Chapter 29 Oh, Joanie
TWENTY-NINE
OH, JOANIE
LYLA
We’ve been rolling for hours, Ohio’s border somewhere ahead, and the convoy is quiet.
I should be tired too. Sleep hasn’t exactly been plentiful.
In a good way.
A small smile creeps in as I grip the wheel. My body’s sore in the best ways. Jacob’s been a surprise. A very, very good surprise.
Every night for the past two weeks, we’ve parked the camper farther from the others. After that first night, and the talk that followed, I couldn’t stomach the idea of anyone overhearing us again. Edith’s comment still makes me shudder. Distance has been our friend.
But my eyes keep flicking to Joanie. She’s been wound tighter than barbed wire this morning, staring out the window like the answers are hiding somewhere past the tree line. Not watching the road—watching through it.
The silence buzzes with something sharp and unfinished.
“Jo,” I say, keeping my voice casual, like I’m not bracing. “You good?”
Her jaw flexes. “Fine.”
“Bullshit. Spit it out.”
She doesn’t answer. Just reaches into her bag and yanks something out—a tattered notepad.
My stomach sinks.
“I found this under your seat last night,” she says, voice low and shaking with fury. “Want to explain what the fuck it is?”
I glance down. The top page is covered in my handwriting—taunts, clues, locations. All meant for him. Every breadcrumb I planned to drop, bundled together in one neat, damning stack.
I knew I forgot about something.
Shitty shit shit.
“I—I was leaving notes for him,” I admit, throat tight. “To lure him. To end it. I thought if he followed me, I could control the outcome. Keep everyone else safe.”
Her laugh is hollow. Mean. “Control the outcome? Are you out of your damn mind? You handed him a road map straight to our doorstep.”
“I stopped—”
“You shouldn’t have even started!”
Her voice cracks on the edge of rage and betrayal.
I tighten my grip on the wheel. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”
“Stop the car, Lyla.”
“I’m not—”
“I said STOP the fucking car. Or I’m jumping.”
“Joanie—”
She throws the door open.
“Shit—JOANIE!”
Before I can swerve to a full stop, she tucks her shoulder and rolls, still gripping her bag and the notebook.
My foot slams the brake. Tires scream. Dust erupts in a choking cloud. My hand braces against the dash as Lucy jerks to a violent stop.
I shove the door open, screaming, “Are you crazy!? You could have broken something!”
Joanie stands and immediately starts walking away, down the road toward the others’ now stopped cars. Ignoring me.
“Joanie, stop! Please listen to me!” My voice cuts through the engine’s ticking cooldown. Urgent. Pleading.
“I thought if I got you somewhere safe, with people, you’d stop chasing him,” she blurts, the words tumbling over each other as she keeps walking away from me.
“I thought if you believed it was over, you’d heal.
But, no. You instead decide to keep your fucking obsession and lie to us, to me!
” Then in a softer, hurt tone. “You were supposed to be better.”
Gravel crunches behind us, low and sharp.
Doors slam. Jacob. Trish. Leon. Edith. Earl.
Clair. They’re all there, all closing in.
But their faces blur, their voices fade, because all I hear is the sound of Mark’s last breath rattling out of him in my arms, the sobs of families I failed, and the low, amused laugh of the man who did it.
“Joanie, I joined this group because of him, but I’m staying because of you all. I knew he would follow all of you because he can’t let anyone best him. I brought him here, on purpose, but I stopped leaving notes.”
Joanie turns and laughs, but there’s nothing warm in it. It’s jagged. Bitter. “And you think that makes it okay?”
Her hand trembles as she digs into her bag, yanking something free, and throwing it into my hand. “It was in the warden’s office. Sitting on the desk.”
The paper feels rough under my fingertips, the edges frayed like they’ve been worried over a hundred times. I flip it open one-handed, and my eyes hit the jagged scrawl:
See you soon.
This isn’t over.
I look up into her eyes as she guts me. “I guess you’ll get your wish after all. I just hope it was worth it.”
The others have finally joined us. Jacob’s voice slices through the air. “What happened? Are you both okay?”
“Ask her.” Joanie’s breath comes fast. “She’s the one who’s fucked up.” Her eyes lock with mine, her words a snarl. “She lied. Straight to my face.” She holds out the notebook.
Jacob takes it from Joanie’s hand. His body goes rigid as his eyes rake over the handwriting. The silence that follows is like a guillotine dropping.
His grip tightens on the sheets of paper. “What is this, Joanie?”
Tears spill over. “I saw Lyla sneaking into the woods at night. More than once. You told us not to go alone, so yeah, I thought it was weird. But then I followed her, over a week ago, and caught her carving marks into a tree. After that, I started checking her stuff. Easy enough, with you two shacked up together.” Her voice cracks into a sob.
“And last night? I find this notebook. Messages for that psychopath she’s so fucking obsessed with. ”
I don’t look away from him. I want him to see the horrible truth for what it is. “I brought him to us. To me. So when he came, I’d be here to protect everyone—and kill him for good.”
Trish’s voice cuts in. “Who the hell are you talking about?”
The air goes heavy. Still.
Jacob takes a step forward, closing the space like a predator locking on to prey. Fury ignites in his eyes, hot enough to burn. “You led him to us?” His voice rises, every word loaded and lethal. “You dragged every single one of us into his sights?”
“I wouldn’t have let anything happen—”
“Just like nothing happened to Mark?”
The world stops.
The name slams into me like a blow to the ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. My head snaps toward him, heat and ice colliding in my veins. “You don’t get to use him against me.”
“Why not?” His voice is a blade, each word honed to wound. “It’s the truth. You couldn’t save him, and now you’ve lined up the rest of us in his place.”
My chest heaves, rage scraping against grief until I can barely tell them apart. “That’s not what this is—”
“That’s exactly what this is!” he roars, the sound tearing through the space between us. “You made a call for everyone here without a single damn word. You turned this group into bait because you couldn’t let go of your grudge. You didn’t just gamble with your life—you gambled with all of ours.”
“It’s not a grudge—it’s justice!” My voice tears out of me, raw and scorching.
“I was going to tell you, but I knew you’d do whatever it took to bury us so he’d never find me.
And you don’t get to make that decision for me any more than I get to make it for you.
When I stayed, I realized you all deserved the choice. To fight or to run.”
He laughs—short, sharp, and cruel enough to cut.
“A choice? This isn’t some noble stand, Lyla.
It’s about protecting the people I’m responsible for.
About not tossing lives onto the table like poker chips in your personal war.
” His jaw tightens, his words landing like fists.
“You were selfish. You risked every single one of us so you could take your shot.”
“I was protecting you—”
“No.” The word snaps out like a whip crack, slicing clean between us. “You were protecting your pride. That’s all this ever was. And I’m done with it.”
The ice in his voice is worse than any scream—it’s final, unyielding.
“Leave.”
I blink, stunned. “What?”
“Get in your car and go.” His eyes don’t waver, don’t soften. “We’ll take care of ourselves. We don’t need your recklessness poisoning this group.”
The air between us turns to ice. The group stands frozen, eyes flicking between us. Even Joanie looks like she’s been punched in the gut, her lips parting like she might speak, then closing again. No one moves. No one dares to.
“You don’t mean that,” I manage, though my voice shakes, equal parts fury and something dangerously close to hurt.
Barbara steps forward. “Jacob—”
“I mean every damn word.” His voice is a blade.
Something in my chest buckles, threatening to split wide open.
“I stopped leaving clues the night we had our date. I chose you, all of you, over him. I could’ve kept the trail hot, but I didn’t.
I was going to tell you, Jacob, but every mile we traveled .
. . every night I saw you safe . . . it got harder and harder to rip that apart.
I figured if you didn’t know and he never found us that it didn’t need to be told. ”
His eyes lock on mine, and there’s no warmth left—only hurt, sharp and unyielding. “I don’t want to hear your excuses for what you did. You need to leave. Now.”
I want to scream, to rage, to tell him he’s wrong—that everything I did was for them. I want to grab him by the shirt and make him see it. But the set of his shoulders, the rigid line of his jaw, the way he doesn’t so much as blink tells me it’s pointless. The verdict’s already been handed down.
Tears well hot and fast, threatening to spill, but I force my spine straight. If he’s going to push me out, I won’t give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble.
For a long, pulsing second, I just stand there, my fingers curled so tight around the note that the paper softens under the heat and sweat of my grip. Then I shove it into my jacket pocket, turn on my heel, and walk to Lucy—every step heavier than the last.
The driver’s seat feels cold as I drop into it. My hands are steady, but only because I won’t let them shake.
I start the engine and slam my foot on the gas.
In the mirror, Jacob stands with his arms crossed, shoulders squared like I’m just another problem he’s solved by cutting loose. The others watch, silent and still, as the distance swallows me.
Thirty minutes blur—dark trees, cracked pavement. Just nothing.
The tears come hard and fast, relentless, hot streaks down my cheeks.
Lucy’s headlights cut into the dark, and a small town rises ahead—quiet, half-ruined, waiting.
I don’t know if I’m looking for answers, or a fight.
Only that I’m alone. And this time, I’m the one who made it that way.