CHAPTER 15
It’s not too late to change my mind. To turn around. To escape. But the problem with that is, where is there to go? If I run away from this particular hell, I’d just be running toward another. At least here I know what to expect.
Still, adrenaline hums beneath my skin as I exit my vehicle. My legs feel shaky as I climb the front stairs. The last time I found myself on this doorstep, I was looking for a killer. Now? I find myself even more afraid of what I might discover inside.
That doesn’t stop me from raising my hand. Making a fist. Knocking. Breathing a sigh equal parts dread and relief as the fiberglass stops rattling beneath my knuckles when it opens. And as it does, the storm breaks.
A flash of lightning streaks the sky, morphing the face before me into a grotesque mask of shadow and light. A strong hand grasps me by the forearm, yanking me inside. I stumble over the threshold into the darkened interior of the trailer.
“You all right? Hold on, I’ll get you a towel.”
I stay where I am until the man returns a moment later. Instead of handing me the towel, he drapes it around my shoulders with an odd sort of tenderness. Passes me another one, gesturing to my hair.
When I make no move to dry myself off, instead staring numbly at the dry fabric in my hand as if I’ve forgotten its use, he frowns. Cups a hand around my elbow and gently guides me toward the kitchen.
“Come on. Let’s get you a drink to warm you up.”
Reaching into my purse, I pull out a bottle and offer it to him. He grins. If there’s one sure way to make a friend out of Dylan Walker, it’s buying him a drink. Buying him a whole bottle? That’s even better.
“I’ve been wanting to thank you,” he says as he turns toward the cabinet, pulling out a clean glass. “I don’t know what you said to get Jake to give me a chance, but whatever it was, I appreciate it.”
I take a seat. He breaks the seal on the whiskey I brought, but before he has a chance to pour me a drink, I’ve removed a second fifth from my purse. Removing the cap, I drink straight from the bottle. His eyebrows rise with something like concern as he settles into the chair across from me.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
I shrug and take another sip, not wanting to admit that everything is.
“You going to be okay to drive if you drink that?”
“I’ll wait it off in the car if I’m not.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You know you’re always welcome here, right?”
When I don’t respond, he frowns down at his glass, then reluctantly pushes it to the side. It’s not anything I ever expected to see.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
“What makes you think anything is?”
“Because you’re acting odder than a purple cat on a date with an orange mouse.” He clears his throat. “Is it Jake?”
I tip my head back, filling my mouth with another glug from my bottle. Apparently, that’s answer enough.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No.”
“You want to keep this visit between you and me?”
“You’d do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want you risking that second chance he’s giving you.”
Dylan rubs a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t want that, either. But you’re my best friends’ little girl. And the reason my boy gave me that chance in the first place. So whatever you need…”
I shake my head. Swallow hard. Blink rapidly to contain the tears filling my eyes.
“Aw, sweetheart.”
Dylan gets up and rounds the table. His knees crack as he crouches by my side, wrapping an arm awkwardly around my shoulders.
It’s strange, to think that this man trying to comfort me right now is the same one who left the marks that still scar Jake’s back. I know I shouldn’t trust him. And yet, at the same time, I long to turn toward him and bury my head in his shoulder.
But I can’t.
Instead, I wipe my eyes dry and draw a deep breath. Force a small smile.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but he stands with a muffled groan and returns to his seat, where he sits, studying me with an anguished expression.
“What?” I ask.
His voice cracks as he tries to speak. Pressing his lips tight together, he lifts a finger to his face, to the spot where a bruise mars the skin under my eye, visible despite my best efforts to conceal it with makeup. This time, it’s his eyes that water. He looks away as his face turns red.
Clearing his throat, he whispers, “Did my boy do that? Is that why you’re here?”
“No.”
“No, he didn’t do it? Or no, that’s not why you’re here?”
“No to both,” I say.
“Thank God.” He releases a weary sigh, his eyes rising to the ceiling before his gaze returns to mine. “He get in trouble for dealing out some justice to whoever did do it, then?”
I shake my head.
“That’s a shame.”
“I got in the way of some meth head who decided to rob the pharmacy,” I explain, feeling the need to defend Jake’s lack of violence. “I doubt Sheriff Kingston’s going to track him down. I’ll just have to hope that life deals out some justice for me.”
“Is that what has you so upset? Knowing that guy’s still out there?”
Though it strikes me as kind of ridiculous that someone would think I’d be so upset because a man who merely hit me was still out on the streets, I suppose that would be enough for most people.
People who weren’t me. People who didn’t have a sniper try to take them out on their own doorstep, or serial killers hold them hostage.
But as far as I’m aware, Jake’s dad doesn’t know that I’m a federal agent. Most of Gator Glade doesn’t, and I have no plans to fill them in. But I also can’t let Dylan think that’s what’s affecting me, no matter how much I might like to.
“No.”
Dylan’s frown deepens. “Darlin’, I want to help, but you’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I need to know what Jake said when he came to visit you.”
“What do you mean? He didn’t tell you?”
“He didn’t even tell me about the visit.”
“How’d you find out then?”
I don’t want to betray Jake’s trust, but I don’t think I have a choice.
If he’s not going to tell me what’s going on, I have to find someone who will, even if my stomach feels like I’m riding a roller coaster after winning an oyster-eating contest at the thought of what I’m about to do.
Trying to distract myself, I start rubbing at the edge of the whiskey bottle’s label with my thumb.
“One of his coworkers mentioned it to me. When he was telling me about some uncharacteristic behavior Jake’s been exhibiting.”
“And you think that’s because he came to see me?”
“No.”
A bit of the tension in his expression eases.
“He was acting fine until this week.”
“Until Janine’s hearing?”
“It’s hard to say, exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“The night before, a sniper took a shot at me.”
Dylan covers his mouth with his hand as he curses. He looks ill as he stares at me. “I told him.”
I freeze. Don’t blink, don’t breathe, it feels like even my heart stops beating for the very long minute it takes me to compose myself. “What?”
“I told him not to trust Janine. That she had a mean streak, a vengeful side.”
“Is that what the two of you talked about when he came to see you?”
He nods. “I kept trying to apologize to him, make amends and all that, and he kept turning the conversation back to his mother. Wanted to know all about her. Asked me more questions about that woman in thirty minutes than he had in thirty years.”
My grasp tightens around the bottle in my hand until I’m afraid it’s going to shatter. But I can’t make myself relax my grip.
“What?” Dylan asks. “There’s something else that happened that you’re not telling me.”
“I should go.”
“I’m not so sure you should.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll be safer here.”
“How’s that?”
He rams a knuckle in his mouth and bites down.
I can see the war going on inside him in his tense expression.
His rigid posture. The bead of blood that seeps from between his skin and his teeth.
Finally, he removes his hand from his mouth, not seeming to notice the red smear that’s left behind as he wipes at the wound he gave himself.
“I’d like you to stay.”
“I can’t do that.”
His voice is thick with emotion as he says, “I failed your parents.”
“You didn’t know Janine was planning to kill them.” It feels like a fist has clenched around my heart as I say the words.
“No, I didn’t. But I knew she was angry at them.
Jealous. Bitter that they were so happy when we weren’t.
Believe me, if I’d had any idea what she was planning…
since I found out she was behind what happened, not a day has gone by where I haven’t regretted not taking a closer look and seeing what was really there.
I’ll never forgive myself if I let the same happen to you. ”
He looks at his untouched glass of whiskey, his eyes full of desire. All he’d have to do is reach for the glass to take a sip. There’s nobody stopping him. And yet, he abstains.
“I think that you might be in danger.”
“From who? Janine?”
“Yes. Her… and my son.”
“You can’t really believe that Jake would ever hurt me.”
“I’m not sure what to believe, but I do know that it’s not worth the risk.”
“There is no risk. Not from Jake.”
Ignoring my words, he says, “You should stay here. It doesn’t have to be for long, just until things cool down.”
I push back from the table.
“If you don’t want to do that, I have some money saved up. You can have it. Go take yourself on a nice vacation.”
My chair scrapes across the floor as I stand.
“Cassidy, please.”
“No. I’m not listening to this. It’s absurd.”
Turning my back, I pull the towels off myself and toss them onto the counter.
“I know you don’t want to hear what I’m saying, but you need to.”
I hurry from the room, quickening my steps as he follows me. Opening the door, I find a landscape that matches what I’m feeling—dark clouds, violent wind, driving rain lashing at the earth. A maelstrom. I pause for only a second before entering the fray.
“Cassidy!”
Casting a last look in his direction as I unlock my car, I spot a terrified-looking Dylan Walker clinging to the threshold. He shouts to be heard over the storm.
“He kept arguing with me about her. Trying to convince me that she wasn’t all bad. Trying to make me agree with him. When I wouldn’t, he got angry and left.”
Tearing my eyes from his, I yank the driver’s door open and throw myself behind the wheel. But before I can get it shut, I hear one last thing.
“Think about the blood that’s in his veins. Her blood. My blood. I just want you to be careful, is all.”
Cranking the engine, I ram the car into gear and speed off down the driveway. But once the trailer’s out of sight behind me, I stop. Opening the door, I spill out onto the ground on my hands and knees, my body lurching as my stomach empties.
Collecting myself, I perch on the sill of the car, opening my mouth to the rain and spitting to rid my mouth of the acrid taste of vomit. It’s not the alcohol that made me sick—my whiskey bottle had been filled with tea, a ploy to make Dylan drop his guard. It’s my newfound knowledge.
Jake only went to visit his dad to ask about his mom. To try defending the woman who murdered my parents. The woman whose legal defense he’s now paying for.
As badly as I’d hoped that I was right and Jake’s change in behavior was caused by fear, I now have to at least consider that I was wrong. Which means I need to speak with him. And this time, I have to do whatever it takes to get answers.