U Is for Undertow

remember. He usually got the pretty one while Jon got stuck with the homely best friend. Walker opened his bag and removed the four candy bars. He offered Jon a Three Musketeers bar and kept the other three for himself.
    Jon said, “I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”
    “It’s weird. Now that I’m off alcohol, I crave sugar.”
    Jon pulled the paper off his candy bar and bit in. “So what’s the big emergency?”
    “I saw Michael Sutton this afternoon and he saw me. I came out of an AA meeting and he was there in the parking lot, picking up a girl. When Brent drove me back to the office, he followed.”
    “So?”
    “So why’s he tailing me? What if he goes to the police?”
    “And says what? Two decades ago, we dug a hole. Big deal.”
    “I don’t like it.”
    “Oh, for god’s sake. You haul me out in the dead of night for this? You could have told me on the phone. The kid’s a punk. Nobody’s going to take him seriously. Besides, I can get to him anytime I want. He’s not a problem.”
    “ Get to him? What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “I know where he lives. I’ve kept an eye on him for years, following his illustrious career path. He’s not a threat. He’s a loser and a wimp. He’s what we call ‘malleable.’ You can talk him into or out of anything. Everyone knows that.”
    “There’s something else,” Walker said. He was silent for a moment. “I think I might turn myself in.”
    The sentence hung in the air between them.
    Walker couldn’t believe he’d said it, but once the words were out of his mouth, he knew the idea had been hovering at the back of his mind for weeks.
    Jon’s expression was neutral. “What brought this on?”
    Walker shook his head. “I’ve been having panic attacks and they’re wearing me down. I’m tired of feeling tired. The damn anxiety’s tearing me apart. It didn’t bother me so much when I was drinking, but now . . .”
    “So talk to your doctor about a sedative. Better living through chemistry.”
    “Wouldn’t help. I mean, look at me. My life’s in the toilet. Carolyn’s kicked me out. I hardly see my kids. I killed a girl, for Christ’s sake. I can’t live this way.”
    Bemused, Jon said, “Which step is this?”
    “What?”
    “AA’s famous twelve steps. Which one is this? Your ‘fearless moral inventory,’ am I right?”
    “You know what, Jon? I don’t need your snide fucking comments. I’m serious about this.”
    “I have no doubt. And what do you propose?”
    “I don’t know yet. You should have seen me today, skulking around on side streets so Michael Sutton wouldn’t spot me and figure out where I work. It’s all catching up with us. And here’s the irony: for years, I drank to wipe out the guilt and all I managed to do was turn around and kill someone else.”
    Jon shook his head. “Jesus, Walker. You’re deluding yourself. You don’t drink because you feel guilty. You drink because you’re a drunk. Get a clue. Confessing won’t change anything.”
    “You’re wrong. I know I’m a drunk and I’ll deal with it. This is something else. I want to be square with life. I want to make amends. You’ve found a way to live with what we did. I can’t. I want it off my chest.”
    “Good for you. Perfect. But your so-called amends will put my ass in a sling.”
    “That doesn’t necessarily follow,” Walker said.
    “You’re full of shit. How can you admit what you did without implicating me?”
    “I’ll handle it. This is not about you.”
    Jon seemed amused. “What are you picturing? You go to the cops and turn yourself in. You tell ’em what you did; you’re now so very sorry and you want to make it right?” He stopped and studied Walker, waiting for a response. “You’re never going to make it right. There’s no way. We fucked up big time. That little girl is dead.”
    Walker said, “It would have helped if you’d read the label.”
    “Would you get off that shit? I did. I told you a thousand times. Everybody takes Valium. Ten-milligram tabs are no big deal.”
    “Guess again.”
    “Fine. You can make that part of your pitch.”
    “I will.”
    “So what exactly do you hope to accomplish in your feverish eagerness to unburden your soul?”
    “I need to find a way to live with myself. That’s all I’m saying. I want to clean up the mess we made.”
    “Live with yourself ? Well, that won’t last long. You’re talking about felony murder, for which you’ll get the death penalty. Is