Rivercreek Crossing

Chapter 12

August 18, 1984

“Reese! Take the gun from him. Don’t let him kill himself!”

“What?” Reese screamed out toward the swirling luminescent colors.

Mr. Caldwell pushed his daughter away from his embrace. “I was saying, I am sorry. I’m responsible for your brother’s death.” His breath was potent with booze and Reese recoiled. His words were sloppy and slurred, and either he was oblivious to the dancing rainbow which was Luke deceased or he couldn’t see it.

“Dad, what are you doing with that gun?”

He looked at her funny like he was assessing her words and then looked down at his belted waist. He reached for it, but Reese grabbed faster and pulled it away.

“You be careful with that, Reese. Guns aren’t toys, you know” His words trailed off as he stumbled. 

“What are doing with it, Dad?” Reese wanted to curl up into a tiny ball. Did he love Luke so much more than her that he couldn’t bear to live without him?

He flopped a hand in her direction. “Ah, Reese. Don’t you understand? I killed Luke.”

Reese backed up and away from her father, the man she had adored all her young life. The man who sang silly made up songs to her when she couldn’t sleep. The man who never complained when she curled up into his lap while he watched his sports on TV. He loved Luke. He couldn’t have killed him much less mutilate his body, torture him.

Mr. Caldwell suddenly wailed and dropped his face into his palms. He felled to his knees and sobbed relentlessly. Reese kept backing away, her hand still on the cold metal of the gun. It trembled as an extension of her shuddering body.

When she was about ten feet away from her father, she turned and bolted. As she ran faster than she could ever recall running, she debated ditching the gun into the creek, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There had to be a mistake. No way her dad killed Luke. No way.

She kept running, not through the woods but along the creek. Within minutes she was at the bridge. She stopped when she saw it like some invisible hand had yanked an emergency brake. Her heart raced from the run and now from her fear.

“Reese?” The voice was low and she wasn’t sure she actually heard it. “Reese?” Luke’s voice repeated.

She dropped the gun to the ground and grabbed her hair on either side of her head. She screamed long and loud. Then she shrieked, “Get out of my head!” She clasped her hands over her ears, hair tangled through her fingers. “You’re not real.”

She stayed like that for several minutes, moaning and kicking her feet in the brown grass. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy, she cried in a muffled tone. Never ever had she felt so completely and utterly alone.

Her whole body jerked and then she cringed at a loud clap of thunder. The storm was almost on top of her. She heaved a sigh and reached down for the gun. She tucked it into her waistband of her jeans and covered it by her t-shirt. She started toward the bridge. She didn’t have to cross it, but she felt compelled to walk along the arch and look down below where Luke’s body had been discovered.

Her brain began concocting an escape. She needed to run away, far, far away. What was she supposed to do with her father’s admission? Nothing. Something. Go to the police? No. She couldn’t. She had to have heard him wrong.

“Reese?” Luke’s voice sounded shy.

She waited until she reached the crest of the bridge and then said, “Yes? What is it Luke?”

“Why did you paint your fingernails black?”

She chuckled as she looked at her free hand, the one not tracing the stone wall of the bridge. The rain started in big fat plops of wet drops every few seconds.

“Luke, did Dad kill you?”

Silence other than the rain splatter. “Luke?”

“He couldn’t have,” he said disheartened.

“Don’t you know?”

More silence. More rain. Another clap of thunder and a flash of lightening streaked the darkening skies. “Luke, who killed you?”

“I don’t know. Remember when I had my tonsils out and I couldn’t remember much about what happened the few minutes leading up to be being knocked out?”

“Yes.”

“It’s kind of like that. All blurry and fuzzy. The last thing I remember was going over the fence for the ball.”

The splatters of rain came down in a fury and Reese looked down at the creek. It was alive with bursting drops. A breeze kicked up from behind her and the water started to rush. She waited, silently praying for a bolt of lightning to strike her. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned into half an hour. The creek slowly swelled as the torrential rain filled its bed. She counted in slow intervals between flashes and booms. The storm was nearly above her.

Luke had grown quiet. Reese didn’t know if he was still with her or not. She didn’t see the rippling lights anymore and dismissed the interchange as a figment of her imagination. She pulled the gun out of her waistband and rubbed a hand over the barrel. If she killed herself now, would she see Luke? Or would she go to Hell? Committing suicide was a sin. So was murder. So was hiding the murderer’s identity.

She let the gun slip to her finger so it dangled over the rushing creek from the trigger pull. As far as she knew Luke did not have any gunshot wounds. His extensive wounds were inflicted by a sharp blade. She released her slight hold and the gun dropped. She craned over the bridge and watched it splash into the water. A clap of thunder disguised the plop sound of the gun entering the creek. She didn’t know if it sank to the bottom or was carried away. She didn’t even care.

She couldn’t imagine her father slaughtering her brother, his son, but if he had, a gun wouldn’t do the trick. No. Luke’s killer would suffer the same as he had, she vowed as she pushed her weight away from the edge of the bridge.