Bullhead City wasn't as beautiful as the brochure made it out to be. But it was right on the Colorado and our room was cool and quiet and spacious. The downside was that the river was filled with zooming speedboats, careening water-skiers and jet skis driven by seemingly suicidal drunks. But at night they disappeared and the dark water flowed quietly from right to left on its way to Mexico.
Late that night we walked out into it, up to our knees, and felt the cool power moving through us. I held June's hand and closed my eyes and let all of what I didn't want inside me flow down into that water. I imagined the faces of the men I'd killed, and they flowed out of me into the river. I imagined my mother's pain and it flowed into the river, too. I imagined Will and all his secrets, all his hatreds and rivalries and seductions, and they flowed out of my blood and into the river. I imagined my own face and Thor, they passed into the river. I imagined all of these things spreading into the world, moving farther and farther away. I knew they would come back. The important things always come back. Even if they're ugly and you never wanted them inside you in the first place. The river wasn't going to keep anything. It was just going to take the things I had to offer, care for them a while, then give them back to me. Because I was where they belonged.
Will was back inside me before we even made the bank. I carried him back to the hotel with us and he was right there with me on the patio as June and I sat there and looked out at the moonlit water.
I took hold of June's hand and thought about The Unknown Thing, and how June seemed to me to be made of it. I thought about the women I had seen it in, and I realized that it has something to do with goodness and something to do with wickedness but much more to do with what is irresistible. It can lead a man to shame as easily as it can lead him to love.
"What are you thinking about?" June asked.
"You."
"Good things?"
"Good things."
I could have told her the fuller truth, and tried to explain how powerfully her Unknown Thing was pulling me toward her and how it could easily make a fool out of me or us.
But I'm my father's son. So I took his advice again, for the million time and counting.
I said nothing more. I held her hand and watched the river glide silver on black, bearing sins and secrets, laughter and light.
Eyes open, mouth shut. You might learn something.
I have spoken to you from memory. There are gaps. There is more. I have learned just a few things.
Save your friends, spend your enemies.
Who did it?
Everyone.
What do you say when you're a man with a face like mine, blood on his hands, and a heart that burns hot enough to love and runs cold enough to kill? What do you tell the person next to you?
Look at me. Because I'm looking at you.
THE END
Copyright
Copyright © 2001 T. Jefferson Parker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher. Printed in the United States of America. For information address: Hyperion, 77 W. 66th Street, New York, New
York 10023-6298.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parker, T. Jefferson
Silent Joe : a novel T. Jefferson Parker. — 1st ed.span>
p. cm. ISBN 0-7868-6728-0
1. Orange County (Calif.)—Fiction. 2. Adoptive parents—Fiction. 3. Fathers—Death—Fiction. 4. Politicians—Fiction. 5. Adoptees—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3566.A6863 S55 2001
813'.54—dc21 00-053938
FIRST EDITION
10 987654321
Table of Contents
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE