no answer atTerry’s home number, either.It wasn’t unheard of.Everyonedeserved a night off.Maybe Terry was at the movies, or maybe hejust didn’t want to be disturbed.It wouldn’t ordinarily be aproblem.
And Mark wouldn’t let it be a problem thistime, either.His behavior had been a big part of what drove Cainto this state, and that meant he was responsible for helping Cainout.That was only fair.He grabbed his coat from the hook by thedoor and patted its pockets to be sure his keys were where theybelonged.Then he headed for the door, without giving himself timefor second thoughts.He wasn’t sure whether Terry would approve ofhis involvement, but Mark couldn’t let an innocent—
He froze just as his hand was reaching forthe door of his car.An innocent man?Was that what he’d just beenthinking?Cain was anything but innocent.By the evidence heard incourt, by the findings of the police, by Cain’s own admission, hewas a killer.He’d killed Jimmy.Terry was right about Mark needingto move past all of this and focus on the things he could controlrather than dwelling on the past, but not even Terry had gone sofar as to suggest that Mark forget what Cain had done.He hadn’tused the word forgiveness, either.So what was Mark thinking?
He was thinking of green eyes, he realized.Thinking of confusion, and pain, and in a strange way, Jimmy.He’doften worn a similar expression when he’d gotten in trouble as achild.Then Jimmy got older and he got tougher, at least on thesurface.He’d pretend to be cool and in control, but underneath itall, there was still a little boy looking to his big brother forhelp.And when it had really mattered, when he’d needed it most,Mark hadn’t been there for him.
He banged his fist on the hood of his car andfelt the hollow thud echo through his body.What was he doing?Whatwas right?He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky,searching for guidance.It was startling to realize that a pair ofbeady eyes were staring back at him from the branch of a treeoverhanging the driveway.
He squinted into the dim light.A squirrel.Askinny grey squirrel, sitting there watching him as if it knew whathe was thinking and wanted to see what he decided to do.It lookedjust like the one at the halfway house, Mark mused.He had no ideawhat kind of a range squirrels covered.And what did it matter ifit was the same squirrel?Just because Cain had been kind to thelittle animal, that didn’t mean he was a good man.It was asquirrel.A rat with a bushy tail.
And Cain had spoken to it, and made it apromise, and followed through on that promise.“Truly I tell you,just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me,”Mark whispered, and the squirrel cocked its head as if listening.“But ask the animals, and they will teach you,” Mark added, andearned another twist of the animal’s tiny neck.Mark shook hishead.“I’m not giving you peanut butter, if that’s what you’rethinking.I’m not that much of a softie.”
A softie.A killer.Which was it?Mark lookeddown at the keys in his hand, then said, “Are you even supposed tobe out at night?Are squirrels nocturnal?”But when he looked backat the squirrel for an answer, the animal was gone.
Damn.Wondering about the habits of arborealrodents was a lot easier than deciding what to do.Mark tried toimagine what he would do or say if he went down and found Cain, andnothing came to him.But when he pictured himself going back insideand continuing with his evening as if nothing had happened, herealized that there really wasn’t a decision to be made.Hecouldn’t just ignore this.
