Chapter Thirty-Four
He caught the first available flight to Pennsylvania, landing in Pittsburgh during rush hour. The airport was busy, but he managed to wrestle a car rental and began driving south.
The sun was falling as he pulled off the highway into a small town, his GPS directing him to a row of houses, each identical to the other.
Trey recognized it as war housing, renovated and updated. They were small but functional homes, each family putting on their own individual stamp. One had a series of Pittsburgh Steelers flags hanging from the porch. The next had large rose bushes blooming, the red and white flowers almost bursting out of the lot.
The Aisles family had the last in the row, their house painted a dark green. An American flag hung from a flagpole attached to the porch.
Trey pulled up in front of the house and turned the engine off.
He sat there for a long moment.
What the hell am I doing here?
A gentle rapping on the window brought him out of his introspective.
David Aisles, Nick’s father, peered in, frowning.
Trey lowered the window.
“Trey? Trey Pierce?” The senior squinted. “Is that you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Haven’t seen you in years.” He crooked a finger. “Get the hell out and come inside. I’ll ask Emily to make us some coffee.” He grinned. “I’ve already had my one cup today, but she won’t be able to refuse me another one now that we’ve got a guest.”
Emily Aisles was a small woman, barely five feet high, with her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. She refused to take Trey’s word that he wasn’t hungry, and bundled together a grilled cheese sandwich and potato chips while the two men sat at the kitchen table with their coffee. An old white apron settled easily over her sunflower dress, her white slippers completing the outfit.
“Been a long time,” Nick’s father said. He was bald, a change from the full head of dark hair he’d had when Trey had seen him at the funeral.
“Yes, well…” Trey nibbled at the edges of the sandwich, caught between enjoying the simple meal and his nerves taking control. “I’ve been busy.”
Emily sat beside them, clutching her own mug. “So, what brings you all the way out here?”
“I…” Trey paused, his courage wavering. He wanted to bolt, to run out of there and drive all the way back to Las Vegas.
“Trey.” She put her hand atop his. “Trey. It’s fine.”
“I found the man who drove the car that killed Nick.” The words tasted like wet cotton wadding. “He confessed he did it, but he was drunk when he did so. I got it on tape but…” He sighed. “We’ve got friends working on it, but the odds are that he won’t go to jail. The recording might be inadmissible in court. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
David rubbed his chin as they sat in silence.
Emily took a sip of coffee.
“Well.” David curled his hands around the mug. He peered at Trey. “How long you been searching for this guy?”
“Since right after the cops called it cold. I created a search program for his tattoo, the one I remembered. Turns out it was a birthmark, not a tattoo. That’s why it took so long to find him.”
“Now you know who he is,” Emily said.
“Yes. His name is—” Trey stopped, seeing David’s upraised palm.
“No. I don’t want his name.” He glanced at his wife for confirmation. “No point to it.”
Trey studied his sandwich, unsure how to respond.
He picked up a potato chip and ate it, the saltiness draining the last of the moisture from his mouth.
“What’s he like?” Emily asked.
Trey took a sip of coffee before answering. “He’s an assh…he’s a jerk. Drunk, chronic alcoholic. Rich guy, though—that’s how he’s avoided justice so long.” He flexed his right hand. “I broke his nose yesterday.”
Emily’s disapproving frown hit him harder than if she’d slapped him.
“So, you hit this man,” David said. “Did it feel good?”
“Pretty good,” Trey turned his attention from one to the other. “I wish I could tell you he was behind bars and awaiting trial. I’m sorry I can’t give you better news.”
“No, no.” Emily took his hand. “We’re fine.”
“How?” Trey fought to keep from shouting. “How can you be? Your son, my best friend, was run down by this bastard, this monster.” He ground his teeth. “When I first confronted Vin—him, he told me he didn’t remember the accident. I wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t take it out on a man who didn’t remember what he did.”
“You felt sorry for him.” David offered. Trey nodded, his forehead furrowed. “It was the right thing to do if he didn’t recall.”
“But he did. He told me later on when he wanted to hurt me. He remembered the entire thing, all of it.” He pounded the table with his fist, forcing himself to stay in control. “Every goddamned second. He played it all back for me, every move he made.”
“How horrible,” Emily whispered. “What a sad man.”
David cocked his head to one side. “Why would he say he didn’t remember the first time then change his story?”
“His adopted sister was there when I first confronted him. He lied to keep her unaware.” A mental image of Ally appeared. “She didn’t know about any of it. She’s been busy covering for him—forced, unwittingly, by the parents. They spirited them out of the country after the accident to keep their son safe from prosecution. Then he had a fight with her and came to the club to get back at me. He told me he remembered it all. Recited every bit.” A cold grip took hold of his heart. “She came in toward the end. I don’t know how much she overheard, but she turned and walked out.”
“More awfulness,” Emily said. She got up and went to the counter to refresh her coffee. “His family must feel so bad.”
“What?” Trey wasn’t sure he’d heard her properly. “His parents? They’re the one who enabled him, kept him from answering for his crimes.”
Emily returned and sat beside him. “That’s got to be a burden, having a son like that. To love and care for him and yet still not be enough to keep him on the right path. How sad.”
Trey closed his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. “He killed Nick.”
“Yes,” David said. “He’ll answer for it at some point—if not in this world, then the next. God knows how many other people he’s hurt in his life. His sister, his parents. That’s why we pity him, not hate him.”
Trey opened his eyes to look at the pair. “I don’t understand.”
Emily smiled and patted his shoulder. “I know.” She drew a staggered breath. “Don’t misunderstand me—I’m still filled with rage and sadness over Nick. He was my first-born, my only son. But life’s too short to hold a grudge forever.”
“He killed your son!” Trey pulled his fingers up, the fists resting on the tablecloth. “I owe Nick everything I’ve ever done after that, everything I’m ever going to do because he shoved me out of the way in time. I had to find the driver to make it right, and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter?”
“It sure as hell matters,” David replied, the harsh tone silencing Trey’s reply. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re angrier than I am, than we are.”
Emily reached over and took the older man’s hand.
David closed his eyes and drew a long, deep breath. He squeezed her hand before looking at Trey again. “I’m not going to tell you I’d give him a big hug if we ever meet. I might take a shot at him for the sake of it, knock him head over heels. There are days when all I can think of is how much I miss Nick, and it tears me up inside, makes me so mad…” He swallowed hard. “This sort of hate, it can eat you up.” He reached over and tapped Trey’s chest. “It’ll choke you out if you let it.”
Emily stared at their entwined fingers, both hands gnarled and wrinkled with age. “Some nights I cry and cry and cry, thinking of what Nick could have done. He wouldn’t have wanted us to be sad forever. He would have wanted us to do something positive.” Her smile was soft and gentle, taking the edge off of Trey’s rage. “We started a scholarship at his old high school for kids to go to college. It’s not much, but it helps us move forward.”
“You said you were going to do something, but…” Trey frowned, trying to remember. “Did you write me and tell me?”
“We did. Once.” David held up a finger. “When you didn’t answer back, we assumed you were moving on and wanted to put this behind you. We were okay with that.”
“But…” Trey searched his memories.
He flinched, remembering he’d been out of town. The letter had sat in his drawer for days then weeks then months. It’d slipped under a stack of files, with Trey making a mental note to answer when he had some news about Nick’s killer.
Which he’d never been able to do until now.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” David said. “We appreciate your hunting for this man, appreciate your devotion to justice. But tell us, what have you been doing with your life aside from this?” David asked. “What have you done to move forward?”
“I work with my friends. I… I’ve been busy. We help those who need it.” He found his voice. “I took what Nick gave me and paid it forward. I’ve done what I can for those who have no voice, who need solutions no one else can give them.”
Emily’s smile soothed the last of the sting from David’s words. “Listen. You finish up your snack, and we’ll sit in the living room and chat for a bit. I’ll set up the spare room for you to stay in overnight.”
Trey pulled back. “I can’t put you out like that. I’m sure there’s a hotel nearby…”
“You’re not going to a hotel,” she said, her tone holding him in place. “And that’s that.” She looked at her husband.
He nodded in confirmation.
Trey hesitated for only a second before reconciling himself to the inevitable.
He smiled and picked up the sandwich.
…
Three weeks later, Trey glanced around the airport terminal. He hadn’t gone to New York City in years, avoiding the sprawling metropolis.
But now he was back.
It’d been an interesting few weeks, the oddest of his life.
But the best.
He’d stayed with the Aisles longer than he’d planned.
They’d showed him all the things they’d done in Nick’s name. The local high school had a display detailing the Nick Aisles college scholarship for academic excellence. A walk in the nearby park let him see a tree planted in Nick’s memory.
He’d also accompanied them out to the cemetery. It’d seemed odd to stand there in front of the grave with them, the sense of incompletion still there, but without the rage, just the regret of not getting full justice. But he could live with that.
Trey wasn’t fooled into thinking the older couple didn’t still suffer. He saw Emily’s reddened eyes, evidence she’d been crying when he wasn’t around. But she also doted on Trey, baking him cookies and making her special meatloaf.
By the time they’d sent him back to the airport, he felt lighter, a shadow lifting from his heart and soul. He’d promised to stay in touch.
Now he was ready to get on with the rest of his life.
Beginning by saying good-bye.
The signs might have changed in Times Square but not the rush and flow of life, the energy swirling around him as he walked along. A liquor store sold him a bottle of expensive whiskey without question, putting it into a brown paper bag.
Left, right, left. The cadence kept him focused as he moved away from the clogged popular bars and out a bit farther, to the smaller pubs and cafes. No one bothered him, the street vendors falling quiet as he walked by, not daring to try and make a sale to the man on a mission.
There.
The mailbox was gone, the sidewalk fresh and unscarred. But he knew the spot, knew this was where he’d lain and bled, crawling to Nick with a broken leg.
Where Nick had died.
He studied the street, imagining the black BMW charging down on them without warning, Vincent waving his left arm out the window with a laugh before disappearing into the night.
His leg ached but only a dull throb, the memory brushing over the scars.
He took a shallow breath and stared at the concrete.
I did the best I could, brother.
In his mind’s eye, he saw Nick, smiling and nodding.
He unscrewed the top from the bottle of whiskey and took a sip, the memory of Vincent’s drunken arrival at the club racing to the front of his mind.
He poured the rest out on the sidewalk and watched the golden liquid trickle over the cracked pavement and into the nearby grate.
It’ll have to be enough.
Trey recapped the empty bottle and put it in a nearby waste bin, then hefted the duffel up on his shoulder and turned away.
There was a cheap hotel nearby—his flight back to Vegas wasn’t until morning, and he had another visit to make.
Sheldon Construction was located in a tall office tower, ancient gargoyles staring down at him as he entered.
It didn’t take long to find the right floor and head for the receptionist sitting at the crescent-shaped desk.
She smiled, taking in his somewhat ragged appearance. He hadn’t dressed up, his leather jacket hanging over the black T-shirt and jeans.
The blond woman didn’t flinch. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Ally Sheldon. Is she available?”
She paused, and he saw the shift in her gaze, saw her weighing her words. “She doesn’t work here anymore. Is there someone else I can refer you to?” Her hand hovered over her phone bank.
“No. No, thank you.” Trey strode down the hall, his pulse pounding in his ears as he processed the information.
Where are you, Ally?
What have you done?