by Willow Rose
I shake my head in disbelief. “Me? Why…”
“Sh, sh,” he says and places a finger on my lips. “Don’t worry. I told you it’ll be just fine. I was scared you’d get in trouble.”
“Why would I get in trouble?” I say. “He was trying to kill me. You shot him. It makes no sense, Ryan.” I stand to my feet, pulling my hands out of his. “You’re not making much sense here, do you know that? I mean…first of all, why are you even here? It was you I saw last night outside our window, wasn’t it? What were you doing out there? What are you doing here?”
Ryan tilts his head and smiles again. “What am I doing here? I’m saving you, of course. Aren’t you glad I was here?”
“Of course, I am, but why, Ryan? Why did you come? How did you know we were here at all?”
“I followed you, of course. I knew this guy was bad news. I needed to protect you.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to think. What exactly is he telling me here? “You were following us? How long have you been following me?”
He wrinkles his forehead. “What do you mean? Are you telling me you aren’t happy I just saved your life? I did you a favor, getting rid of that body for you, so you wouldn’t have to go through all that trouble with the police.”
“He was the murderer,” I said. “He killed Sandra, Ted, and Vera, and he tried to kill Duke too, making it look like suicide. Did you know this?”
Ryan’s face grows serious. He nods with an exhale. “I did. I started suspecting him after Ted’s death. I knew both he and Sandra had given testimonies in the report investigating Clarice’s death. That gave him a motive. I tried to warn Duke, but he wouldn’t believe me.”
My shoulders come down. “You knew? And that’s why you followed me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “Would you have believed me?”
I scoff. “Probably not.”
“I figured as much. After Sandra died, you changed, and suddenly, I couldn’t talk to you at all. You kept rambling on about all this crazy stuff, and you wouldn’t listen to me. I know I’m not well; I know things have been difficult, but I’m still the same man. At least most of the time. I am no longer drinking and no longer doing drugs. But the thing is…you wouldn’t believe me, no matter how much I tried to warn you.”
I sit down. “Oh.”
He puts his hands on top of mine. “Listen. I know you wanted to go to the police and everything, but I got scared. I’m sorry I did this, that I got rid of the body without telling you, but I just…I panicked. I feared one of us might have to go to jail, and I just hoped…well, I hoped we could find one another again. It might be too late, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be. I hoped there still was a chance for us. I miss you, Laurie. I can’t live without you. I hope you know this?”
He is squeezing my hands, and tears spring to my eyes. I am so tired, so confused. I look into his eyes and see them grow soft. I feel like such a fool for all I have put him and us through.
“We were a family, Laurie. We are a family.”
“I know,” I say and let the tears roll down my cheeks. “I know, and I’m not sure I can live without you either.”
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “And now, you don’t have a choice. We’ve committed a murder together and covered it up. That binds us together forever. This will be the secret we take with us to the grave. Together.”
He leans over and kisses me, and I let him while wondering if what he said was meant to be romantic or if it was a joke. To me, it sounded more like a threat. The thought brings shudders to my stomach as Ryan pushes me down on the couch and leans on top of me.
Chapter 54
The rain has grown fiercer outside and is whipping against the windows. Ryan is lighting the fireplace while I sit on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and my thoughts. I am calmer now, yet my hands are still shaking terribly. But my mind is calmer, and I’m thinking clearer now. I watch Ryan as he puts firewood in and lights it. He uses an old newspaper we found between the books. I’m wondering what to do next and whether I really trust Ryan or not. He seems out of sorts like he’s not completely there. I keep thinking I should get away from here as soon as possible—go to the police station in downtown Bryson City. Tell them everything.
Will they believe me? Even if I tell them we got rid of the body?
Probably not.
They’ll think you’re trying to cover up a murder.
I exhale and rub my forehead excessively. Ryan comes to me and sits next to me. “We should get something to eat,” he says. “Maybe I should cook? You’re in no state to; that’s for sure.”
I send him a weak smile. I’m starving now that he mentions food. But I fear my stomach is in too many knots to be able to eat.
“That sounds wonderful,” I say.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says and leans closer.
“Oh, really? And what’s that?” I ask nervously. Does he know I’m thinking about running to the car right now and driving away? That I want to find my phone and call nine-one-one, that I am terrified of him and what he might do? That I have just seen him kill someone in cold blood and then dump the body like it was nothing, and that scares me to the core? Yes, he was saving my life, and I am grateful for that, but there’s just something wrong; something tells me to run for my life.
He pokes my nose. “You’re thinking we should get out of here before the police come and ask questions, am I right?”
I smile again, trying to seem like that is what I was thinking. “Well, yes. They’ll find Frank’s body soon enough.”
He grins. “Well, that’s why you need me, honey. You see, with all the rain that has been pouring down over the past day or so, no one will find him till he’s far away. The extra water rushing through the creek and into the river will carry him very far before he’s found. Besides, we can’t really leave now. The rain outside has turned the area into a mud pile, and there’s real danger of a mudslide. Flash flooding and mudslides are not something you want to meet out on a dirt road going down a mountainside, just sayin’. We’d do best by staying here and trying to enjoy ourselves. The rain will probably end tomorrow, and then we can get going, okay?”
He doesn’t wait for my response. He kisses my nose, then gets up. “All right. Let’s see what we have that I can make for dinner. Did you buy any meat?”
He walks to the kitchen and opens the fridge, then pokes his head inside.
“Is that lamb?” he almost squeals. “You know how much I love lamb.”
Ryan makes an amazing meal. The entire cabin soon smells divine with rosemary and garlic. He pops open a red wine for me and takes a beer for himself. I give him a look, thinking I was so certain I just heard him say he wasn’t drinking anymore. As we sit down, he sees me look at the beer when he sips it with a grin.
“It’s just one beer, Laurie. Hardly gonna make me drunk. I’m kind of shaken up too, you know. It makes me calmer.”
I smile and nod. I sip my wine, glancing toward my purse on the counter. The gun is still inside of it; the car keys are on the counter next to it. The rain is still pounding on the windows. I decide that Ryan is right. It’s too dangerous to go anywhere tonight.
“It’s really good, Ryan. The meat is so tender,” I say as I taste the piece of lamb he has placed on my plate.
“Did you try the roasted potatoes, huh? Try the potatoes too,” he says.
I do as he tells me. They taste great as well. I chew and smile at him, nodding, wondering if I can even manage to swallow it. The knot in my throat is growing out of proportion. I pretend to be fine, then smile and nod, still chewing, feeling like the potato is swelling inside my mouth. My stomach is a jumble; I am sweating heavily and struggling to keep my calm face on, so Ryan won’t notice.
“Good, huh? What did I tell you?” he says, drinking more from his beer. The more he drinks, the more the look in his eyes changes. He sets the bottle down so hard the silverware clanks.
“Good thing you have me, right
? To save you and now cook for you, huh?” he points at me with his fork. “I bet you’re glad you’re married to me now and not that Frank fellow.”
He chews and mumbles something I can’t hear, then finishes his beer and gets up to get a new one. He opens it and returns to the table. “I am telling you; I knew he was bad news. I tried to tell you…that family is…they sure are something.” He points the beer at me, then drinks from it, gulping it down loudly, and looks at me once the bottle comes down again.
“Him and that…dyke of a sister.”
He looks at me again, then puts the bottle back to his lips and gulps the rest of it down. I stare at him, eyes growing wide, then drop the fork onto my plate.
“It was you,” I say.
Ryan gives me a look of surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“You raped her. You were the one who raped Clarice.”
“Watch your mouth, Laurie. I’m warning you.”
I stand to my feet. “Of course, you were. Why didn’t I see this earlier? She was openly gay. You hate everything that has to do with homosexuals, ever since your mother…”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” he yells, but I’m not listening anymore. All the pieces fall into place. Frank killed those that had molested and murdered his sister. Of course, Ryan was the main victim. That was why he tried to take everything from him. Killing Ryan wasn’t enough since he was the one in the center of it all; he was the one who had raped her. Sandra had to have told him who it was on that day they met when he ended up killing her. She had probably told him the truth…that it was Ryan. That was why Frank wanted to hurt him—make him feel deep pain like he had. First, he tried to make it look like he was the murderer, hoping he’d take the fall; that was why he was so eager for me to mention Ryan’s name in the article and kept pushing me to go to the police. When that didn’t work, he went for his wife—winning me over, taking me from Ryan. Finding out I was pregnant with his child had to have been the victory he was hoping for.
“You don’t get to talk about my mother!” Ryan says, pointing his finger at me.
Seeing how upset he is only makes me want to continue.
“Ever since your mother fell in love with her psychiatrist and came out as a lesbian, you have hated everything that even has to do with homosexuals. Because it ruined your father; it ruined your childhood. You raped Clarice as revenge because of what your mother did to you.”
Ryan’s face grows white as a corpse. His nostrils are flaring, his hands opening and closing into fists.
“She was going to report us,” he says, slamming his fist onto the table. “Said she didn’t like the way we interrogated our prisoners. Well, she was nothing but a disgusting dyke; I’ll tell you that much. Going behind our backs like that!”
“So, you showed her, didn’t you?” I say. “You and your buddies, you decided to teach her a lesson?”
“Damn right, we did.”
“Give her some manhood because that’s probably why she was a lesbian, right? Am I right, Ryan?” I say, my voice rising as I get agitated. “Because she had never had a real man.”
Ryan’s eyes are glowing with hatred as he speaks. “She brought all…that…into our unit, and then she had the audacity to try and tell us how to do our work. Hell, yeah, we gave her something to think about. Chip held her down while I had my way with her. She knew what was coming, at least she should have.”
I pause. My heart is pounding now. “Did you shoot her too? Did you? Did you kill her, Ryan?”
He reaches out his arms and leans forward, his eyes burning in anger. “Yes, I did. Are you happy? I shot her to shut her up, and then we all agreed to lie on that report.”
“Even Sandra?” I ask.
He scoffs. “It’s not like we gave her a choice. She knew what might happen to her, had she not done as we told her. She knew the game. She knew what she got herself into when joining the Air Force. She was smart.”
“Unlike Clarice, who believed in justice and thought joining the military would mean doing something good, making a difference in the world. I get now why she was so disappointed.”
Ryan doesn’t say anything else. He is just standing there with his fists opening and closing. Silence grows between us, and only the pounding rain on the window and the roof is heard in the cabin with the vaulted ceilings. The mountains are covered by the darkness outside, and I can’t stop thinking about Clarice. For some reason, I am reminded of the time she brought me flowers after I had given birth to Damian. Back then, I had already sensed resentment from Ryan toward her. I just hadn’t been able to place it, to figure out where it came from. He never invited her over for barbecues when we invited the rest of the unit. She was never one of the guys and it had me wondering back then since I knew Sandra was accepted as one of them, so it wasn’t a gender thing.
Now, I finally understand why.
Sandra played by the rules.
“You make me sick,” I say.
Ryan suddenly moves. He stumbles across the room and grabs me by the shoulders. He is holding me steady, his beer breath hitting my face, making me want to throw up.
“Careful what you say,” he hisses.
“Why? Or you’ll kill me too? Is that it, Ryan?” I say. “Is that just your answer to everything? Get rid of the problem. The body, the girl…who knows what you’ve done?”
He lifts his hand in the air, fist clenched, and stops mid-air.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that; don’t you DARE!”
I am waiting for the punch, closing my eyes. Ryan is shaking terribly, restraining himself, and struggling to do so. He wants to hit me; I can tell by the look in his eyes. I know that look a little too well.
“By the way, I’m pregnant,” I say. I don’t know why I say this now. I want him to be angry. I want this. “And I’m pretty sure it’s Frank’s.”
Ryan’s hand comes down, but the anger isn’t gone; on the contrary. It’s flaming more wildly than ever. Instead of hitting me with his fist, he pushes me forcefully. I fly back until I hit the wall behind me. He’s coming at me, yelling at me, almost screaming.
“You whore! You goddamn whore!”
“R-Ryan,” I say as he swings his fist at me and hits me in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I slide to the floor, coughing and spitting, thinking I’m bleeding, but I’m not. I cry, worrying about the baby, thinking it’s all gone wrong as I try to get back on my feet, but they won’t hold me. I land on my knees, and, gasping for air, I crawl forward toward my purse on the counter.
Ryan grabs the beer bottle, then smashes it against the table, shattering it, then comes for me, the beer bottle held out in front of him. He grabs my hair and yanks me backward so hard I am sure I hear something snap in my neck.
“Where do you think you’re going, you bitch?” he yells and places the bottle against my throat. I can feel the sharp edge against my skin. He’s spitting in my face as he speaks.
“I should just have given you a proper beating like Chip told me to when you started to get out of line. But better late than never, right? I told you it would end badly for you if you didn’t stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“R-Ryan,” I whimper. It sounds like I am talking through water. “S-stop.”
“Oh, now you’re begging me, huh? Say it out loud, Laurie. Tell me to stop; tell me to let you go, beg me. I wanna hear you say it.”
He is pulling my hair still and scraping the bottle across my skin, not putting pressure on it yet, just letting me know he can cut my throat anytime he wants to if I don’t do as he says. He pulls my hair again. It hurts so outrageously that I scream. It only makes him grin.
“Say it! Beg me!”
“P-please,” I say. “Please, stop, Ryan.”
“Say it again!”
“Please, Ryan. You’re hurting me!”
He kicks me in the stomach twice, and I fall down, crying. He lets go of my hair while I cough, worrying about the
baby. I glance up at the purse, and, unfortunately, he sees it. He then makes a quick move. He grabs my purse, then lets it hang from his hand.
“Was this what you were going for, huh? Let’s see what’s in here?”
He reaches inside my purse and pulls out the gun. It is dangling between his fingers. “Now, what is this? What do we have here, huh?”
Chapter 55
“That is so typically you, Laurie,” Ryan sneers. “To have your gun in your friggin’ purse!” He takes it in his hand and weighs it. I feel the hope glide from my body. I am in pain, and now I see my only possibility for surviving this being taken away. He walks to me and looks down at me. He then grabs his cell phone and dials a number, a grin growing on his face.
“What are you doing, Ryan? Who are you calling?” I ask.
He points the gun at me, then cocks it. He signals with it for me to be quiet, placing it on his lips, then points it at me again.
Someone picks up. I can hear most of what is being said.
“What’s your emergency?” a female voice says.
Ryan grins again.
“She’s dead,” he says. He makes his voice sound like he’s sad…like he’s desperate.
“Excuse me? Who is?”
“The woman.”
“What woman?”
I hear Ryan say the words. I hear him speak to the dispatch woman, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest, drowning out the sound of his voice. He is acting differently—like he’s upset like he’s someone who has just found a body and he wants the police to come. But it’s not some body he’s talking about.
It’s my body.
I whimper as I hear him tell the woman the address, and then when she asks how I died, he tells her I was killed.
“Did you kill her, sir?”
“Yes,” he answers, looking down at me.
“And you’re sure she’s dead?”