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Authors: James Patterson
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same rows of shabby, clapboard houses I’d passed a thousand times as a kid, looking even shabbier and more run-down now.
He turned the corner. On the left was the elementary school and Buckley Park, where we used to play Rat Fuck on the basketball courts for quarters. A block away on Perkins was the ruin of the old Stepover shoe factory, boarded up for years. I thought back to how we used to hide out in there from the priests and cut classes, smoke a little. When I turned at the corner, he wasn’t there!
Ah, shit, Neddie,
I cursed myself. You never were any good at getting the jump on somebody.
And then I was the one being jumped!
Suddenly, I felt a strong arm tighten around my neck. I was jerked backward, a knee digging deep into my spine. The sonuvabitch was stronger than I remembered.
I flailed my arms to try and roll him over my back. I couldn’t breathe. I heard him grunting, applying more pressure, twisting me backward. My spine felt as if it were about to crack.
I started to panic. If I couldn’t spin out quickly, he was going to break my back.
“Who caught it?” he suddenly hissed into my ear.
“Who caught
what?
” I gagged for air.
He twisted harder. “Flutie’s Hail Mary. The Orange Bowl. 1984.”
I tried to force him forward, using my hips as leverage, straining with all my might. His grip just tightened. I felt a searing pain in my lungs.
“Gerard… Phelan,” I finally gasped.
Suddenly, the vise hold around my neck released. I fell to one knee, sucking in air.
I looked up into the smirking face of my younger brother, Dave.
“You’re lucky,” he said, grinning. Then he put out a hand to help me. “I was going to ask who caught Flutie’s last college pass.”
Chapter 27
WE HUGGED. Then Dave and I stood there and took a physical inventory of how we’d changed. He was much larger; he looked like a man now, not a kid. We slapped each other on the back. I hadn’t seen my baby brother in almost four years.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said, and hugged him again.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning, “well, you’re making my eyes sore now.”
We laughed, the way we did when we were growing up, and locked hands, ghetto-style. Then his face changed. I could tell that he’d heard. Surely everyone had by now.
Dave shook his head sort of helplessly. “Oh, Neddie, what the hell went on down there?”
I took him into the park and, sitting on a ledge, told him how I had gone to the Lake Worth house and saw Mickey and our other friends being wheeled out in body bags.
“Ah, Jesus, Neddie.” Dave shook his head. His eyes grew moist, and he lay his head in his hands.
I put my arm around his shoulder. It was hard to see Dave cry. It was strange—he was younger by five years, but he was always so stable and centered, even when our older brother died. I was always all over the place; it was as though the roles were reversed. Dave was in his second year at BC Law School. The bright spot of the family.
“It gets worse.” I squeezed his shoulder. “I think I’m wanted, Dave.”
“Wanted?”
He cocked his head. “You? Wanted for what?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe for murder.” This version I told him everything. The whole tale. I told him about Tess, too.
“What’re you saying?” Dave sat there looking at me. “That you’re up here on the run? That you were
involved?
You were part of this madness, Ned?”
“Mickey set it up,” I said, “but he didn’t know the kind of people who could pull it off down there. It had to have been directed from up here. Whoever it was, Dave, that’s the person who killed our friends. Until I prove otherwise, people are going to think it was me. But I think we both know”—I looked into his eyes, which were basically
my
eyes—“who Mickey was working with up here.”
“
Pop?
You’re thinking Pop had something to do with this?” He looked at me as if I were crazy. “No way. We’re talking Mickey, Bobby, and Dee. It’s
He turned the corner. On the left was the elementary school and Buckley Park, where we used to play Rat Fuck on the basketball courts for quarters. A block away on Perkins was the ruin of the old Stepover shoe factory, boarded up for years. I thought back to how we used to hide out in there from the priests and cut classes, smoke a little. When I turned at the corner, he wasn’t there!
Ah, shit, Neddie,
I cursed myself. You never were any good at getting the jump on somebody.
And then I was the one being jumped!
Suddenly, I felt a strong arm tighten around my neck. I was jerked backward, a knee digging deep into my spine. The sonuvabitch was stronger than I remembered.
I flailed my arms to try and roll him over my back. I couldn’t breathe. I heard him grunting, applying more pressure, twisting me backward. My spine felt as if it were about to crack.
I started to panic. If I couldn’t spin out quickly, he was going to break my back.
“Who caught it?” he suddenly hissed into my ear.
“Who caught
what?
” I gagged for air.
He twisted harder. “Flutie’s Hail Mary. The Orange Bowl. 1984.”
I tried to force him forward, using my hips as leverage, straining with all my might. His grip just tightened. I felt a searing pain in my lungs.
“Gerard… Phelan,” I finally gasped.
Suddenly, the vise hold around my neck released. I fell to one knee, sucking in air.
I looked up into the smirking face of my younger brother, Dave.
“You’re lucky,” he said, grinning. Then he put out a hand to help me. “I was going to ask who caught Flutie’s last college pass.”
Chapter 27
WE HUGGED. Then Dave and I stood there and took a physical inventory of how we’d changed. He was much larger; he looked like a man now, not a kid. We slapped each other on the back. I hadn’t seen my baby brother in almost four years.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said, and hugged him again.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning, “well, you’re making my eyes sore now.”
We laughed, the way we did when we were growing up, and locked hands, ghetto-style. Then his face changed. I could tell that he’d heard. Surely everyone had by now.
Dave shook his head sort of helplessly. “Oh, Neddie, what the hell went on down there?”
I took him into the park and, sitting on a ledge, told him how I had gone to the Lake Worth house and saw Mickey and our other friends being wheeled out in body bags.
“Ah, Jesus, Neddie.” Dave shook his head. His eyes grew moist, and he lay his head in his hands.
I put my arm around his shoulder. It was hard to see Dave cry. It was strange—he was younger by five years, but he was always so stable and centered, even when our older brother died. I was always all over the place; it was as though the roles were reversed. Dave was in his second year at BC Law School. The bright spot of the family.
“It gets worse.” I squeezed his shoulder. “I think I’m wanted, Dave.”
“Wanted?”
He cocked his head. “You? Wanted for what?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe for murder.” This version I told him everything. The whole tale. I told him about Tess, too.
“What’re you saying?” Dave sat there looking at me. “That you’re up here on the run? That you were
involved?
You were part of this madness, Ned?”
“Mickey set it up,” I said, “but he didn’t know the kind of people who could pull it off down there. It had to have been directed from up here. Whoever it was, Dave, that’s the person who killed our friends. Until I prove otherwise, people are going to think it was me. But I think we both know”—I looked into his eyes, which were basically
my
eyes—“who Mickey was working with up here.”
“
Pop?
You’re thinking Pop had something to do with this?” He looked at me as if I were crazy. “No way. We’re talking Mickey, Bobby, and Dee. It’s
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