If I Should Die

TWENTY-FIVE

Ricky Swain waited in the Callahans’ garage for two hours before Jon Callahan returned from the bar. He’d parked by the lake so no one would see his car, then trekked through the back of Joe Hendrickson’s property until he reached the Callahans’. At midnight, all but the porch light went off in the house. He huddled in his coat, pacing to keep warm, and hoped he wasn’t making a fatal mistake.

But he had no other ideas. Asking Jon Callahan for help was his last hope to get out of this mess.

At nearly two in the morning, Ricky saw headlights turn onto the drive, pass the house, and stop in front of the detached garage. Jon didn’t open the door, but started toward the house.

Ricky ran out of the garage. “Mr. Callahan!”

Jon jumped and reached into his pocket. Ricky put up his hands. “It’s me, Rick Swain.”

At first Jon looked confused, then angry. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I have no place to go.” Ricky’s teeth were chattering and he bounced on his feet.

“You can’t be here.” Jon glanced around, as if worried someone was watching.

“I walked around. There’s no one here. The lights went off at midnight.” Ricky bit his lip. “Can I come in?”

Jon hesitated, then nodded and walked briskly toward the house. Ricky followed him through the back door into a toasty warm kitchen. Ricky’s skin tingled in the heat.

“Thank—”

“Shh. Wait here.”

Jon left the room and Ricky heard him close doors, then walk around upstairs. Ricky walked closer to the fireplace where wood still smoldered in the stove inset. By the time Jon returned, Ricky almost felt normal.

“Why are you here?” Jon asked.

“Before my mother died, she told me you were the only person I could trust in an emergency.”

“Things have changed.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I had any other choice. I’m scared.” There, he’d said it. Before he’d seen his Aunt Bobbie, he was worried—but now he was downright terrified. With Jimmy dead, there was nothing stopping her from going after him. Ricky had never known why his aunt stayed away, but his mother said as long as Jimmy was around, Bobbie didn’t dare return to Spruce Lake.

Jon walked over to the counter and poured whiskey into a glass. He drained it in one gulp, then put his hands on the counter and stared intently at the tiles.

“There’s nowhere else I can go.” Ricky’s voice cracked. “My Aunt Bobbie is here. I—I think she killed Jimmy. And—and you know what she did to my mom.”

Jon’s voice was so soft Ricky almost didn’t hear him say, “I know.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Ricky continued, speaking quickly. “I really screwed up, Mr. Callahan. I set the fire. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to, but everything just got out of control and—” Ricky stopped himself. He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. “I know you and my father didn’t always get along, but my mom trusted you, and so I have to trust you. Tonight, there was a meeting at the church. Bobbie was there, with Reverend Browne and everyone else my uncle Butch hangs out with. Even Reggie was there.”

Jon’s head snapped up. “Reggie? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jon rubbed his face with both hands. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No, I swear. I parked behind the sludge pile near the lake and walked.”

Jon went through drawers until he found paper and a pen. He wrote a line of numbers that at first looked like a phone number, but when he handed the paper to Ricky, he realized it was too long. “The bank is in Montreal. The first five digits are my safe deposit box number. The last seven are the pass code to access it. It’s everything I have on Bobbie. It’s what was keeping you alive. But with Jimmy gone—I don’t know why she’d kill him when she’s so close to finishing this deal.”

“What deal?”

Jon didn’t answer the question. “Do you know where the Fosters’ summer cabin is?”

“Of course.”

“The key is hidden in a box nailed to the underside of the second porch step. Do not turn on any lights, make a fire, nothing. Nothing that might attract attention.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve made my bed—” his voice trailed off. “Don’t worry about me,” Jon said firmly. “I only need until Sunday, then this will all be over. But if something happens to me before then, you have to go to my bank. Understand?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do not leave the Fosters’ house. If you follow my instructions, you’ll be safe. But if Bobbie finds you, I won’t be able to help you.”

Ricky bit his lip and nodded. “What’s really going on?”

“Go on, everything’s changed and I need to get to work.” Jon walked Ricky to the back door, distracted.

“Wait.”

Ricky was hoping for an invitation to stay, but Jon ran upstairs. When he returned, he handed Ricky a pistol. “Be careful, it’s loaded.”

Ricky took it, made sure the safety was on, and put it in his pocket. Without another word, he stepped into the frigid night and headed for the other side of Spruce Lake.