Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
The stars spun out above her head. A rush of adrenaline sent shockwaves to her brain that forced her awake, forced her to remember. Fragmented memories clicked back into place.
Then there was her and Seth, before all this.
A motel room.
A future that could be real, not just a fantasy, if only she could fight for it.
How had she forgotten?
Somewhere in those days in the cage, in that swamp of drug-induced euphoria, broken by stretches of cold terror, Claire had lost herself again. And she was still lost, but her heart was pounding hard and loud, and things were making sense again.
She was in a field. Seth was beside her, and a gun was on them. No, not one gun—three.
Her dad held one, a handgun. That scared her the most.
Because he had no heart.
She’d known it, felt it, her whole life. But now she had truly seen it.
And she’d dragged the man beside her down with her. This innocent man who’d never done anything but try to help her.
“Daddy,” she managed. She had to do one thing right. “Please, please let him go. I’ll go back to the cage—I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt him.”
Her dad had an amused look on his face as he paced back and forth in front of them.
“Aw, you’ve already done what I wanted, sweetheart.
Went a bit off-script, but that’s all right, we got where we needed to.
Look at our boy out here alone without a weapon.
” He limply pointed the gun at Seth, then let it fall to his side.
“Don’t waste too much breath on ’im. He’s already a dead man.
He knows it. He’ll never keep his mouth shut about what he’s seen here. Ain’t that right, Detective?”
Seth looked down. Claire prayed he’d say something, anything they wanted to hear.
“Tell him, Seth,” she pleaded. “Tell him you won’t say anything. Please, just say it.”
But he was quiet, his profile downcast. He didn’t look at her.
“See?” her dad said. “He can’t even lie to us.
Smart boy.” He let out an exhausted breath, almost like he was bored as he paced back and forth, back and forth.
“Waste of a half-decent man, this is. It’s too bad you make so many stupid decisions, Detective.
Y’see, Haylock was smart. Corrupt, but smart.
When I first met ’im, I could read ’im like a book.
I knew he’d take the cash to look the other way about my wife’s death, and he did.
Fact is, it was his brilliant idea to plant the blood on the opposite side of town, really throw the trail off. But you…”
Her dad crouched in front of them, his knees cracking as he did, reminding Claire of so many moments in the cage.
“I could read you too, boy. You’re always runnin’ from somethin’.
Always lookin’ for somethin’ weak to save, like maybe it’ll absolve you of all your sins.
Could’ve found God instead.” Seth tried to resist as her dad grabbed his arm and twisted it down, observing the inner part of his elbow.
His track marks were clear under the moonlight. “Huh. Wouldja look at that?”
Seth gave him nothing. Her dad towered over them again.
“Despite all that, I’ve always liked you, son. You’ve got a pair, I’ll give ya that much. None of these two chuckleheads ever stood their ground to me the way you did.”
“That’s sweet, Ron,” Seth finally said, though his voice was tired. Resigned. “I’ve always liked you too.”
“Aw, you’re makin’ me blush. I might regret puttin’ a bullet in you.
” He cackled like he was having too much fun playing with his food.
“S’all right, you won’t be the first to go.
You did me a favor by kickin’ around town all obsessive.
Makes sense now, with that history of yours, that you’d struggle to let things go.
Now I get to take a page from poor Trevor’s past. The ol’ murder-suicide trick. ”
“What are you talking about, man?” Seth asked.
“What, don’t you remember? I told you what Trevor’s daddy did to his poor mama. I’m afraid you’re about to do the same thing to my Claire.”
Claire could only tremble.
So, that was how they’d do it.
Seth tried to say something, but made a noise that sounded more like disbelief. His voice was strained as he said, “Ron, she’s your daughter, man, come on.”
“That’s the thing, son. She is my little girl.
” When his attention fell on her, the fear was automatic.
Claire looked down at her hands, buried in the grass as she held herself up.
“And it does hurt me to see her go, but it’s not really her in there.
It’s Celine’s disobedient DNA. Some things are skin-deep, aren’t they, Claire Bear? ”
Her thoughts were too scattered to make sense, and her voice didn’t work.
She wanted to live.
But if one of them had to die, then it had to be her.
Because this was her family. Her mess. Her horror.
Seth didn’t deserve to lose his life because of her.
Yet he was the one saying, “Do what you want with me, just leave her out of it. I’m the one you need gone, right? So let’s handle this, you and me. We’ll do it your way. Whatever you want, Ron.”
“No,” Claire squeaked out, “no, I’m the one who betrayed you, Daddy, not him.”
“Claire, please,” Seth said.
“No, it has to be me.”
“Jeez, all right,” her dad said, “you’re like an old married couple.
Don’t worry, you’ll both get your turn. As much fun as this is, we should get to it.
” He wagged the gun at Dillon. “C’mere, Dill.
Gimme the shotgun, you’ll take the Glock.
The handgun’s the key here. Easiest to wipe the prints off. I’ll show you how we did Trevor.”
Dillon froze. “Wait… you want me to…?”
Her dad cackled. “Of course you’re gonna do it, she’s your woman, man.
You think I had someone else snap Celine’s neck?
” He pointed the gun casually at Seth. “Trevor was in the truck, by the way. Saw the whole thing. I caught Celine at the old hunting cabin my paranoid grandfather built in the woods. Turned out she’d been stashin’ cash there, plannin’ to run off an’ start a new life somewhere without ’er girls.
What kind of a wife would do that? Anyway, I kept ’er body in a trunk there for years till Trevor went cuckoo and I had to move ’er.
Enjoy the answers to your burning questions before you bite the dust, Detective. ”
Seth said nothing. Claire couldn’t bear to look up.
“Well, Dillon? Don’t be shy. You’ll shoot Claire at point blank, right between ’er eyes. Won’t feel a thing. Then we’ll have Winslow turn it on himself. Easy as pie.”
Dillon remained in place, still holding the shotgun beside them. He looked at her dad like a confused dog.
“You don’t have to do that, Dillon,” Seth cut in. “You don’t have to do anything—”
Her dad smacked him on the forehead with the end of his gun. Claire winced. “Shut the fuck up. He’ll do what I need him to do, and you’ll watch. Dillon, do it.”
“Don’t do it, Dillon.”
The thwack of polymer on bone, the butt of the gun hitting Seth again, much harder this time. Claire let out a strangled yelp as he half-collapsed beside her, holding himself up with his palms. She wished she could wake up from this nightmare.
She wished, more than anything, that she would’ve let herself die in that cage instead of dragging Seth out here to die with her.
Dillon kept the shotgun pointed at them, shaking.
She’d never seen such raw terror on his face.
His skin was white as bone, his eyes massive.
She’d never thought of him as capable of murder, but maybe he would kill her.
He blamed her for everything, and maybe he was right to do so; if she didn’t exist, then this moment wouldn’t either. For any of them.
Maybe, when Dillon took the gun from her dad and pulled the trigger, she’d wake up somewhere else, in another life. Maybe she’d be with Seth. But she doubted she’d be that lucky twice.
Dillon glanced around. At her dad, Claire, Marty, even Seth.
“Oh, man, fuck this.”
Dillon turned to run.
A shot fired.
Claire screamed, clamping her eyes shut and covering her ears. A resounding ring pierced her brain. When she dared to look again, her dad glared, harsh and cold, as he pointed the handgun at where Dillon had been.
“Shit, Dillon, look what you made Detective Winslow do!” he bellowed, loud enough to break through Claire’s muffled eardrums. He hocked some spit onto the ground and paced back and forth again, all adrenaline. “You chicken shit.”
There was pink splatter on the ground in her periphery behind them. She remained frozen, bracing herself for the next shot to kill her or Seth too.
“Ron!” Marty shouted. “That was Dillon, man!”
“Yeah, shit, that was Dillon,” her dad muttered. He snatched the shotgun from beside them and tossed it toward Marty, who caught it.
“How are we gonna clean this up?” Marty asked, distraught. “This was not part of the plan!”
“I know that, Marty, shut up an’ let me think, all right? It just happened!”
The two of them kept bickering, but Claire was petrified. She almost looked behind to see if Dillon was really dead, but stopped herself. Because she knew.
“It’s all right,” Seth said. “Don’t look.”
She’d never heard him so defeated. When she stole a glance to her left, she focused on him, not the legs of the corpse on the ground beside him, not the familiar pair of boots it had on, the ones she’d seen muddy and thrown by the door of her home too many times.
Exhaustion and desperation creased Seth’s face, but he still looked at her with warmth.
Blood trickled down his forehead, a stark line against his pale skin.
“This is on me, Claire. I knew something was wrong. I’m so sorry I failed you.”
She shook her head. More tears stung her. “You didn’t. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had. I don’t want you to die ’cause of me.”
“What are you lovebirds yappin’ about?” Her dad stormed in front of them, and Claire hushed herself.
Seth held himself together. “Come on, Ron, we can find a way out of this. There’s always a way out.”