Chapter 14
She’d drunk enough from the minibar to dull her thoughts and force herself to sleep. Kara woke with a groan in the afternoon, her head pounding and mouth dry.
Sunlight spilled harshly through the curtains. She squinted at the clock on her phone. Whatever time it said, it was too early for the day to already feel unbearable.
Her phone was littered with notifications. A text from Isaac. One from her assistant. A few from Zoe.
Before answering any of them, she called Mercy General to check on Elias. The nurse explained he had checked himself out as soon as he gained consciousness and refused continued treatment. There was nothing they could do but let him go.
Kara just sat there for a second, the phone still pressed to her ear. He had been on death’s door. How could they let him leave? Where would he go?
I need to find him, to keep him safe and for him to tell me what he knows.
Isaac’s text said the meeting had not been nearly as important as he thought it would be. He asked if she wanted him to come back.
Kara scoffed.
She flopped back onto the bed. A second later, another text from Zoe lit up her screen:
I’m on my way to the house. I’ll see you there.
Kara had forgotten. She’d promised to help Zoe pack up more of the house before putting it on the market.
Maybe it was safer that she left Elias alone. What if he didn't want to be found?
She mulled over that thought.
Then she heard the echo of Colin’s words—I would have followed you. She shoved those thoughts aside.
Kara decided to check their own back porch before Zoe arrived.
The boards creaked under her feet. She crouched down, her fingers running along the seams of the floor, searching for anything loose—any sign that something had ever been hidden here.
She checked the far left corner. Nothing. Near the screen door. Nothing.
Kara’s gaze fixed on the floor. She wasn’t even sure what she was searching for anymore, only that she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Her bedroom door creaked as she pushed it open. It had once been hers, in the later years here. The wallpaper still peeled at the corners.
Inside, tucked in the far corner beneath an old quilt and a deflated air mattress, was a cardboard box. Faded, the edges slightly bent. She pulled it out and carried it to the bed, brushing off years of settled dust.
She didn’t expect her hands to tremble, but they did as she opened the lid.
Photos. Notes passed in class. The silver locket she wore to prom.
A dried corsage, crumbling at the edges.
Ticket stubs from the movie theater she and Sienna used to work at.
A faded receipt from The Lantern —cheese fries and two milkshakes.
She remembered the night as if it had just happened.
Her breath caught. She lifted out a photograph: her, Zoe, and their mom on the back porch, lemonade in hand. Kara was no more than five years old, and her sister was still just a baby, not yet walking. They were all smiling and looked so happy. Truly happy.
The tears came slowly. She closed the box gently, as if sealing something sacred back inside. A photo of her and Sienna at the movie theatre lay on the floor under the bed.
It brought back a memory. The scent of fake butter and cherry ICEEs clung to everything—their uniforms, their skin, even their hair. It was disgusting, and they loved it.
“Popcorn refill or cry about boys first?” Sienna asked, one hand on the dispenser, the other already reaching for the Sour Patch Kids.
“Cry first,” Kara groaned, slumping dramatically against the sticky counter. “Then popcorn.”
Sienna handed her the candy like it was medicine. “He didn’t text?”
“No.” Kara ripped open the bag.
“He's an idiot. Probably didn’t graduate anyway.”
They both had bellyaches from the kind of laughing that only sixteen-year-old girls can do—loud and unapologetic. The projector upstairs clicked on. It was time to start seating the late show crowd.
It was easy then. Everything was. They shared everything— clothes, secrets, even the locker with the squeaky hinge in the staff room.
There were no hidden motives. No betrayals. Just promises written in highlighter on the backs of movie stubs, like:
Promise to be each other's maid of honor.
Promise never to fall for the same guy.
Promise we’ll live in the same city and raise chaotic kids together.
All those broken promises. Zoe thankfully showed up a few moments later to break her out of the trance of despair. Kara heard a room door creaking open before she even had a chance to wipe her tears.
“I heard about last night,” she said.
Kara groaned and ducked under the duvet, pulling it over her head like a kid. “Of course you did.”
“Gossip travels faster than the wind in this town.”
“I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“I can tell,” she said, without missing a beat. “Why are you still here?”
Kara blinked at her. “I don’t know. I just can’t leave yet.”
Zoe studied her for a second, then softened. “Come over for dinner tonight. Pete and I would love to have you. So would Izzy.”
“You have no idea how much I missed you.”
“I missed you, Kara.”
Zoe standing there in the middle of her chaos made Kara want to stay.
She’d missed her sister more than she’d let herself admit.
Missed this connection, this strange sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she was searching for.
Maybe that was why leaving suddenly felt so much harder. They were rebuilding.
“You deserve the truth.” Colin’s words echoed in her mind again.
Zoe deserved the truth.
“I need to tell you something,” Kara said.
“I convinced King to give me a loan so we could stay afloat. For us to stay in the house and have enough to eat until I found a job. I had just picked up the last drop and cash. That day I left, I drove by King’s place to make the final delivery, and” Kara swallowed hard.
“I saw his body. Then a black car sped off. It looked like Dad’s. It was all wrong.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed.
“I thought it was just him. King. But when I drove by again, they were pulling a sheet over Kevin.” Kara's voice wavered. “And Chief Givens…He looked completely defeated.”
The memory was fresh in her mind. “I keep thinking that I could have helped Kevin if I wasn't so afraid.”
Zoe said nothing. She just stared at Kara, rightfully stunned.
“Did Dad kill King and Kevin?” Zoe asked, realization dawning across her face as she processed what Kara had just said.
Kara looked down at her hands.
“I couldn’t be sure,” she told her honestly. “It just looked like his car. I couldn’t see who was driving it.”
“Kara,” Zoe breathed. “Why would Dad kill them? It makes no sense. You should have told the police what you saw.”
“I panicked. I drove around for nearly an hour, trying to make sense of what I saw. I thought—God, I even thought maybe if anyone saw me and maybe I was next.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I wanted to.”
Zoe wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I thought you hated me. Maybe that you didn’t want me to go with you,” Zoe said, eyes full of years of hurt.
“No, Zo.” She reached for her sister’s hand. “I wanted to keep you safe.”
Zoe finally leaned into her shoulder, her voice barely audible. “You should’ve taken me with you.”
Kara closed her eyes, resting her head against her sister's. “I wish I had.”
Zoe wiped at her face and let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what to do with all of this. “Dad’s dead. He can’t defend himself anymore. If what you saw was true, then Dad killed them. And we’ll never know why.”
“Maybe we start here,” Kara said quietly.
Zoe followed her gaze. “You think there’s something in the house?”
“I don’t know,” Kara admitted. “But if there’s any chance he left something behind, anything—we should look.”
Zoe hesitated for only a second before nodding.
Kara was relieved it didn’t take much for Zoe to believe her. They barely knew George. What little they did know was that he had killed many men during the war because he bragged about it, so he was capable of it. Zoe must have realized that too.
Without another word, they stood and made their way toward the back room, where their father’s life had been packed into dusty boxes and forgotten shelves.
Kara and Zoe spent hours going through their father’s things.
Boxes were scattered across the floor, drawers left open, old papers and receipts spread across the table. They were looking for anything that could connect George to the victims.
Most of it was useless.
Old bills. Bank statements. Receipts from places Kara barely recognized. A few photographs.
Kara picked up another stack of papers and set them aside.
She looked over at Zoe.
“Do you remember the black car? Dad's black car?”
Zoe looked up, genuinely surprised.
“Dad had a black car?”
Kara frowned.
“I only remember the red Ford truck.”
Kara felt a strange knot form in her stomach. She remembered it so clearly.
George was behind the wheel of a black car. She couldn't remember the make or model, only the dark paint and the way it had stood out.
Zoe didn't remember it at all.
She remembered seeing him in that car around town, usually late at night. More than once. She just hadn't understood where he was going.
Kara never thought to question.
It felt like a clue.
Zoe sat cross-legged near the pillows, holding one picture after another up to the lamp.
“God,” she muttered. “Dad really thought these sunglasses made him look cool.”
Kara snorted softly, barely listening. She had been staring at the same photograph for nearly a minute.
George stood beside Uncle Richard in front of an old pickup truck, both of them younger, both grinning like they didn’t have a care in the world. George had one arm thrown over Richard’s shoulder. On the back, in faded black marker, were two names.
George and Mad Max.
Kara stopped dead.
“What?” Zoe asked, catching the look on her face.
Kara turned the picture over again, pulse quickening. Mad Max.
Elias’ voice echoed in her head.
“...Max knows...”
“Kara?”
“It’s nothing.”
Zoe frowned. “You’re acting weird.”
Kara forced herself to toss the picture back onto the bed with the others. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
Kara stood abruptly, reaching for her purse. Her thoughts were moving too fast now, crashing over each other. Uncle Richard. Mad Max. This is what Elias tried to tell her.
“Where are you going?” Zoe asked.
Kara grabbed her keys from the dresser. “I just remembered I need to handle something for work.”
Zoe’s expression was taut. “Kara—”
“I’ll see you later.”
The words came out sharper than she meant them to. Then she was out the door, her heart pounding harder with every step toward the car.
If anyone knew what George was hiding. It was Uncle Richard.
The road to his place hadn’t changed, narrower somehow, more eaten up by weeds. She parked at the end of the driveway, engine idling, trying to gather her nerves.
The house was small, almost swallowed by the surrounding trees. A wind chime made of bent spoons clinked in the breeze. She climbed the steps slowly, each one creaking a warning. Then she knocked.
“Kara,” he rasped, as if he’d just been waiting for her to show up all along. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. “I figured after Elias, that stubborn fool, showed up at the funeral, you would be coming to see me.”
For a second, Kara could only stare at him. Everything had been so tangled and frantic that she had almost forgotten that he was at the funeral. And somehow he’d known that she would end up here.
She swallowed. “It's about George."
His expression didn’t change. “Come inside,” he said finally, stepping back and letting the screen door creak open. “I guess we got shit to talk about.