Chapter Thirty-Two
I pounced down on Boyd, yanking his head back by his hair with one hand as I shoved my serrated hunting knife into the left side of his neck, feeling the grisly pop before the spray of blood from his artery exploded around my hand and down Maisie, showering her.
Her screams gurgled with his blood as I shoved the knife deeper as his body slacked, collapsing against me. I leaned back against the gully, still holding him while Maisie freed herself, crawling on her hands and knees.
I’d just killed a guy.
The forest curled around me, pale gray branches morphing like spindly fingers as they warped along with the dirt and sky. Everything swirled together in a kaleidoscope of unbridled rage and shock in my mind. My eyes jerked around, my mind forcing me to not look at what I had just done. But I knew. I could still feel his blood spurting on me, gushing like a garden hose with each pulse before it stopped.
The man in my arms was now dead. His life was over in one second. One pinch of metal against flesh.
A man who’d once been a little boy. A boy who’d gotten his first haircut from my mom at her salon. A kid I’d played little league with. A douche I’d eventually punched at homecoming when he’d tried to yank down Azalea’s dress as a “joke.”
A guy the whole town bemoaned but didn’t do anything about because of social niceties. I guessed I wasn’t nice because Chase Boyd was dead in my arms, but I felt no remorse.
Rapists didn’t have feelings.
Rapists didn’t deserve peace and a long life. They were scabs on society, only topped by people who fucked with children.
Yet, the strange mix of horror and relief caused me to freeze.
I’d taken a life.
My entire body shook as I focused on my breathing, trying to snap out of my murderous fog while Maisie curled in on herself in the fetal position, her guttural wails layering with the crows and a rustling from somewhere in the forest.
Footsteps thudded above me, causing me to look up only to see Noah with a headlamp on, shining it down at me.
Harley’s work dog, Storm, let out a small woof, causing Noah to lean down to pat his head. “Yield. Good boy.”
Noah’s eyes scanned me in the ravine still holding Boyd in one arm, my other hand wrapped around the knife in his throat. Then he eyed Maisie who was a trembling mess, her face buried between her knees, dirt and blood staining almost every inch of her. He flitted his eyes back to mine, completely locked for a second, his mouth opening slightly while his brows scrunched. Something flipped in his mind, though, because he sucked in a breath, his eyes flat in a knowing way before they pulled from mine.
Swiveling his headlamp in another direction, talking to Storm once more, he declared, “This way, buddy.”
The dog whined, sniffing the dirt, clearly knowing the problem. Noah tapped the dog’s ribs. “Forward.”
Storm sniffed in a different path, Noah following him, keeping up the charade of looking for something he had already found.
I lowered Boyd to the ground, positioning him on his side against the gully, unable to look in his blank eyes but not cruel enough to lay him flat on his face. From there, I went to Maisie, pulling her up and into my arms. “I’ve got you,” I whispered, pushing her drenched hair back off her face.
“I peed a little.” Her voice trembled as she swiped her mouth with a dirty hand.
I wrapped her in a hug, pulling her onto my lap, rocking us back and forth. “You’re okay. I got you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered repeatedly, almost like a chant.
“You’re safe. He’s gone.” I held up my hand to the side of her face so she wouldn’t have to see his dead body.
“He . . .” Her voice quaked as she touched her mouth where her top canine tooth was now chipped. “He broke my tooth.” She sniffed, looking down at herself drenched in blood. “My jacket!” She sobbed with the realization. “My dad’s jacket is ruined. It’s all ruined!”
I held her tighter, unsure what else to say. We stayed there, shaking and panting, clutching each other in silence.
“How did you find me?” she finally asked over my shoulder.
“The crows.”
A new bout of sobs racked her body as she held me closer. “Dane! Oh, Dane.” She buried her bloody face in the crook of my neck.
“We have to call someone,” I whispered, fighting the dry heave from the iron smell of blood.
“We can’t. They can’t know you’re here, that you did this.” She pulled back, wide-eyed. I could tell she couldn’t focus on my face. A churning in my stomach made me wonder what he’d done to her before I’d gotten there. “I’ll take the fall. I’ll say I had the knife.” She pointed up the hill. “He had a gun. He was going to hurt you if I fought back.” A cry pulled at her expression that was still full of terror.
“Hurt me? That’s not what I’m worried about.” I wiped away some dirt from her haunted face. “He hurt you, Maze. You can’t take the fall for me. This was self-defense.”
“Yes, I have to. You can’t chance it.”
I fought back my rush of feelings from knowing she’d take the fall for me, and so freely, without question.
I gathered a breath. “There’s nothing to risk.”
You’re worth every risk.
The crows continued to circle us, creating their own incessant cyclone of cawing as I pulled out my phone.
“No! Dane!” she whined, a bite of desperation I’d never heard in her tone. “Please, please don’t do this,” she begged, fisting my shirt. “Let me call them. You drive off before someone sees you.”
I wrapped her in my free arm, holding the phone to my ear with the other.
“911, what is your emergency?”
My mouth dried as Maisie’s tears wet my neck. “Um, hi, this is Dane MacCloyd. I caught Officer Boyd trying to rape a woman in the forest and I, um, I killed him to protect her.”
“You killed him?” the operator repeated, unable to hide the panicked tone.
I clutched the woman I loved tighter. “Yes.”