9. Cassie
CASSIE
I hang up the burner phone, and looking at both phones in my hand, I have a lucid moment of wondering what the hell my life has become.
There’s no time for that right now, though, so I shove both phones in my purse, double-check the rearview mirror and around the car to make sure Russell isn’t lurking in the shadows, and then I get out.
It’s dark, and I’m spooked after everything, so I rush to my front door, my gaze focused on it as if not looking into the darkness will render anything lurking there harmless.
I can breathe a little easier once I’m inside with the door locked, but then a whole different sort of unease settles over me because I’m in my mom’s territory. What if she’s still awake? She usually watches TV in bed until she falls asleep.
Can’t worry about that right now. I need to do what Tor told me to.
If I had a second to stop and think, maybe I could wrap my head around how fucking crazy it is that I’m taking marching orders from Torrance Walters now, but I don’t have that kind of time.
Realistically, a few hours are probably all I have left.
That solemn thought settles over me like a blanket of fog.
I go through the motions of packing an overnight bag, but the whole time my mind is on what’s coming tomorrow.
I don’t know if I could have said or done anything to convince Russell not to tell the cops what he knows—the stakes are just too high, and he wouldn’t have wanted to get in trouble—but I should have at least tried.
I was unsettled by the anger radiating from him.
It wasn’t fresh anger. It was the kind that had festered over time.
It felt dangerous, even though I struggled to link that thought to the Russell I knew.
Once my bag is packed, I go out to the car Tor left for me, then I drive to the motel to meet him.
This is crazy.
This isn’t how I should spend my last night of freedom, but to be honest, I don’t even know how I should spend it.
My world has been shrinking for the past year, the circle of friends and even family I had back then getting smaller and smaller until not much is left, and everyone who is left doesn’t really want to be there.
Obligation keeps them close, and when that’s the only thread that ties someone to something, resentment tends to build.
Maybe I am spending my last night of freedom the way I should.
As wild as it is, Tor has been putting his neck on the line for me nonstop since this ride started. If not for him, I wouldn’t have even had this last day of freedom. I would have definitely been arrested last night, and I don’t think my family would post bail, even if they could afford it.
I’ll never sleep in my own bed again.
It’s a sad thought, but one tempered by the fact that all the threads connecting me to that house and everything—and everyone—in it have turned resentful, too.
I park the car in a spot near the lobby.
This motel has a long, rectangular row of rooms stretched behind it, each one with a private, exterior entry door.
That’s probably why he picked it. He knew about the camera in the lobby, but there are none out here, so he’ll be able to leave and come back without being seen.
I wonder if he’s brought other girls here, but I guess that doesn’t matter.
The restaurant next door is one I used to go to on Sunday mornings with Russell and some of our friends, and breakfast there is delicious.
If we have time before the police come for me tomorrow, I hope we can go over there.
I doubt the food will be very good in prison.
I’d like to have one last meal before I go.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by the light rap of Tor’s knuckles on my window. I look up at him, and he offers a ghost of a smile.
I’m not used to looking at his face and feeling anything good, but it’s not Tim’s face anymore, it’s only Tor’s, and it does bring me comfort. At least I’m spending my last night with someone who genuinely seems to like me.
I offer a whisper of a smile back, then I open my car door.
We head into the motel lobby together, but Tor takes the lead and pays for the room at the front desk. We get two plastic key cards in a little paper envelope, then we head back outside.
Our room’s on the ground floor. Tor requested it. We’re about halfway down, room 1013.
I’ve never shared a hotel room with a guy before.
I guess there’s a lot I’ll never get to do.
Tor opens the door and flicks on the light. It’s an ordinary motel room with just one king bed instead of two queens—Tor requested that, too.
There’s a TV on the wall, a desk in the corner, and a long chest of drawers with a bench beside it. I hang my purse on the back of the desk chair and drop my bag on the bench.
Tor has a leather weekend bag with him as well.
He puts it down on the end of the bed and unzips it.
“I have to go out, like I said, but you don’t have to wait up.
Take a shower and get in bed, but keep the burner with you, sound on, because when I come back, I’ll need you to let me in.
I don’t want to have to use the key card. ”
“I can do that. I’m not a heavy sleeper.”
He nods, taking clothes out of his bag. Then my heart skips a beat when he takes the gun out, too. It’s wrapped in a plastic bag, and the sight of it causes an instant stomachache.
He takes out a different pair of shoes, which seems like overkill, but at this point, I know Tor is thorough, so I don’t question him.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, then heads to the bathroom.
My shoulders feel heavy as I walk over to the bed and look down at the gun.
I remember the day I went to Russell and asked if I could borrow it.
I knew he had more than one gun and that he wouldn’t really miss it.
I knew I intended to commit a crime with it, too, but I knew he wouldn’t get in trouble.
After all, I never planned to get away with it.
Tor comes back out of the bathroom in different clothes—all black, a long-sleeved shirt and sweats, and a black beanie on his head.
“Do you know where you’re going to ditch the gun?” I ask.
“Yeah, but you don’t need to know. Frankly, the less you know, the better.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, Tor. I really don’t want you to get in trouble. I know you’ll already be in trouble for lying for me, but at this point, I think I’m a sinking ship, and you should probably jump off.”
“Nah. I’m a strong swimmer,” he says, flashing me a smile as he grabs the black shoes and starts putting them on.
“I can’t get out of this,” I state, staring at him until he looks back at me.
He ties the shoe, his gaze meeting mine. “Let’s just get through tonight, all right? We’ll worry about that tomorrow.”
I nod, but it’s hard to stay in the present when my future is so bleak.
“I’m gonna head out. There are a few mini bottles of alcohol in my bag if you want them. Want me to get you some ice?”
I shake my head. “I can get it. I brought a couple of bottles of water in my bag.”
“Okay. Just make sure you go now. Once you’re back in the room, don’t leave again. I don’t want the card to keep being scanned. I want it to look like we’re staying in together.”
That makes sense. I go over to grab the ice bucket.
“Is Russell left or right-handed?” he asks.
I frown, looking up at him. “What?”
He’s pulling on a black leather glove. “I know you’re a lefty, but you used his gun. Is he a lefty, too?”
“No. He’s… right-handed.”
“Did he show you how to shoot it?”
I nod uncertainly.
“Does he have other guns?”
I nod again.
“Why’d he give you this one?”
“I… asked for something quiet.”
He nods slowly, his gaze lingering on mine before he asks, “Do you think he told anyone about being at your house tonight?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
His nod turns thoughtful, but only for a split second. Then he grabs something else out of his bag—something small and black—and says, “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
I grab my key card and follow him out, feeling safer with him still close. I have to go toward the lobby to get ice, then I hurry back to the room and lock myself inside. Since he said he won’t be using the key card, I flip the extra lock as well, just to be safe.
I’m not much of a drinker, to be honest. In the past, I’ve had drinks in certain social situations when everyone else was drinking, but the one last summer…
I didn’t like not being in my right mind after that.
I didn’t like waking up the next day wondering how the previous night might have gone if I’d been entirely in control of myself.
Deep down, I know it probably wouldn’t have gone any differently because by the time my eyes opened, he was already inside me. But maybe if I hadn’t been drinking, I wouldn’t have wandered into that bedroom and fallen asleep. I wouldn’t have been so vulnerable.
I shake off the thoughts, not wanting to think about Timothy Walters on my last night as a free woman, and I dig around in Tor’s bag for the alcohol.
There are plastic cups wrapped in baggies on the counter by the sink.
Tor came prepared, packing alcohol and a bottle of orange juice, so I dump some into one of the small cups and fill it the rest of the way with the liquor.
I turn on some music but keep the volume low. I skip around a little until I find a song that suits my mood—something haunting and melodic, something dramatic and maybe a little romantic, but in a dark way. Something made for the love stories that don’t end well.
I don’t want to be guarded tonight. I want to be vulnerable. What a waste it would be to spend my last night guarded.
Tor’s alcohol helps, and the music soothes my nerves. I drink until my vision is unstable and my mood is light despite everything happening in my life. If it’s my last night of freedom, I damn well want to feel free.
Unfortunately, alcohol makes me sleepy.
I drift off, forgetting to turn off the music so I’ll hear Tor’s call.
I jolt awake to something vibrating against my face. I flinch instantly at the brightness, then I pull back and see the burner phone is ringing. Clumsily, I grab it and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Let me in.”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
I drag myself out of bed, head throbbing. I need to get one of those bottles of water.
I let Tor in first.
The music is still playing. I don’t realize it until Tor cocks an eyebrow and glances toward the bed. “A Taylor Swift kind of night, huh?”
“I’m impressed,” I murmur, turning to grab a bottle of water out of my overnight bag. “Not one of her most played songs.”
“I don’t know the song, but I recognize her voice. Which one is it?”
“It’s called ‘My Tears Ricochet.’”
“Love song?” he teases lightly.
I shake my head. “Post-love song.”
His amusement dissipates instantly, but he merely nods. “You can go back to bed. I need to take a quick shower.”
I unscrew the cap. “Did everything go okay?”
“Yeah.”
I take a long drink of water, then make my way back toward the bed. “There’s bottled water in my bag, and I left the open bottles of alcohol from yours on the counter—in case you’re thirsty.”
“Thanks.”
I nod, crawling back on the bed and burrowing beneath the stark white bedding.
Feeling like I should stay awake, I do try to. I even leave the music on and focus on the lyrics to try to keep myself conscious, but I lose the fight.