The Mystery Texter

The Mystery Texter - Chapter 8 (of 8)

"William, what are you doing?" I ask stupidly.

"For the first time in over thirty years, I'm getting your attention."

A tied up Matthew is no immediate threat, so he keeps the gun trained on Kyle. William would know that nothing is more important to me than my sons.

Is he high? Is he under the influence of some kind of substance or has he just snapped? He's a good twelve feet away from me. His eyes are bloodshot, but I'm sure mine are too. He looks tired, but I can't tell if he's "altered". Chemically induced or not, in this moment, he is both insane and dangerous. I need to keep him distracted.

I say, "William, this isn't you."

"Apparently it is. Apparently murder is a thing that I do."

Even though the gun hasn't been pointed at me, my hands are up with my fingers spread apart. We go through "Active Shooter" training at the school every year. Hands up and fingers spread is the universal signal that you are not a threat.

"William, you were not responsible. I know that. You must know it too. It was all Warren Lewis. It was the drugs. You were panicked and hallucinating. You didn't know what you were doing and you don't remember doing it. Please put the gun down and let's talk about this."

"So now you want to talk to me. For over three decades you haven't given a shit about me, but suddenly, now I matter?"

I need to be careful. If I lie to him, he'll know. If I just tell him what he thinks I think he wants to hear, I'll piss him off even more. I have to walk a thin line here.

"This isn't about them, William." My hands are still up. I indicate Kyle and Matthew with my eyes. "Why involve them? Aim the gun at me. Let's go across the hall to my apartment and the two of us can talk this out."

"I'm not the idiot you think I am. We're not going anywhere. They're in this now. Besides, I've spent the last two hours getting to know your buddy. You changed up your usual schedule today. You kept us waiting."

"Look, Matthew is already tied up. If we tie up Kyle too, then we can forget all about them. It'll just be the two of us. Alone."

Kyle's eyes bulge wider. He doesn't want me to be alone with an armed and crazed William, but I need the gun to be away from my son.

"Nice try. I know these two people are more important to you than you are to yourself. We'll talk right here."

"Okay. But we don't need the gun, do we? No one here is a threat to you. The gun can...accidents can happen. Please. Put it down."

"I told you, I'm not a fucking idiot."

Keep him talking.

"A gun isn't you, William. Where did you even get it?"

He scoffs, "How would you know what's me and what isn't me? You haven't

known

me since we were kids." He rubs his face with his left hand. "My dad was the chief of police. You think there aren't guns in the house?"

I can still see the vulnerable eighteen-year-old inside of him. The gun is wrong. It doesn't fit. There's no way he's experienced with it. I can't believe he intends to use it, but again, accidents can happen. I need to get through to him.

"William, you matter to me. I told you that back then. Remember?"

"Yeah. I remember a lot. Up to a certain point, anyway. I remember what you said. I remember what we did. I remember you turning your back on me. Just like everyone else."

"Your dad told us we couldn't see each other or even talk to each other until after the trial was over. That was, what, seven months? Seven months is like a lifetime when you're a teenager. The time and the separation changed things. It wasn't really a choice. We'd moved on."

"No, you moved on. Without me."

"But that's what happens at that age. Look, suppose none of the bad stuff ever went down. Suppose Warren Lewis was never in any of our lives. After graduation, we both had plans to go away to separate schools in separate states. We were only months away from starting new lives without each other."

He smiles humorlessly, "I hadn't accepted at any school yet. You know, Clarke College has a great art program. It could have finally been just us."

He really is crazy. He really is insane. He really is scaring me. Charlie was right; he has been obsessed with me. Maybe he's been coming unhinged for a long time. William away with me at college? In his mind, we were probably destined to be roommates.

I would have never let that happen.

Laura, Charlie, Abbi and I weren't even basing our school choices on each other and we were a tight crew. What did William think? That at the age of eighteen, I was prepared to plan my future around him? I'm realizing that I'm trying to rationalize with an irrational person.

"Look, William, what happened, happened and because of the trial, we had to end our friendship a little sooner than we thought."

"Did you really believe that was why my dad said we couldn't see each other? Maybe you're the idiot. He found out about what we did together that night. That's why he kept us apart."

The gun is still pointed at Kyle, but William's attention is completely on me. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Matthew subtly working at his knots. Neither Matthew nor Kyle has said a word. There's nothing either of them can say.

I

have to figure out how to get us out of this.

William's voice rises a half an octave. "Come on Brock. This is the part where you tell me that that night meant nothing to you. That I started it and it was all my fault. That it was more than thirty years ago and I should be over it by now. That you were in love with Laura and it never should have happened."

His eyes are filling with tears. "Those are the things you said that night, afterwards. But those words don't change the fact that it did happen, Brock. I don't give a shit how long ago it was. It was real. You were there. It didn't have to happen. You could have stopped it. You didn't."

I lower my hands to my sides and creep slightly closer. "You're right."

He looks confused.

I inch closer still. "That was a thing that happened. I was there."

Two more small steps and I'm closing the distance between us.

"I never forgot about it."

Another step.

"If I'm honest with myself," I say, "it was an important moment. It was part of what made me who I am."

William turns and faces me. "Stop moving."

I raise my hands again.

He turns his head to Kyle, "Try anything and your father dies."

Kyle nods with wide eyes.

Step one accomplished. The gun is on me now, away from both Kyle and Matthew.

"I waited for you, Brock. I waited for thirty years. I kept fantasizing that you'd remember what that night meant to us. And I don't just mean...that. I mean the whole night. Everything we did and everything we said. Before you turned your back on me. Before I took those drugs that ultimately took over my mind and my body and I apparently did things I couldn't ever imagine doing."

I say softly, "It wasn't your fault. Everyone will see that."

"Shut up!" he spits. "This isn't about that anymore."

His finger tightens around the trigger and sweat trickles down my back.

"My fantasy never became a reality. I waited for thirty years but you never came. You never found me. After Maureen died, I gave you my number, but you never called. I'd text you and you'd hardly reply."

I don't know what I can say that won't make things worse. I wait him out.

"I'm not the loser you think I am," he continues. "I got my shit together, I stopped using, I was working more regularly. I was living an adult life; like someone you could be proud of. When Laura died, I thought you'd finally reach out to me. She was always the obstacle, right? You were in love with her from the beginning but suddenly, she was gone. Of course, I'd give you time to grieve. I left you alone for a year. But after a year, I sent you a text. I wanted to nudge you, but you still didn't bite. So, I started following you. I watched you sell your house and move into this building. You've rebuilt quite the nice little life here, Brock. Family, new and old friends. Well, all but one old friend."

Matthew is still working his wrists as discretely as he can.

William inhales deeply, "You lost your mom that night, but my losses began six months earlier. I lost my sister and she took my mom with her. That night was the beginning of twenty years of drug addiction. I lost my best friend and I lost my future. I could have done something with my art, but I ended up a college dropout."

I resume inching imperceptibly closer.

"So, I've been following you. I see you with your sons and your friends. You changed everything in your life except your job. You still teach the same thing at the same school you attended yourself about a hundred years ago. Can you blame me for thinking you might be holding onto a small part of your past?"

Charlie had been right about William following me. When we met at Starbucks back in February, if that had really been the first time he'd seen me in two years, he would have had a reaction to my weight loss. His father did. Everyone does. William was unphased, apparently because he'd been watching me all along. He was used to seeing the new me.

I ask, "What's your endgame here? What's your plan?"

He contemplates this. "I really don't know. Something comes to an end today. That something depends on you. What you do and say."

I'm afraid he's capable of anything at this point. "Look, William, I—"

He cuts me off, "Shut up! It's still not your turn. You took your turn. First with Laura and now with him." He swings the gun to Matthew, who stops fidgeting in just enough time.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I've seen it. You two are always together. Before our Starbucks meeting back in February, I saw you two on the street. After your boy here drove off with his little friend, this guy's arm was around you. He was all over you. I saw it again last night, at the reception, before you noticed me. You danced together, all smiles and laughs. I've been seeing it for over a year now. It's obvious that you two are together. How come you can be with him, but you couldn't be with me?"

I need to get the gun redirected at me and away from Matthew. I wave my arms as I shout, "William!"

It works. He whirls and in that millisecond while the gun is arcing away from Matthew and toward me, I lunge for his right arm. The gun clatters harmlessly to the floor. Matthew and Kyle are only another millisecond behind. Kyle grabs William in a chokehold while Matthew, who had managed to free his hands, awkwardly scrambles for the gun. The scramble is awkward because his legs are still bound to the chair, but ultimately he manages to upright himself and steady his aim on William.

I let out a long breath. We're safe.

Untying his ankles, I ask Matthew, "Remember yesterday when you asked me what I would do or say if William was standing in front of me?"

Matthew nods.

"Is it too late for me to change my answer?"

He winks at me, "It's never too late."

Kyle still has a hold on William, who has stopped resisting. I step up and put my face two inches from his. "You threatened people I love. That is not okay."

I deliver an uppercut blow to his solar plexus. Kyle releases him as William crumples to the floor. While he's writhing around, coughing and gasping for air, I kick him hard and we hear a rib crack.

"That," I say, "is for my mom."

~~

It only took the police ten minutes to arrive at the scene, but it was more than five hours before we were on our way back home.

In Matthew's car, on the way to the police station, I had called Brianna. Despite it being Sunday, she hustled to the station and stood by all three of us while we were questioned and gave statements. When it was suggested that my actions may have exceeded the self-defense threshold and crossed over into the neighborhood of assault, Brianna took over. She tore them apart like they were on the witness stand and made them look like idiots. "Who was the intruder here? Who was the only person in that apartment with a loaded gun?" It wasn't long after that that we were on our way back home. Once again, I was glad Brianna was on my side.

William was arrested and charged with illegal possession of a firearm and three counts of kidnapping. Whether or not murder charges get filed for that night in 1989 will be decided by the new regime in the weeks ahead.

~~

In the car on the way home, I begin to lose it. The reality of what could have happened, hell, what almost did happen, hits me hard. They both could have been killed because of me.

Kyle says, "Dad, first of all, we're fine—"

I cut him off, "That's not the point." I put a hand to my head and rub my temples. "I mean, of course that's the most important thing, but you should have never been in that situation in the first place and you only were because of me."

"Second of all," Kyle continues, "You are not responsible for William's actions today any more than you were then. Third of all, you saved all of our lives."

"A loaded gun was pointed at my son and at my..." I trail off.

Matthew says, "3.0 has it spot on. You saved our lives. You did everything right."

"It was a team effort." I shake my head, "Shame on us. It took all three of us to overtake that frail waif."

Matthew says, "Hey, I was tied up. Shame on you two."

We laugh uneasily.

"Seriously," Matthew continues. "He had a loaded gun. You couldn't have done anything any better."

~~

I think of all the people who I need to tell about the events of today. I should call Charlie first. But the person who I want to tell the most is the one person I can't tell at all. Butch Vista is gone. Radio silence.

More evidence that it was William all along?

Probably.

~~

I wake up alone. Well, I always wake up alone, but Kyle isn't home. I had told him to spend the night with Sammy. The Kid seemed fine all afternoon but sometimes things sink in later. I've had firsthand experience with PTSD myself, so I wanted him to spend the night in the comforting arms of someone who loves him. Just in case. That someone was obviously Sammy. I gave Kyle one of my credit cards and told him to get a nice hotel room with his boyfriend and that they should indulge themselves. Anything they wanted. He was more than happy to comply with my request. I also shot Sammy a text instructing him to hold onto Kyle tightly and to not let go. The emoji he sent me back was of a little round yellow guy saluting a Yes Sir.

I could have used some comforting arms around me too, but that wasn't meant to be.

I did watch the Cubs game at Matthew's. It was the Sunday night game of the week. Leya stopped by for a couple innings as sort of a sendoff. She'll be in San Diego for at least two weeks. In a few hours, while I'm in the courtroom, Matthew will be taking her to the airport.

Kyle had offered to go to court with me today, for support. I told him not to. I told him to enjoy the beautiful summer day with Sammy. Grad school will be starting soon enough and he should take today with his boyfriend and go make a memory. Todd had even offered to reschedule his honeymoon at one point, but I wouldn't hear of it. He and Jessica had their wedding date chosen and honeymoon planned long before I ever received that evil letter lo those many months ago.

But I will have Dad and Janet with me today. Kyle, Lydia and Ritchie are all giving the three of us this time alone.

At 9:15, forty-five minutes before the start of the trial, my phone rings. I check the display and it's Brianna. She tells me that based on statements made by me, Brian Jones and William Jones, the State's Attorney's Office has decided to drop all charges against Warren Lewis. There will be no retrial and he will be both exonerated and released.

I know I shouldn't be surprised, but it still feels like being hit with a sledgehammer.

Brianna goes on to say that there's a closed door proceeding to make the motions official, but Warren Lewis and his attorneys are expecting to make a statement to the press on the steps in front of the courthouse around 11:00.

~~

It would have been appropriate if it were a dark, stormy day, but of course it's clear, warm and beautiful. This would be the perfect day to take in a 1:20 ballgame at Wrigley Field with my sons and my dad. Or with Jose. Or with Matthew and Nick. Or, better yet, throw in Sammy and make us a party of eight.

I wish.

But that's not the game I'm destined to see today.

After the call from Brianna, I called my father and sister and delivered the headline news. Needing to see and hear the spectacle live and in person, we agreed to meet on those courthouse steps.

I'm the first to arrive. As I wait, I feel a presence appear on my left and I turn to see Brian Jones.

Before I can react, he holds up a hand and says, "I'm not here to cause you any trouble. You did what you had to do yesterday and I'm glad that you and your son are alright. It's all over for William. I mean, I'll always love him, but I won't support him anymore. I won't defend him or protect him. Whatever happens, he will be facing the consequences of his own actions. Whether he goes to a prison or to a psych ward is up to a judge to decide. But either way, life as he's known it is over."

"And what about you?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm going to prison for sure. I confessed to removing and destroying evidence from a crime scene, manipulating eyewitness testimony, lying under oath... They'll probably tack on more shit to all of that." He shakes his head. "They're lining up their ducks in rows. I'll be officially charged by the end of the week."

I look at Brian, a broken man. A tragic figure. He couldn't protect his daughter, he tried to protect his son and he still lost his whole family.

I say, "I'm sorry," and despite how feebly the words come out, I find that I mean it. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, "I know a great attorney, if you don't already have one."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm all set. And thank you for being a good friend to my granddaughter. She's going to need you more than ever after today."

He looks off toward the top of the steps where it's still empty and quiet.

"I think your instincts were spot on," I say. "Suggesting she leave town for a while. She's on her way to San Diego as we speak."

He grunts, "In my forty-year uncelebrated career, this was the one and only time I cheated. I bent the rules and now I deserve whatever I get. Meanwhile, this child-drugging-rapist-fucker deserves freedom, right?"

I don't know how to respond to that, so like the grown up I am, I stare down at my feet.

Brian offers his hand and I shake it. "I am truly sorry for your loss. I wish you and your family a happy and peaceful rest of your lives."

That sounds ominous. And final. Brian walks away, but he doesn't leave. He moves over to the left wing of the gathering and waits, alone.

Dad and Janet appear by my side. We greet with small hugs and wait for what is sure to be a clusterfuck. Janet and I are flanking Dad, her on his right and me on his left. Dad was there for Janet and I all those years ago, and again for me more recently. Today, we're all here for each other.

Dad asks, "What did Brian have to say?"

"I think he said goodbye."

~~

The sky is a brilliant blue, without a cloud in sight. The assembled crowd has doubled in size since I arrived fifteen minutes ago. I take in the spectacle and find myself getting angrier and angrier.

Oh yes, they should all be here, but not for the reason they think. Usually in these "innocence" cases, the released party is actually innocent. But I guess innocence is subjective. These people think they're witnessing a wrongfully convicted man regaining his freedom. In fact, they should be here protesting because a guilty man is being wrongfully released.