Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX | TARYN
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Staring out the windshield, my eyes scan the multiple chain-link fences with razor wires twisted at the top.
Colten doesn’t say anything.
The only sound between us is the air conditioning blowing in the cab; once in a while, his loud exhale penetrates the silence.
Goosebumps break out over my unshaven legs from the chilly air drifting through the vents.
Bending over in any capacity right now shoots pain throughout my sternum and fragile fractured ribs, so shaving my legs has been on the back burner until it’s no longer excruciating to reach my legs.
Tugging the fuzzy blanket farther up on my lap, we gaze at the prison looming before us.
He didn’t want me to come. But when I caught him sneaking out of bed early this morning, I knew something was wreaking havoc in that brain of his.
It’s a Saturday. He rarely works on Saturdays.
He assumed I was using the bathroom, but when he emerged from the closet, fully dressed, I asked him what he was doing, and he frustratedly pushed his fingers through his hair.
A few days after my accident, Jane’s body was discovered in her car, and Colten submitted a visitor’s application to the prison where his father is held. His application was approved yesterday, and he made an appointment to visit today, planning to drive the three hours there and back by himself.
Now that we’re here, I think he’s having second thoughts.
It’s been a week. A rough week.
Mourning has overtaken the house as if they had lost Jane just yesterday. Which I guess, in a way, they did. Besides Colten, they’ve always held on to some minuscule sliver of hope, thinking she was out there somewhere.
She was…just not where they expected.
Jane had never left the property.
Elena doesn’t understand and keeps asking why she can’t see Mommy.
They’ve tried to sit down and explain it to her in a million ways that a five-year-old might apprehend, but she can’t grasp that even though they found her, it’s only the shell of who used to be her mother.
Tristan remains quiet again, diving into his Switch to distract himself from a house plagued by the loss of Jane Lindenvale.
Cameron and Brennan have found various ways to keep themselves busy and keep the brutal truth from infesting their minds.
Jessica hasn’t gone back to school yet; she reached out to her professors to let them know the circumstances, so she’s working online for another week until things are more settled than they are now.
On the other hand, my parents have been staying in their grandparents’ old place—my old rental—until they figure out where they are going next.
It’s been nice to have them around. The heart-to-heart I had with my mom one night over a glass of wine on the porch while we watched Elena and Tristan throw the ball to Rossco will be one of my favorite moments with her.
Colten and the twins were showing my dad around the property at the time, but the moments alone that we’d desperately needed started turning into a plan for me to join them on a new adventure once a year.
Maybe it was almost losing my life or knowing that the Lindenvale siblings lost Jane, but my mom and I mended something that was torn between us.
Time is fleeting.
Temporary.
And after all that’s happened, we both want to try harder.
I like to believe my parents have been a comforting presence when they come to the house.
They don’t want to intrude, but Colten has invited them to dinner at the house multiple times.
Elena loves my mom. One night, when I was tucking her into bed, she whispered that she thinks of my mom like her grandma.
It warmed my heart, especially after all this fragile family has been through.
But day by day, little by little, the air becomes a little less heavy.
I don’t think things will ever go back to normal. Jane Lindenvale will finally be laid to rest in a cemetery the boys picked out later this week.
But each movement is a step toward healing.
The sound of Colten swallowing draws my attention. “I don’t know what to say to him— It’s been five years.”
“I think you know exactly what to say to him; you just need to find the right way to bring it up.” He nods, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Rounding the front of the car, he strides up to my door and tugs it open. I peer into his green eyes as he softly reaches for my hand.
His hand shakes, so he clutches mine tighter. “Will you come with me?”
The simple request has my chest clenching and my heart so tight it could rupture. The impact alone could refracture whatever healing my ribs have accomplished in the last few days.
The Colten who stands in front of me now is far different than the man who lured me to Cedar Creek Cove.
He was the kind of man to dig a bottomless hole and entomb all his emotions in the unfathomable depths.
A man who could easily slip on a mask, deceiving the world by leaving a layer between him and whatever feelings were eating away at his flesh.
But the barrier has fallen, crumpled into a pile of ash at his feet. I want to collect the dust and hold it in the palms of my hands to prove to him how effortlessly I love his imperfections. The things he finds too weak to share but the things I find beauty in.
Because he is a remarkable brother. A protective parental figure who has shoved everything else aside to ensure his siblings feel valued.
Cared for. So they know they are a priority—that they are set up to strive in life despite the memories that linger in that house like an old scent that permanently intertwines with the threads in a carpet or the paint on the walls.
He’s carried the weight of it all.
The company.
Their bills.
The vast property that could have swallowed them all.
Colten had to grow up exceptionally fast because he witnessed what failed love looks and feels like. It left his family vulnerable, but he picked up the pieces and held them together without blinking an eye.
Now he’s here, searching for answers because Jane’s car at the bottom of the river only stirred up more questions about what happened that night.
After we make our way to the designated visitors’ entrance, Colten and I show our driver’s licenses before they screen us and give us temporary visitor badges.
Escorting us to the visitation room, Colten grabs my clammy hand, refusing to let go.
I grip his bicep as we brush past guards, their eyes locking onto us as we pass.
I’ve never set foot in a prison. It’s unsettling.
Concrete walls and floors synchronize with the harsh light, highlighting the beige accents here and there. Black cameras dot the ceilings and corners of the hallways, reminding me that people are watching every move we make.
My body trembles when we come to a halt.
“Right this way,” the female correctional officer says, opening the door and leading us into the visitation room, separating guests from the inmates.
We step inside. It looks exactly like the movies, a wall of glass through the center of the room with telephones for communication and metal chairs that look like they could freeze my ass in under a minute.
Other correctional officers stand in the room, observing and scanning the few people visiting other convicts.
She motions to two chairs. “Take a seat, and they’ll bring him in.”
The nervous tremble in Colton’s tone breaks my heart. “Thank you.”
He pulls out a chair for me, and I take a seat, holding my breath at the shot of pain that smashes into my ribs.
He takes a seat, eyeing me suspiciously. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I partially lie. He’s what matters. I’m here for him. I am attempting to ignore the pain as much as I’m trying to forget I might be coming face-to-face with a murderer who was plastered on the news for months, years ago. I throw his question back at him. “Are you okay?”
He rolls his lips, leaning back against the metal backing of the chair with his arms crossed. “I’m not sure.”
A door on the other side of the room, behind the glass, opens, revealing a man in a khaki-colored jumpsuit.
His downcast expression is fixated on the concrete floor below his shoes, giving us a clear view of his short, cropped brown hair.
Colten’s father’s wrists are shackled together as the guard leads him farther into the room.
Colten stills unnaturally beside me, his hand tightly gripping mine. Christian finally looks up, his shoulders rigid at seeing his son. He blinks a few times, their eyes holding each other’s while they process what’s in front of them. Then, Christian’s focus locks on me.
Heavy eyes take me in, his face void of any expression.
He lifts a hand to his peppered facial hair, scratching at his jawline with his fingernails.
The dark circles under his eyes make him appear twenty years older than he is, but the handsomeness that was once there still lingers.
I hold his gaze for a second longer, noting that he and his son probably had identical color irises at one point.
Not anymore. There is an overlay of gray. They are lifeless.
At the same time, Colten and Christian reach for the phones, unsaid words passing between them. Pulling the phone between us, we both lean into it to hear.
Christian clears his throat. “When they said one of my sons was here to see me, I didn’t expect—” He pauses, swallowing.
“Me?” Colten finishes, his tone laced with a huskiness I usually find charming. But at this moment, he’s holding back; it’s as if his vibrating hands are trying to transfer some of his resentment to me so he doesn’t lash out.
His father nods slowly, the silence sitting heavily.
Christian’s eyes locate mine, and Colten stiffens beside me. “You must be Taryn,” he says. I shift uncomfortably, not particularly enjoying the way my pulse is battering in response to him knowing who I am. “Tristan has talked about you in his letters.”
He has? Tristan never allowed me to read them, even though I helped Elena with hers. He needed help addressing the letters but would seal the envelope before giving them to me.
Christian’s gaze lands back on his son. “How are they?”
Colten exhales a breath. “Confused. Distraught. Missing a father who doesn’t deserve to be missed.”
I wince while his father’s weak frame tenses at his son’s unsympathetic words.
“I—” His father sighs, clutching the phone so hard his knuckles turn white.
“Hmm? Are you going to try to defend yourself? Because it’s too late for that. We found her, and there’s nothing you can—”
“You found her?” He chokes, his eyes glassing over with a look that completely flips my stomach. Why does he look like that? “Is—is she okay?”
Colten’s brow furrows irritably, and my heart lurches into my throat.
“What are you talking about?” Colten snips. “Of course she’s not fucking okay.” His voice rises, and I peer around at the guards staring at us apprehensively.
His eyes don’t stray from Colten’s. “Where is Jane?”
My head tilts at his question. Either he is insane and pulling up a mask to hide the truth, or he is genuinely as confused as I am.
Colten releases my hand, pointing an index finger up to the glass. “In a morgue! She’s in a damn morgue, Dad!”
“Colten,” I warn through gritted teeth, pulsing my fingers into his thigh gently.
His chest rises and falls, his cheeks flushing with fury. Compared to this cement box, it is a vibrant hue contrasting everything else around us. “No, Taryn! He needs to know that we found her, despite his best efforts to make sure she would never be found!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Christian whispers into the phone. It’s not the kind of hushed tone used to conceal truths, but one that genuinely shows me this man is perplexed.
“No?” Colten taunts. “You didn’t run her car off the cliffside into the Columbia when she was still inside? Because we have her body,” he points to his chest, “my mother’s body! Taryn’s truck went off the cliff, and she found her car…” The inhale Colten takes is loud and booming.
Christian closes his eyes, his face flushing as a tear falls onto his cheek. He scrunches his features as if he’s in pain. “I lost her,” he mumbles into the phone.
“We all lost her!” Colten clarifies. “Because of—”
“No,” Christian shakes his head, Colten’s movements freezing. “There’s so much you don’t know about what led to that night,” he murmurs. “After you came into our room and found us, and she drove off, I went after her.”
Colten peers at him disbelievingly. “I know.”
“No, you don’t.” His dad exhales. His eyes flit to mine briefly before settling back on his son. “I looked for Jane all night, but I never found her.”