Chapter Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Seven
The old Abbington house looked the same as it had on Dominic’s tour—abandoned, run-down, and exactly the kind of place where you would expect people to have been murdered.
Jake coasted the van into the driveway, trying to soften the impact of the rutted dirt. There were no attempts to stay hidden. Who was there to hide from? This little street was nothing more than an extension of the house, rotting until it disappeared.
He slid open the van door and I tried my best to kick at him.
Even if I’d somehow managed to kick him so perfectly in the jugular that his throat collapsed and he dropped to the ground suffocating, what would I have done, starved to death in the van?
Maybe I could scream loud enough that someone would hear me?
Maybe Elyse would come looking for me? I wouldn’t have to find out, because I barely made contact with him.
He backed out of the way and waited for me to tire myself out.
When I transitioned from feeling like I was fighting back to feeling stupid, I returned my feet to the floor of the van and he climbed in and threw a bag over my head.
It seemed like overkill at first, but as he got close, reaching behind me to unhook the seat belt, I felt the sudden urge to bite him.
Hence the bag. I opened my mouth and got a face full of canvas, rough and a little salty on my lips.
He hooked his arms through mine and yanked me from the van.
I couldn’t see anything and I dropped until my feet hit the driveway.
My knees almost gave out, but he hoisted me up, his hands under my armpits, until I was steady.
Then he was dragging me. I shuffled to keep pace, nervous to take normal steps when I couldn’t see anything in front of me.
We stopped and he separated from me, leaving only his hand resting on my forearm.
I heard the grinding of rusty metal, then he jostled my body as his force lunged elsewhere and I heard what I assumed to be the door separating from the swollen frame.
The hinges wailed like all the WD-40 in the world couldn’t save them.
Jake guided me up a step and through the doorway. The hinges cried bloody murder again as he shut the door behind us. I knew we were inside now, but it didn’t feel like it. I expected the sensation of being sealed in, but I still felt the breeze, I still heard the trees rustling.
He yanked the bag off my head and I saw why.
Most of the windows inside were smashed, sharp triangles of glass ready to slice the veins of any trespassers.
Dirt and leaves had made their way into the house and blown into the corners of the room.
Branches from a fallen tree poked through a window to the left.
It was a little like being in an abandoned Rainforest Cafe.
His phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket to check. While he typed a message, I heard the noises—inconsistent banging coming from deeper inside the house.
I looked to Jake for some kind of explanation. “Go on,” he said, glancing up from his phone, encouraging me to investigate. I could tell from his pompous face that he knew very well where the noises were coming from and what was causing them.
I walked across the wood floor toward the sounds. A swinging door separated me from the next room. I reached the door, my hands still together behind my back, and leaned my shoulder into it, pushing it open.
I stepped into what used to be the kitchen.
The banging stopped and in its place were voices trying to form words around rags tied across their mouths.
They were on the floor, tied down—one around a supporting beam in the center of the room, the other around a thick pipe that ran through the exposed foundation.
Dominic and Porter stared at me, their eyes the same—hope for rescue rapidly fading with the realization that my hands were bound too.
I ran to Porter first, dropping to my knees with a thud, unable to brace myself.
“It’s okay,” I said, wishing I could reach out.
He tried to say something but it was indecipherable.
I rotated around; maybe if I could put my cuffed hands near his, I would be able to do something. It was an unrealistic dream, but when I heard the front door open again, it was motivation. Jake had stepped outside. If I could just get Porter untied…
Dominic said something and I turned to him, my hands still moving feverishly behind my back to try to get to Porter’s ropes. If I held eye contact, maybe he would forgive me for going to Porter first. He was saying the same thing over and over. Eventually it became clear.
“Run!” Dominic was yelling, and he was right. I had to leave them. I had to go for help.
I rolled back around to my knees. Porter was shaking his head, begging me not to abandon him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll be back.” I stood to run, but before I could get anywhere, I heard the front door open.
“C’mon,” Jake said. He was back and he wasn’t alone.
It should have lit a fire under me to run, but instead I stayed. Too curious to know who was with him.
Dominic yelled again for me to go, but it was white noise to me now.
“Don’t run,” Jake shouted, his voice much closer to the kitchen door. “I have one more surprise.”
“What’s going on?” his companion asked. It was Elyse.
I stared at the door. I watched it swing open.
Jake walked through first, a shit-eating grin across his face. She followed him, seemingly oblivious to the situation, but in a split second she registered my hands behind my back, then Dominic and Porter tied up on the floor.
Her focus went immediately to her brother. “What did you do?”
He held out his hands, trying to defuse the visual, wanting her to hear him out. “I did it, Elyse. I found her. I found Marin Haggerty.”
“It was you?” she asked him, not getting that he meant me and not Natalie. “You were the one who killed her?”
He shook his head. “No, that girl wasn’t her. See—”
“Stop!” I shouted, stepping toward Jake, pleading with him not to tell Elyse. Not now. It wasn’t the right time. “Please…”
Elyse looked at me. Trying to understand. “Why are you here?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for my answer before turning back to her brother, desperate. “Why is she here?”
He went to tell her, but I cut him off. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “She wasn’t Marin Haggerty,” I admitted, bringing Elyse’s attention back to me. “The woman who died—her name was Natalie Shea.”
Elyse’s eyes searched for Jake, looking for his confirmation. I kept talking so she would only look at me. “I knew her when I was younger…and I knew you too.” I hesitated as long as I could. “I’m Marin Haggerty.”
Jake clapped his hands together, so pleased with my admission—the smack startling us both.
Elyse backed away from me, covering her mouth as if I were rancid meat.
“I’m sorry,” I said, moving toward her, wishing I could reach out, but she cowered away from me.
She turned back to Jake. Only to Jake. “You knew?” Tears formed in her eyes. Her face was pained. Each thought she tried to process led to a new grimace. “It was you,” she said to him. “You killed that woman. Who even was she?”
Jake backed away, sheepish and without the cocky posturing he reserved for me. He was admitting to her what he had done without having to say it.
“And the others?” Elyse asked him. “You promised you had nothing to do with those.”
“I didn’t want to upset you,” he said. “Let me explain.” He tried to get closer.
“Get away from me!” she screamed.
Jake recoiled. “Why are you acting like this? This is what you wanted. Here she is,” he said, presenting me like a game show prize. “We can finally do this…together.”
Elyse winced. She stared at him, her face contorting as she processed.
“Jake…” She exhaled. “I didn’t want this.
” She looked at me, almost forgetting for a second who I was before aborting the sentiment.
Instead, her compassion moved to Dominic and Porter.
“And what about them?” she asked. “You want to hurt them?”
“It’s not about them,” he insisted. “Don’t you see? We have to take them from her. That’s the only way it’s fair.”
Elyse’s repulsed expression returned, but this time Jake was the rancid meat. “Fair? It’s not a contest. Nothing about what happened to us was fair, but this isn’t right. You can’t hurt them.”
“Don’t think about them,” he demanded. “Think about her.” He shoved his hand back in my direction, more aggressive this time. “Think about what she took from us. Our family. Our lives. These are the only people she cares about.”
It wasn’t true. Dominic and Porter weren’t the only people I cared about. “I care about her,” I said directly to him, before looking at Elyse. She lowered her eyes; she didn’t want to hear it. Not from me.
“Shut up!” Jake yelled.
“Stop…” Elyse urged him to calm down.
“No,” he said. “Don’t listen to her. She’s lying.” He opened his jacket and slid out a knife—a real knife, like for gutting large animals, not for chopping vegetables. He shoved it in Elyse’s direction. “Here, take it! I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“I don’t want it,” she said.
His face dropped. “Elyse…it’s her. It’s Marin Haggerty.”
She softened her voice. “It’s gone too far.” She shook her head. “Look at what you’ve done. Cody, please…”
He cringed at the sound of his real name. He glared at her, waiting for her to change her mind, but when she didn’t…“You don’t care,” he said. “Not like I do.”
“That isn’t true,” she said.
“Then prove it.” He held the knife out again. “Prove that you care about what happened to me.”
Elyse shook her head again. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I knew it,” Jake said, tightening his grip on the knife and turning toward me.
“Wait!” Elyse lunged out to grab his arm, but before she could reach him, he hit her across the face with the butt of the handle and she fell to the ground.
He whipped back around, seemingly regretting his impulse to harm her. He dropped to his knees and reached for her.
“Is she okay?!” I asked.
“Shut up!” he yelled. “Elyse,” he whispered. “Elyse, wake up.”
I thrust toward him, but it was an empty threat. He stood back up before I could get anywhere close enough to harm him.
“She’s breathing,” he said. “She’s fine.” He shoved my shoulder to spin me around and take hold of the chain between my handcuffs. “Let’s go,” he said, slipping the knife back inside his jacket. He pushed me toward the back door. We were headed outside. Back to where it had all started.