The Devil You Know

by Trish Doller

  Matt bypasses the well-lit center and drives down a darkened road to what used to be a neighborhood. There are concrete pads where houses once stood, and the few remaining homes are buttoned up for hurricane season. No streetlights. No cars.

  I am alone at the end of Florida with a boy who plans to kill me.

  A hysterical laugh bubbles up my throat.

  Matt’s head whips in my direction, and I shrink into the farthest corner of the front seat, pressing against the door, for fear he’s going to smack me again. He doesn’t. He just gives me a self-satisfied smile, as if I’m the unruly dog he’s beaten into submission. He pulls into the gravel driveway of what was once a waterfront home site, and a thin line of mangroves is all that stands between us and the beach. Matt fiddles with the radio dial, trying to get a sharper signal on the country music filtering through the speakers. My hand is on the door latch, and I consider getting out. Running away.

  Matt slides his hand beneath the driver’s seat and pulls out Noah’s gun. “You can run if you want.” He gestures at the door as if I’m free to go. “I like shooting at moving targets. I’m pretty good with rabbits and squirrels. The neighbor’s poodle was a challenge, but I got him, too.”

  I slump back against the seat and blink about a million times trying to keep from crying. Matt’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, smiles at the screen as he places it on the dashboard, and turns on the speaker function. “Perfect timing.”

  “What the hell, Matt? I’ve tried calling a million times. Where are you?” Noah’s confused voice comes out of the phone, and hope snakes through my veins. I seize the opportunity.

  “Noah, we’re in Flamingo! Call the police!”

  Matt’s hand comes across the car again, splitting my swollen lip wider. My face burns, and the metallic tang of blood seeps into my mouth.

  “Before you think about calling the police,” Matt says, “you should decide if you want Cadie’s death on your head. Because if the police show up here, I will kill her.” Matt presses the snub-nosed barrel of the gun against my temple. I freeze in place, not wanting to do anything that might make his finger slip on the trigger. Tears course down my cheeks and snot dribbles from my nose, but I don’t dare wipe them away. “She’s been really brave, Noah. Give her a sporting chance. Come alone.”

  The line is silent, and I pray to God, to my mom, to anyone in the heavens who might be listening, that we didn’t lose signal out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “What’s going on, Matty?” Noah sounds calm, and even though I’m shaking so hard the barrel of the gun presses against my skin over and over and over again, I’m somehow comforted by the sound of his voice. “Why are you doing this?”

  “He wants the car.” I turn my face quickly toward the window so Matt can’t hit me again. The gun touches the back of my head, and I can hear the scratch of the barrel as it rubs against my hair. I pinch my eyes shut tight, but still can’t help picturing my brains splattered against the window.

  “It’s yours,” Noah says. “Done.”

  “It’s already mine.” Matt’s voice is dead calm. “Every summer when I was a kid, Granddad would take me for a ride in this car and tell me that someday it would be mine. That stupid old bitch willed it to you, but it’s my car. Someday is here.”

  “You have the Cougar, Matt. Just let Cadie go.”

  “Not until you get here.”

  “I’m already on my way,” Noah says, and I wonder how. Is someone driving him? Where did he find a car? Is he close? “We’ll talk, okay? Just don’t—Cadie, I’ll be there soon.”

  “No cops.” For just a moment Matt sounds young and desperate, and I think maybe he’s afraid of Noah. After all, if a fifteen-year-old Noah could damage a grown man, what might this Noah do to Matt? But the coldness returns to Matt’s voice when he says, “I already killed Lindsey. I won’t think twice about killing Cadie.”

  “No cops,” Noah repeats. “I promise.”

  Matt touches the button to end the call, and the phone sits there on the dashboard. I lunge for it, and he pushes me away, cracking the side of my head against the window. Not hard enough to break the glass—or me—but pain radiates through my skull. I don’t even know who I could have called. Even if Dad drove the whole way to the canoe landing at Gardner, he’s still too far away to help me now. Duane can’t come rescue me. And if I keep doing stupid things like this, maybe Noah won’t even make it in time.

  “Goddamn it, Cadie! Stop making me hurt you.”

  “Is that how it works? It’s my fault?” My voice is thick with tears. “Did Jason make you hurt him?”

  “He needed to be taught a lesson about respect,” Matt says. “He got what he deserved, but you were too stupid to see it as punishment. You felt sorry for him.”

  “What about Lindsey? What did she do wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Matt smiles at me, and my stomach turns inside out. I can’t help wondering if his lies about Noah were truths about himself. Sociopath. Psychopath. Murderer. Monster. No matter what the label, there’s something very wrong with Matt.

  He grabs the phone and the gun and gets out of the car, slamming the door closed.

  As he stands in the beam of the headlights, my eyes dart to the ignition. Shit. The keys are gone, too.

  I think again about running, but I’m not certain I could reach the hiking trail that lies beyond him before he shoots me, and I’m not sure where the trail even leads. The water is closer, but how long—or where—could I swim before I was too exhausted to go on? Are there sharks in those waters? I don’t know, but the threat of alligators is very real out here in the Everglades. The smartest option—which is, admittedly, not a smart option at all—would be to run to one of the houses and try to hide. But even if I could get inside, if Matt finds me, I’ll be trapped. If this was all part of his plan to kill Noah in a place where it would take weeks for his body to be discovered—if ever—it’s a terrifyingly brilliant plan.

  My head goes in circles for a long while, trying to figure out how I can get away from Matt, until my mind snags on Jason needing a lesson in respect. I get out of the car and comb my fingers through my tangled hair. There’s absolutely nothing sexy about me at this moment, but it might be the only weapon I have.

  Matt is leaning against the hood of the car, watching the road. Waiting for Noah.

  “Hey, um—you know that whole thing with Jason?” I work on sounding a little bit shy and a little bit flirty, and I can’t tell if I’m successful at either. “You did that for me?”

  “Doesn’t matter now.”

  “Of course it matters.” I stand close enough beside him that we’re almost touching. I keep my voice light and hope it’s not shaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand. Jason has always been a jerk to me, so I appreciate what you did.”

  Matt’s eyebrows pull together, and his dark eyes register skepticism. Because I’m lying and he’s not stupid. But I have to convince him I’m sincere. On his side. It’s the only way I can think to stay alive until Noah gets here. The closer I am to Matt, the better chance I have of saving us both.

  “It’s too late for that,” he says.

  “Is it?” I lean beside him against the car. “I know you probably don’t believe me, Matt, but I get it now. I do. Noah is a total loser who wormed his way right into your family and took everything that should be yours. Even I was fooled, but you were smart enough to see through it all.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I should have stayed with you at the party,” I say. “But when I saw you with Lindsey I got jealous. Especially since I was the one who invited you. I waited for you, Matt.”

  “You picked him.”

  “Only because I thought you were blowing me off for her,” I say. “And I’m still here now.”

  He laughs. “That’s because I have a gun.”

  “Well, yeah,” I say. “But I haven’t made a run for it.”

  “Yet.”

  “Do you have any idea how
much it sucks to be fourteen years old and raising a baby? I gave up my life to take care of my little brother.” My breath hitches in my throat, and I have to pause to keep from crying because this isn’t part of the charade. But the thing is, I would live this life all over again for Danny. “I’m just so damn sick of it, you know? Enough to run off into the wilderness with a couple of strangers.”

  I glance at Matt, and he’s nodding. Maybe he’s buying it. Maybe he’s playing me. Either way, I forge on.

  “You know, we could drive away,” I say. “Go somewhere no one can find us. Change our names, change our realities, and drive a really spectacular car. How do you feel about Mexico?”

  Matt laughs low, bumping his shoulder against mine—the shoulder attached to the arm attached to the hand that smacked my mouth out of its proper shape—and I try not to cringe. “It’s a good plan.”

  “Then let’s go.” I push away from the car and hold out my hand to him. By the time Noah gets here, we could be gone. He’d be safe, and I’d have a chance to escape Matt somewhere other than the middle of the Everglades. It’s risky, but it’s all I’ve got. “Please.”

  Matt catches my hand and reels me back to him, pulling me between his knees the same way Noah did in my bedroom. Matt has the gun in his hand, so I know he still doesn’t completely trust me as he cradles my face and brushes his thumb lightly across my swollen lower lip. He smiles a little, as if he sees my bruised face as some sort of trophy. My insides are a twisted knot, but I force myself to smile back, because this is a test and I have to pass.

  Matt’s lips touch mine, and when his tongue pushes into my mouth, I close my eyes and let it happen. The last time he kissed me it felt warm and sweet, but now there’s a gun pressed against my lower back and the only way to get through this is to pretend he’s Noah. Except Matt’s mouth is invasive and demanding until I make a small sound—as if I’m enjoying it—and he eases up. He kisses the crack in my lower lip before he pulls back to look at me.

  “This is so much better, Cadie.” His voice goes low and soft, and for a moment he even sounds like Noah and I want to cry. “I like it when you cooperate.”

  Matt’s hand moves from my face, sliding up under my shirt until his fingers meet the lower edge of my bra. My mouth tastes salty, as if I’m going to throw up, but when his hand worms beneath the cotton, I don’t protest. My heart is beating so hard that I’m sure he can feel it pulsing through my skin. How far am I going to have to go to convince him I’m on his side? How far am I willing to go?

  I tug at the front of his shirt with both hands, urging him down to the ground with me. Matt grins. It may be trust or it may be lust, but either way, his guard is lowered. The gun is pinned under his hand as he kneels over me, pushing up my shirt.

  God, Noah, where are you? I don’t want to do this.

  Matt’s movements are awkward as he tries to unbutton my shorts with a single hand, so he jams the gun in the pocket of his shorts. I pull him down to kiss me, feeling the weight of the gun bump against my hip, and his hand slides up my stomach from button to breast. I tiptoe my fingers up his back, digging the tips into his skin so he thinks I’m enjoying this. I moan against his lips—

  —and then I go for the gun.

  Chapter 17

  “You stupid bitch!” Matt realizes what I’m doing almost immediately and grabs my wrist. We’re still on the ground and I’m trapped beneath him as he squeezes my wrist so tight I’m afraid he’s going to break it. “Did you really think I would fall for your pathetic seduction? And why would I stick a fucking gun in my pocket if there was a chance it would go off?”

  “Why play along, Matt?”

  “I wanted to see how far you would go,” he says. “And it’s easier than force.”

  He reaches into his pocket for the gun. With his other hand around my wrist, Matt’s middle is exposed. I grab again, but this time I don’t go for the gun. I grab his testicles through his shorts and squeeze as hard as I can. As hard as he’s squeezing my wrist. Matt yelps in pain. Rolls off me. Lets go of my wrist.

  I try to crawl away from him, to stand up. Matt lunges, his strong hand wrapping around my ankle. I kick back hard with my free foot, and there’s a sickening crunch as the sole of my shoe makes contact with his nose. Involuntarily, Matt releases me, and I scramble to my feet, running as fast as I can toward the hiking trail. I still don’t know where it leads, but Flamingo seems to be stretched out along the waterfront, so maybe it will take me to the marina and the main road down which Noah will come.

  The crack of a gunshot rips through the air behind me, and the world slows, blood rushing in my ears as I wait for the bullet to pierce my body. How much will it hurt when it hits me? How many minutes will it take for me to die? Will my mother be there on the other side? But time speeds up and the second is over. Then the next one passes and I realize—Matt missed.

  A second gunshot rings out, but I have an advantage now. I’m farther away. Beyond the fading beams of the headlights, becoming invisible as I follow the trail along the beach. I don’t slow down as I listen for Matt. There is little tree cover, and my path is lit by the shine of the moon off the water as I dash past the deserted campground. I’m still a moving target but no more shots follow. It’s unnerving because grabbing him by the balls couldn’t have incapacitated Matt for that long. Why isn’t he chasing me?

  The trail funnels into a woodsy area just beyond an outdoor amphitheater, and I’m beginning to worry that I’m wrong about this path. I fear the silence. I doubt my own sense of direction, despite the Gulf being exactly where it’s supposed to be. Through a break in the trees I see the remnants of another old neighborhood. A lone house sits at the top of the empty cul-de-sac. There are no cars in the driveway, but there are also no hurricane shutters sealing it up for the summer. Maybe the owners are just away. Maybe they have a phone I can use to call the police.

  In the split second I make the decision to step off the path, I collide with something. Someone.

  The beginnings of a scream escape me before a big hand clamps over my mouth and an arm wraps around my waist, pinning me tight against a wall of chest. I bite hard into the fleshy part of his palm as I struggle to break free, but he’s too strong. I can’t get away. I close my eyes and pray to my mom—or to any god who is listening—that my death will be quick. The answer is a shhhhhh sound beside my ear.

  “Cadie, it’s me.” My body goes weak with relief as I recognize Noah’s voice. He peels his hand away from my mouth. I can’t see if there are teeth marks in his palm, but now that I know it’s him, I hope I didn’t draw blood. “I heard gunshots. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He was shooting at me and I ran and—” The mangroves around us rustle slightly in the breeze, and panic slams into my chest. We’re standing still. Easy targets. “We have to keep moving, Noah. I don’t know where he is.”

  “This way.” He takes my hand as if to pull me back the way he came—toward the parking lot.

  “Matt’s got the car, and he has to know this trail leads that direction,” I say. “If we go the opposite—”

  “He could be waiting for us at either end of the trail,” Noah says. “But the parking lot is out in the open, and I have a truck waiting. We get to the truck and get the hell out of here.”

  I follow him down the path, leafy branches brushing against my shoulders like bony fingers, making me shiver. Fears pile up in my head as we run—especially the one that reminds me I trusted Matt to help me get the hell away and he brought me to this place instead—but I can’t afford to give myself over to doubt. I focus on Noah’s solid back and the feel of his hand around mine. On making it to the parking lot alive. On going home.

  Light penetrates the spaces between the trees as we near the mouth of the trail. Light from the Cougar’s headlights? Noah stops, and over the stillness I can hear an engine idling.

  “Matt’s watching the trail,” he whispers. “Or at lea
st he wants us to think he’s watching.”

  “Should we go back?”

  “He could be anywhere, Cadie,” Noah says. “We have to run for it. I’ll go first to draw him out. No matter what happens, do not stop.” He folds a key ring with a single key into my hand. The key and the gentle squeeze that follows erase any doubt I ever had about trusting him. “Run to the truck and go.”

  “I’m sorry I doubted you,” I say. “He showed me pictures of Lindsey and I thought—”

  “Don’t think about that now. Just go.”

  We hold to the darkest part of the path as we creep slowly forward to the end of the trail. Noah silently gestures forward with two fingers and bursts out into the parking lot. I run behind him and everything around me is a blur. I don’t see Matt as I rush past the Cougar. I see only Noah in front of me and—some fifty-odd yards beyond him—an orange-and-white U-Haul pickup truck that would be hilarious if I wasn’t so fucking terrified that I’m going to die before I reach it. Fifty yards is half a soccer field.

  I can do this.

  A gunshot cracks, and Noah is knocked out of his trajectory. He falters, crying out in pain. His hand clutches his upper arm as I run past him. I’m closing in on the truck—thirty yards, twenty-five yards—when I hear Matt call out for me to stop.

  “If you leave, I’ll kill him.”

  “He’s going to kill me anyway.” Noah’s voice carries across the lot. “Don’t stop, Cadie. Not for me.”

  Twenty yards.

  I stop and turn around.

  In the amber glow of the parking lot lights I see Noah down on his knees with his left arm hanging limp at his side and Matt standing beside him with the gun pressed against Noah’s head. Matt’s face is darkened with blood from where I kicked him and his stance is soft from the pain in his groin, but he still holds all the power right beneath his trigger finger.

  The smart thing for me to do is listen to Noah. Get in the truck. Drive away.