Promise Me

CHAPTER 52

Win stood a few feet behind Myron. Just in case. But he could see right away that Jake Wolf was not about to make a move. He was surrendering. For now. There might be something else, something later. Win had dealt with men like Jake Wolf. They never really believe that it’s over. They look for an out, an escape hatch, a loophole, a legal maneuver, something.

A few minutes earlier, they’d spotted Van Dyne’s car in the Roosevelt Mall lot. Myron and Win had run ahead, leaving Lorraine Wolf and Erik Biel in the car. Erik still had a few nylon cuffs he’d bought at the same store where he’d picked up the ammunition. So they cuffed Lorraine’s hands behind her back and hoped like hell that Erik wouldn’t do something stupid.

Not long after Myron and Win disappeared into the dark, Erik got out of the backseat. He moved toward Van Dyne’s car. He opened the front door. He didn’t know what he was doing exactly. He just knew he had to do something. He slid into the driver’s seat. There were guitar picks on the floor. He remembered his own daughter’s collection, how much she loved them, how her eyes would close when she strummed the strings. He remembered Aimee’s first guitar, a crappy thing he’d bought at a toy store for ten bucks. She’d been only four years old. She banged on it and did a wonderful rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” More like Bruce Springsteen than something you’d see from a preschooler. He and Claire had clapped like mad when she finished.

“Aimee rocks,” Claire had declared.

They had all been smiling. They had all been so happy.

Erik looked out the windshield, back toward his car, back toward Lorraine Wolf. Their eyes met. He had known Lorraine for two years now, since Aimee had first started dating her son. He liked her. Truth be told, he had even semi-fantasized about her. Not that he would have ever done anything about it. Not like that. Just a harmless fantasy for an attractive woman. Normal stuff.

He looked in the backseat now. There was sheet music, handwritten. He froze. His hand moved slowly. He saw the handwriting and realized that it was Aimee’s. He picked it up, brought it closer, holding it as if it were strands of porcelain.

Aimee had written this.

Something caught in his throat. His fingertips touched down on the words, the notes. His daughter had held this paper. She had scrunched up her face the way she always did and delved into her life experiences and produced this. It was a simple thought, really, but suddenly it meant the world to him. His anger was gone. It would be back. He knew that. But at that moment, his heart just felt heavy. There was no anger. Just pain.

That was when Erik decided to pop the trunk.

He looked back over at Lorraine Wolf. Something crossed her face. He didn’t know what. He opened the car door and stepped back into the night. He moved toward the trunk, took hold of the hatch with one hand, began to lift it. He heard rustling from the field. He turned and saw Myron come flying into view.

“Erik, wait….”

Erik opened the trunk then.

The black tarp. That was what he saw first. Something wrapped in black tarp. His knees buckled, but he held on. Myron started toward him, but Erik held up a hand as if telling him to stay back. He tried to rip the tarp. It wouldn’t give. He pulled and tugged. The tarp held in place. Erik started to panic now. His chest heaved. His breath caught.

He took out his key chain and dug the end of a key into the plastic. It made a hole. There was blood. He slit the tarp and reached his hands in. They grew wet and sticky. Erik desperately pulled at the tarp, ripping at it as if he were trapped inside, running out of air.

He saw the dead face and fell back.

Myron was next to him now.

“Oh my God,” Erik said. He collapsed. “Oh thank you….”

It wasn’t his daughter in the trunk. It was Drew Van Dyne.