by Tara Brown
“I did it once before.”
“Liar.”
“From when I was born to the time I was twelve, never had sex once.”
“Gross.” I grimaced. “You had sex at twelve?”
“No, I discovered touching myself. It was revolutionary. Then I discovered I could blackmail the maid into touching me. Also revolutionary.”
“Boys are nasty. You made her a pervert.” I cocked an eyebrow, no longer wanting to hear his childhood stories. “I want you to wait for me until we can do this.”
“Is that what you have asked Cooper for?” He didn't miss a thing.
“No. I told him it’s over.”
“It didn't appear to be over. He sucked a fry from your fingers. That's an intimate act.”
A wicked grin spread across my lips. “You jealous?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes again. “Good.”
“I have warned you, Evie,” he growled. It was a winning moment for me.
I mimicked his voice, “No, Evie, she was the daughter of a most trusted friend and I never touched her, I swear.” I laughed at him, something he hated.
26
The end of Cyril
The house was small but not at all what I had expected. There were flower gardens with gnomes and decorative earthenware. Someone loved this house and garden.
I snuck in the back door and closed it softly, the deadbolt clicking in my fingers as I scanned the kitchen. The smell of bread and pastries filled my nose. Again, not what I had expected. I crept from the kitchen to the living room, surprised to see a sleeping woman on the couch.
Her hearing aids sat on the TV tray next to her.
Leaving her to sleep in peace, I tiptoed down the hall to the bedrooms and bathrooms. First it was a bathroom with floral themes choking it. The bedrooms were neat and clean.
I turned, confused until I noticed a door I hadn’t opened. Keeping my eyes on the lady, I stepped to the door, opening it quietly.
Nothing moved below but that didn't mean he wasn't there. I took the stairs slowly at first but hurried when I realized the basement was open concept.
He sat on the couch, his head facing the wall opposite the stairs. The TV played a soccer match, or football in Scotland. As I walked to the couch I noticed his hand in his trousers, resting there, and a beer in his other one. He was a much older version of Al Bundy from Married with Children.
I pulled the hairpin from my struggle bun, stabbing down over him, through his hand and into either his dick or leg. I couldn't tell. He parted his lips to scream, but I slapped a hand across them and leaned forward. “This is from Lindsey.” I dragged the knife from my other pocket and sliced it across his throat, spilling his blood down the front of him as he gasped for air, making gargling noises.
I didn't wait for him to die. I wiped my blade, pulled my hairpin from his hand, and went back upstairs. I sat across from her on the coffee table, perhaps a little bloody for the living room but not really caring.
I stared at her until she flinched and woke, jumping when she saw me. I lifted my finger to my lips and pointed my knife at her hearing aids.
With trembling hands and wide eyes she put them in, demanding answers, “Who are ya? Why are ya in me house?”
“Did you know your husband was molesting girls, drugging and molesting them?”
Her eyebrows dropped, not lifting in surprise but dropping in anger. “Them girls are liars and teasers. My Cyril would never touch—” She gagged and choked as the handle of my knife stuck out of her throat. I got up and dragged it from her, letting her artery shoot blood in a steady stream at me.
I pulled the matches from my pocket and lit one and then the whole pack, tossing it at the stack of magazines in the basket next to the floral couch. The flame looked like it might die out but the basket soon caught fire, sparking as if something had been spilled on there.
I walked out the back door after stealing a raincoat to cover the bloody mess I was. I only needed to get a block over to where he waited in the car.
“Jesus, Evie. You are the messiest killer. Why don't you use a gun?” Servario complained.
Eyeing the blood on my hands I shrugged. “I like the idea of them dying by my hand and not by the gun. I killed them.”
“You’re sick.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I cocked an eyebrow. “But I’m in good company. You sell drugs, guns, and women.”
“You were going to light the house on fire, I thought?”
“He had to know it was from Lindsey. I had to kill him first.”
“Of course you did.” Servario sat back as the car drove us through the suburban area on the outskirts of Glasgow. I dragged my clothes off, putting them into a bag and using the Lysol wipes from my purse to clean myself up. I stuffed it all into another bag and grinned at the face he made. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and pressed in the number for Ruth.
She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ruth please.”
“Speaking.” Her accent was thick.
“I am calling from the center where your daughter is being treated. I wanted to let you know she is safe and sound.”
After a moment, sobbing and whimpering took over the silence on the other end. She wept, uttering things I couldn't understand. Finally, she spoke clearly, “Oh thank God. I prayed so hard for her soul. Is she able to talk to her mum?”
“I’m sorry, she’s detoxing. We are monitoring her. She was part of a brothel in Blackpool. A large raid.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.”
I sighed and said it, knowing it needed to be said. “Did you know the neighbor there, Cyril, was molesting her and giving her drugs?”
It was crickets on her side of the phone, completely dead air.
“Hello?” I hoped she hadn’t hung up.
“That motherfucker. I will gut him like a fucking fish.” Her words were breathy.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry to have to tell you. I just wasn't sure if you had other kids at home, besides Lindsey.”
“No! He can’t have done that to her! Jesus! How did I miss it?” She was running. I could hear her footsteps on the cement. I was glad I had dealt with Cyril and his wife, saving Ruth a jail sentence.
“Lindsey will be in touch as soon as she is cleared to use phones or computers. We have to keep her safe from the people that were busted for running the brothel.”
“Can’t I come to her?” she asked as she started her car.
“No. There are no visitors and no contact until she has completed the drug detox. Thank you so much for taking my call, Ruth. I am sorry and I wish I had better news for you, especially while you’re at work.” I hung up and lifted my gaze to Servario. “That was brutal.”
“At least she didn't know.”
“She was on her way to kill him.”
“As she should have.” Servario’s lip lifted into a sneer. “If I ever saw anyone so much as glance at my children, I would kill them without a single thought.”
“Regret. You mean a single regret. Did you ever want kids?” I asked, not sure if we’d had this conversation or if I had dreamt we did.
“No. Maybe once upon a time when I was a boy, and I believed I could be a better father.” Humor danced in his gaze. “But I see now, people are who they are raised to be. Fathers make the same mistakes as their fathers. My father made so many it is impossible that I would have avoided them all.”
“You might have surprised yourself.”
He chuckled. “Evie, if I don't end up completely fucking this up between us, I will surprise myself. And you are a big girl who can take care of herself. Not a small child. Loving you means putting the world second. Billions of people just became second. When you are the man in charge of not fucking that up, it’s not smart to love someone more than any other thing.”
“You told me once that I shouldn't make you love me.”
“I meant it.” His green eyes pulled me into them, but I s
tayed on my side of the car. “I don't want to be responsible for your death.”
We drove to the airport to catch the helicopter, taking the bag of bloody clothes with us.
I fell asleep in the helicopter, finally able to relax a bit. Something that had been bothering me was finally gone.
I woke to the light of day and Jack’s mansion next to us. I sat up. “You had him fly us here?”
“I did. You were sleeping and I was enjoying watching it.”
“Are you coming in?”
“Yes.” He seemed conflicted about his answer. My heart raced. He would meet my children for real. “I have to give Jack the codes, and it’s not information that should cross the open internet in any way.
He climbed out, offering me his hand. I took it, feeling equally conflicted.
We strolled down to the house, earning a strange look through the living room window from everyone as we entered. My mother was the first to speak, “Gustavo, how are you?”
He hugged her. “Well, Helena. How are you?”
She kissed his cheeks as a typical European would and shrugged. “I am relaxed from all this vacationing.”
“Yes.” His lips toyed with a grin. “I can imagine.”
Fitz came strolling in, obviously aware of the change in the household. He nodded at Servario. “How are you, son?”
“I am well, and you?”
Fitz winked. “Can’t complain about a single thing.”
The three of them stared at each other, and I felt like a teenager bringing a boy home.
Jules came running in next. “Mommy!” She leapt at me, earning a tighter squeeze than normal. Mitch offered a wave, but his expression changed when he saw my guest.
I nodded at Jack. “He has something you want.”
Jack jumped up, holding a hand out. “This way, sir.”
Coop didn't get up, but a smugness crossed his face when Mitch walked through the room and sat with him. Servario chuckled, following Jack from the room.
“How was Scotland?” Luce asked.
“Good.”
Jules kicked and squirmed from my arms. “I can swim two laps in the pool without breathing. Wanna see?”
“I can’t think of anything I would want to see more than that.” I followed her out and watched as she dove in and swam hard with strong and uniform kicking.
“She is you.” My mother came and sat next to me. “I dearly wanted for you to be a regular girl. But you were so strong and fit and determined to show up every boy in the room. You played harder and ran faster and slept far less. I worried you would get to the Olympics in some of the sports you were in, drawing far too much attention to our family.” She turned and there were tears in her eyes.
Jules shot up out of the pool, beaming.
“Yay! Excellent work, Jules.”
She jumped back in, swimming hard and flipping about in the water.
My mom sighed. “But I never feared anything as much as I did you becoming one of us.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Mom, you have to know, I never wanted to be like you. I always wanted to be like Dad.”
She sniffled and laughed. “I know.”
“No, you don't. You see, now all I want is to be as good at this as you are. I want to be just like you.”
She leaned in, hugging me. “You already are ten times the mother, spy, and daughter I ever was. I never had my priorities right. I worked hard and I worried about my time. I worried about selfish things I wish now I hadn’t.”
That hit home hard. “I do too.”
“The difference is you won’t wait a whole lifetime for a man to choose you.”
“I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes. “I am too. But don't make the same mistakes as I did. That’s how we break the cycle.”
We sat in silence and watched Jules swim hard until Mitch came out and sat next to us. He spoke softly, “Are you and Coop broken up?”
“We were never dating, son.” I bit my lip, not sure what to say. I spotted Coop in the window. “He’s my friend. He’s always going to be my friend. But I need to get past some things before I jump back in.”
“Stuff from Dad?”
“Stuff from Dad and stuff from me.” I lifted my hand and held his cheeks. “You are such a big boy now. You’re becoming a man.”
His eyes burned. “I will be a man just like Coop one day.”
My heart tightened and my stomach lurched, but I maintained the relaxed expression on my face. “Yes, you will.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. I couldn't breathe as my mom wrapped her arm around my shoulders and the three of us hugged.
It was a sign to slow everything down.
A sign I needed.
27
The Funeral
I slipped my hand into his, squeezing softly. He let me. He didn't fight it. Mitch was on his other side, head down and sorrow covering his face.
Coop’s parents sniffled and wiped, each devastated at the loss of their child.
Coop leaned in, letting some of his weight rest on me. He didn't cry. In fact, he didn't even try to hide the fury on his face.
He hadn’t tried to direct any of it onto Servario, despite the awkwardness of everything. His pain and rage belonged to Rachel, all of it. She had done the one thing Coop didn't forgive, not matter what.
The minister spoke as the cool Alaskan wind lifted my hair.
Somber faces surrounded us. Luce and Jack stood next to me, both with their heads down and hands clasped. None of us wanted to believe it, but the evidence was overwhelming. Coop had seen it all—he had demanded to see it. I hadn’t seen the exchange or the moment Coop received the proof. He and Servario had been alone, having a moment perhaps.
It had been a miserable week, what with Janice’s family having her funeral and now Coop’s family having Rachel’s. And somehow, even if we weren’t guilty of it, the stain of their blood was on my hands, our hands.
Coop’s dear family wept, believing she had been in a terrible car accident.
Only the four of us were aware of the truth. He hadn’t even told his father, perhaps not wanting her death to be soiled. I disagreed with the choice. I told him that his father needed to know what his daughter had done, in case she had created other loose ends.
He and I never spoke of it again. I trusted he’d look into it eventually.
Not that the loose ends mattered.
We lived in a constant state of fear, hiding, and paranoia. What could be added to make our lives worse? At this point I believed nothing.
Saudi Arabia was in a constant state of emergency, ruined by the invention meant to save the world.
The Burrow was split into two groups: those who wanted to clean up mankind, and those who wanted to hide in Japan and pretend everything was fine beyond the walls of the sacred temple.
The splinter cell of rogue Burrow agents and scientists wanted the world cleaned up. They wanted everything peaceful and pretty. They wanted humans handled and managed to protect us from ourselves. They wanted to play God.
And I hated to admit it but some days I agreed with them.
There, on the hillside in Alaska, with the cool summer breeze blowing over us and the clear sky above us, we were in the heart of the storm—the eye. Everything around us was ready to explode, and it seemed like we didn't have a safe route to get away. We had to suit up and walk through the fire to end this.
For me, personally, it meant I would be doing something I didn't want to, but I didn't have a choice in the matter. Normalcy was officially over.
Coop squeezed my hand, his fingers trembling a bit.
I let go of his hand and slid my arm into the small of his back, wrapping around his waist and held on tight.
“And may she rest in peace and everlasting life in the grace of God’s blessings.” The man bowed his head. “Amen.”
“Amen,” we spoke in unison.
Each of the family members tossed a handful of dirt onto the casket where he
r battered and broken body lay to rest. I had forced myself to look upon her dead corpse in the morgue as they prepared her for burial in her closed casket, just to witness what he was capable of. What Servario, a man who owned half my heart, was able to do to someone, even a girl. I had seen Roxy; I knew he could be cruel and efficient.
But Rachel was a whole other story.
Needless to say, car accident wasn't quite the description I would’ve used. Her missing fingers and teeth and bits of missing skin looked like my mother had been at her. I forced myself to stare and let it sink in. There was a side of him that I never saw. He never showed it to me. He too had ice water in his veins and sometimes all of this got to be too much for him.
Once I had seen her, the biggest question was, what did we make together?
Coop didn't throw dirt on the casket. He stood, stoic and cold, letting it all be real, maybe too real, for just a moment. Then he turned and gave Mitch a soft smile. “Thanks for coming.”
Mitch hugged him, clinging tightly. Jules had stayed with my mom at the hotel, but Mitch had been adamant he would be there for Coop.
The family converged, wrapping themselves around my son and theirs. They sobbed and held each other. Luce, Jack, and I stood off to the side, all of us hating their grief and the choice their daughter and sister had made.
My boy pulled from the group of them and walked to me. He wrapped himself around me, his hands trembling just a little.
After a moment, Coop did the same. I held them both, hating the Burrow even more than I thought I could.
We might have saved tomorrow from the brilliance of Dr. Janice Saunders, and we might have ended the life of the man who knew the most about each of us, but we were still far off from being free.
Coop placed a soft kiss on my throat, hovering there. He was breathing me in, I knew the act well. I had done it to him more times than I could count.
He slipped his hand in mine and focused on Jack, Luce, and myself. “Thanks for coming.”
None of us spoke. What did you say to that?
The group of us sauntered away as the casket got buried by the two men with shovels.