Page 34 of Keep

“I don’t have any friends there.”

“I’ll be there.”

“That’s different. You’re my brother.”

“Yeah, I’m your brother. That’s why I’ll punch anyone who messes with you, Dalton. Now quit dragging your feet. We’ll be late.”

We’d just moved to a new neighborhood and I was starting second grade. Hale would be at the same school but worlds away with the big kids. Our mother snapped this picture in the front yard before we walked the three blocks to our new school. We wore new sneakers and wide smiles, probably under our mother’s orders, and Hale’s arm was draped over my thin shoulders. We’d scuffle on occasion like all brothers did but at age seven I wanted to be just like him.

That long ago morning when two little boys stood grinning in the front yard on the first day of school was unreachable now. I remembered this picture but I never had a copy of my own. Today it wound up being the only thing I took from Hale’s apartment. I told Phil I’d arrange for the rest of Hale’s possessions to be boxed up and donated to charity. He gave me another sweaty handshake and repeated his sorrow over Hale’s death.

I was hoping to get a call back from Andy but I still hadn’t heard anything so I opted to go to work and try to have a normal day, assuming there were no repeat visits from John Jones or any of his unnamed associates.

Being on the field always got my head back in order. I decided to leave the tedium of being at my desk and helped out the coaching staff instead. The kids were all eager to show me what they could do and I heaped praise on them, gently pointing out a few adjustments on batting stances and clapping the loudest when they produced results. When I saw a kid’s face light up in awe as he admired a homerun ball go sailing over the fences I could almost forget there was anything wrong in the world.

Almost.

“Good night, Dalton,” said Alma as I passed her in the hallway en route to my office. She was fishing her keys out of her purse and stopped. “Oh, there was a package for you.”

“A package?”

“Yup. It actually arrived hours ago but I didn’t want to disturb you while you were coaching so I just accepted it from the delivery guy and left it on your desk.”

“Thanks, Alma. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

The square box looked ordinary and sat in the middle of my desk. I didn’t regard it with any wariness until I saw there was no return address label. And evidently no postage either. Whoever had delivered it worked for someone other than the post office.

I picked the thing up and shook it gently. The contents were light and didn’t feel dangerous. Still, I proceeded with caution as I used a scissors to slice through the packaging tape.

Inside were about a thousand of those Styrofoam packing peanuts, a loose collection of fake Monopoly money and a newspaper. None of it made any sense to me until I picked up the paper and saw it was the Sun Republic, the newspaper Cami worked for. And the page was folded on a short article she had written about illegal gambling rings being busted at the university.

There was no explicit threat but whoever had sent this wanted me to understand they knew exactly where to find my wife. I remembered the way John Jones had touched Cami’s picture and grinned. This wasn’t just a prank. It was a warning.

My heart was in my throat as I snatched my phone. It felt like a year passed before she answered on the third ring.

“Hey,” Cami said in a breathless voice. “I was just about to call you. I need to go into a press conference in a few minutes. One of the light rail trains derailed by the ballpark and two pedestrians are in critical condition so my team is working late to get the story ready. I probably won’t be home before ten.”

“Where are you?” I demanded.

“I’m standing right outside a conference room at the Marriot.”

“And there’s people around?”

“Of course. I just told you there’s about to be a press conference so there are cops and reporters all over the place.”

“Okay.” I exhaled with relief. “Don’t go anywhere alone. Even if you just need to go to the restroom, get security to escort you.”

“Dalton.” She was concerned now. “Why? What’s going on?”

I filled her in on the details of the mystery package.

“I haven’t counted the fake money yet,” I added, “but I’m guessing it adds up to the forty thousand Hale supposedly owed.”

“Shit,” she said. “I should come home.”

“You’re probably safer downtown in a sea of police than anywhere else right now.”

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