“No, no … I did it … I killed that lady … she’s dead!” Ryan sobbed harder, his broad chest heaving. Tears poured down his cheeks. His nose ran freely, his mucus streaming.
“Ryan, look at me. Look at me.” Jake put his hands on his son’s tearstained face. They had to get the story straight before they called the police. They had no time to lose. A car could come along any minute. “I need you to listen to me.”
“I killed her!” Ryan kept shaking his head, hiccuping with sobs. “Dad—”
“Ryan, listen, try to calm down—”
“I can’t, I can’t!” Ryan shook his head back and forth, almost manically, out of control. “I killed her, I killed her!”
“Ryan, listen!” Jake shouted, only because Ryan was becoming hysterical. “We’re going to tell the police I was driving the car, do you understand? I was driving the car and you were the passenger. Got it? I’ll do all the talking, you keep quiet. You can do that, can’t you?”
“No, no, no, I … killed her!” Ryan shouted back, his words indistinct, his tears and mucus flowing.
“Ryan, stop. We’re going to tell the cops I killed her. Do you hear me? You cannot contradict me, no matter what they ask you. I’ll do the talking, you keep your mouth shut.”
“Dad … no!” Ryan lurched out of his arms, scrambled backwards, and staggered to his feet, shaking his head. “No, no, Dad. No!”
“Yes, do what I say, it’s the only way.” Jake got to his feet, hustled to the phone, and picked it up to call 911.
“No, no, wait … look. Wait.” Ryan plunged his hand into his pocket, pulled out a plastic Ziploc bag, and showed it to Jake, sobbing. “Dad … I … bought this … today. What do I do with it … when the cops come?”
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry … it’s weed … I’m sorry—”
“What?” Jake asked, aghast.
“I smoked up … with Caleb … after practice.” Ryan wept, his hand flying to his hair, rubbing it back and forth. “But I’m not … high now, I swear it … I’m not, I’m not.”
“You smoke dope? Since when?”
“I don’t do a lot … I swear. I did it today … but I’m fine now … that’s not why I hit the lady—”
“Give me that!” Jake grabbed the bag from Ryan’s hand. It was a quarter full of marijuana.
“I killed that lady … she’s dead!” Ryan dissolved into tears, holding his head, falling to his knees. He rocked on his haunches, back and forth, becoming hysterical. “She’s dead … because of me … Dad, what do we do? I killed her … I killed her … I killed her!”
Jake had to make a split-second decision, wrestling with his conscience. A woman was dead, horribly, but that couldn’t be changed. If Jake called the police and told them the truth, then two lives would be destroyed—hers and Ryan’s. And Ryan was too distraught to maintain any lie to the police. Even if Jake tried to claim that he himself had been driving the car, the cops would question them both. He couldn’t be sure Ryan wouldn’t blurt out the truth about who was driving, and if Ryan did, the cops would test him and find marijuana in his blood. They would convict him of driving under the influence and vehicular homicide. He would go to jail. There would be no college, no future, no nothing. Ryan’s entire life would be ruined—and all because Jake had let him drive.
Jake’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t bring himself to look back at the poor woman lying off the road, lifeless. He had no more time to ponder. He was a family man, and he’d lived his whole life being good, moral, and honest. He’d never broken the law in any way. So he knew he was making the absolute worst decision of his life when he stuffed the cell phone and Ziploc bag into his pocket, grabbed Ryan by his coat, and pulled him to his feet.
“Get back in the car, son,” Jake said, grimly. “Hurry.”
Chapter Three
Jake entered the kitchen to face his wife ahead of Ryan, according to plan. He felt sick to his stomach with guilt and horrified at what they had done. All he could think about was the dead woman, but he had to keep it together for Ryan’s sake, to get past Pam. He’d been able to wipe the blood off his face and hands in the car, and he’d hidden his blood-stained parka in the garage. Pam wouldn’t think it was strange that he didn’t have a coat on because he often left it in the car, since their garage was attached. On the way home, Jake had pulled over and quieted his weeping son, even as he’d laid down the law.
Ryan, don’t tell Mom. Never, ever.
I … never ever would. Are you … insane?
I mean it. No matter what. You know what she’d do. She’d have to.
I swear … I won’t tell Mom … I won’t tell anybody.
“Jake, what took you so long?” Pam was standing at the sink and turned toward him, a petite, naturally pretty woman with intelligent blue eyes, an upturned nose, and a small mouth with a perfect smile. She had her horn-rimmed glasses on, and with her long brown ponytail, gray hoodie, and jeans, she looked exactly like what she was, the smartest girl in the class, his valedictorian wife.
“Ryan was starving, and we stopped at the diner.” Jake tried to mask his emotions and avoided her eye, while Moose trotted over and began sniffing him, wagging his feathery tail harder than usual. The golden retriever must have been smelling the blood he hadn’t been able to wipe off his jeans, because it had seeped too quickly into the fabric. He hoped Pam wouldn’t notice, since there wasn’t much and the denim was dark blue, but Jake felt repulsed at the very thought. He never would have imagined himself being responsible for the death of an innocent woman, much less leaving her body by the side of a road.
“Why didn’t you call?” Pam shut the dishwasher door with a solid clunk, then looked past him for Ryan, as if she was already sensing something amiss.
“Sorry, I should have.” Jake put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, feeling like Judas himself. He had never lied to her, except to tell her that he liked all the wacky things she did to her hair. Highlights, lowlights, whatever, she was beautiful to him. He loved her.
“So why didn’t you call?” Pam pulled away, with a slight frown.
“Fill you in later,” Jake whispered quickly, as if he were trying to say it before Ryan came in. He pressed Moose’s muzzle away from his jeans, but the dog wasn’t giving up, so he reached down and scratched the dog’s head, as if he wanted him close.
“Okay.” Pam’s forehead relaxed, and Jake could see that she had put a wifely checkmark in the box next to Explanation Pending. He glanced at the TV, which showed the local news, playing on low volume. He couldn’t bear it if a breaking news report about the accident on Pike Road came on, with a lurid HIT AND RUN banner. Every time he’d seen a hit-and-run report on the news, he’d wondered to himself what kind of person would do such a hateful thing. And now he knew. He’d just become the guy he hated. In fact, he’d just become the guy everybody hated. He turned off the TV, his hand shaking slightly.
Pam looked over when Ryan entered the kitchen and she flashed him a warm grin. “Hey honey, how was the movie?”
“Okay,” Ryan answered, his voice sounding almost normal.
Jake turned around to see what his son looked like in the bright lights of the kitchen, and his eyes were predictably reddish and puffy, his fair skin mottled. Jake’s heart broke for him, because he knew how guilty and anguished Ryan was feeling. Yet at the same time, Jake was relieved that they had their story in place, because any mother could tell that the boy had been crying, especially as good a mother as the Honorable Judge Pamela A. Buckman, of the Superior Court of Pennsylvania.
“Only ‘okay’? The reviews were excellent.” Pam folded her arms and leaned a slim hip against the kitchen island, getting ready for a conversation, but Ryan kept walking through the kitchen to the hallway, precluding any question-and-answer, as planned.
“Mom, I’m going up, I’m beat,” Ryan called out, tugging Moose away by the collar, on the fly. “See you in the morning. Good night, guys.”
“Oh, okay, sleep tight, honey.” Pam shifted her gaze to Jake, lifting an eyebrow.