The Birthing House

'There some sort of state law says if a town can support just one business it's got to be a Kwik-Trip?'

Nadia ignored his attempt at levity. A small stone Lutheran church stood catty-corner. A post office. 'Where now?'

'Go straight.'

They passed an abandoned tin car wash and they were heading out of town again.

'Turn left up there.' She pointed to a fork in the road that led them past a babyshit-brown entrance gate proclaiming Valley Village Court, Where Wisconsin Families Settle Down!

They entered the trailer park proper and Conrad let the Volvo troll. There was a slight dip in the road, but he did not see anything resembling a valley or a village, just a shotgun smattering of turtle boxes no person should ever call home. Nadia pointed to a reddish-brown unit with a blackface jockey statue in the yard and a mailbox marked 64 The Kellogs.

'Eddie Kellog?'

'Park here,' she said.

'I'm guessing no relation to the cereal dynasty?'

Nadia shot him a nasty look and he turned off the car. She reached for the door and he held her back.

'Hold on. What are we walking into?' She stared at him. 'Nadia, his parents? Where are they?'

'His mom lives at his aunt's house in Iowa City.'

'He lives alone?'

'For now, yes.'

'Where's Dad?'

'He lives in Milwaukee.'

'Neighbors, friends? Anyone else who might pop by while we're in there staring at the body?'

When he said 'body' she bit the heel of her hand.

'You sure? Eddie has no friends? Because I see a lot of cars.'

'No one here likes him.'

'Let's go.'

They stepped out into the hot sunlight. Going to be another scorcher - not a good day to decompose. He hoped it wasn't going to be bad. Conrad had never seen a dead body before - his father didn't count, because Conrad had fled the hospital room after that last breath, signed the papers and never looked back. He needed to remain calm, keep an eye on Nadia. She might break down again - and, if so, fine. He could deal with her. But they could not afford for both of them to lose their shit. They reached the porch.

'Should we knock?' Conrad whispered.

'Won't do any good.' She opened the door for him and he entered.

The lights were on. Eddie's home was . . . decent. Brushed cotton sofa and matching armchair, a large television and handsome black audio appliances stacked beneath. The breakfast nook looked like granite, a bowl of tangerines on top. Short pearl carpet, very clean. It all looked like someone had poured their home equity into the interior instead of just moving to a better town, a better life.

'Is it always this clean?'

She nodded. 'Eddie's a bit of a neatnik.'

Conrad moved down the hall. He smelled fresh laundry and looked inside a closet with shuttered doors. A stack of white tees and black cargo pants were folded on top of the over-and-under laundry unit.

'Did Eddie have a job at The Gap?' he said.

'What?'

'Never mind. This the bedroom?'

She nodded and he guessed she wasn't going to leave her post in the kitchen.

Conrad grabbed the knob, realized he was leaving prints and wiped it with the hem of his tee shirt. He took another breath, gripped the knob through his shirt and opened the door.

More white carpeting, cheap IKEA-type furniture, a desk with a black Dell PC on top. The monitor was a flatscreen and large. Next to the desk: simple pine bookcases lined with junior college textbooks and Ultimate Fighting DVDs, first-person shooter games, a new Xbox console tucked inside a storage unit below the desk. The bedding was all black and military crisp. Conrad saw no blood or sign of a struggle. If Eddie was here, the kid was folded into the closet.

This whole deal was starting to feel like a set-up.

Conrad backed out of the room and looked at Nadia. She was hugging herself, pacing a square into the kitchen floor.

'Are you sure he was calling from home? Nadia?'

She looked up. 'He's not . . . ?'

Conrad shook his head.

She stomped down the hall. She pointed to the bed and a small animal noise rose up within her as she lunged forward and ripped the bedding off revealing clean white sheets.

'Well?'

'The blood . . . he shot himself. You heard the message! This is impossible. Someone took him away.'

'How do you know he wasn't trying to trap you?'

'He wouldn't do that. Someone knows. Someone cleaned it all up!'

She went to the bathroom, looking behind the door.

'What makes you think he was in bed?' Conrad said.

For all he knew, they were both playing with him. But why? What could he possibly have that they wanted?

'He always called me from bed. There's nowhere else to go in here.'

She came back. 'Did you check the closet?'

Conrad went to the closet. Somewhere outside a screen door creaked and latched. He listened for footsteps coming up the walk. He heard none. He stared at the cheap aluminum closet doors with their fake shutters and waited for a sound, a clue. Maybe Eddie was going to jump out and brain him with a sawed-off baseball bat. He felt strangely calm. You could sense when you were trespassing in front of a watchful eye. This clean little home felt empty. Conrad's hand worked with its own curious will, the metal door folded out. Aside from clothes hanging in color-coordinated groups, the closet was empty.

No, it wasn't.

There was a suitcase on the floor, a big one, open and full of folded clothes, like the laundry in the hall. A Time Out - Seattle city guide. Planning to follow her to Seattle?

He heard a click.

Time to get her talking, she's been lying to you, boss.

Conrad stood. 'Nadia--'

Eddie was taller than he remembered. His hair was better, recently cut, neat over the ears. He had her in a chokehold. A blue-black gun with a wooden grip was pressed to her abdomen and shaking, stabbing at the outermost bulge of her belly. The boy was shaking, too, eyes roadmap red. A large square Band Aid was stuck to one side of his forehead, a maroon bullseye.

Jesus, he's a lousy shot.

'Where's your big money now, fuckface?'

The kid was as quiet as . . . something pretty quiet, Conrad thought, trying to come up with a casual response to the situation.

'Hi, Eddie.'

'You're in my house, fuckface,' Eddie said.

Was this the kid's only name for unwanted guests? Couldn't he do any better . . .

'I'm sorry, Eddie, don't worry about him--' Nadia started to say.

'Shut up!'

Conrad tried to breathe deeply without showing it. Jesus, it was hot in here. 'What money, Eddie?'

'I thought you could help us,' Nadia said. She was trying to signal him with her eyes. 'He can help us, Eddie.'

'Absolutely, Eddie, just hold on a sec,' Conrad said.

'You hold on, asshole, you just hold on.' A little too cool for Conrad's liking. The stutter was taking a time out, apparently. 'You think you can buy it?'

'What?' Conrad heard the words, but he did not understand.

'You can't buy it. I won't let you take my baby.'

Nadia yelped. Eddie was jabbing her with the gun. Jabbing her right in the - wait a minute. Was she in on this? Had she tried to trick him?

'Eddie, don't!' Nadia was being too loud. She was--

The gun.

The gun was everything. Look away. Show no fear.

Conrad forced himself to look into the kid's eyes, but his eyes kept going back to her. Nadia was as white as the carpet. Her cheek twitched violently. Eddie's mouth hung open like he was being held hostage, too. Saliva dripped from his lower lip and fell past the gun, hitting the floor with a soft pat.