43. Laney
Reed has just taken a call, and, from the way his face has grown so rigid it appears to be carved from stone, it’s clear something serious has happened.
I creep closer to listen in.
“Okay, thank you, Sergeant.” A pause, and then he adds, “Yes, of course. I understand. Whatever you need.”
He ends the call.
I step into the room. “Who was that?”
His mouth opens and shuts, and then he closes his eyes and runs his hand over his face.
I harden my tone. “For fuck’s sake, Reed. Just tell me what the call was about.”
“They found the plane. The cabin, too.”
The world drops out from under me, and I’m not sure I’m even still standing. I put out a hand to steady myself, but there’s nothing there to catch me. “Oh, God. Smith…”
That one syllable is enough for Reed to understand what I’m asking. “They didn’t find anyone in the cabin. No one alive, anyway. They found the body that we also found.”
Smith had called the body by a name, but I struggle to recall it.
Reed continues. “The police are getting forensics in. They’re going to find our DNA and prints all over that place. They’ll know we found the body, too, and they’re going to want to know why we didn’t say anything.”
“We’re going to have to tell the truth.”
He presses his lips together. “We could be charged—obstructing justice or something.”
I don’t even care if we end up in prison, though the thought of us being separated breaks my heart.
It’s still better than the alternative of Smith finding us and killing us all.
I’m quite sure he won’t just kill me either.
He’ll have his fun with me, take his time.
I expect he’ll pass me between his friends and let them do whatever they want.
With any luck, he’ll have killed Reed and Cade and Darius before that happens rather than forcing them to watch.
“If they didn’t find Smith and the others, does that mean…” I trail off, unable to give voice to my worst fears.
“It doesn’t mean they’re alive. It doesn’t mean they made it to safety either. They could easily have tried to hike back and died along the way, or they got lost, and are still lost out there.”
“Or they used their phones to make contact with other criminals and got help.”
It’s a very real possibility, and the thought is terrifying. What if they find us?
Cade and Darius must have overheard us talking, as they enter the room.
“What’s going on?” Darius asks.
Reed fills them both in.
“We should leave the city,” Cade says, his hands on his hips. “We have passports, we have money. We can go anywhere in the world.”
I widen my eyes. “You mean start over?”
I can’t imagine living anywhere other than America. Up until recently, I’d never even been out of the United States, and the trailer was the only home I’ve ever known.
“What about Dax’s career?” I ask. “The moment he tries to play for an audience again, it’ll be publicized, and then they’ll be able to find us.”
Darius shakes his head. “Fuck my career. It might have been important to me once, but not so much now. All that matters is we’re all safe.”
“Are you sure, Dax?” I ask.
I can’t imagine giving up something I’ve worked my whole life for. He’s always said that his music is who he is.
He pulls me in and gives me a hug. “I’d give up the whole world for you, Laney, if it meant you were safe.
Besides, I think I’ve probably fucked up my career, anyway, after the last couple of performances.
Who wants to bring in sell-out crowds, only for the star of the show to puke in the wings?
I’m not saying I’ll stop playing—I don’t think I ever will—but playing for an audience…
” He shrugs. “It doesn’t feel like that big of a deal. ”
He smiles, but I know this can’t be easy for him.
The possibility that we might be running for no good reason, too, is like a shadow hanging over me.
Reed is right when he says Smith and his men might not have made it out alive.
They could easily be dead—eaten by bears, or drowned in the river, or killed by a snake bite.
They might have simply starved to death.
It’s been weeks now since we were rescued, and while the temperature might not have changed a whole lot in California, it will have up north.
We left because we’d known we wouldn’t survive the winter.
Why would Smith and the others fare any differently?
Darius always said he’d play for me when we were safe, but he still hasn’t. Is that because in his soul he always knew we hadn’t truly made it yet?
“Pack some things,” Reed says. “Whatever you can fit in carry-on. We can buy anything else we need when we get there.”
“When we get where?” I ask.
“Wherever it is we end up. Let’s get to the airport first, see what flights are leaving soon, and take it from there.”
Our futures are going to be resting on the toss of a coin.
My stomach flips at the thought of being on a plane again.
Though I’ve only been on a big commercial flight once, I know they’re safer than a smaller aircraft.
It’s still going to be a nerve-wracking flight, though, and not only because of the previous crash.
We’ll be heading to a life we don’t even know, to a strange country, and we still have the worry that Smith will be after us.
I have no idea what to pack. How do you condense your whole life into a bag big enough to fit in an overhead compartment?
Clothes can be replaced, so I only pack my absolute favorite items. I think the same about toiletries.
Instead, I fill my bag with photographs, the few items of my mother’s jewelry I have, the silly mementos I’ve collected during my time with the guys.
I’m packing my memories.
There’s one item I won’t be able to take—my mother’s ashes.
I could try to take it with us, but I’m worried it’ll attract questions.
I imagine I’d need specific paperwork or something to get it on a plane and into a different country, and since we don’t even know where we’re going yet, it adds an extra layer of complication that we just don’t need.
The urn sits on the shelf, accusatory. I should have scattered them by now, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Now I have no choice but to abandon her here, and it leaves me sick with guilt.
The future is a great gaping chasm of the unknown in front of me, but at least now I have a future.
It wasn’t so long ago that all I’d seen ahead of me was darkness, and I hadn’t even wanted to fight for my life.
Now I know with one hundred percent certainty that I want to live.
I want a future with the three of them, building a home together, maybe even having a family one day.
I’ve got my story to finish writing, too.
My therapist was right when she said writing everything down would help.
It feels like I’m purging my soul. I’m not sure I’ll ever let anyone read it, but I do know that I want to be able to give it an ending, and not only an ending, but a happy one.
After everything we’ve been through, we deserve that much.
With that thought in mind, I also pack my laptop and the charger.
A light knock sounds at the door, and Reed sticks his head around it. “You ready?”
I look around the room. “I think so.”
A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me, but it’s not for this house. It’s for the cabin we left behind, the version of it that didn’t include Smith and his two friends. I’d felt this way when we’d left that place too, the thought ‘we’d been happy here’ echoing through my head.
We hadn’t been in this house for long, but yes, we’d been happy here, too.
Reed seems to read my mind. “We can be happy wherever we are, as long as we’re together.”
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
I give the urn a final glance. Maybe I can get it shipped to wherever we end up, though that’ll mean giving someone my new address, which might be too dangerous.
As well as a small rucksack, Darius has his violin case.
I’m pleased to see it. I never want him to give up on music entirely.
Like he says, it’s who he is. He’s also tucked his hair up into a baseball cap.
It’s not much of a disguise, but it’s something.
He’s too easily recognizable, especially after all the recent publicity.
The car has blacked out windows, and for that I’m grateful. We can hide from the world, at least until we get to the airport.
“I’ll leave the car in the airport parking,” Reed says, “and get the rental company to come and pick it up. We’ll have to hope no one thinks to look for the keys under the hubcap.”
Just as we’re pulling out of the street, the air fills with the wail of sirens, and suddenly the road is no longer clear. Black and white response cars screech into our path, turning sideways to block the road.
“Fuck,” Reed curses, slamming on the brakes to prevent driving into the side of the nearest police car.
We’re all thrown forward, the seatbelts snapping across our chests.
I see Reed glance in the rearview mirror, perhaps considering if it’s worth hitting reverse and trying to drive the other way, but then his shoulders drop and he glances away.
It’s not worth it. A car chase won’t achieve anything.
We’ll never get to the airport with the cops on our tail, and we’ll definitely never make it onto a flight.
A car chase will only result in shots being fired, and someone getting hurt. It’s better that we face what’s coming.
We only lied, maybe not even that much—we omitted the truth, a part of the story. We’re not criminals, not like the men who raped me. The police are going to have to see that.
Uniformed police climb out. They’re armed but haven’t pulled their weapons on us. We’re not armed or dangerous, only a flight risk.
I recognize the detective who dealt with our case, the one who came to the hospital to interview me.
“Get out of the car, slowly, and put your hands on the roof of the vehicle,” he says.
We don’t have any choice. We each open the car doors and climb out.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the detective shouts.
“Why?” Reed throws back. “Are we being arrested?”
“Too damn right you are. Until we know you had nothing to do with the body in the cabin, the four of you are murder suspects.”
The air is snatched from my lungs. “We didn’t kill anyone!”
“Save that for the interview room.” He spots the bags in the car. “Were you trying to run? You understand how guilty this makes you look?”
I can’t believe this is happening. Panic builds.
Of course, the cops know nothing about Smith and his men.
They don’t even know they exist. The existence of the body is bound to be blamed on us.
I’m sure that with an autopsy and forensics they’ll be able to see that it was there long before we were, but I assume those kinds of tests take time, and right now we are their only suspects.
“Please, you don’t understand. The men who killed that person are criminals and they’re dangerous. If they’re still out there somewhere, still alive, they could send people after us. We were lucky to get away from them the first time.”
“We won’t let anything happen to you,” the detective says, far too confidently. He turns to his colleagues. “Now cuff them. I want them all in separate interview rooms.”
I realize they’re going to put us in different cars. “No! Please, let me stay with them.”
The thought of being alone now I know Smith and the others might still be alive is overwhelming. I’m terrified. The detective takes my upper arm, but I’m not going to go willingly. I try to pull out of his grip, but he pushes me up against the car, wrenches my hands behind my back, and cuffs me.
Cade realizes what’s happening. “Let go of her! Leave her the fuck alone!”
Two uniformed policemen are on him, cuffing him, too. He manages to swing back an elbow and catches one of the officers in the chest.
The officer shakes his head and grabs Cade again, wrenching his wrists into the cold silver cuffs.
“Now you’ll be charged with assaulting a police officer. Keep going, and you’ll have resisting arrest on top of that.”
“You fucking assholes,” Cade snaps. “You’ll get us killed.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Reed calls back to us as he’s led toward a cop car. “Just tell the truth. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
That’s not completely true. We lied—or at least omitted the truth. I’m sure they’ll figure out that we’re not responsible for the dead body, but it’s going to take time.
I’m pushed into the back seat of one of the cars. I want to cry, but my eyes are dry. I’m in shock.
Within an hour, I’m processed and brought to a stark interview room down at the station.
Someone has fetched me a coffee, but I haven’t touched it. The top has formed a film, and I stare down at it.
“What do you know of the body found at the cabin?” one of the sergeants asks me.
I tell them everything. There’s no point in hiding it now. I tell them how I thought they were going to kill Cade, how Smith assaulted me, and how Axel raped me down on the beach. My voice is coming out of my mouth, my tongue shaping the words, but I’m distant from it all.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
“Because we knew you’d find the cabin, and if Smith and his men were still there, you’d rescue them.”
“If your story is true, then we’ll have to send a search team out to find them. If they’re in the forest somewhere, they’re most likely dead. You know that, don’t you?”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
Why can’t I bring myself to believe it? Because men like Smith don’t just die. They’re like a bad penny, always turning up again.
I feel as though I’ve been catapulted back to the start.
All the healing I’ve done over the past few weeks has vanished, and suddenly I’m the Laney from straight after the rape and assault.
The scab has been torn right off, and I’m left raw and exposed once again.
If we have to spend time in jail, will Smith have people he can contact in there?
Will we find ourselves shanked in the showers one day?
I don’t know if I can do this for a second time.
If they find us, they’ll kill us.