Chapter 22
CATHERINE
We’ve been on the road for hours. Wilder stopped at a rest area at some point in the night and we were able to get a couple hours of broken sleep, but as soon as the sun rose, we started down the road again.
I haven’t talked much, and neither has Wilder. I think we’re both still in a state of shock after everything we’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours.
I’m not even sure I’ve grasped the reality of what's happened. I’m not even sure it did happen. Maybe this is all a dream. That has to be it.
When I left the graduation ceremony yesterday, Troy told me to go straight home, but I did the complete opposite. I was livid with that man, much like I always am. Part of me was ready to never return. Then the sun started to set and I realized I had no money and no place to go, so I went home.
He must have knocked me unconscious the second I walked through the door, making all this just a dream. In which case, I don't want to wake up. For once I’m not held down by someone else, my heart and my soul feel free.
I’m not sad that he’s dead. That bastard has been ruining me for years. I just wish I knew what happened. Yet, I’m not able to ask Wilder about it yet. I don’t know who killed Troy, but I do know it couldn’t have been Wilder. He’s too gentle, too loving, too…perfect.
“He’s really dead?” I ask again, still unable to wrap my head around all of this. “It doesn't feel real.”
Wilder reaches over from the driver’s seat and strokes the back of my head. I find reassurance in his touch. I can’t imagine doing this without him. “It’s over. You’re safe now.”
Once the gravity of the situation sets in, I might go through the different stages of grief, but it won’t be for the loss of my husband. It will be for the years I lost as his wife. All of the time spent under his thumb when I could have been finding my own version of happiness.
I look out at the open road, our path lit by the bright headlights. It’s been a while since I’ve seen another car and I can only assume we’re somewhere desolate.
“Where are we going?” I ask Wilder, hoping it’s somewhere we’ll be able to have a fresh start. There is nothing left for me in Willow Creek. Everything I want is here in this car with me.
Wilder shrugs. “No idea. Somewhere far away from here until I get word back home that it’s safe to return.”
My eyebrows shoot to my forehead as panic claws at my heart. “We’re going back?”
He looks at me, a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Eventually we have to, right?”
He’s right. We do have to go back at some point. Wilder has a life in Willow Creek. I can’t take him away from that, even if I know he’d give it all up for me. I won’t allow it, so I nod. “Yeah, we do.”
I can’t even think about what comes next right now. Troy is dead.
I’m not sure how, why, or who, but he’s dead.
“I’m free,” I blurt out, tone stoic. “I’m finally free.”
For the first time tonight, Wilder cracks a smile. “Yes, you are, baby. He can never touch you again.”
I roll down the window, feeling manic as I throw my hands out and scream, “Rot in hell, Troy Jenkins!”
I sink back in my seat, my adrenaline pumping. “So,” I quip. “Who do you think did it?”
Wilder lifts his brows with quick glances from the road to me. “You mean it wasn’t…?”
“Wasn’t who?”
“Nothing,” he deadpans.
“Wait a minute.” I shift in my seat, turning my body to face him. “Do you think it was me?” I bring my hands to my chest. When he looks at me, I get my answer. “I didn’t do it, Wilder. I swear. I’d tell you if I did.”
I’m actually surprised he thought I was capable of killing someone. I’ve definitely thought about it on more occasions than one. I’ve even gone as far as plotting the act in my head. But I don’t think I could ever bring myself to kill another human, no matter how much I thought they deserved it. Besides, if I did kill Troy, I wouldn’t have let him off so easily with a gunshot. There would have been many other wounds inflicted first.
“I believe you,” he says softly, but the look on his face says otherwise.
“Do you? Because I feel like you don’t.” I can see it in the way he holds himself. He isn’t looking me in the eye, not even really glancing my way. His grip around the wheel has tightened as if he doesn’t want to admit it out loud.
“I don’t know what to think right now. Everything happened so quickly and part of me wonders if maybe you’re just suppressing?—”
“I didn’t do it!” I shout. “Nothing is suppressed. It wasn’t me.” I think back just to make sure. After graduation I went to a park outside of town to clear my head. I was not about to walk into a beating from Troy. He needed time to cool down, and I needed time to reset. I was planning on going home and grabbing the money I stashed in order to leave him. I was going to pack my bags and walk out, consequences be damned.
I stayed at the park, watching the minutes tick by and the sun begin to set. I even sent Wilder messages to tell him I was okay and where I was at. I know I didn’t go home and shoot Troy. I didn’t have time.
Wilder looks at me, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. “It had to be suicide then.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not a chance in hell. Troy would never take his own life. He loves himself too much to do that. Someone killed him, but that someone wasn’t me.” I need Wilder to believe me.
“Okay.” He nods. “I’m sorry, baby. My head is just spinning with so many different scenarios and none of them make sense to me.” He shakes his head, eyes still on the empty road ahead.
I don’t ask if it was him—or Rome—because I trust Wilder. I know he would have told me by now if he had anything to do with it. And I’m not angry that he asked if I did it because I definitely had the motive and means. Nonetheless, someone got to him before I had.
I stretch my hand over and put it on his lap, and he covers it with his. “We’re going to figure this all out. Neither of us did anything wrong. In fact, we can probably go back and just tell our sides of the story so we don't even have to run.” I try to calm him and give him the chance to go home. I can’t tell if he is sad to leave or not.
“Not yet,” he says. “We’re both going to be suspects in this and I’d prefer the police figure it all out before we’re cuffed and thrown in a cell.”
He’s got a point. We’re both probably suspects right now, along with his dad.
A thought crosses my mind, but I quickly squash it. Grant Cromwell would never. Would he?
I lay my head back, willing it to stop thinking so much. The winding road we’re on seems to stretch for miles. A couple hours later, a small town comes into view. There are only a handful of buildings, one being a run-down gas station.
“Are you hungry?” Wilder asks, and I immediately nod. “Let’s stop here.” He nods toward the gas station. “I need to gas up anyway. Hopefully we’ll find a city soon because I need to buy a prepaid cell phone. I’m itching to know what’s going on back home.”
“Maybe we could ask the gas station attendant. I’m sure they could point us in the right direction.” Whatever the right direction might be.
Wilder pulls up to the pump and shuts off the car. We go inside together, and Wilder withdraws cash from the ATM. He says we need to keep driving because if the cops really want to find him, they can track his card usage. The attendant tells us there is a city about an hour north, so after we get gas, snacks, and drinks, we head in that direction.
“Got it,” Wilder says as he sinks into the driver’s seat. He closes the door and hands me a cellphone. “Got it all activated inside. Even sent Rome a text already.”
I open up the message log and read what he sent, but it’s just the word “update” with a question mark.
“How will he know it’s you?” I ask him.
Wilder shifts into reverse and pulls out of the parking space. “He’ll know.”
A few minutes down the road, a message comes through.
Rome: El worked her magic, given her education in pre-law, and did everything she could to make it look like it was intentional, but I’m not sure anyone is buying it. People are losing their minds here. Read this…
“There’s an article,” I tell Wilder as I click the link.
And when I see the heading, I gasp.
“What’s it say?” he asks as he makes a sharp turn into another parking lot, bringing the car to a stop.
I read it, then pass the phone to Wilder with a shaky hand.
Breaking News: Willow Creek’s Mayor Jenkins Dead at Age 39.
Troy Jenkins, mayor of Willow Creek, was found deceased late last night from an apparent gunshot wound. Police crews were called to his home on Merry Lane at 10:13 p.m., after an anonymous call tipped off law enforcement. Investigators are working to determine if foul play is a factor in the mayor’s death.
This news comes as a shock, not only to the residents he served, but also to those who worked closely with him.
“Willow Creek will not be the same without him,” says life-long resident, Bob Denver.
Mayor Jenkins's former assistant, Beth Hill, also expressed her disbelief. “I have no words. It’s such a shock,” she told reporters. “Mayor Jenkins was such a generous and kind man. He’ll be deeply missed.”
Jenkins is one of two mayoral candidates in the 2024 election, set to be held November 8th. His opponent, Grant Cromwell, was not available for comment at this time; however, his campaign manager, Jillian Hancock, has informed reporters that he is prepared to step in as mayor of this beloved town.
Details to follow as they become available.
“Who made the call?” I ask Wilder as I pick apart this article.
“No idea.” He shrugs. “It has to be either Elodie or Rome. No one else knew.”
“Unless it was the killer.” I read it again, and again, angered over how people speak so highly of the beast that broke me in every way he could. I get it, he’s dead and we shouldn’t disrespect the deceased, but these comments are complete lies. Beth called him a kind man and said he’d be missed. Bullshit. Troy was far from kind. And why is Beth even commenting at all? I thought she moved because of the baby. Maybe that was another lie Troy told just so he could get me to work for him and be under his thumb twenty-four hours a day.
I don’t know what to believe anymore. In just a few short hours my life feels like it was flipped upside down. I’m happy my husband is gone, but I’m terrified to find out who the killer is because nothing makes sense.
Nausea hits me so hard I start to panic; the day catches up with me and Wilder strokes my hair as I try to just breathe.
“Take a breath, Cat. We will figure this out.” He’s not wrong. With him by my side, I know I can do this. I have to do this. Closing my eyes, I tell myself that maybe if I can just fall asleep the nightmare will be over.
Maybe it’s all just a dream, after all.
The next thing I know, we’re pulling into a hotel surrounded by restaurants. I roll down the window to look around and my stomach growls when I inhale the smell of grilled steak.
“We’ll stay here tonight and if there are no signs of anyone on our trail, we’ll stay longer.” Wilder pulls us into a spot and puts his hand over mine. I squeeze his, reassuring him as much as myself. Running might look bad, but staying could have looked a whole lot worse.
I’m just thankful we get to sleep in a bed tonight. All I want is to lie down with Wilder’s arms wrapped around me. Just for tonight, maybe we can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.
Once we’re settled into a king-size suite, Wilder and I walk next door to the steakhouse and I order practically everything on the menu.
“Good?” Wilder asks with a chuckle as I stuff a big piece of medium-rare steak into my mouth and moan.
I chew it up, savoring every bite of it. “So good.” He looks down and pokes at his baked potato with his fork. “Hey,” I say softly. “Everything is going to work out,” I try to reassure him the same way he did me.
“I know. I just hate the unknown, ya know?”
And I hate that I dragged him into this. I don’t know the moment when it became him and me running away versus just me, but if I had to guess, I would say prom night was probably the key for us.
I nod because I know that feeling all too well. Every day was unknown to me. I never knew what kind of mood Troy was going to be in. I walked on eggshells for years, but for the first time in a very long time, I can finally move at my own pace.
Sadness of Troy’s passing hasn’t hit and at this point, I don't think it will. If anything, I want to thank the person who took his life so I didn’t have to do it. Wilder has asked a couple times if I think Troy committed suicide, but I don’t think that for a second.
No. Someone murdered Troy. Someone hated him as much as I did and finally had enough of his shit. Maybe one day I’ll meet that person—maybe I already have. Or it’s possible, I’ll never see them at all.
We finish eating, pay our bill in cash, then walk hand in hand back to the hotel. “This is nice,” I tell him, knowing he’s still pretty down about everything that’s happened. I’m hoping I can lift his spirits. “It’s only temporary so let’s enjoy this time we have together, okay?”
Instead of grief, I feel filled with this crazy amount of energy. I never knew what life would be like after I left Troy, but I didn’t expect this sort of happiness to fill my core. It could be because I’m here with Wilder, or just because I know I won’t have to sleep in the back of the closet or on the floor ever again.
“Yeah.” He nods. “You’re right. Tomorrow doesn’t matter when we’ve still got today.” Finally, he smiles and I feel that warmth of it radiate into my soul. Wilder is healing. He is like the wind beneath my wings. I know his care for me will likely fade, the age difference being so much, but I want to enjoy what we have now.
I’m so done wasting precious time. I want to finally have something in my life that I love. And I think I just might be starting to love Wilder Cromwell.
The minute we get back into our room, I push Wilder against the wall and crush his mouth with mine.