Tuesday night
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DILLON TUCKER, was the man standing in front of him. The boy had changed. For one, he was more stocky. He didn’t look half as frail as he was he last time he’d seen him. He’d also now left a slight stubble on his face. It made him look a bit older. He was sweating though. Had he interrupted something?
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“Father Salvatore?” Even his voice was deeper now.
“Dillon,”
There was a slight pause, like neither of them knew what to say next. Salvatore caught his eyes and Dillon looked away.
“What are you doing here?” Dillon put an end to awkward situation.
“I came to visit,”
“Why? How did you find me?” There was more caution than curiosity in his tone now.
“The Rector monitored your movements for a while and this was the last place he’d tracked you to and thank God you are still here,”
Dillon didn’t react. You’d expect one to be a little surprised or even upset that he was being tracked.
“May I come in?” Salvatore asked
Dillon nodded reluctantly. He opened the door and showed him in.
“Thank you.” Salvatore walked inside and Dillon closed the door.
Salvatore could feel the sudden change in ambience mmediately he walked in. There was something macabre about this house. It reeked of death and blood. Half of Salvatore wanted to turn around and walk out. But he held himself together. It was probably just him being too cautious, maybe because of old age or something else. But this definitely felt different. It was like…
“So why did you come to visit me?” Dillon’s deep voice resonated behind him. Salvatore turned to him. He now had an even clearer view of him. He looked like an athlete now. He wore a black shirt and a black trouser, a white cloth was wrapped around his right arm. Salvatore wanted to ask about the wrapping but he reckoned he shouldn’t ask that just yet.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a seat?” Salvatore said. Dillon was visibly struggling to hide his frustration and anger that he was here in his house.
“Fine, have a seat.” Dillon said. “Would you like anything?”
“No, thank you.” Salvatore said and sat on one of the couches. Dillon sat on the loveseat perpendicular to where he was. Salvatore took a cursory survey of the house. It wasn’t neat but it wasn’t dirty either. That was characteristic of Dillon. He wasn’t always one to take too much time to keep his room clean. Salvotore sighted a bible on a bookshelf behind where Dillon was sitting.
“I see you kept God's word close to you,” Salvatore said throwing his chin in the direction of the Bible. Dillon turned slightly, glanced at the shelf and turned back. He didn’t utter a word.
“It’s good to see that one year away from the school hasn’t taking away your passion for learning about God.” Salvatore said. Dillon still didn’t say anything.
“Well at least everything’s…”
“Why exactly are you here?” Dillon interrupted him. Salvatore made eye contact with him again and Dillon looked away. Dillon couldn’t hold eye contact with him. Why?
“Why did you run from the school Dillon?” Salvatore asked. Dillon scowled slightly and turned away from him.
“Is that why you’re here? To ask me why I ran away from the seminary school?” Dillon said without looking at him.
“Well, in sumary, yes. Why did you run away Dillon? There was absolutely no reason you should’ve run away. You and I were very close. You seemed very interested in learning about God, you were treated well, you ate well. You had a family there. So why? Why did you run away?”
Dillon remained silent. Salvatore wanted to yell at him.
'answer me boy!'
Dillon turned slowly to him and looked straight into his eyes. For the first time this night Dillon held strong eye contact with him.
“I ran away because that place was becoming intoxicating.”
“Intoxicating? How?”
Dillon looked away again.
“Answer me Dillon, how?”
“You all think you’re so righteous don’t you?” Dillon said.
“Well, I don’t…Look, you are gonna have to explain…”
“You asked for a reason, I’ve given you one. I don’t owe you any explanations,”
“What?”
“If an explanation is the reason you came then I’m sorry to dissapoint,” Dillon stood up to leave. After going through all this trouble, the boy he’d been worried about for so long was not even willing to explain why he left. Dillon had changed a lot. He thought it was only on the outside at first, but now it was obvious he’d changed on the inside as well.
“That’s not the only reason I came, Dillon.” Salvatore said. Dillon stopped and turned to him.
“Please sit and let’s talk about other things.” Salvatore said and gave a fake smile. Hopefully, Dillon didn’t notice how fake it was. Dillon went back to his seat.
“So how's life in this town? Mellville. It’s a beautiful town,” Salvatore asked.
“There is no life in this town.” Dillon said. There was a strong sense of darkness in what Dillon just said. Very similiar to what he felt when he stepped into the house at first.
“There is no life?”
Dillon didn’t answer.
“Is it because of the murderer?”
Dillon jerked up his head in shock or at least that’s what the face he made suggested.
“Is there no murderer?” Salvatore asked
“There is.” Dillon said.
“I heard the murderer even shot the President today. My God what a monster.”
Dillon scowled. Why was Dillon angry he was talking about a murderer.
“You don’t know anything about the murderer so you shouldn’t be quick to judge.” Dillon said. Dillon was defending the murderer? Why would he be defending someone that kills people?
“I’m not judging but killing innocent people is wrong in any context.” Salvatore said. Dillon scuffed. ThisThis was very strange behaviour from Dillon.
“Well in the radio of the taxi I was in earlier, they said the murderer was shot and they would take his blood for examination. So he should be caught soon enough.”
“They have my blood?!” Dillon asked, panic in his voice.
“No, they…” Then it hit him. 'My blood'? Why would he say that. He wasn’t the murderer was he? He looked at Dillon who looked like he also realised what he said.
“Sorry, I meant, do they have the murderer's blood?”
Come to think of it, why did he tie his arm with a white cloth?
“Hey, you’re not talking. Any peoblem?” Dillon asked.
“What happened to your arm? Why did you tie a white cloth around you arm” Salvatore asked.
Dillon’s eyes widened.
“I scratched my arm somewhere.” Dillon said
“So why didn’t you go to a clinic or a hospital? The cloth is pretty big. It couldn’t have been a small scratch.” Salvatore said.
“Don’t let the cloth fool you. The scratch wasn’t really that big.”
“If it isn’t a big scratch then it wouldn’t need a white cloth covered around it now would it?”
Dillon didn’t respond. The murderer was shot and Dillon has a white cloth ties around his arm. It could be a coincidence. Hell, he would’ve ruled it out as a coincidence if Dillon hadn’t asked that question.
“Are you trying to say something?” Dillon asked. Really. What was he trying to say. That Dillon is the murderer? There’s no way Dillon could kill someone. The Dillon he knew couldn’t. But then again the boy had changed.
“If there’s something…”
“Are you the murderer?” Salvatore asked. He immediately wanted to take that question back. He hadn’t seen Dillon for a year and now he’s finally seen him, he asks him if he’s a murderer. What a bad move on his part. Dillon burst into shrill laughter. Salvatore also chuckled. Of course Dillon wasn’t the murderer. What was he thinking? He just slipped when he asked that question earlier.
“Sorry about that Dillon. Old age is really affecting me in ways I don’t understand. There’s no way you’re a murderer.”
After having his fill of laughter, Dillon stood up.
“I appreciate the fate you have in me.” Dillon said.
“Of course Dillon, I…”
Salvatore stopped talking at the sight of Dillon pulling out a gun from the back of his trouser. Salvatore's jaw dropped. Dillon levelled the gun on him.
“You shouldn’t have asked that.” Dillon said. The room was now silent. Salvatore couldn’t talk. Partly beacause of lack of words and mostly because of the shock. A knock on the door broke the silence. Dillon grunted and looked at the door. The knock came again. Dillon looked at Salvatore.
“Did you come with someone?”
Salvatored shook his head aggressively. He was still unable to talk.
“Cooperate or I’ll kill you both.” Dillon said in a soft voice and walked to the door. He kept his gun arm behind him and opened the door. The man that stood outside was white, wore an expensive black suit and held up a badge. A police badge.
“Good Evening,” The man said.
“Good evening,”
“I’m detective Powell. Sorry to disturb you…uh…” The man stuttered. His eyes had drifted past Dillon and was staring at him. Salvatore hoped the man could read the look on his face. The look that said 'run as far as you can away from here before you get killed'
“Is everything okay in there?” The man said.
“Everything's fine. Can I help you?”
“Uh...Are you Mr. Dillon Tucker?” The man asked.
“Yes,”
“Okay Mr. Tucker, I’m gonna need you to come with me to the station.”
“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“It’s nothing serious really. We just think you could be vital to a case we’re working on” The man said.
Salvatore saw Dillon’s grip on the gun tighten.
“So, please let’s go”
Dillon was slowly bringing out his gun arm. To shoot the man probably. To shoot the only person who could potentially save him from this mess.
“RUN AWAY HE’LL KILL YOU! HE’S THE MURDERER!” Salvatore shouted at the top of his voice. Dillon grunted and shot Salvatore on the arm. Salvatore howled and fell on the ground. Immeasurable pain flooded his arm. Dillon then grabbed the man at the door by the neck, brought him inside and slammed the door behind them. The man reached for his gun. Before he could bring it out Dillon placed his gun on the man’s head. The gunshot rippled through the air and the man’s blood splashed all over the floor.
Did Dillon just shoot that man in the head?
Salvatore's eyes closed slowly. Dillon walked toward him. The last thing he saw was Dillon's legs as his world turned black.
