Chapter 11 The Wake
“I’m sorry, Halle. I’m going to keep apologizing until you forgive me.
” James rattled around the kitchen in the cabin where he was holding her captive.
They’d been there for three days. She didn’t know where they were, only that they hadn’t left Heart Lake.
The same breezes she’d heard all her life were still whistling down the mountains and gusting against the windows of the cabin.
Blackout curtains covered the windows. Only in the bathroom had she been able to push them aside for a peek at the outdoors. She could see nothing but trees, mostly evergreens. They were so tall and growing so close together that she couldn’t see beyond them.
James had been planning her abduction for a while. The tall woodpile and well-stocked pantry and fridge were proof of it. And anyone who’d spent this much time planning an abduction could’ve prevented the mass tragedy that had taken place at Garrett Farm. His apologies were meaningless.
She pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders and shifted her weight from one sore hip to the other.
Being confined for seventy-two hours straight was taking its toll on her health.
A steel-reinforced vinyl cord circled her wrist, tethering her to the cedar support post in the living room.
She was seated on the rug in front of the fireplace, unable to get warm.
The coldness inside her went all the way to her soul.
The big-screen TV over the mantle remained on the local news channel. James had turned down the sound and turned on the closed captions, maybe because he was tired of hearing her weep over what the newscasters were saying. She wished he’d turn it off altogether.
She couldn’t bear to watch the photos of the deceased citizens they were constantly displaying on the screen. The actions of James and his evil family had snuffed out the lives of twelve people. Well, eleven, if she didn’t include herself in the gruesome tally, which everyone else was doing.
The fire marshal’s preliminary report cited a gas leak as the most probable cause of the explosion. The ensuing blast and house fire were blamed for the tragedies that followed. It sounded like Garrett Farm had been reduced to ashes and a few smoldering embers.
She shivered as she named the victims one by one inside her head, vowing to never forget them:
Owen Tolliver.
Ryder and Cooper Tolliver.
Jen Tolliver.
Rex Turner.
Jensen and Kenny Carter.
Rock Hefner.
Sheriff Luke Hawling.
Deputy Wheeler Remington.
Deputy Lincoln Hudson.
And me.
The world assumed she’d perished with the others, and who could blame them? Her wedding had taken place only minutes before Garrett Farm had been transformed into a disaster zone.
Oh, how she wished the part about her dying were true!
She wanted nothing more than to be buried alongside her precious family and farmhands.
Technically, their bodies weren’t in the ground yet.
A wake was being held in Town Square this afternoon for all the victims of the devastating fire.
The event was open to the public. A private graveside funeral service would follow for family and friends only.
A sob worked its way up her throat at the realization she wouldn’t be there to pay her respects. If anyone deserved to be there, she did. It was so unfair.
The story of my life.
“Did you say something?” James glanced worriedly at her. The cabin had an open floor plan, so there was no wall separating the tiny kitchen from the tiny living room. He was cleaning up after the lunch she’d refused to eat. She hadn’t eaten anything since arriving at the cabin.
When she didn’t answer, he sighed heavily. “I’m sorry for lying to you about being married. I’m sorry for selling your chicken farm without your knowledge. Most of all, I’m sorry for being related to a group of cold-blooded killers. I never signed up for murder.”
He thought he was better than his wife, father, and sister-in-law, even though it was his own financial fraud skills that had brought them into Halle’s life. He wasn’t blameless. Why couldn’t he see that?
She watched him remove his cufflinks and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt before plunging his hands into the dishwater.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m almost sorry we ever met.
If we hadn’t, none of this…” He gestured regretfully, sending a glob of soap suds across the kitchen counter.
Finally! Something we can agree on. It was the most honest he’d been with her so far. He was still holding her captive, though, so she had nothing to say to him.
He finished washing the dishes and left them on the rack to dry.
Then he brewed a cup of peppermint tea for her.
It was a scent she’d grown to hate. He carried it to her.
“You need to stay hydrated.” His voice was gentle as he bent his knees and held it out to her.
“If you can’t find it in your heart to do anything else right now, please do that. ”
She shook her head, weakly waving away the tea. Every beverage he gave her was drugged, designed to keep her sleepy. “Just let me die, James.” She was losing her will to live.
“I can’t.” He set the mug on the raised brick hearth, remaining crouched beside her. “Even criminals have their limits, Halle. I guess you’re mine.”
“I’m not yours. I never was.” You’re married, James. And so am I. She shrank away from him, making him sigh again.
“That’s not what I meant.” He ran a hand through his perfectly styled black hair, ruffling it a little and making himself look more human. “I can’t fix the past between us, Halle, but I am trying to build a future for us.”
“You can’t!” She wanted nothing to do with the man who was partly responsible for putting eleven innocent people in the grave. A fresh wave of anger rolled through her, making her shiver violently. Or maybe it was low blood sugar giving her the shakes. She no longer cared.
“You could’ve prevented the attack on my family,” she accused between gritted teeth. “You could’ve called the police.”
“Much good it would’ve done.” His voice was tight with resignation. “The sting operation the Feds spent weeks putting together was compromised from the get-go.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
He spread his hands. “One of their agents was dirty. One that I know of,” he corrected wryly. “There might be more. After I married Brooke, she and my dad stopped telling me stuff. They knew I was only in it for the money and couldn’t stomach anything else.”
“But you went along with it,” Halle sputtered,“even though you knew what they were up to. You were the one handling the money.” The guy handling the money could identify buyers, sellers, and suppliers.
The guy handling the money also kept track of inventories, which meant James knew enough to topple the smuggling empire his family had built.
“They kept me in the dark about more than you realize.” He took a seat on the rug beside her. “I did what I could by getting you out of there.”
“Do you have any idea how lame that sounds?” She glared at him. “Children died because of you. Children I loved. People who mattered to me. People I’m never going to get to say goodbye to.” She pointed in despair at the television screen.
The camera zoomed in on an elaborate poster about the wake being held at Town Square.
James impulsively swiveled in her direction. “Would it help if I took you to the wake?”
She stared at him, assuming she’d heard wrong.
He edged closer to her on the rug. “Would it give you the closure you need so we can move on with our lives?”
The caressing note in his voice told her he was hoping to pick up where they’d left off with their engagement, which was impossible.
It blew her mind that he thought he stood a chance at whisking her into the sunset to live on stolen money.
However, he obviously believed it. Maybe it was her ticket out of there.
She spoke through numb lips. “Yes. I think it would.” If he transported her to the busy downtown district, the possibilities for escaping him would be endless.
He reached for the mug of tea he’d set aside and held it out to her again. “If you’re going anywhere, staying hydrated isn’t an option.”
As she took the mug from him, he waved vaguely at the room. “As cozy as this is, the plan was never to stay here forever.”
The plan. The irony of his words wasn’t lost on her.
After pretending to be her knight in shining armor, he’d finally admitted the truth—that he’d planned this.
“Tell me more,” she whispered, pretending to take a sip of the drugged tea.
It had cooled off enough to try something else she’d been debating inside her head.
When he wasn’t looking, she dumped part of the tea down her shirt.
The quilt wrapped around her shoulders masked the dampness.
He smiled faintly as he gazed into the distance. “I have money, Halle. Lots of it.”
Only because you stole it from people like me! She pretended to take another sip and managed to dump some more of it down her shirt. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Give you the life you deserve, Halle.” The energy in his voice kicked up a notch. “I want to see the Great Wall of China with you, visit the pink sandstone cliffs of Petra, and light a candle together at the ancient Machu Picchu citadel in the Andes.”
He was living in a fictional world, conveniently ignoring that they were married to other people.
But if pretending to go along with his fantasy was her way out of the cabin, Halle was game. “Eleven candles at the citadel.” She deliberately employed a soft, hesitate voice. “I think we should light eleven candles, one for each person I’ve lost.”
“We will.” He reached for her hand and removed the cord fastened to her wrist.
Her heart thudded with astonishment. As much as she hated his touch, she let him hold her hand a few seconds longer before tucking it back inside the quilt. “Maybe after the wake, we can start packing?”