by David Bell
For a quiet moment, they sat. The engine ticked as it cooled, and Jason left the keys in the ignition. Tricia shifted in the seat next to him.
“What are we doing?” Jason asked.
“It’s over there,” she said. “To the left side of the road. I’m waiting for my eyes to adjust.”
Jason followed the line of Tricia’s gaze into the gloomy night. At first, he saw nothing, just a black, inky veil, not even the outline of trees. But the longer he stared, the more the night assembled itself into coherent parts. Tricia’s eyes were ahead of his.
“There it is,” she said. “I see it.”
“I don’t.”
“Back from the road over there.” She pointed. “Can you see it yet? It’s set back against those trees.”
Jason continued to stare, and then he saw the outline of a small cabin resolving in the night. “Ah. Got it.”
“They don’t have any lights showing,” Tricia said.
“No one’s there?”
“They could have the curtains pulled. If they’re getting high, they might be passed out. Or sleeping it off.”
“Sierra wouldn’t do that, would she?”
“Get high? Not by choice.”
“Okay, I’m going over there. What are you going to do?”
“I ain’t walking back to town, chief.”
Jason hadn’t considered that. He knew Tricia didn’t want to stay if the police were involved, but he hadn’t thought of how she’d get back.
“Shit,” he said. He worked around, turning his body so he could reach into the pocket of his pants. He drew out his phone. “I want to call the police, but if no one’s in there . . .”
“That’s the risk you take, unless you want to go take a peek. I’ll wait here if you do that, but you might get caught. From the looks of things, you aren’t exactly the type to put up a good fight against a guy like Jesse Dean.”
Jason lifted his hand to his neck and lightly touched the fading bruises there. “Right.”
“We had a deal. No cops for me.”
“I know how much you care about honoring deals,” he said. “Okay, I’ll call the police now. Worst-case scenario, they come out and look around this place, see if they can figure out what Jesse Dean is up to. Right? You can wait in the car.”
“Wait? Out here?”
“Sure. What other choice is there?”
“Let me take the car and get out. I don’t want to be here when the cops show up.”
“Are you for real?”
“I’ll leave it at your house. When the cops get here, they’ll give you a ride back home.”
Jason didn’t feel like arguing. “Fine. Take the car.”
“Cool. In the interest of full disclosure, my license was suspended.”
“But you drove to our house the other night.”
“I said suspended. I still know how to drive.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” He lifted the phone and started dialing.
“Hey,” Tricia said. “Wait until I’m gone.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled, but it didn’t matter.
Jason didn’t have a signal. “Shit,” he said. “No service.”
“That happens out in the sticks.”
“Try yours.”
“No way. Then they’ll know who’s calling.”
“Just try it.”
Tricia pulled her phone out and tapped it. “Nothing,” she said. “Why don’t you drive back to the main road and call? You can wait there for the police.”
Jason looked over at the little cabin. Sierra might be right inside there. With Jesse Dean. He couldn’t leave.
“No way,” he said. “I’m waiting here. You take the car and call when you get a signal. Tell them where to go.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Jason studied her face. “That also means I’m trusting you to do the right thing. Can you handle it?”
“I could just lie to you, you know? I could just lie and take the car and be gone. You’d be out here with your dick in your hand.”
“You won’t do that, will you?”
Tricia held his gaze, then looked away. “I won’t. Fuck. You seem so sincere. And you care about Sierra and all that. I can’t help myself. You almost make me wish I had a dad.”
“I’m going to get out now. Hurry up, but don’t make too much noise.”
“I know the drill.”
Jason reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thanks.”
“Wait a minute,” she said.
“What?”
“Fifty bucks, chief. Remember?”
Jason took out his wallet and handed her three twenties. “That’s sixty. You owe me ten.”
“I’ll make change the next time I see you.”
“If you do this right, consider it a tip,” he said, opening the door and stepping out into the night.
Chapter Forty-five
Jason listened to Tricia drive away. She kept the headlights off a long time, and it was only when she went around a bend in the road that Jason caught a brief glimpse of red flaring in the distance. He checked the glowing dials of his watch. Nine o’clock. The air carried some humidity, a sneak preview of the heavier and thicker days and nights to come. He looked around at the blackness. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so alone in his life. Above, the thin clouds slipped across the moon and stars like wisps of smoke. The sky looked almost unreal, like a special effect.
Jason walked up the road a little way until he came even with the cabin. Crickets and other insects called from the grass and trees. The sound of his shoes against the gravel blended in with the noises of the night. He stopped and stood with his hands in his pockets, his heart beating faster, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. No one knew where he was except Tricia. Not Nora. Not Regan. He turned to the left and looked back down the road in the direction Tricia had driven off. He wondered if he should just leave. He could meet the police—if she had called them—and let them lead the way in.
But he couldn’t turn his back. He couldn’t will his body to walk down that road and away from the cabin if Sierra might be inside. He’d already made the mistake of handing her over to Derrick—and the parade of faces of people he’d walked away from or let slip out of his life seemed to grow longer by the moment. Logan, Hayden, Regan . . . even Nora. Jason felt the frustration ride up his spine, a rigid, aching tension. He gritted his teeth and kicked at the loose pebbles at his feet.
“Hurry,” he said, though no one could hear him, certainly not Tricia, the seventeen-year-old delinquent he had pinned his hopes to. But it made him feel better to say the word. It brought a release, so he said it again and again like a child scared of the dark. “Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.”
He stopped saying it only when the door of the cabin opened, and he saw a young girl backlit from the inside.
He froze and studied her, trying to see who it was.
And then the girl was running. Toward him and away from the cabin.
Jason ran across the road and called out.
“Sierra!”
* * *
They reached each other in the dark. Sierra’s hair hung loose and ragged, her eyes bulged wide with fear. Jason took hold of her hands and pulled her close.
“Uncle Jason. You have to go in there.”
“What’s happening? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I ran away.”
“Who’s inside the cabin?”
“My dad’s in trouble in there. He’s fighting with that guy Jesse Dean. He’s going to hurt my dad. You have to stop him. I got away when they grabbed each other, but I should go back.”
“No,” Jason said. “Go down this road.” He pointed in the dark. “A right, a left, and then a right. Keep going. You’ll come out on County R
oad Three Hundred. Tricia just went that way.”
“Tricia?”
“She brought me here. She’s getting the police.”
“Will you help Dad?”
The girl’s eyes were pleading in the dark. He saw the fear there, as well as the hope. Was he supposed to turn away again and save himself?
“If you go, I’ll help your dad,” he said. “Go and don’t look back.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Wait for the police. Now, go.”
Sierra started down the road, picking her way over the gravel in the darkness. Jason waited until she left his sight, and then he turned and headed for the cabin.
Chapter Forty-six
Jason’s shoes brushed across the medium-high grass as he approached the cabin. The door Sierra came through remained ajar, a shaft of light spilling onto the ground. Through the opening, he saw a wooden table, rustic looking, with two chairs standing nearby and another chair tipped over on the floor. A figure quickly passed across the open door, a blurred motion. Jason couldn’t tell if it was Derrick or Jesse Dean or anyone he knew. Then raised voices reached him. A couple of shouts, one in anger and one apparently in pain. Then the angry shouts grew louder.
Jason pressed himself flat against the exterior wall of the cabin. It was made out of rough, weathered boards, and pieces of it grabbed at his clothes. He slid along to the edge of the door, listening. Something thumped inside, then thumped again.
“Derrick?”
The noises stopped, but no one said anything.
“Derrick? It’s Jason.”
Muffled voices came from inside the cabin. Jason couldn’t make out what was being said.
“Derrick?”
“What the fuck, Jason? Get out of here.”
“Sierra’s okay,” Jason said. “She ran off. She wanted me to see how you were.”
“Go,” Derrick said. “You don’t have anything to do with this.”
“I’m coming in,” Jason said. “I’m alone. But the police are on their way.”
More muffled voices and cursing. Then a familiar voice said, “Jason? Get in here. We need you.”
Jason moved quickly, stepping into the open doorway. He blinked in the harsh light. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, and then he saw everything.
He saw Derrick standing over Jesse Dean, who lay motionless on the floor. And crouched next to Jesse Dean, reaching for his neck and then his wrist as though feeling for a pulse, was a woman he recognized all too well. She made a hurry-up gesture toward him with her free hand.
“Get in here, Jason,” she said. “We need you.”
It was Hayden.
* * *
“What the hell is going on, Hayden?”
Jason stepped inside.
Hayden kept making the hurry-up gesture with her hand. Jason crossed the wooden plank floor until he was next to her—and standing over Jesse Dean. Jesse Dean’s eyes were closed, his neck bent at an awkward angle. The side of his head that faced Jason showed a long gash, one that ran from just under his hairline and down the length of his cheek to his chin. He didn’t move and didn’t appear to be breathing.
Jason looked at Derrick, who had backed away. He stood against the far wall of the cabin, his eyes fixed on Jesse Dean as well. He held a thick, gold-plated object in his hand, and it took Jason a moment to realize it was an andiron from the fireplace.
“I don’t think he’s breathing, Jason,” Hayden said. “Can you check?”
Jason bent down, but he kept his eyes on Derrick. A large abrasion showed on Derrick’s cheek, and his shirt was ripped. One of his shoes was off and lying against the wall near where Derrick stood.
“What happened here, Hayden?” Jason asked.
“Just check him. Please. We can explain later.”
Jason wasn’t sure he knew what to do. He hadn’t taken a first aid class since high school. And something about touching Jesse Dean’s body felt odd. He remembered Jesse Dean’s grip against his own neck, the power and the threat carried by those hands that lay stretched out at his side, open and useless.
Jason pressed his fingers against Jesse Dean’s neck. The skin was warm and sweaty. His fingers slipped against the perspiration. Jesse Dean’s skin didn’t seem dead. It lacked the rubbery, clammy feel of his parents’ flesh when he touched them in their caskets. He pressed his fingers against the skin again and felt nothing. He moved his fingers a little. He kept searching, hoping that he’d find a spot that indicated some life still flowed through the man’s body.
“Is there a pulse, Jason?” Derrick asked.
“Let me check his wrist.”
Jason moved down a little, and Hayden scuttled out of the way. He picked up Jesse Dean’s hand and felt around. The skin seemed cooler but still sweaty. Jason moved around, placing his fingers all over the man’s thick wrist.
Nearly under her breath, Hayden said, “Nothing there, right?”
“Let me try this.”
“Quit it, Jason,” Hayden said. “He’s dead. There’s nothing there, right?”
Jason looked up at Derrick, whose eyes were still wide and frightened.
“I don’t feel anything,” Jason said. “I’m not getting a pulse.”
“He’s dead,” Hayden said. “I told you. He’s dead.”
Jason nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Jason stared at Derrick, who shut his eyes tight and leaned back against the wall. He slowly slid down, his knees rising until his butt hit the floor, and then he tipped over to the side in a fetal position. He raised one hand and pounded the floor just once and then stopped.
“My God,” he said. “My God.”
Hayden and Jason stood up. Hayden took a step toward her ex-husband.
“Derrick,” she said, “it’s not your fault.”
“I killed him.”
“You were protecting Sierra. And me.”
“My God.”
“Derrick,” Jason said, “if it was self-defense, you’ll be okay. Jesse Dean is a criminal. The police know that. They’re on their way, and you can tell them exactly what happened.”
Derrick opened his eyes wide. He pushed himself up so that he sat with his back against the wall, his legs straight out in front of him. “The police?” he asked.
“Yes. I called them. Well, Tricia, Sierra’s friend, went to get them. I thought Sierra was in here with Jesse Dean, and I wanted to get help.”
Derrick stood up. He let the andiron go, and it thudded against the floor. His chest started to heave as he breathed more heavily. A flush rose in his cheeks.
“What is it?” Jason asked.
“Derrick?” Hayden said. “Jason’s right. It was self-defense.”
“Get out, Hayden,” Derrick said.
“Derrick—”
“Where’s Sierra?” he asked.
“She left,” Jason said. “I sent her back to the main road. She’s running away to find Tricia. If the police are coming, they’ll pass her on the way in. She’ll be fine.”
“Get out, Hayden,” Derrick said again.
“It’s self-defense.”
“They’ll find out everything,” he said. “All of it.” He sounded calmer as he repeated himself. “All of it.”
“All of what?” Jason asked.
“Get out, Hayden. Go find Sierra. Make sure she’s okay. That’s your job now, making sure Sierra’s okay.”
“Derrick—”
“Get out,” he said, his voice rising temporarily and then calming again. “Get out. I want to talk to Jason. Alone. Man-to-man. I want to be here with Jason.”
Jason turned to Hayden. “Do it. Go. Make sure Sierra’s okay.”
Hayden leaned in close to her brother. “He has a gun.”
Jason tried not to show any reaction to what s
he said, although he wasn’t sure he succeeded. Her words only added to the fear slowly growing inside of his chest, the knot that bundled together and swelled with each breath he took.
“We’ll be okay,” he said, hoping his voice sounded as calm as he wanted it to. He reached out and gently nudged his sister toward the door. “Just go find Sierra. Follow the road back to the right.”
Hayden looked at Jason as though she wanted to say something else, but Jason shook his head.
“Just go,” he said.
Hayden looked at both of them, and then she left the cabin.
Chapter Forty-seven
“Close the door,” Derrick said to Jason when Hayden was gone.
“Derrick, we can still just walk away from this—”
“Close the door,” he said again.
When he spoke, he shifted his hand, which had been stuffed into his jacket pocket. Jason looked down and saw that Derrick had eased something out of the pocket a few inches, the butt of a black handgun. Jason nodded, the gesture meant to show his former brother-in-law that he understood who controlled the situation.
“Close the door,” Derrick said one more time. “I don’t want Hayden or Sierra to hear any of this.”
“They’re gone.”
“Just close it.”
Jason backed up the few steps, Derrick watching him all the way. He reached out and gave the door a gentle nudge. It swung shut, the latch clicking.
“Okay?” Jason asked.
Derrick seemed to relax a little, but his eyes still looked wide and red. He kept one hand—his right—tucked into the jacket pocket. The other hung at his side, and he clenched it into a fist and unclenched it as he stood there.
“How long before the police get here?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I don’t even know if the girl notified them. She took my car. She could be on her way to Florida for all I know.”
“But if she did tell them? If she made the call right away?”
“Ten minutes, I guess. Maybe less. We’re pretty isolated. Our phones weren’t working.”
“I know. That’s why Jesse Dean brought us here.”