The knife blade was already in his pocket, just one component of a multipurpose tool he’d carried since his final Uncle Roy weekend when he’d vowed to never be a victim again. He’d retrieved the handgun from the front seat of his mother’s SUV. He’d recently learned to shoot at the Canby house when they’d had a problem with raccoons. Breaking into the private investigators’ car had been easy as well. He’d practiced on other vehicles when he was younger—looking for drugs, cash, and electronics. Despite his ambition, all work and no play wasn’t his motto.
When he saw the dark stone house come into view, he had second thoughts. When he was younger and still somewhat sentimental, he’d wanted to meet Logan and get to know his older brother. But in time, Austin had come to accept that would never happen. Messing with Logan’s pathetic mind by appearing and disappearing had been his mother’s idea, but he hadn’t minded going along. Whatever kept Logan out of sight and out of their way.
Now that his rage had mellowed, Austin realized killing Logan would be unpleasant. His brother looked just like him! He knew they were identical twins, but he’d never thought of Logan that way.
Only the actual moment of death would be bothersome though. Afterward, his brother would just be a detail to wrap up. He’d learned to compartmentalize negative experiences and tuck them away. Getting raped regularly between the ages of four and ten had taught him that.
He was prepared to deal with all three of them. The tall woman made him a little apprehensive, so she would go first. He’d walk them up to the big pond, shoot her and the old guy in the head, and submerge their bodies with rocks. Mother would probably want to say goodbye to Logan, so he might preserve his brother’s body for a day or so. The house had an attic and a crawlspace, but the underside was cooler and would be easier to access with a heavy load.
The sedan finally rolled to a stop. Austin braced himself. If the tall woman was planning to rush him, it would likely be now, when he and Logan exited the car together. The gun would stay in his left hand, but he pocketed the knife. He needed one hand free to steer Logan with… or maybe break some fingers.
Chapter 43
As the car slowed to a stop, Logan’s heart raced. This was it, the last moments of his strange life. He’d finally met his younger brother—his twin!—and now the freak was going to kill him. The heat of Austin’s body had made him sweat, and he could smell his brother’s sour breath too. Logan had never been this close to anyone and the pressure added to his anxiety. He was mostly worried about Pops and his partner though. They didn’t deserve this. Austin had to be clinically insane. Knowing that made Logan doubt himself. If they were twins, didn’t that mean he had the potential to be evil too?
At the moment, he just felt scared and sad. His mother had clearly lost her mind as well. Because of him, she might also lose her job and maybe end up in a psychiatric hospital, heavily medicated. Aunt Shay was gone from his life too. He had nobody left. As depressing as it all was, he wanted to live. His heart stirred with a passion and resolve he’d never experienced before. Logan braced himself. When they climbed out of the car, it might be his best chance to break free.
Then what? Austin had a gun and, given the chance, would shoot all three of them. Logan knew he had to get the weapon away, but he had no idea how. He’d never played sports, wasn’t coordinated, and had weak arms. His only skill was chess. Plus an extensive vocabulary. Neither would be much help.
When the engine shut off, Austin said, “Hand me the keys.”
Karina—that was her name—ignored him and stepped out of the car. The old guy slowly opened his door too. Beside him, Austin tensed and swore under his breath. “Open the door!” he commanded.
Logan did as instructed, then swung his legs to the ground outside.
“Slow down.” His brother grabbed him by his hoodie, then pressed the gun to the middle of his back. “Don’t make this difficult, okay?”
Heat flared in his face and neck and Logan realized he was angry. The little psycho wanted him to go down easy. But why should he? If he was going to die anyway…
Pops was suddenly staggering around the hood. Was he hurt or sick? Logan stood and stepped out from behind the car door, Austin’s hand still clutching his sweatshirt.
The tall woman stayed back, her eyes darting between Pops and himself.
Behind him, Austin barked instructions. “Walk toward the back of the property. Around the left side of the house.”
But Pops was still on the move, walking funny and clutching his chest. The woman tensed, like a cat ready to pounce. What was happening? Logan’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat.
“Move!” His brother screamed in his ear.
Paralyzed with fear and indecision, Logan hesitated.
The old guy let out a painful cry and dropped to his knees.
The woman spun and called out, “Marty!”
Behind him, Logan felt Austin shift sideways to look around his shoulder and see what was going on.
Instinctively, Logan cocked his elbow and twisted his body toward Austin. His funny bone slammed into the gun, and Logan cried out in pain. But the weapon dropped to the ground.
Eyes watering and arm aching, the next two seconds were a blur. He sensed the big woman charging toward his brother. As Austin bent to retrieve the gun, she knocked him sideways and kicked the weapon at the same time.
The gun smacked into Logan’s foot and he looked down. Was he supposed to pick it up? The pounding of his pulse was deafening, and his chest felt like it would explode. Just do it! He bent over and grabbed the handgun, dizzy with adrenaline.
When he looked up, he saw Austin catch himself before he hit the ground. His brother pivoted, knife in hand. Austin lunged at Karina, striking her in the arm as she tried to defend herself.
Hands shaking, Logan raised the weapon and aimed it at Austin. Could he do this? No! That was his face, his body, his DNA. He could have turned out just like his brother. Still, he had to stop him. Logan charged forward, raising the gun like a club, and smashed it into Austin’s forehead.
His brother let out a small cry, then staggered toward him. “You fucker,” Austin whispered as he collapsed.
What had he done? Memories of his father’s death plunged through his mind, and he started to cry. He hated this place! Everyone came here to die. His aunt had been killed here too, and he’d blocked it—with coaching from Jill and mind-numbing medications shoved down his throat. That horrible day came back to him, and he couldn’t stop the images. The events played out in his mind as if they were happening all over again.
He heard the crunch of tires on gravel and knew his mother had finally arrived. Dad and Aunt Shay were “talking about business,” so he’d been told to go out and play. Logan skipped another rock across the pond, then started toward the house. The day was bright and sunny, but too cold for swimming or going out in the boat. He was happy to go inside and finally see Mother. She and Dad didn’t come to visit him very often anymore.
He ran along the path through the woods, noticing the red and yellow leaves everywhere. They seemed to have come down overnight. Summer was over and the thought made him sad. Depression was a disease, his Aunt Shay had told him. Fight it with happy thoughts. Those were easy today. His parents were here, and the four of them would play cards later. He loved Spades and Hearts with the family.
In the house, his joy evaporated. Shouting from the back bedroom made him cringe. Mother was yelling, but he didn’t understand what she was mad about. Logan hurried down the hall, while his mother screamed at the top of her voice. He’d never heard her so mad. Apparently Dad had cheated at something.
Logan stopped near the open bedroom door. His mother was pounding on his dad’s chest as he tried to put on his pants. Aunt Shay was on the other side of the bed, getting dressed too. Oh no! They’d had sex. No wonder Mother was so mad.
His dad was off balance though, and Mother kept hitting him. His dad tripped and staggered, then fell against
the wall. His head made a loud smacking noise when it hit the rock. Logan gasped, feeling sick. Please let him be okay.
He started to rush into the room, but Aunt Shay was screaming now too. The shrieking overwhelmed him. He didn’t do well with loud noises. Or angry people. Logan stepped back, too upset to say anything and too scared to move.
Shay ran around the bed and charged at his mother, her eyes crazed. “What have you done? Blake is all I had left!” The words echoed in the room as his aunt grabbed the fireplace poker and swung it.
The blow struck his mother’s shoulder and she cried out in pain. “How dare you?” Mother yanked the metal rod from his aunt’s hand and hit her back, right in the face. “You lying cheating whore!”
Blood sprayed from Shay’s nose, and she collapsed.
Logan cringed and took another step back.
His mother raised the poker and struck her sister again.
Logan bolted from the house and ran to his special fort in the woods. He stayed there for what seemed like hours, crying and pretending to be somewhere else. When the sun set, the sound of a shovel hitting the ground echoed in the quiet. He crept out of the fort and down the path, going deeper into the woods. In the moonlight, he watched his mother bury his aunt in a shallow grave. She spotted him and made him help her drag his father into their fishing boat, then dump his body on a rocky shoreline across the pond.
Chapter 44
Rox ran to the sedan, found the ugly scarf, and tied it around her wounded arm.
The knife hadn’t cut her that deeply, but she was bleeding and needed to get it under control. Her burner phone was on the floor of the backseat too. She grabbed it with her good arm and pressed 911. After five rings, a calm voice asked, “What’s your emergency?”
“A teenage boy took us hostage and tried to kill us.” She had to lay the foundation for keeping the three of them out of trouble. “The attacker’s been wounded, I’ve been stabbed, and I think my partner had a heart attack.”
“What’s your location?” The call taker sounded strangely calm.
Rox gave the address, said “I have to go,” and hung up.
She knelt by Marty on the hard ground, listening to his raspy breath, while trying to keep an eye on Logan too. After bashing his brother, the boy had stood perfectly still and stared like he was in a trance. She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t leave Marty’s side.
Her stepdad opened his eyes. “How did I do?” His voice was weak, but his face was smiling.
Relieved and confused, Rox snapped, “What are you saying? Are you all right or not?”
“Both. I faked the collapse to create a distraction, but I’ve felt crappy all day, especially the last hour.”
“How’s your heart? Did you have an attack?”
“I don’t know.” He tried to sit up. “I have weakness and nausea but not much pain.”
Rox gently eased him back. “Just stay down. Paramedics are on their way.”
“But you’re bleeding.”
“I’ll be fine. So will you.” The boy’s mental state worried her though. “Logan?” she called. “Are you all right?” It was her second attempt to get his attention.
He blinked and finally focused on her. “I know where Aunt Shay is.”
Rox had feared the worst, and his tone confirmed her suspicions. “Where? I assume she’s not in Seattle.”
“No. Mother killed her and buried her in the woods by the pond.” Tears rolled down Logan’s face. “She killed Dad too, but that was an accident.”
Good god. Jill Palmer was a sociopath as well as a multiple personality. The state psychiatrists would have a field day diagnosing and treating her. Jill’s disorder might explain her son Austin’s lack of a conscience. Rox tried to conjure up some empathy of her own. “I’m sorry it happened this way, Logan. But Austin probably isn’t dead, so don’t blame yourself.” The younger boy hadn’t moved, but she sensed he was still breathing.
Logan’s shoulders heaved as he fought back sobs. “Mother told me I was crazy and had made up all that stuff about Dad and Shay. Then she took me to some doctors and told them I’d attacked her. Maybe I did. I was hurt and angry and so stunned I didn’t know how to contradict her.” Logan’s eyes froze and he repeated the word. “Contradict, contradict, contradict.”
Rox didn’t know how to help him. Beside her, Marty whispered, “Contradiction.”
“What?” Rox didn’t understand, but also didn’t care. Marty was conscious and talking and that was all that mattered.
He said it again, louder. “Contradiction.”
Logan stopped his litany and repeated the new word, but only once. He seemed to be in a state of shock. “Logan! Stay with me!” Rox snapped her fingers. “The paramedics will help Austin. And we’ll get you a great counselor. You’ll get through this.” Or not. He’d already suffered a lifetime of tragedy.
The sound of sirens in the distance gave her hope that Marty would pull through as well.
Chapter 45
Jill Palmer opened her eyes and lifted her head. She was in a tiny windowless room, and her wrists were shackled to the table. Had she been arrested? “Hey! What’s going on?” she shouted at the door, panic flooding her with adrenaline.
Her head hurt and she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. Oh no! She’d had another blackout. When had it started? After the press conference? The episodes tended to be combined with stress… and drinking… and bad memories.
She couldn’t remember interacting with the protestors, but who cared? She was done dealing with them. She struggled against the shackles. Why were they treating her like this? “Bring some water!” she screamed, holding back a threat she wanted to unleash.
The door opened and she sat up, trying to look dignified. She was the governor of the state. She had to look the part… to command respect. A tall good-looking man in a dark suit walked in, followed by an older woman in a beige dress. They both carried notepads.
“What is this about?” Jill barked. “Do you know who I am?”
“You tell me.” The man sat across from her, his voice flat. The older woman slipped into the other seat, her eyes darting around, taking it all in.
“I’m Jill Palmer, governor of Oregon. This must be some mistake.” Yet, she knew in her heart it wasn’t. She’d done awful things—and Logan knew about them. And Roger Strada knew what she’d done to keep Logan quiet. The guilt of it made her sick.
“I’m Detective Kyle Wilson, Portland Police Bureau, and this is Dr. Suzanne Tillers, with the state’s mental health department. We’re going to record this conversation.” The man leaned forward. “Tell us what happened to your sister, Shay Wilmont.”
Mental health? What was a shrink doing here? And why were they asking about Shay? “My sister moved to Seattle two years ago. I haven’t really seen her since.” Was that true? Or just something she kept telling herself?
“Your son Logan says he saw you kill Shay Wilmont and bury her at your house in Canby. He says it might have been an accident. Why don’t you tell us everything, so we can help you?”
Jill felt like throwing up and her head was pounding. “Can you get me something to drink? A glass of wine would be nice.”
The detective hesitated, but not for long. “Sure.” He called someone and asked them to bring wine, surprising her. But maybe they just wanted to loosen her up. She didn’t care. Her body needed a drink.
While they waited, Dr. Tillers asked, “Do you remember anything that happened in the last few hours?”
Jill didn’t, but she knew not to admit it. “I addressed a crowd of protestors and gave a brief press conference.”
“Do you remember talking to your son, Logan?”
Sort of. Jill fought to keep her head clear, but she could feel herself slipping. “Yes. Why?”
“Do you remember pretending to be your sister?”
Oh fuck. The room started to spin. Jill heard the door open and someone offer her wine. She gulped it like the drow
ning woman she was. Pretending to be Shay had started in high school. They’d both done it, because they looked enough alike to get away with it. Their mother had downplayed the fact that they were twins, wanting them to have their own personalities and friends. Mother even held Shay back a year in school because she’d struggled with reading.
“Did you buy the train ticket to Seattle with Shay’s credit card?” The detective was asking her questions again.
She sure had. The alcohol hit her system and eased her pain. Jill nodded. “I called a couple of her friends too.”
After Blake and Shay’s deaths, she’d been so deep in grief and rage, it still surprised her that she’d been able to function—and step into the governor’s job. But that’s what the Goyer family did. Bury their emotions and keep moving forward. Only her sister hadn’t been able to. And in the end, neither had she.
Jill shook her head, but it wouldn’t clear. The guilt she’d tried to suppress for years kept surfacing. Dressing and acting as Shay had helped for a while. By keeping her sister alive, she’d given herself moments when she didn’t feel horrible about her death. She’d even visited Logan at Mt. Angel as Shay, so the boy wouldn’t feel abandoned by his aunt. But somewhere along the way, her sister had started taking over, and she’d lost the ability to bring herself back at will. Then she’d begun to black out and not remember being Shay at all.
Jill closed her eyes. She was so tired of fighting the episodes. So tired of trying to analyze and explain the memory lapses. So tired of the guilt about what she’d done to Logan. She’d thought that being governor would keep her busy enough to get past the strange phase. But the job had only created more stress, more drinking, and more blackouts. Keeping Logan locked up and silent had cost her too. Then Shay, in an episode of control, had apparently hired an operative to rescue Logan before he killed himself. Did that mean deep down she really wanted to save her son too? Maybe she wasn’t such a bad mother.
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