by Nina Park
I hadn’t seen a single car in that whole time and I was starting to realize I was very far behind. Whoever had hit me—my money was still on Logan—was far ahead of me, and even if it weren’t Logan who had attacked me, there was no question that he would be long gone by the time I reached the damn motel again, much less by the time I got to my car and the gun I had stashed there.
I had about resigned myself to several more hours of walking, when I saw the lights flash. My first instinct, given that I’d just been attacked, was to run. And run fast. If I dove out of the way, maybe the driver wouldn’t see me. But then I made a quick decision: I didn’t care if they saw me. If they did and it was my attacker, then good. Maybe they’d come after me, get into a car accident, or drive off the road, or maybe just stop to try to finish me off. In that sort of a fight, I would win. They had gotten the drop on me before, but not this time.
Standing my ground, I stared at the car that came closer and closer. Car, I thought suddenly, not truck. So, it wasn’t Logan. Maybe his buddy, Joshua. Maybe Shawn. Maybe someone else entirely who just seemed to hate my guts for no reason. But not Logan.
The car slowed down, pulling towards the side of the road. After a moment, it stopped completely and the passenger side window began to roll down.
I bent forward to see who was inside and found a kindly, if slightly worn face staring back at me. He looked like some middle-aged man from the counter, that small town, open-faced look plastered across his almost dull seeming features. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a farmer. “Well, hello there,” he greeted, his eyes widening slightly. “You look to be in quite a shape, young man!”
I glanced down at myself and for the first time really considered how I must look. I was covered in mud from the ditch, my clothing rumpled and even torn in spots, probably from the roll down into the ditch. My hair was likely wild, mussed, and probably dirty, too. I didn’t need to be told that my face likely was already starting to swell with bruises and probably was already beginning to discolor into sickly yellow and plum purple. Gingerly, I touched my lip, remembering that I’d bled there, too.
I must look like death warmed over, I thought.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to be calm and project a friendliness I wasn’t feeling. I wanted to hurt things, but I somehow doubted this small town man was interested in picking up someone like that. And I instantly had decided that I wanted a ride.
Quickest way into town.
“I, uh, had some issues with my car,” I said finally. Not even remotely the truth, but I couldn’t exactly explain what had really happened. “And unfortunately, I left my phone in the motel room where I’m staying. I could really use a ride there.”
The man’s eyebrows rose, showing wrinkles and spots of gray hair here and there. He considered me a moment longer, his eyes taking in my weathered appearance once more before answering me. “Well, I certainly can’t leave you like this. Where you staying?”
“The Market Town Inn.”
He smiled, then shook his head. “Well, hell, a good night’s sleep there probably won’t make you feel better, but it won’t make you worse.” He laughed at himself. “Probably looks about as bad as you do. But c’mon in. I’ll give you a lift. Headed that general way myself anyhow.”
I offered him a genuine smile, my first in a good while, and pulled open the passenger door. As I slid in, I said, “Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
“Not a problem, sir. Not a problem. Always happy to help.”
I doubted he would feel that way if he knew my profession, but it didn’t matter. I’d already decided I liked the man and would insist he drop me off at the sign before he reached the parking lot, just in case there was going to be trouble.
Chapter 27
Madeline
“What do you mean?” I asked and even I could hear the quiver in my voice. It was a tremble of fear, yes, but of anger, too. I could feel it building in my gut, this sense that everything was wrong. So very wrong. I had gotten things mixed up somehow, and now I was here, staring at my brother, looking at a man who, for all intents and purposes, was a stranger to me. A complete stranger.
Logan shrugged, glancing over at Shawn as though confused. Like he could hear the anger lingering in my voice, but couldn’t understand what it was from. He turned back to look at me, then said, “Because he’s dead.”
All of the breath left my chest in a whoosh making me instantly dizzy. I stumbled, crumpling down heavily to the side of the bed, staring unseeing at my brother whose appearance suddenly became strange and blurry. A deep, wounding pain replaced the air that had been in my chest, leaving me feeling both too full and too hollow all at once.
Dead. The word echoed in my head, my brain trying harder and harder to convince the rest of me that this was wrong. All of it was wrong and Nikolai was fine. A word like dead just didn’t belong with him. It couldn’t.
For a long moment, I knew I was hyperventilating. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be.
I was numb to the world for a long moment, my breathing difficult, painful even, and my eyes clouded with either tears or just plain old sadness. Either way, I couldn’t make out anything of my surroundings. Grief overwhelmed me until there was nothing left.
Then I felt hands on me, long and gangly and a little clammy, though not necessarily cold. It took me a minute, but I came back to that dingy, awful little room in the Market Town Inn, noticing that my brother was standing there giving me a weird, curious look. And the hands that were on me? They belonged to Shawn. He was kneeling beside me, rubbing his hands over my arms where gooseflesh had cropped up everywhere, suddenly.
“It’s okay,” I finally heard him saying, his voice still kind of faraway. “It’s for the best. He was crazy…”
He said more, but I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to hear it, not from him or my brother. How could he do that? How…how?
Coming back to myself enough to fix my brother with a long, hard stare, I finally found the courage to get words out. They came out scratchy, like a frog croaking them out, but I didn’t care. I had to ask him, had to know, even though I now was fairly certain I didn’t want to hear his answer. “Did you…did you do it, Logan?”
His blonde eyebrows rose high on his forehead, causing his skin to crinkle almost comically. He looked bewildered that I had asked and for a moment he didn’t seem to know what to say. Then finally, he said, “Well, I mean, we did. Me and Joshua. He was there to help me roll him into that damn ditch. Good thing he was here. That Nikolai bastard was a real piece of work and—”
I shook my head, feeling frustration bubbling. I couldn’t think of Nikolai right now. Couldn’t think of him as—as dead. So I focused. “I’m not talking about—” I couldn’t even say his name. If I did, I knew I would crack and the tears would come. I wasn’t sure they would ever stop if I let them fall. “I’m talking about the money, Logan. I’m talking about that…that man. Did you really beat him to death?” The last part came out as barely a whisper as I watched my brother’s face remain unchanged, calm and even casual. As though we were talking about where to go for dinner. My stomach roiled. I felt awful, nauseous, like I’d never be able to eat again.
Again, he stared at me as though I had asked him the most bizarre, completely out of left field question in the world. Like the question and the answer didn’t even matter.
Dread like a dead weight, a stone, fell into my stomach and sunk there until I felt cold and uncomfortable. Until I knew his answer before he even told me.
He shrugged his shoulders, still seeming unconcerned about the whole thing. “Well, yeah. I mean, he was some lowlife piece of shit anyway, right? He worked for the fucking mob, Madeline. They’re all assholes. Who cares if he’s dead?”
And with those words, I felt the dread in me solidify. With it, a strange sense of calm washed over me. It wasn’t that I was okay with any of this. I wasn’t. Instead, it was as though knowing the truth, one way
or the other, had finally put me at ease. It made me realize the options that were before me and I knew exactly which one I had to choose.
This man who stood before me—he was my brother, but at the same time, he wasn’t. The brother I knew had problems, to be sure. He was a screw up, a black sheep. He was a mean little kid, broken hearted about the death of our mother, and not dealing so well with the strict rules our dad had laid out before him. That brother was a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t a murderer.
This man, however, was. He was a monster, a cold-blooded killer, who did things without thought or concern as to their actions. If he’d had any concern, he wouldn’t have killed that man and stolen that money. And he wouldn’t have involved me like he did.
Sucking in a harsh breath, I knew I had to get out of this motel. I had to go and find Nikolai. If he was out there somewhere, lying in some ditch, dying, I had to be with him. Even if it was only for a few more moments, I had to be there. I had to, even though it meant I’d be watching the only man I had ever loved and ever was going to love die.
It was going to kill me, but I needed to see him.
I got up off the bed, brushing off Shawn who was still fawning over me like some kid lavishing flowers to his secret crush in high school in the hopes that she might notice him for even a moment. He might have looked hurt or annoyed or whatever, but I paid him so little attention that I didn’t notice one way or the other. It didn’t matter to me in that moment, because questioning my brother as I was now, I couldn’t help but question Shawn, too.
Had either of them told me the truth before this moment? I couldn’t be sure.
I settled my brother with one last scathing look, then turned away, stomping towards the door. I didn’t get very far. A hand snapped out and grabbed my arm harshly. I blinked in surprise, turning to see it was my brother who had grabbed me. He jerked me back and it took everything I had not to stumble and fall. I stared at him bewildered.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked me and his eyes flashed like orbs on fire.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, struggling to shake him off. “Let me go.”
But he didn’t. “Not a chance,” he told me, his voice low and menacing, a tone that didn’t belong to a brother.
I looked over at Shawn, thinking maybe he would be of some help, but he just looked at his lap, ignoring what was happening between me and Logan. I felt a pang in my heart. My best friend wasn’t going to help me? That was too awful. Returning my gaze to Logan, I repeated, “Let me go!”
“Forget it,” he told me, gritting his teeth and jerking me back, farther away from the door. “You’re not going anywhere. I think it’s best for everyone if you stay here with us a while.” Then he shoved me hard, sending me spiraling down to the bed. I tumbled next to Shawn and watched his eyes flicker to me for a moment, but not with even a smidgeon of sympathy. It was almost as though, once again, he was annoyed with me. Like this wasn’t how he had pictured it all in his head. Which made me wonder: what had he been picturing? And how much did he know before we got here?
Before I could think of how to argue my way out of it, or how to get around my brother to make a break for it, Logan turned to Shawn and pulled something out from the waistband of his worn jeans. It was a gun. My eyes widened at the sight of it, and Shawn flinched a little when Logan tossed it at him, but Shawn managed to catch it anyway with fumbling, nervous fingers. He looked up at my brother with wide eyes.
“Watch her,” he told Shawn, authority and threat lacing his voice in equal, terrifying parts. Who was this man? Certainly not my brother. “I have to go and meet up with Joshua, figure a few things out, but she’s wigging out.” He jerked his head towards me, but didn’t even glance in my direction. “I don’t want her to do anything stupid like go to the cops. Once these guys figure out that Nikolai guy is dead, they’ll send someone else. I want to be as far away from here as possible before that happens. So, watch her and make sure she stays put. Do what you’ve gotta do. I’ll be back soon.”
With that, he turned and went to the door. He grabbed a backpack and nothing else, didn’t glance back at me or Shawn, and when the door shut, the sound was strangely deafening. As though that was not just the end of a discussion, but more than that. It was the end of everything.
I sucked in a harsh breath, then began to scoot myself to the edge of my bed. I stood up, but didn’t even begin to make it to the door when I heard Shawn’s voice.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I froze. Surely this wasn’t happening. Just because my dipshit brother gave Shawn a gun and a command, surely, he wouldn’t follow through with it, right? I turned to look at him and saw that he was holding the gun firmly.
In fact, he was pointing it. At me.
Chapter 28
Nikolai
The middle-aged man was a talker. He talked about the size of Madison and how once upon a time the town was supposed to grow into a huge city. It was where all the work was, where people, rich people with families and suburbanite attitudes were going to move, because they wanted a booming economy, but also the safety of small town life. But it all fell apart when it turned out there was no oil, the trees were protected federally, and the river was controlled farther up north. Then he talked about how he and his wife, who had recently left him for a twenty-something young woman who used to be a man, after getting a half a dozen tattoos and dying her hair black, had lived there half their lives, moving in with the boom and getting left behind when the once-bright promise of the future disappeared like a puff of white smoke.
I learned about how he’d always wanted to be a farmer or a rancher, but in the end, he didn’t know the first thing about taking care of land or animals. In fact, he didn’t know what to do with his own kids, though thankfully they were grown.
He talked about moving to an apartment, because it was less to take care of and getting a cat because the fee for a dog was outrageous. He talked about how he liked the way rain smelled and how the skies always seemed especially blue after a storm.
He went on until I felt like I knew more about this one man’s life than I did about my own. It was enough to drive a person crazy, though I kept myself sane by reminding myself this was a short trip and at the other end of it, I was going to kill Logan and Joshua both. It was enough to keep me calm, though I remained on the verge of just asking him to pull over and let me out right there on the side of the road. It seemed like walking would be better than listening to anything more, but I reminded myself that time was of the essence and I didn’t have enough of it to be dallying on the side of the road, no matter how much this kind but insanely talkative man was getting on my last nerve.
Finally, I spotted the sign for the Market Town Inn. Relief swamped me, even as tension rose within me. There would be a confrontation very soon now that I was so close.
“You can drop me off near the sign. That way you don’t have to turn back around inside the parking lot,” I told him, hoping he would take me up on his offer.
“Are you sure, young man?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting in question. He seemed to debate whether or not it was wise to just leave me out here. “I really wouldn’t mind. In fact, why don’t I take you right up to the lobby; that way if you don’t have your key, it’s no—”
“No!” I told him firmly, and maybe a little too quickly for common courtesy. I cleared my throat and forced myself to be calm. “I mean, no, thank you. That’s all right. I’ve got it from here. My key’s right here in my pocket.”
The man frowned a little, looking me over one last time, before pulling in to a stop right next to the sign. “Well, if you’re sure. Hey, how about I give you my number so if you run into trouble, you can—”
“That’s fine. My, uh, wife is in the room, too. She’s got the numbers of her family in the area and I’m sure the front desk will have the number for a tow truck.”
“Well, all right, I guess if you’re sure.”
&n
bsp; Before he had the chance to argue further with me, I was out the door and around the side of the car to the sign, heading towards the Inn. I managed to wave over my shoulder at the man, encouraging him to leave. He watched me for several long minutes, making me grit my teeth in frustration, but, eventually, he finally pulled back off onto the road and I listened to him as he drove away.
Finally, I thought with relief. But it was a short-lived relief. As I got closer to the Inn, I noticed something. There was only one car in the parking lot and it wasn’t a bright red truck with a dent in it. I felt angry and annoyed. Logan wasn’t here. He must have left at some point while I’d been lying unconscious and that caused a shaking, consuming anger to rush through me. I was back to square one. Worse still, I didn’t have my cell phone with me, the asshole who jumped me had taken my gun, and I had no idea how many hours’ head start they had on me.