Chapter 41
The roads were clear the next morning, and the sheriff came, along with what Jem guessed was every deputy he had.
They asked questions. A lot of questions.
Jem didn’t care. He answered the ones he thought he could answer. The others, he shrugged or said he didn’t know.
River was dead.
The men who had killed her were gone.
Gerald was dead.
Tafton was dead.
Mckell was refusing to talk to anyone except a lawyer.
The conversation started at the lodge, but before long, Jem and Tean found themselves being taken back to the sheriff’s station. They spent a long day answering the same questions over and over again, waiting for the sheriff to confirm as much of their story as he could.
When the sheriff finally let them go, a deputy walked Jem out of the interview room and down a hall with scuffed laminate flooring. He was so tired that he almost missed Quinn, who was bent over a drinking fountain. Quinn’s eyes widened with recognition, and he straightened, wiping his mouth.
“What are you doing here?” Jem asked.
“They’ve been shuttling us back and forth all day,” Quinn said with an attempt at a smile.
“They want to talk to all of us, but they don’t want us talking to each other.
The only problem is they don’t have anywhere to put us, so they keep shuffling us around.
” He smoothed a hand over his dark hair, but his eyes never left Jem. “You okay?”
Jem shook his head, but it was more weariness than anything else. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Things last night got seriously messed up. I wanted to say I’m sorry about, you know.”
For a moment, Jem couldn’t follow the apology. But then it came back to him: Stephen—Jacob, whatever his name was—telling everyone to go into one of the bedrooms. “Shit. You couldn’t have done anything.”
“Doesn’t make it feel any better.”
“You’re good. Like you said, things were messed up.”
Quinn nodded, but he said, “It’s just—you guys helped us. A lot. So, I wanted to say thanks. We all did.”
“You all did?” Jem asked.
“Becks and I did.”
“Becks?”
Quinn grinned, blushed, and shrugged.
“I gotta get out of here,” Jem said.
“Right. Yeah, of course.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Quinn turned in place as Jem and the deputy passed him, following them with his eyes. And then he said, “Jem, seriously, thank you.”
Jem gave him a thumbs-up without looking back.
And maybe, because of Quinn, he should have been expecting it when he got to the parking lot. But he wasn’t.
The Denali was fucking massive, dark gray with tinted windows, and it was probably Viagra on wheels for most guys in Utah. The driver’s window buzzed down. One moment, Jem was meeting his reflection in the tinted glass. And then he was looking at Brigitte.
For a moment, they watched each other, the engine rumbling and the hint of exhaust curling up when the air shifted.
“Are you all right?” Brigitte asked.
From the back seat came a tired, “Is that Jem?”
Jem stepped past his mother and rapped on the rear window. Brigitte didn’t say anything, but he could sense her annoyance. After a moment, the window went down.
Maeve was washed out, and her little face was empty as she stared up at him. Milo’s head rested against the seat belt, and his eyes wet like he was about to cry.
“Which one of you do I have to fight first?” Jem said.
The barest hint of a frown curved Maeve’s mouth. A crease appeared between Milo’s eyebrows.
“I bet I can beat both of you up at the same time,” Jem said.
A hint of something—what Jem wanted to call aliveness—showed in Maeve’s face.
Milo was scrunching his nose, but he lifted his head from the seat belt.
“Wait until you guys meet Scipio,” Jem said. “He’s my dog, and I bet even he could beat you up.”
For some reason, that was all it took. Maeve screamed with excitement, “You can’t beat me up! I’m your sister!”
And at the same time, Milo said, “What kind of dog is he? Can I pet him?”
“I’m not going to tell you because I want it to be a surprise when Scipio and I beat you up for the first time. Now come here so I can cut all your hair off.”
Maeve screamed again, but she was smiling at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, Jem saw Brigitte flinch—annoyance more than anything else. Milo, on the other hand, grinned as he shouted, “No, I’m going to cut all your hair off!”
“No way,” Jem said. “Scipio won’t let you. Now listen, you guys need to go home—”
“We don’t want to go home,” Maeve said.
And Milo said, “Can you come with us?”
Jem’s chest tightened. His eyes prickled. Somehow, he thought he sounded normal when he said, “Not today, because I have to take Tean home, and then we have to check on Scipio. But I’m going to talk to your mom about when you guys can come visit. Okay?”
“Okay,” Maeve said with obvious disappointment.
“Tean can come with us too,” Milo said in a last-ditch effort.
“I’ll see you guys soon,” Jem said. “Be good for your mom.”
Brigitte buzzed up the rear window, and Jem said, “Get out of the car.”
He didn’t wait. He walked away, and he heard her follow: the door opening, then closing, and then the snow crunching under her steps.
When they were far enough from the Denali, he set himself to face her.
“Jer—” She cut herself off. Her smile was picture-perfect: sad, hurt, confused. “Jem, you don’t understand, it was all—”
He shook his head.
She stopped.
“We’re past that,” Jem said. “Got it?”
A truck whipped past on the outer road, slush spraying up from its tires.
“Where is he?” Jem asked.
She turned her face in profile and tucked some of her hair behind one ear. “I don’t know.”
“Tell him to stay away from me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. He won’t bother you.”
Jem didn’t say anything to that.
Her eyes came back to him, searching his face. “What did you tell them?”
“You mean, did I tell them that you and your son—my half-brother—were scamming those people out of a lot of money, and Gerald didn’t know about it?”
Her breath came in white streams. Jem thought he could feel the tightness in her chest.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe it’ll come out in the investigation. Maybe it won’t.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. She reached out like she might put her hand on his arm, and Jem angled his body away from her. She swallowed. “Jem, thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it so that Maeve and Milo would have a mom.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I am sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I meant what I told you, Jer—Jem. I want us to be a family.”
The laugh came out of nowhere. Out of some hollow place. He scratched his beard. Above the Denali, the snow-covered peaks of the mountain were the same coarse gray as the sky.
“I ruined everything, I understand that. And I realize this isn’t the time or the place. But I want you to know that if I can help you, I will. Gerald had old-fashioned ideas about giving money—”
“Oh my God,” Jem said. He made himself face her again.
“I don’t want your money. I don’t want your help.
For a long time, I wanted you to say sorry, or to explain, or to—” He laughed again.
“I wanted you to want me, I guess. But that’s over now.
We’re done with that. I don’t want you in my life.
Get it? I don’t want you. That’s my choice. Because now it’s my time to choose.”
Color crept into her cheeks. The lines around her mouth and eyes stretched until they were ready to snap, and the anger she was trying to hide showed in the set of her shoulders.
“And,” Jem said in a low voice, “if it weren’t for those two in there, you and I would be done.
So, here’s the deal. I get to see them whenever I want.
I get to be part of their lives. And I’m going to allow you to be part of it too because it’s important to them.
So, you’re going to take care of them. You’re going to make sure they’re happy and healthy and have a roof over their heads.
You’re going to make sure they grow up right.
And I’m going to be here to make sure you don’t fuck it up. ”
“Or else what? You’ll tell the police?”
It was like seeing her for the first time—like his vision sharpened, and she came into focus, and he saw the foundation and the lipstick and the gray growing in at the roots, and he could see across all the years.
All that time, and he’d never known her.
Not really. Maybe that was something that you could only do as an adult.
“That’s the problem with you,” he said. “There shouldn’t need to be an ‘or else.’”