Chapter Fifteen #2
The side door of the van slid open, and a figure swaddled in dark clothing stepped out—black jeans and a baggy shirt, with leather bracelets and a spiked choker.
Probably no more than five feet tall and ninety pounds soaking wet, the teen eyed us with disdain as thick as her eyeliner.
Her hair was shaved short on one side, the rest gathered into a ponytail, dyed coal black like her clothes.
My knee-jerk reaction shouted not to let this girl near our house. Could she be trusted not to lead someone back to us someday? Russell’s shoulders tensed, and his set face indicated he had the same reservations. More, even.
But I also knew, odds were that the girl’s hostile appearance was honed from the long practice of distancing herself from people determined to harm her.
So I stepped out into the rain, water plastering my hair, and called, “Come on, young lady. There are snacks in the car, and we have a place ready for you until we can arrange the next leg of your journey.”
Russell wasn’t happy with me.
He didn’t outright scowl, but he held the steering wheel in a death grip that went beyond just careful driving in a thunderstorm.
The tic in the corner of his eye had broadcast his frustration since the moment I’d ignored our decision to trust our instincts and had invited this troubled teen to stay in his grandmother’s cabin.
The place where he wanted to make a home for us, wearing his grandparents’ wedding bands. My heart squeezed at the prospect.
Rain drummed on the roof in time to the Fleetwood Mac eight-track.
I hated that we had two disagreements at once hanging between us—the proposal and the teen’s lodging.
Although now I wondered if I’d suggested the cabin to avoid having to discuss the other.
If so, that wasn’t fair of me. Russell deserved a more honest and up-front response.
Later, though. I would apologize, but first things first.
The cabin was our best—truly our only—option for the teen’s temporary lodging.
Even if we could locate Libby, I couldn’t ask her to take in this girl, not with Keith under the same roof.
And Thea lived in a one-bedroom efficiency apartment, although she spent more nights than not with her new boyfriend.
I glanced over my shoulder to check on our passenger. She appeared to be sleeping, slouched with her arms crossed, except her jaw kept flexing and her breathing was too rapid. She was alert underneath all that attitude.
This didn’t seem to be the right time to tell her she’d already broken the number one rule two mile markers ago by telling us her real name—Destiny Nelson, from Atlanta, Georgia.
Although she wouldn’t have a new name until her final destination, she still should have been warned to maintain her anonymity.
For heaven’s sake, I hadn’t even told Libby my real name, just as she’d never shared hers or Keith’s.
Only Russell knew who I was before Bent Oak.
But I reminded myself this girl was young—not even a fully formed adult and already on the run.
As Russell turned into the driveway leading to the cabin, the station wagon jostled and skidded in the muddy potholes, water sluicing off to the side.
Destiny shifted in the back seat. “This is it? Looks like the kinda place where that guy from Friday the 13th jumps out of the woods with a chain saw.”
I stifled a twinge of irritation, reminding myself the attitude was a shield. “Well, then lucky for you he won’t be able to see you with all your black clothes.”
The kid would likely reject sympathy, but it still made me sad to think how she wouldn’t be here—in this Friday the 13th place—at all unless she was running from something much worse. I started to apologize for my comment, then saw her smirk in the rearview mirror.
Only a few more minutes, twenty tops, and we would have her settled. Then Russell and I could have a sit-down discussion, the kind of mutual exchange I’d never experienced with Phillip.
As the station wagon bounced along another pothole, I saw a thin light piercing the darkness from Russell’s apartment over the barn.
Strange, since Russell was always a stickler about not running up his power bill.
Another of those idiosyncrasies I’d learned over the years about the man I loved, like how he preferred his coffee with two sugars and that he put the milk jug back on the refrigerator shelf even when empty.
Yet there was still so much of myself I couldn’t give to him.
Because I always had to be careful and never forget the people who’d been angered by my relocations. “Russell, did you happen to leave a lamp on?”
Frowning, he squinted into the murky night. “And pay for the lights when nobody’s home? Nope. I turned everything off.”
In the back seat, Destiny stretched upward until I saw her face in the rearview mirror, like an apparition, given all that goth hair and makeup.
“Is something wrong? You two screwed up, didn’t you.
I knew this was too good to be true. I’m gonna file a complaint with whoever runs this rinky-dink operation. ”
I ground my teeth. Destiny and I were going to have a serious conversation about manners and the importance of safety soon—once we solved the lamp issue.
Russell slammed on the brakes as the headlights swept over a rusty pickup. “Were you expecting anyone to meet up with us here after we finished?”
My skin prickled with anxiety. I could just barely make out Tennessee plates on the muddy truck. “No. I would have told you.”
And he would have told me.
Russell threw the station wagon into reverse, swinging the vehicle around. The back end fishtailed until he righted the car again, powering forward. I knelt on the seat, twisting to check Destiny and look back to make sure we weren’t being followed.
The open barn doors framed a shadowy couple, a man and a woman I didn’t need lighting to recognize.
“Stop,” I screamed, my hand wavering as I pointed. “It’s Libby. He’s got Libby.”
The station wagon jerked to a halt, flinging me into the dash.
My ribs exploded with pain. But it didn’t change what I saw.
The man eased out into the rain, with his fist in Libby’s long hair.
Her legs pedaled as she thrashed alongside him.
Was he somehow connected to her? Or one of the other women who’d come through Bent Oak over the years?
I clawed at the door handle, desperate to get out. To help Libby. To save her. I didn’t know how, but inaction wasn’t an option.
Russell gripped a hand on my arm. “Wait.”
Pivoting, I slapped at his arm. “Let me go. We have to do something.”
“Stop,” he said softly, his voice low and reasonable. “We need to think, not just react.”
His words made sense, although the logic still made me mad. How could I do anything other than react? “Fine. I’ll get him talking while you come up with a plan.”
I lunged out of the door with barely a glance back at Destiny.
My feet slid on the mud until I landed hard on my bottom.
My teeth slammed together. I clamped a hand against my ribs, the pain so excruciating I saw sparks behind my eyelids.
Or maybe more lightning. Through the sheeting rain, I took in the man about fifty yards away, mid-height with hair darkened by rain and his face full of hate.
Libby grabbed at his soaked shirt until she regained her footing, her eyes pleading with me. “Winnie, get Keith out of the barn. Take him.”
She had to know I couldn’t just leave her here.
The man shifted his attention to me, and as much as I tried to hold my ground, I backed up a step.
“His name is Freddie,” the man growled. “Fred Gordon Jr.”
My stomach dropped at the fury in his tone.
Russell’s voice cut through the night, calm, reassuring. “Sir, let’s get out of the rain, and you can tell us all about what’s on your mind.”
The man yanked that fistful of hair harder. “Listen, buddy, this is none of your concern. This is between me and my wife .”
His words stole the air from my lungs. So this was Libby’s husband. Fred Gordon Sr. Rain hid tears streaming down my face for my friend and what she must have endured. How difficult it had to have been for her to escape. The harsh reality of how quickly we could be found sent ice through my veins.
The monster in front of me made Phillip look like a choirboy. This man was pure evil. The violence in his eyes alone made my throat sting with bile.
And he held sweet, gentle Libby up by her hair with one hand, a knife glinting in his other. Even in the dark I could see the surrender in her eyes.
“Fred,” she pleaded, “just take me. Let them go.”
Fred shook his head, hauling her around in front of him. He pressed the knife to her throat, the jagged blade glinting. “A son needs his father. Nothing would keep me from finding my boy.”
Should I run to Keith? I didn’t know how to help, and I was terrified of doing something to make this man even angrier.
Keith stumbled out of the barn, his hands trembling as he reached toward his parents. “Mama, I’m sorry. It’s my fault—”
“It’s okay, baby.” Libby choked out hoarse reassurance, her voice gurgling from rainwater, maybe, or from whatever violence had been done to her before we arrived. “I love you.” Then she mouthed the word Run .
Her order launched Keith into action. He bolted past his parents, sprinting toward the station wagon.
Rain slicked over him, plastering his hair over his eyes.
The station wagon began rolling, gaining momentum, and for a moment my heart went into my throat until I realized Destiny was behind the wheel.
She leaned out the window and shouted at Keith, “Get in.”
Keith only hesitated for a moment before diving into the passenger side. Destiny floored the gas, tires spinning, spewing mud. Finally lurching free with the taillights winking in the night.
At least the teens were safe. Two less people to worry about so we could focus on Libby.
Fred backhanded her, once, twice. “See what you made him do?”
A scream of denial tore from my throat, mingling with Russell’s growl. Calm was fading fast. He strode forward with measured, determined strides. His gaze locked with Fred’s as the man arced his fist upward again. And I realized he’d dropped the knife. Russell was making his move.
He ducked a shoulder and charged Libby’s husband, catapulting him backward into the barn. Russell’s shout carried on the wind. “Winnie. Go. Get Libby out of here.”
Lightning sliced through the sky, and the crack of thunder snapped an instant later.
Followed by another burst of jagged light that split the massive oak.
Half of the tree stayed upright. The other half split away, falling toward the old barn with hints of fire skipping through the branches.
The station wagon’s taillights swerved, fishtailing out of control as they struggled to avoid the falling limbs, until the land barge of a vehicle spun doughnuts on the lawn.
Broadsiding the remainder of the ancient oak.
My heart cried out in fear for the teens, and for Russell too, but I didn’t have time to think.
My focus had to be on getting Libby to safety.
I half carried, half hauled her across the muddy yard, torn up all the more with tire tracks.
I lost a shoe in the mud and kept going.
She moaned in pain, one eye swelling closed.
She was alive, but not much else. Her wet hair hung heavily on her face, and I was pretty sure the dark patch on her scalp was blood where a chunk of hair was missing.
I gasped and tugged, her feet dragging until I collapsed onto the muddy earth with her, safely between some bushes and the cabin. Still holding on. As if my grip could keep her anchored to this side of heaven.
Away from the side of hell that Fred had just shown me.
My mind filled with nightmare images of what her life must have been like before Bent Oak. I’d suspected, but being faced with the evil she’d endured shook me to the core. An evil Russell faced even now. Gasping for air, I peered through the downpour toward the barn, searching for Russell.
Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, immediately followed by a crack of thunder. Sparks showered upward from the heavy branches lying across the barn roof. My gut twisted with fear for Russell. What if the sparks grew to flames, trapping him inside?
I untangled from Libby, laying her back the rest of the way on the ground. After crawling my way to my feet, I sprinted toward the fallen tree. Pain shot up through my one bare foot as I clambered over the protruding roots. Smoke curled from the roof and through the open doors, stinging my nose.
Panicked, I weaved my way faster through the smoky labyrinth of boughs.
Until finally, I saw Russell. Illuminated by a growing flame.
Trapped under the weight of thick branches.
Unmoving. I didn’t see Fred, and in that moment, the threat of him faded to nothing.
I only cared about reaching the man I loved.
A heartbeat later, I dove forward, ripping branches and boards with my bare hands. Sparks burned my skin. I became the madwoman Phillip had once accused me of being, one thought pulsing through me with each breath.
Was this the price I would pay for tangling my life up with Russell’s?