Four Years from Home Read online

  “Harry?”

  I had to look away. Looking into her eyes just then would have been admitting defeat. My jaw tensed. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

  “What?”

  I pulled away and steeled myself. She wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t care. I needed to go, to run away from this Bizarro World that Harry had created and dragged me into by dying, this world that mocked me by its very existence. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m a bad person, Beth. And I’m leaving tonight… for good.”

  “They told me you might have done something wrong, but they wouldn’t tell me what.” She was trying hard not to cry.

  I was too. I took her in my arms. It felt right. It felt… normal, whatever that was. It felt like a place I had been before, many times, though I had never really been there. “I’m sorry. Maybe if things had been different, maybe if I had been different…” Maybe if you hadn’t been Harry’s girl. Damn that stupid code of honor.

  “Whatever you’ve done, you must have done for a good reason. I believe in you. You’re a good person and I love you.”

  I’d never held or kissed a girl like Beth before. It was… nice. And “nice” was something I didn’t get a lot of in my line of work. There was Bonnie Shoedel but that was sixth grade, so that didn’t count. And there was that one girl in high school, but that was pretty much her liking me and me only liking her because it made Frankie Marx furious. And Kelly Erickson? She was probably the closest I’d ever come to liking a girl, but it just didn’t work out. The others? Forget them. They were all too needy: I need this. I need that. I want this. I want that. But Beth was different. I could tell. All she needed, all she wanted, was me. My train had been derailed and there was no stopping the crash.

  “I love you too, Beth.” Why the hell did I say that? It had come out as easily as “Go jump in a lake” or “Bite me.” Those things I said easily because I meant them. Did I mean this, too?

  She smiled. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that like that to me. I think I like it.”

  That seemed odd for someone who I thought had been so close to Harry. Maybe I had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Maybe there was really nothing “serious” between them. Maybe they really were just friends. Maybe the code didn’t apply in this case. That was the only explanation for why she didn’t realize at once that I was not Harry. How could you possibly be so close to someone and not know when you were kissing their brother? What was I saying? They were engaged and I was an idiot.

  We could run away together. Forget Pittsburgh. We could head north — maybe Canada. I’d never been there and it was supposed to be nice, well, except for the polar bears and the funny way people say “eh” after everything. And I could do my job from anywhere. That was the beauty of it. Game design didn’t require being in any particular office. You just had to have an office space somewhere to work in, just one little room really. All I needed to do was send my new address to the company. The perfect plan.

  Beth was reading my mind, “You can’t run away from whatever this is. It will follow you wherever you go. But I can help. We’ll face it together.”

  So much for that plan… And who appointed her General George S. Patton? “You don’t understand.”

  “Then make me understand.”

  She wasn’t going to make this easy. She wasn’t just going to run away with me. It would take logic, and that wasn’t my strong suit. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Use little words.”

  The hell with it… My plans of lies and scheming and deception hadn’t done a damn thing to help me through this. That left only one thing — the truth. “I’m not Harry. Harry’s dead. I’m his older brother, Tom.”

  “We know that.” The unmistakable, battering ram voice of Detective James crashed through the awkwardness like a SWAT team breaking down the door on a drug bust. And he wasn’t alone. There was an armed officer with him. “We just don’t know why you killed him.” I instinctively made a move toward the steps. James grabbed my arm. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, Ryan. This fellow with the .38 has a friend waiting downstairs. Cuff him, Bob.”

  The cop with James was about my age but looked like he worked out a lot. That wouldn’t have helped him against me had I decided to resist. I fought dirty, and that always won out over strength. But, I hadn’t really done anything wrong (at least not yet) so kneeing him in the crotch would not have been a good move. I was pretty sure assaulting a police officer was a still crime, even in Ohioland. I let him put the handcuffs on me. The bumpkin locked my hands together in front of me — a classic movie mistake.

  Beth wouldn’t let go of me and James had to pull her off. She was in shock. I hated him for that.

  The bastard pushed her aside and said in a monotone voice to me, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

  I fully expected her to turn and run and that would be the end of it. I know I would have. But she didn’t. So I kept going, ignoring James, speaking only to her. “We got the word on Christmas that Harry had died here at school, so I was appointed by my wonderful family to come here to find out what happened. Harry must have had an accident or something on the trestle bridge. I think he fell into the river and drowned, but they can’t find his body. That’s all I can figure… I don’t know.” My voice left me, choked off by a sudden hatred of myself. I was such a stupid idiot. Everything I had ever done was a contrived campaign of lunacy based on a character in a TV show. Everything I did, everything I was, was fake, my whole life. I’d never been particularly sorry for it until now.

  “Do you understand each of these rights as explained to you, Mr. Ryan?”

  I really wanted to smash his face in. “Yes, I understand them, you prick, and I don’t care about them.”

  But I also wanted Beth to understand, to forgive. “I didn’t want to hurt you. It was just that they all thought I was Harry so I figured I’d play along for the heck of it and maybe find out more about what happened. I never expected him to have a girl. And I never expected you to think I was him. I… I never expected you…”

  “Do you waive these rights, Mr. Ryan?” James was like a pit bull with its jaws locked on my leg.

  Beth rose above his droning legalities. “But you are Harry.”

  She said it with such force, such conviction. How could she be so wrong? Why couldn’t she see that I was a different person? I wanted to scream my name out so everyone would know. I took my anger out on James. “Of course I waive them, you idiot. I didn’t do anything.” Then, reaching out to Beth, “I’m not Harry. I wish I were, but I’m not.”

  She pushed James out of her way and wrapped her arms around me tightly. She was crying and I tried to comfort her. I saw James wave off the cop before he could step in and separate us. Maybe he wasn’t such a dick after all. No, he was a dick. He was just taking advantage of my waiving my rights to get all the admissible evidence he could. He was observing and taking notes.

  He looked up from his scribbling and asked, “So why were you there that night?”

  “I wasn’t. I already told you that.”

  “No, what you told us was that you didn’t remember. Now that we have physical evidence tying you to the scene, maybe your memory will work a little better.”

  “What evidence?”

  “Let’s see…” I knew he was just looking at his notes for effect. He knew damn well what he wanted to say. “We have a match on your boot print and the prints found at the scene. We have the sliver of wood taken from your head. According to the lab, it contained creosote, which is commonly used to treat railroad ties. We have your fingerprints in his dorm room. There’s more,” he said perfunctorily, flipping the notebook closed. “But I don’t want to bore you with details.”

  Beth’s grip on me tightened
. “How can you think someone was killed if you don’t have a body? This is insane. This is Harry, right here.” For the first time in my life I had someone who was on my side and fighting for me. It was a good feeling, like beating Sam in chess without cheating more than once or sticking up for Kate when bullies roughed her up on the playground without having to pay them off. Beth was defending me against this bully and doing a pretty good job. Too bad she’d picked the wrong side.

  “I don’t know what planet you came from, or what you’ve been drinking, kid, but the man you’re defending isn’t Harry Ryan. Of that, I am certain. And we’ll find the body, all right,” James smiled. “It’s just a matter of time before it shows up somewhere.”

  “So leave us alone and come back when you find it. We’ll be right here,” she snapped. “Harry and I aren’t going anywhere.”

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, miss. We could hold your buddy here for forty-eight hours on suspicion without even charging him. We’ve got enough evidence to justify that to any judge. A little warning to you — keep this up and we might decide to hold you, too.”

  Beth was crying. I wrapped my handcuffed arms around her and held her. “Beth,” I whispered. She looked up at me. “I’m not Harry. Really. I’m so sorry.”

  Our eyes met. “I don’t believe that. Maybe you’re sick or have amnesia or something. Maybe you got hurt. I don’t know. I don’t understand this, but I don’t care and I’ll never leave you.”

  Washing over me was the same feeling, only a million times stronger, that I’d had in sixth grade at my first party with girls present when Bonnie Shoedel had kissed me on the cheek and told me she loved me. We had been awkwardly slow dancing to Stay by the Four Seasons and when the music stopped there was electricity sparking between us that I’d never experienced before. It was amazing. But as powerful and electrifying as that feeling was, it was abruptly shut off when she cut the juice the next day, pulling the plug and informing me that girls didn’t like playing army in the woods. Girls did more refined things like play house, go out on dates, and go steady — in other words, nothing that was fun. I was crushed and it took me hours to get over it. But I knew my two-day-old relationship with Beth wouldn’t end that way. And it wasn’t because I didn’t play army in the woods anymore. It was because I would do anything to have this relationship not end.

  “Show her your driver’s license, sport,” James said. “I’m assuming you do have one, after all it would be a crime to have driven that Pontiac here from Pittsburgh without a valid license, wouldn’t it?”

  He’d found my car and I was now without a getaway vehicle.

  “That’s right. It was just a matter of asking a few questions around town. It’s not a very big place, you know. What? No more wiseass remarks?”

  Sarge hadn’t trusted the man from the beginning. He didn’t look like an American. He didn’t act like an American. But nobody had believed him when he said the guy was a Nazi spy, not even Lieutenant Hanley. But his plan would flush him out…

  “Private! Get over here!” We were crouched down, hidden by the garbage cans in the alley behind the Mead Drugstore. The squad was in position, except for Harry, who was balking at the idea. I grabbed Tom Braithwaite and hissed in his ear, “Get him over here now, before he gives our position away. Drag him if you have to.”

  Braithwaite scurried over to get Harry as Old Mr. Kleiner came out the back door of the store with a wastebasket in his hand. The plan had been simple. Mr. Kleiner trusted Harry and liked Harry. Harry had helped him many times and had never asked for money. Old Man Kleiner would certainly spill the beans to him. So Harry’s orders were as simple as the plan — ask him if he was a Nazi general. And once he confessed, it was all over. But…

  “My stupid brother didn’t take orders too well.”

  “Come again, sport? I didn’t catch that last part.” Detective James was squinting oddly, scribbling like mad.

  Beth was looking up at me like I was crazy. I started to cry just like the time I had taken a spill from my bike. I had held it in all the way home and it wasn’t until I saw Mom that it all came out. “He’s gone, Beth. He’s really gone. All I ever did was bully him and pick on him and he never did a thing to stop me. He never ratted on me and never fought back. He was such a good kid and all my life I hated him for that. I hated that he came between my parents and me. I could have killed him for that…” I paused, looking squarely at James. “But I didn’t.”

  James was unflinching. “Motive has one ‘t,’ doesn’t it?”

  I went for him, but Beth was like an anchor holding me back. Good thing — James would probably have beaten the crap out of me. “You stupid, pompous ass… Harry did more in his four years here than you’ve done in your entire petty little lifetime. You could take notes forever and not realize what I have in two days. Harry was special. His soul was pure, not like yours, you black-hearted bastard. So why don’t you just shut the hell up, leave us alone, and find out what really happened to him?”

  “Harry.” Beth’s voice was a soft wind, cooling the inferno engulfing the detective and myself. “Maybe you need to see a doctor…”

  I shook my head angrily. “There’s nothing wrong with me. You don’t understand. I’d give anything to be able to do one good thing for Harry. One decent, good thing… But it’s too late…”

  Beth pleaded with James, “Can we have a moment alone?” James scowled, but she persisted, “He’s not going anywhere. Please…”

  James motioned toward an aisle between the stacks heading toward a row of wooden doors along the wall. Beth led me in silence to the end of the aisle and stood in front of the doors, in full view of James and his ever-present scowl, but out of earshot.

  “Harry, I believe in you, but maybe we should go with him quietly. Maybe that’s the only way to get this straightened out once and for all.” She thought I was nuts. It was pretty obvious. I didn’t blame her.

  The doors were packed tightly together and probably had little rooms no bigger than those sound-proof booths you see on quiz shows behind them. Each door was numbered. We stood in front of A-3.

  “What are these?” I asked.

  Beth didn’t seem to understand the question and replied with her own, “Carrels?” I felt she was humoring me, but for some reason it didn’t annoy me, when she continued, “Study nooks? Certain students get them so they can work in private.” She pointed. “Yours is right there. Don’t you remember? You got it junior year.” She was pointing at a door with A-2 on it.

  “My keys,” I whispered. “Get my keys out of my pocket, please. The left one... And don’t let him see you.”

  Beth slid her hand into my pocket and retrieved Harry’s keys.

  “Show me the little one.” A-2 was stamped on it. “When I give you the nod, move to the door, open it and we’ll hide in there.”

  The final key had a meaning now and the tide of the battle was changing. I had reinforcements and a place to retreat, thanks to Harry — the wine cellar in the old bombed out French chateau, the place unknown to the Nazis and discovered by chance by Sarge and Caje when they were alone and on the run. Caje spoke French, he was French, and his quick exchange with the young French girl from the Resistance had led them here to safety.

  “Harry,” she protested.

  “Please, just do it.”

  The Nazi patrol dropped their guard — James turned to speak to the officer who was obscured by the shelves. I nodded, and Beth and I stepped out of his line of sight and she opened the door silently. I followed her into the darkened carrel and closed the door behind us. “Just wait a bit.” I wanted him to think we had snuck off to another stair or another door. I didn’t know the library layout at all, but I assumed that there had to be other ways in and out. Basic fire code regulations would require it.

  I stopped breathing. I couldn’t hear Beth breathing either, but her hand was trembling in mine. She was afraid but controlling it. If a girl could do it, so could I. The slats in the d
oor let enough light in that my eyes adjusted to the dark and I could see Beth’s face. She was looking to me for strength, for leadership. Some things never change. I was always the leader, the born leader. I was always the one with the plan and others knew it — or I would make sure they knew it, the hard way.

  James’ yell was a grenade going off outside the carrel door, “Son of a… Bob! Get your ass over here. That little shit and his chippy took off…”

  Most of the games of “sniper” I’d won as a kid were won by just sitting still and waiting for some unsuspecting dope to walk into my trap. The trick was to wait long enough and be quiet enough that the pursuer would no longer think it possible that you were still around. It was true when we played “army” in the woods and it was true in life. No matter what the age, everyone always assumes that they have exactly as much patience as you and when theirs runs out, yours must have also run out.

  “You and Stan block the exits and call for backup. He won’t get far.” Officer Bob ran off and all became still. I knew James was out there waiting. I could smell the big oaf of a detective standing quietly outside, trying to be quiet. His labored breath and muffled cough would have given him away under any battle scenario and his cologne and B.O. were unmistakable. Neither Beth nor I breathed. He would certainly have heard us, being that close by. I can hold my breath for a minute, maybe a minute and a half. I wasn’t sure about Beth. But it didn’t matter. James’ patience ran out long before our breath and his clodding footsteps receded into the quiet of the library.

  As my eyes were adjusting to the half-lit Spartan cubicle I made out a desk with chair and desk lamp. It seemed stuffy in there, probably because the study nook was enclosed with so little ventilation — one vent too high up to help with circulation and too small to escape through. Now that was bad design at its finest. I had had a hard enough time in college staying awake to study — this place would have definitely put me to sleep pretty quickly. The desk was covered with papers and junk. Out of curiosity, I turned on the light. The papers on the desk were taped-together colored drawings on hexagonally lined paper, drawings that were obviously abstractions of hills and woods and rivers. It was a game board. The bottom rightmost paper had the words “Tactics 3” stenciled on it and underneath, a copyright and a name. Stacks of tiny pieces of square cardboard with letters and numbers written on them and drawn symbols of tanks and rifles lined the edges of the game board. Some were green, some blue — two armies.