He Started It(85)

“Straight down that road,” I say. “Left at the fork, then keep straight off the road and go around the largest rocks. Stop at the rabbit-shaped ones.”

“I got it,” Eddie says.

It takes longer than I thought it did, maybe because I know what’s coming. Last time, every turn was a new sight, but now, as soon as the bunny ears come into view, my stomach jumps.

“There,” I say.

“I got it,” Eddie says.

“You remember those?” I say to Portia.

She gives me a dirty look, albeit a mild one. “I wasn’t a baby the first time.”

No, she wasn’t that. She was old enough to drug our cocoa, even if she didn’t realize it.

When Eddie pulls over, it’s almost a letdown. Nothing is here—no marching band, no welcome banner, nothing to mark our arrival. And no one is waiting for us, least of all Nikki. Just the big rocks and a sandy hill protected from the wind by the bunny ears.

A grave.

Calvin Bingham has still never been found.



* * *



–––––

“Looks the same,” Eddie says.

Exactly the same.

I can still see it all, like it happened just a few minutes ago. Calvin and Grandpa, facing off between the cars, and we had ringside seats. We were in the van, looking out the back windows. Eddie had opened one of the side windows, the kind that used to have a little crank on it, so we could hear everything.

“So where is she?” Calvin said.

“Oh, Nikki will be here,” Grandpa said. “Anytime now.”

“Really? Somehow she let you know she would be right here, in the middle of the desert?”

“Yep. She sure did.” Grandpa sounded like he was about to laugh.

Portia leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Where is she?”

“She’s not coming, stupid,” Eddie said.

“Yes she is!”

Grandpa and Calvin heard that. They both looked up at us. They both saw Portia’s little face contort into that expression kids make when they’re about to cry.

“Where’s Nikki?” she yelled.

“That’s what I want to know,” Calvin said, looking back at Grandpa. “You don’t know where she is, do you?”

“Go to hell. I know where my granddaughter is.”

Calvin rubbed his forehead like he was tired. And done. “Yeah, this has been great, and thanks for the tour of the desert.” He moved toward his car, then turned back one last time. “Your daughter just wanted to make sure her kids were okay. She didn’t want to call the police on you. You know, she even told me about your wife dying and—”

“You shut up about my wife,” Grandpa said.

“Look, I’m not even supposed to be talking to you. My orders were to follow and make sure the kids were okay, and you didn’t get into any trouble,” Calvin said. “I don’t care what happens to you, and I’ve got no problem calling the police. You can tell them all about Nikki.” He threw his hands up and turned away, back to his car.

“Stop.”

It wasn’t Grandpa.

I was so busy with Portia, I never heard Eddie get out of the van. Now I saw him, down below us, and he had Grandpa’s gun.

Calvin saw the gun and froze. “Now, wait a minute—”

“Eddie!” Grandpa said. “Give that to me.”

Eddie did not move, other than to glance at Grandpa. “He’s going to call the police.”

“No, I’m not,” Calvin said. “I’m just going to leave. I’m quitting this job.”

“You said you were going to call the police,” Eddie said.

“No, I meant I’d call your mother and she would call the police. Who knows, maybe she won’t?”

Eddie did not waver. “That’s not what you said.”

“Eddie,” Grandpa said, taking a step closer to him. Closer to that gun. “This guy is just a hired investigator. He doesn’t care who Nikki is, let alone where she ran off to. He’s doesn’t care if the police are called or not.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t turn away from the scene in front of me, which felt more like a movie than real life.

Except the only one with a gun was my brother.

“Lie,” he said to Calvin, who now had both his hands up and they were both empty. “You’re going to call them. You’re going to turn Grandpa in.”

“No, I won’t.”

“They’re going to lock him up and look for Nikki.”

“Hey,” Calvin said. “I promise you I won’t—”

Eddie pulled the trigger.

Not once. Three times.

This, apparently, is what we do in our family when we feel threatened. We get violent. Or at least some of us do.





We’re back in the same place, and we’re all staring at that sandy hill. I try to imagine what’s left of that Honda. It was just a hunk of metal when we left it.

But I can still feel the heat of the fire.

Eddie gets out of the car first, claps his hands together. “This is it.”

We all stand in the clearing, looking up at the bunny ears. This should be our selfie, right here, out in the middle of nowhere. Eddie in his polo shirt and khakis, his Top-Siders so worn out they’re embarrassing. Portia in her short shorts and child-sized shirt, her black hair knotted up into a mess. Me in my khakis, tank top, and baseball cap. Felix’s baseball cap.