Chapter 14
Fourteen
Henry
The office smells like stale coffee and printer paper, and the hum of the fluorescent lights has started to drill into the base of my skull. I’ve been at it for hours, sorting through grant applications and budget reports like it’s any other Friday, even though it isn’t.
Even though tomorrow my sister is getting married.
And even though yesterday I fucked one of the bridesmaids in one of our horse barns.
Bradley steps into the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one brow raised. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I finish typing a note in the margin of the youth outreach proposal. “Just tying up a few things before the weekend.”
His laugh is short. “Henry, it’s your sister’s wedding. You should be out on the ranch or helping with last-minute chaos, not buried in paperwork.”
I lean back in the chair and rub a hand over my face. “Yeah, I know.”
“So?” he asks, stepping inside now. “What gives?”
I let out a long breath. “I feel bad, Brad. Really bad. I’ve dumped a ton of stuff on you the last few months, and you haven’t said a damned word about it.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s fine. You’ve had a lot going on.”
I shake my head. “Still. It’s not fair. Not with everything you’re dealing with. Uncle Joe… Your dad’s fighting cancer, and I’ve been sitting here letting you carry most of the load.”
He goes quiet for a second, staring at the floor. “The docs say he’s doing great. But sometimes his face tells another story. I’d rather be here than watching him pretend he’s okay when he’s not. Chemo, man… It’s rough, even on the strongest man I know.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Sometimes it’s easier to be here, engrossed in work. And you have your own shit going on.”
“I get that,” I say quietly. “But that’s still not an excuse for me to check out.”
“You didn’t check out,” he says. “You’ve been showing up.”
He’s not wrong. My body’s been present, but my head’s been spinning.
“I don’t want to let you down,” I say.
Bradley exhales through his nose and looks up at me. “If you don’t walk out of this office in the next five minutes, I’m going to drag you out by your collar.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“You’ve got this?” I ask.
“Go,” he says. “Be the best man. Be a brother. We can save the world on Monday.”
I nod, standing up slowly. “Thanks, Brad. Really.”
“Just don’t forget your speech,” he calls as I head for the door. “And don’t make it weird.”
No promises.
Six months earlier…
Jason holds a man in a headlock. He’s wearing a brown UPS uniform, and his nose is bloody. He’s struggling to break free from Jason’s grip.
He elbows Jason right in the gut and breaks free of the headlock, lunging toward Angie.
Oh, hell no.
Not my sister, you derelict.
Rage hurls through me, and I act on instinct.
My pistol is strapped to my ankle. Yeah, I carry. Damned good thing, too.
I charge. Jason straightens himself just in time to duck a swing from the man, grab his wrist, and slam his forearm against the doorframe. He cries out in pain and raises a leg, bringing his foot down on Jason’s instep. Jason lets go but lands an uppercut right to the man’s jaw.
His eyes roll back in his head, and he slowly slinks to the floor.
I pat down his uniform and pull out a gun from his pocket.
“Holy shit, Jason, you were right. He was about to shoot us.” I hold the gun in front of me. “How did you know?”
Jason points to the street. “The car. I recognized it from the night I was scoping Ralph’s apartment. This guy must be his muscle, the guy who kept him informed while he was in the hospital.”
“Yes, I saw him once disguised as a nurse,” Angie says. “He must be the guy that Ralph hired to beat him up.”
“And I bet he orchestrated the deaths of the Chapman brothers, too,” Jason says.
Angie raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Jason rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you.
I think Ralph had them killed as well. Steve Chapman, his old friend from school.
This guy”—he gestures to the unconscious man on Angie’s front stoop—“must have been able to hack my search history on my computer or my phone or something, because I was looking for information about Lindsay, and after I finally got Steve’s number, I called, and he had just died an hour before I called. ”
Angie gulps. “My God.”
“But you said there were two brothers,” Tabitha says, walking up from behind Angie and out onto the porch. “What happened to the other one?”
“He was found dead early this morning,” Angie says. “Gray Eyes over here figured out that he had been helping me, despite the fact that his brother had just died. So he had him killed, too.”
“Holy shit,” Tabitha says.
Jason nods. “Steve had a prior brain injury, and Tom had some preexisting heart condition. Their deaths were easily explained away.” His lip trembles. “Just like Lindsay’s was.”
Slow clapping.
“Very good, Dr. Lansing.”
What the…?
Another man, a bloody gash on his forehead, and—
In a flash, he’s got a knife at Angie’s throat.
“Ralph, don’t!” Jason cries out.
He presses the knife against Angie’s neck. “Don’t move, Lansing, or your tight little girlfriend gets her pretty little throat slit.”
“Why are you doing this?” Jason asks. “Lindsay’s gone. It’s over.”
Ralph shrugs. “It’s over when I decide it’s over. How the hell could she choose you over me? You’re a fake, Lansing. Poor doctor can’t do surgery, can’t even teach anymore.”
Slowly I walk forward. I’m still holding the UPS guy’s gun.
I trust my own piece more, but this one’s cocked and ready.
“Just put the knife down, Ralph,” Jason says evenly. “I’ve already called the cops. They’ll be here any minute.”
“How dumb do you think I am?” Ralph asks. “And I don’t care about the cops. All I care about is denying you the love of your life. I did it once, and I can do it again.”
He presses the knife into Angie’s throat.
No.
Not happening.
“Ralph, don’t—”
I pull the trigger.
Make the shot.
Right under his right eye.
The knife clatters to the floor.
Ralph crumples under Angie, two separate pools of blood seeping out of him, one from the gash in his forehead, and the other from a bullet wound.
I turn around.
I slowly place the still-smoking gun down on the concrete floor, like it might go off again if I move too fast.
Everything’s too quiet. The kind of quiet that buzzes in my ears. It’s sharp, and it’s wrong. My hands are shaking. Not violently—just enough for me to be aware. Just enough to know I’m not fully inside myself anymore. Like part of me stepped out and hasn’t figured out how to climb back in yet.
There’s blood.
I don’t know how much, and I don’t want to look too closely. But it’s there, and so is he—crumpled, not moving. Eyes open, but vacant.
God.
He’s dead.
I just took a human life.
I step back. My heel scrapes against the floor, the sound too loud in this thick silence. I want to speak, to say something—anything—but my throat’s locked up tight.
Someone’s breathing. Ragged, fast. Not me.
Jason. My sister. Tabitha.
They’re alive. That much I know.
I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. He was holding a knife to Angie’s throat. He nicked her.
Angie’s blood.
No time. No second-guessing.
Just a clean shot and the echo of it ringing through my skull like a bell tolling in a nightmare.
My stomach turns.
Someone says my name. I hear it but don’t answer right away. It sounds distant, like it’s traveling through a tunnel.
Henry…
I look up.
My sister’s crying. Jason has his arms around her. Tabitha is frozen, her eyes locked on me.
Something in me wants to apologize, but I don’t even know what for. For what I did? For not hesitating? For not falling apart?
I did what I had to do.
But why does it feel like everything just broke anyway?
My mouth is dry. I feel like I’m standing outside myself, watching the scene from some high-up place I can’t explain. A man is dead. I pulled the trigger.
And I’m still standing.
For now.