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“Tell me,” I said. “How’d you know about this place?”
“I told you, I didn’t,” Norman said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I tried to call you the other night but you wouldn’t answer. I was driving to your house, saw you drive off, and followed. Then you turned in here and I sat up by the road, waiting for you to come out. It got to be a long time and so I drove in, saw the two cars there. Something about it didn’t look right. I heard some talking in the woods, and started walking this way.”
I blinked several times, trying to get the grit and sweat out of my eyes. What Norman was telling me sounded almost believable.
“You have a phone,” I said.
Norman nodded.
“Call 911,” I said. “Much as I’d like to let this guy die, it might be useful to keep him alive.”
Norman had his phone out, was tapping in the number.
“Get back out to the road, direct them in,” I said.
Norman nodded, turned, and started running back in the direction he’d come from, the phone to his ear.
I knelt down next to Matt.
“You’re losing a lot of blood,” I said. “I don’t know that the paramedics are gonna make it here fast enough. Although, one thing that might help, that would buy you some time, would be a tourniquet.”
Matt, seething between gritted teeth, said, “Yeah, that might.”
“I could take a lace out of my boot,” I said, “and give it to you, but I’m thinking, with one hand, you might have some difficulty applying it yourself. But I could do it for you.”
Blood was soaking into the forest floor.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“A name,” I said. “And an explanation.”
Matt closed his eyes.
I began to unlace my boot. “What do you say? I was thinking there, for a minute, that it was Norman, but now I’m not so sure. You want to clear that up for me?”
Matt swallowed, whispered, “Not Norman.”
I had the bootlace half out of the eyelets. “That’s good to know, I guess. So if it wasn’t Norman, who, then?”
Matt was weighing his options. I didn’t see where he had much to lose here by giving up a name, but everything to gain. He was fucked, plain and simple. He could be fucked and die, or he could be fucked and live.
I almost had the bootlace out. The blood was draining out of Matt like oil from the Exxon Valdez. I didn’t give him much longer without the tourniquet.
“What’s it going to be, Matt?”
He nodded. “Okay,” he said.
Matt gave me a name.
I shuddered. “Now a few details. Convince me.”
Matt gave me a few details. I was convinced, if a little shaken.
I started lacing up my boot.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “You gotta tie it off.”
I continued threading the laces through the eyelets until I had them back in place. I gave them a good tug, then knotted them.
