The longer-haired guy looks Rick right in the eye. His voice has lost the pleading whine of earlier; now it’s softer, kind of wistful. ‘We used to live in the city – New York City – real close to Central Park in an apartment with amazing city views and close to all our favourite spots. We loved the city. We worked there – we’re both professors, I do climate change, Jack does math – and we had friends and fun and had never thought about moving.’
‘Then, one weekend when we were walking in the park, we saw something,’ says Jack.
His brother nods. ‘We were walking our dogs when we saw a man running with a baseball bat. He was a little ways from us, but we saw what happened real clear. He ran towards this group of people having a picnic. Just charged into them and attacked, swinging at them with the bat.’
‘They were screaming. The man with the bat was yelling.’ Jack looks like he might be about to vomit. ‘There was so much blood.’
The long-haired guy clutches at his beads again. ‘There was this guy in a white shirt, he was lying on his side, blood running down his face, and the noises he made . . . the moaning . . . it was . . .’ He takes a big gulp of air.
‘Mark called 911 for an ambulance and the cops,’ says the shorter-haired twin.
‘And Jack here tried to stop the guy with the bat from hurting more people.’
Jack shakes his head. ‘I tried, but it wasn’t enough. The man who was attacked first didn’t make it, several others were hospitalised.’
‘Including Jack,’ says Mark. ‘The guy broke his elbow and wrist, and gave him a head injury.’
Jack looks back down at the sidewalk. ‘A few of us managed to get the bat off him and keep him pinned on the ground until the cops arrived.’
‘After Jack was discharged from hospital we tried to put it behind us, but we couldn’t. We didn’t feel safe. That city had been our home for more than thirty years, but we couldn’t get past it – that man and the bat – even after they convicted him.’ He frowns. Rubbing at the beads around his neck. ‘At the trial, the attacker pleaded guilty. The prosecution said he’d been high, the blood test showed he had a whole cocktail of drugs in him when it happened. When they asked him why he’d done it, do you know what he said? He told the court he’d been bored and his buddy dared him. A man died because of his boredom. Because of a stupid dare.’ Mark’s voice has a tremor to it now. ‘I’ve always suffered from anxiety but that . . .’
‘We couldn’t live there any more,’ says Jack. ‘It was too much.’
Mark clutches his beads tighter. ‘Far too much.’
‘So we sold our place and moved here. They assured us this place was safe, that nothing bad had ever happened here, that it was a zero-crime community.’
‘We were finally able to relax again. But then a month back the burglaries started, and now it sounds like there’s something else, something worse . . .’
‘We just want to know if this place is safe.’ Mark starts rubbing the beads faster between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I had to take my anxiety meds this lunchtime after hearing something weird has happened in the park, it’s the first time I’ve ever taken them here. I feel on the edge right now. I need to know what’s going on. I just can’t handle the not knowing. Even if it’s bad, it’s better to know. I really need to know. I need to feel safe.’
Rick looks at Mark. He’s real twitchy; fiddling with the bead necklace, eyes darting side to side, a tremble in his voice as he speaks. He knows that he can’t say anything that will make him feel safe, because nowhere is one hundred per cent safe. You can be walking down the street and get hit by an out-of-control driver, you can board the subway and get blown up by a bomb, or you can go to a park and end up dead. He can’t give this man the reassurance he’s after. What he can give him is the truth. ‘A young woman was found dead in the lap pool this morning.’