Abram's Bridge Read online

  “Okay, Greg, let’s call it good. You want to keep the tab or pay up now?”

  Greg’s head wobbled. “Come on, Del, one more for the road.”

  “’Fraid not, bud, but listen, I’ll carry this over. I know you’re good for it. If not, I know where you live,” Del said.

  “Yeah,” Greg said, pushing up from the bar, “I can grab a sixer at Jenner’s.”

  “Greg,” Del said as Greg reached the door.

  “Huh?”

  “It will get better. Think of this as starting over, hitting Reset.”

  “Yeah, don’t I wish?” Greg said, turning away, stepping out into the night.

  It was cold, he could see his breath, but the heat from his booze-laden body held the frigidity at bay. He could still walk a straight line, vision hadn’t doubled yet. He walked to his Ford pickup, got in, started the engine and moved from the curb, heading to Jenner’s for a little more elixir.

  Reset, Del had said.

  Some things can’t be undone, he thought as he drove down Main Street.

  A shiver ran through him.

  “You stink,” Lucille Sawyer said, watching her son pass before the television and plop down on the couch.

  “That’s not me,” Greg said. “That’s life.”

  “Don’t get smart with me. Just because your father’s not here to thump you anymore don’t think I’m going to put up with it,” she said, never looking up from the scarf taking form in her hands.

  “I’d be drinking with him, instead of by myself,” Greg said, popping the top of a Budweiser.

  “Your father knew when enough was enough.”

  “Yeah well, good for him.”

  The room fell silent. Greg knew bringing up his father was a dangerous maneuver. His mother went one of two ways: she would either fly off the handle or clam up—her coping mechanisms for all things Big Ron, especially in the shadow of his death this past spring. Greg was lucky. Tonight, she went quiet.

  Good, he thought.

  Upstairs, Li’l Ron, having dozed off atop his math book, slipped into a dream of the angel by the creek, Sweet Kate.

  Chapter Six

  “So, you left off at ‘I met a boy’,” Li’l Ron said, watching Sweet Kate as she placed her hand in the flowing creek.

  “He was older than me. He came down here one night, mad at his parents or his girlfriend, I can’t remember which. I was beneath the bridge, dreaming of someplace better. Something plopped into the water from above, sending ripples. I tried to keep quiet—I didn’t want to be seen in my secret place, but more came down. The way the water shimmered in the moonlight and spread out from his rocks…it was like visual radio waves, like a signal, ya know?”

  Li’l Ron pulled a Slim Jim from his backpack, entranced from his spot beside her. He watched her trying to play with the water—it passed through her with no acknowledgment.

  “I remember I sneezed, and he yelled out ‘hello?’. I covered my mouth, but he came down.

  “He was tall, handsome—curly, blond hair hanging down to his shoulders, T-shirt and jeans. I introduced myself as Katharine. He sparked up a cigarette and joined me by the water.”

  “How old were you?” Li’l Ron said, tossing the last of the jerky in his mouth.

  “I was almost fourteen. I told him I came here to get away from my problems. He didn’t laugh, didn’t scoff. He just said ‘me too’.

  “He had a girlfriend. She wasn’t very nice to him. She made him feel like a failure. She was a…”

  “A bitch,” Li’l Ron said.

  “Yes, that’s what he called her.

  “I didn’t say anything. I just listened. He seemed to like that. He started coming by every day, and then, sometimes at night. Eventually, I got more comfortable, and he listened to me. For the first time I had someone I could talk to. I liked it. I liked him. And I kissed him.”

  There was a smile upon her face. Ron fought back a short burst of jealousy.

  “He pushed me away, at first. But I couldn’t help it. I told him it could be our secret.”

  “What about his girlfriend?” Ron said, trying to keep the agitation from his voice.

  “She was still treating him poorly. We continued hanging out almost every day after school. Kissing and holding hands. I felt like I was in a fairy tale. I thought I could save him from his evil girlfriend, and he would save me from my empty life.”

  “So did he leave her?” Ron said.

  Sweet Kate got up and walked to the shadow of the bridge.

  “On my birthday, he wanted to give me a present. He…he wanted to make love to me.

  “I…I told him I wasn’t ready, and that he still had a girlfriend. We kissed and held hands, but then he started touching me. Telling me he was in love with me. That he would leave his girlfriend, and that we could get out of this town. I let him touch me, but then I said no, but he didn’t stop.”

  Li’l Ron got up and went to her. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  There were no tears, but she was crying.

  “You don’t have to tell me the rest,” he said.

  “No, no, it’s okay. I need to,” she said, looking up.

  Her crystal eyes glistened, begging him to stay and listen. He did. He wouldn’t leave her this way. The night was taking the remaining daylight, but he’d come better equipped today. He pulled his knit cap down over his ears.

  “He made me. I cried all the way home. Three days later, he came back down to the bridge. He was so angry. He told me his girlfriend was pregnant, and that his parents were mad at him. That they wanted him to marry her.

  “He told me he loved me and tried to kiss me. I smelled the beer on his breath, and I pushed him away. And he got angrier.

  “I told him to leave me alone, to go to his girlfriend and do the right thing. He shoved me down. He told me I was just like them. Just like his parents and just like her. I got up and tried to run, but he grabbed my hair and threw me back down. I didn’t know what to do. He came at me, trying to kiss me again. I kicked him between the legs and ran.

  “I made it to the top of the incline, but he was right behind me. I shouted for him to leave me alone or I was going to tell the police what he had done to me.”

  Ron’s fist clenched and unclenched, his blood boiled beneath the surface.

  “That’s when I saw it in his eyes. The same look as when he’d forced my legs open. This meanness…this rage. I was halfway across the bridge when he grabbed me by the throat and began to haul me back. I thought he was going to drag me back down below and hurt me again.

  “He squeezed harder and harder, and then I felt a pain in my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. He began to cry. So did I. Then, he shoved me over.

  “The last thing I saw was the water rushing toward me, and then it all went black.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ron said, taking her hands. She hugged him, placing her head on his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  Sweet Kate’s story haunted Li’l Ron all the way home. The fact that someone could harm, could hurt, could kill that precious girl…it was eating at his guts.

  He had to find out who this guy was. Maybe he moved, maybe he was dead, maybe the son of a bitch still lived in town.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” his father yelled from the front lawn; he had a nasty-looking cut above his right eye.

  “I was riding my bike,” Li’l Ron said, hopping off and walking the Huffy to the porch.

  “It’s fucking dark out here. You can’t be out this late with no…no note…” his dad said, stumbling into him.

  He was drunk. Li’l Ron couldn’t recall ever hearing him swear so much.

  “You leave him alone,” Nan said from the doorway. Li’l Ron wasn’t sure from the lack of light, but it looked like
she was sporting a fat lip.

  “What?” His father said, whipping around to face her. “Just leave me alone. This is my boy, and I’ll do what I like with him.”

  “Get in here, Li’l Ron,” Nan said, ignoring his father.

  Li’l Ron scuttled up the steps, slipping in behind her. He felt like he’d walked into a Lifetime movie. He watched his father falter and drop to his butt.

  “Never mind him,” Nan said. “You just get inside, and get to doin’ your homework.”

  “But he’s—”

  “I know what he is,” she said. “Just do as I say. Go on.”

  His drinking had gotten exponentially worse over the last few weeks, but Li’l Ron couldn’t have predicted it would progress to this. Had he hit Nan? And she retaliated?

  He rushed into his room without turning on the light, moving to the window. He gazed down upon his father, watching this alter version of him rolling around and slamming his fists into the browning grass. Li’l Ron contemplated phoning his mom, but the idea died at the thought of hearing her voice. He had not spoken with her since the night they moved.

  His father picked himself up and stumbled to his truck, stopping at the door, searching his pockets and coming up empty. He opened the door, climbed inside and disappeared.

  Good. Sleep it off.

  Li’l Ron did have homework to do, but knew that between his father’s bad night and Sweet Kate’s story, his concentration for the evening was shot to hell.

  Grabbing his headphones and the yellow cassette Walkman he’d dug out of his dad’s old box of stuff in the back of the closet, he settled onto his bed. The player was a far cry from his Zune, but it was better than nothing. His dad still had two full boxes of cassette tapes, and Li’l Ron had found three Metallica cassettes among them. He hit Play, closed his eyes and folded his hands behind his head. The words and music felt just right.

  He thought of Sweet Kate. Saw her being choked, stabbed and tossed from the bridge like a piece of trash.

  Tomorrow was Saturday. Maybe when his dad sobered up, he could ask him if he remembered hearing anything about a fourteen-year-old girl who went missing. He thought about getting up and going to ask Nan, but the heaviness settling over him like a warm blanket held him in place. He joined the song, fading into black.

  Lucille Sawyer, knitting her way through the mix of sorrow and anger in her heart, tried not to think about her son and his ugly outburst. He was just like his father.

  Big Ron had been a good, decent, God-fearing man, but on occasion would give in to the lesser man within him and lash out in anger. Beer was usually an accomplice, but not always. Some nights he would just bring home the ugliness from his job working for McCray’s Construction, and become foul.

  Big Ron had raised his hands to her a relatively small number of times in the course of their twenty-six years together. She wished she could forget those incidents, but the scars beneath her hair were always there to remind her.

  Greg Sawyer awoke in the cab of his truck sometime after 3:00 a.m., teeth chattering, body shivering from head to toe. Something was pounding in his head, trying to get out. He sat up and found he’d pissed his pants.

  Reset, he heard Del say again.

  “I wish.”

  Chapter Eight

  Li’l Ron cracked open the door to his father’s room. The man lay buried beneath the covers, out cold. At least he’d made it inside. Ron closed the door, careful not to disturb him, though after last night he was sure his father could challenge the dead for heaviest sleeper.

  Nan was already gone, probably hitting up Packard’s Flea Market; it was her Saturday morning ritual, though now it was almost noon.

  He decided to ride his bike into town. The library might have some old newspapers. Maybe there was something on Sweet Kate’s disappearance. During her retelling of the story, she failed to mention the boy’s name. He could go ask her, but decided to leave her be. If she’d wanted to tell him, she would have. Besides, he could use some time alone.

  He grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts and a Pepsi—breakfast of Olympians—and headed out the door.

  Flying down Aikman Street, heading away from Abram’s Bridge and toward Main Street, the coolness of midday was refreshing. He leaned with the curve at the top of the hill and, letting go of the handlebars, spread his wings, soaring into town.

  He passed by a few antique shops, Del’s Bar, a True Value hardware store, Greg’s Italians, Jenner’s Grocery and a bunch of other little shops before reaching the library at the end of the world.

  The public library was an old, two-story brick building off the very end of Main Street and at the start of Hempel Road. Coasting his bike to the rusting and chipped forest-green bike rack, he rolled his front tire in the slot, two spaces over from the expensive-looking mountain bike on the end.

  The other bike belonged to Heath Barnes—rich kid, school genius and all-around asshole.

  Great, he thought. Hope he minds his own friggin’ business and leaves me the hell alone.

  Li’l Ron climbed the stone steps and pulled on the large red door. The smell of old books, and pound upon pound of dust and buried literature, made itself at home within his nose hairs. He sneezed, officially announcing his arrival to both the white-bearded librarian and, much to his chagrin, Heath Barnes.

  Dammit.

  A second sneeze followed (he was able to catch this one in the sleeve of his sweatshirt). He made his way to the desk and the large man behind it.

  “Bless you,” said the older gentleman behind the desk. The placard before him read Mr. Schultz. “What can I help you with, son?”

  “Ah, I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, I’m going to need a little more to go on,” he said, sitting back and folding his hands over his big belly. He thought the guy kind of looked like Colonel Sanders.

  “I’m doing some research on the town.”

  “Okay, that’s good, a little more,” Colonel Sanders said.

  “It’s on…” Li’l Ron dropped his eyes to the placard, “…on a girl who went missing.”

  This caught Mr. Fried Chicken’s attention. He sat up, his chair moaning at the shift in weight, and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

  “A missing girl, you say? Now, son, what is this for? A school paper?”

  “Yes,” Li’l Ron lied. A lie was always so much easier to pull off when they filled in the blanks for you.

  “Hmmm. You look familiar, son; haven’t seen you in here before, have I?”

  “Yeah, me and my dad just moved back into town.”

  “Your dad?” Mr. Schultz seemed to ponder this. “That wouldn’t happen to be Gregory Sawyer, now would it?”

  “Yeah, how’d ya know?”

  “Thought I saw him heading into Del’s a few weeks back. Wasn’t sure though, hadn’t seen him in ages. But looking at you, I can see him, and your mother. How is Jennifer these days?”

  “She left us,” Li’l Ron said. The last word hung in the air between them, mixing with the dust and the silence.

  After a moment, Mr. Schultz stood up, the chair sighing in relief.

  “Awful sorry to hear that. Your father used to be good friends with my boy, ah…”

  “Oh, Ron, but you can call me Li’l Ron. Everyone else does.”

  “Named after your grandpappy, huh? I used to bowl with Ronny back in our younger years, our livin’ years, I guess you could say.”

  Li’l Ron watched him come around the desk. His white pants and white button-up shirt bowing around his midsection made him want to laugh. The all-white getup only enhanced the Colonel comparison.

  “Now, we’ve had two big missing persons happen here over the last thirty years. Do you know what year yours is?” he asked.

  Mine, Ron thought. He guessed he was sort of taking ownership of this one.

  He didn
’t know the year of the incident. He’d never thought to ask. Hell, he didn’t even know Sweet Kate’s full name.

  “No, sir. I just have a first name.”

  “That’ll do just fine. Is it Mary Mur—”

  “Katharine. Her name’s Katharine.”

  “Ah…yes. Katharine Bell. Sweetest little thing. She didn’t seem to have many friends, which is why a lot of people thought she just ran away.”

  “No one thought she was murdered?”

  Mr. Schultz stopped midstep—Li’l Ron almost walked into the white wall of his backside, thoughts of crashing into snow piles back home in Bethel Park crossing his mind.

  Mr. Schultz turned, brows furrowed, head tilted, and looked over his lenses. “Murdered? Goodness no. Why in heavens would someone think such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, I was just thinking—”

  “Too many monster movies and zombie books—you kids these days are more warped than the old Kenny Rogers LP I have on my turntable,” he said, turning around and moving on.

  “Her mother passed away a couple years ago…cancer, I believe.”

  Li’l Ron followed. He saw Heath Barnes watching them as they disappeared down an aisle of boxes.

  “Now, I think Katharine went missing in 2000…yes. I believe she disappeared in 2000, shortly after that whole Y2K mumbo jumbo. And it’s…right…” he squinted, holding the corners of his glasses, “…here,” he said.

  Pulling down the box, Mr. Schultz nodded for Li’l Ron to head back the way they’d come.

  They reappeared two tables from Heath, Mr. Schultz dropping the box on top of the table with a loud thud. More dust danced up into the ray of sunlight bursting through the large window on the other side of the genius with the curly, blond locks.

  Heath couldn’t stop looking up from his book every other second.

  “This is our collection of the Coral County Sentinel. Circa 2000, January to April. You’ll find what you’re looking for in mid-to-late April, if memory serves me, which, even at my age, I think it still does.”

  Li’l Ron watched him tap the table with one of his fat, sausage-like fingers before waddling back toward the desk.