by Brenda Novak
“Van doesn’t have anything to tell,” he said, but he wasn’t as convinced as he pretended. He was merely trying to calm his brother so he could think straight.
That attempt fell flat and only made Eddie angrier. “Are you willing to stake your life on that, brother? Risk going back to jail?”
“Hell, no. But pressuring Van’s not the answer.” The last time he’d started in on the kid, Sheila had said she’d call CPS herself if he didn’t stop. You get him taken away, we lose eight hundred bucks a month, she’d screamed. How will we get anything we need then?
“So what is the answer?” his brother demanded.
“If you’d give me a second, maybe I could come up with something!” he shouted back.
Eddie ignored his outburst. “I think we have to assume the worst, which means there’s no time to waste. Let’s go get Rod. We’ll lure him into the car, take him out into the sticks and beat him to death.”
“I’m not fighting that dude,” Sebastian said.
“Come on, don’t be a puss! He’s got a broken hand, for fuck’s sake. And it’ll be two against one!”
“I don’t care. He looks pretty fit. And he must be able to handle himself, or he wouldn’t have come here last night. Anyway, how will we lure him into the car? The guy’s not stupid. If Van told him anything, he’ll be leery.”
“We invite him to go smoke again.”
“He won’t fall for that, not if he isn’t who he says he is.”
“Then we accuse him of stealing Sheila’s phone,” Eddie said, obviously developing the plan as he spoke. “When he tells us he didn’t take it, we’ll ask if we can search his truck. He’ll let us, because he doesn’t know it’s there. Then he’ll be shocked when we find it. That’ll get us close to him. I’ll hold him while you stab him. Make sure you get him two or three times, to be on the safe side. After that we’ll shove him in the backseat, jump in the front and drive off.”
“In broad daylight?” Sebastian asked.
“What other choice do we have?” Eddie spread his hands in appeal. “We can stand right by the cab, block what we’re doing. Anyone who happens to be driving by won’t know what the hell’s going on.”
“And then what?”
“What do you think? We take him out and bury him somewhere no one will ever look.”
Sebastian tried to imagine that plan being successful but had too many reservations. “They can trace our cell phones—the towers they ping off and shit.”
“Then we leave them here.”
“What if he’s already told India whatever he learned from Van? While we’re messing with him, she could come for the gun.”
“Then we grab the gun first.”
As tempting as it would be to reclaim the weapon he’d used to shoot Charlie Sommers, so he could hide it in a safer place—like the bottom of the Bay—he’d been careful not to go near it. No one had found it. As far as he was concerned, it was safer to let the gun stay where it was. There’d been no need to take the chance.
But this changed everything. “Okay. Only, we don’t kill him right away.” Sebastian came to his feet and began to pace, too. “We sit tight and wait until he leads us to India. Then we settle this after dark.”
Eddie lowered his voice. “You mean we make it easy and shoot them both.”
He nodded. “I should’ve done that before, instead of leaving a witness. But if we play our cards right, I’ll have another chance. We follow him until we find her, and then we take care of this once and for all.”
“You can do that? You can go through with it this time?”
“I don’t have any choice. She’s gone too far, proved she’s no friend of mine.” How dare she get him in trouble again. As if what she’d said and done during the trial wasn’t punishment enough. She knew him, damn it. Probably better than anyone, since she was the only woman he’d ever loved. She knew he’d had a rough life, that what he’d done that night wasn’t like him. She could’ve had a little compassion.
Eddie seemed to mull over his words. Then he said, “I like it.”
“Good. Because we better move. We need to be in position, watching from somewhere he won’t notice us when he gets back to his truck. If he has the gun, we’ll have to use a knife, like you said.”
“We can do that. We can overpower him.” Eddie pulled out his keys. “He won’t be expecting us, so he won’t have a chance to use the gun even if he has it.”
Sebastian eyed his brother. “I need an eight-ball, man. I have to be messed up if I’m going to do this.”
Eddie scowled. “We don’t have time.”
“It’s the only way this’ll work. Come on, man. I need something.”
“Like a clear head?”
“No, I need to be on top of my game.”
“You don’t have any money—and crystal isn’t free.”
“I’m sure Rod’s got money on him. We’ll take that. When we’re done with him, he won’t have any use for it, anyway.”
“Fine,” he said and pulled a baggie out of his pocket.
“If we’re careful—if we make it so the bodies are never discovered—today might be the end of it,” Sebastian said. He had to psych himself up. Because as angry as he was with India, he wanted to take her to bed, marry her, live with her—not kill her. He’d gotten rid of Charlie, taken that drastic a step, just so they could be together.
“Now do you believe India’s a bitch?” Eddie asked once they were stoned.
Sebastian felt the drug curling through his veins, filling him with energy and power, turning him into a superman. He could take on Rod Amos; he could take on anyone. “I’ll always love her,” he admitted.
“You can’t think like that, man.”
“Yes, I can. Because it doesn’t make any difference. It’s her or me.”
* * *
Rod wasn’t answering his texts. Did that mean he couldn’t? Or had his phone run out of battery?
India prayed it was the latter, but he had a charger in his truck... Determined to get help if he needed it, she called Frank, who went out to water his lawn so he could hear as well as see what might be going on at Sebastian’s house. Ten minutes later he told her it didn’t look as if anyone was home. Both drivable cars were gone. Rod’s truck was no longer at the curb, either.
India considered that encouraging, since it suggested that he wasn’t in the same place as the Young brothers.
But if Rod wasn’t in any danger, where had he gone? And why wasn’t he responding?
She texted him again, even though she’d sent him more than a dozen messages in the past hour.
Hello? Rod? Please let me know you’re okay.
She waited another fifteen minutes. By then it was well after one, and she was falling into a full-blown panic. Positive something terrible must’ve happened, she broke down and called Flores.
The detective didn’t answer—she got his voice mail—but when she called the station instead, and said it was an emergency, he got right back to her.
Once he heard her story, he told her it’d been a mistake to involve Rod. That was pretty much what she’d expected him to say. What she already knew. But then he promised to call Hayward PD and ask them to send a unit to Sebastian’s address, which was what she’d been after from the beginning.
She wrung her hands as she strode back and forth in front of the TV, which was playing some stupid game show. With time moving slower than the continental drift, and still no word, she was afraid she’d go crazy, especially when recent memories of her and Rod began to parade through her mind. The way he touched her. The way he kissed her. The way he laughed and teased her...
Losing Charlie, especially in such a tragic way, had been the worst thing she’d ever been through. There was no question about that. But she had a terr
ible feeling it would be just as difficult to lose Rod. She hadn’t built a life with him, hadn’t had a child with him, hadn’t owned a home with him. She hadn’t actually known him for very long. And yet...she’d fallen for him. Somehow she’d lost her heart, even though she’d been so deeply in love with Charlie she’d thought that could never happen.
Unable to tolerate another second of the agonizing wait, she called Dylan’s number. She hated to worry Rod’s brothers, but she also hoped they’d had some contact with him today. Maybe there’d been an emergency and he’d gone home to help.
“Have you heard from Rod?” she asked as soon as Dylan answered.
A long pause met this question; Dylan was obviously taken aback. “I got a text this morning, saying he wouldn’t be able to take Natasha to the airport today. He told me he was at a sporting goods store, but he’d been up most of the night and needed to get some sleep and check on you. I’m thinking that should’ve happened by now, but...he hasn’t come back?”
Although he spoke calmly, she could feel the deep concern behind those words. “No, he hasn’t.”
She filled him in on the details, although it wasn’t easy to talk. She kept choking up, had to fight back tears.
“Well, he’s not here,” Dylan said when she was done. “He wouldn’t come here without telling you.”
Deep down, she’d known that. Rod took great care of her, would never drive off without a word and leave her wondering. If he was going to take his stepsister to the airport, he would’ve invited her to come along.
“I’ll call you as soon as I hear something,” she told Dylan. Then she grabbed her keys and left to see if she could spot Rod’s truck in or near Sebastian’s neighborhood. That was the last place he’d been, which made it the best place to start.
Detective Flores had cautioned her to stay put. He’d said he didn’t need her getting involved in whatever was happening. But she refused to hide out in the motel, refused to leave Rod out there alone.
She wouldn’t lose him.
28
He couldn’t find the gun. Using the flashlight he kept in his truck, Rod had been under every house on Sebastian’s street—at least the ones he could get under. Whenever anyone questioned his activities, he said he was a private contractor working with the city to inspect houses for a new type of toxic mold. Thanks to the list of neighbors the Siddells had given India, he was familiar with the names of the residents and claimed they’d all been sent a letter—that they could ask Frank Siddell if they didn’t remember getting one. No one he spoke to remembered receiving a letter, of course, but after that, they assumed they’d missed the notice and let him go ahead without even asking for ID.
Unfortunately, being free to search didn’t help. He’d had no luck. There were too many places to hide a gun. The weapon that had killed Charlie could be inside a box of discarded files, wrapped in a packing blanket, shoved inside the upholstery of an old couch or slipped among other storage. It could be stuffed in a random nook or cranny or tucked up in the rafters. For all Rod knew, Sebastian could’ve buried it. And how would he ever find it in the ground? Sebastian had stashed it more than eleven months ago. Rod doubted he’d still be able to spot the disturbed earth.
Learning that the gun was under a neighbor’s house had sounded hopeful at first—but that small clue wasn’t enough. And he was going on very little sleep, so he was too exhausted to keep looking.
As he trudged back to his truck, he put a hand in his pocket to get his phone. Then he remembered that it was dead. His car charger worked only if the engine was running, and he’d hardly been in his vehicle at all.
He checked his watch instead. Nearly two. Damn. He’d gotten so caught up, he’d stayed too long, considering that he couldn’t communicate with India. She must be frantic by now. But he’d had to search while he could. He felt a sense of unease, a certain...disquiet, as if he had to find that gun fast or he’d never have another chance.
* * *
After more than an hour of driving up and down each street in an ever-widening circle, India found Rod’s truck. She almost couldn’t believe it when she saw it sitting there. She would’ve been relieved, except he wasn’t near it, and he wasn’t in the McDonald’s, either. She went in and showed the employees his picture on her phone, but no one had seen him.
She called Detective Flores to update him and was steeling herself to walk out so she could take another look at the truck—this time to see if there was any trace of blood—when Rod came striding across the street.
The second she saw him, she ran out and let him scoop her up like a child. “Why haven’t you called me?” she breathed, feeling the roughness of his beard growth against her cheek.
“What are you doing here?” he asked instead of answering. “You’re not supposed to be anywhere near this area.”
She wouldn’t let go—couldn’t let go. Not yet. “I came to find you—to...to get you.”
“India, you have to relax, to trust that I know what I’m doing. Or you’re going to give me away.” He sounded slightly exasperated, but she could tell he wasn’t truly angry.
“It doesn’t matter, because you’re not coming back here,” she said, resolute.
“Of course I am. Listen. Van told me that Sebastian hid the gun under one of the neighbor’s houses. We just have to figure out some way to find it.”
Even that information, important as it was, couldn’t distract her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed deeply, taking in his reassuring scent. “Someone else will have to find it.”
He pulled back to look into her face. “Why? Why not me?”
“Because I won’t risk you again,” she said. “I can’t do it, Rod. I can’t go through another night like the last one, another morning like this one. I love you too much.”
He held her chin with his good hand. “Whoa, slow down. What’d you just say?”
“That you’re not coming back here. It’s too dangerous. I can’t believe I ever let you—”
“No, the other part.”
The intensity of his gaze made her rack her brain for anything she might’ve said that would surprise him so much he’d want to hear it twice. Then it occurred to her. In that gush of words, she’d confessed her love. When she realized, it came as a surprise to her, too. She did love him, but she certainly hadn’t planned to tell him—not this soon. “It’s true,” she admitted.
“How do you know?” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. “How do you know you’re not confusing love with relief or gratitude or...a sense of obligation because I’m helping you? Your emotions have to be scrambled right now. And we are sleeping together, which could make you feel more...connected to me than you otherwise would.”
“This morning when I thought you weren’t coming back, it became pretty obvious to me. It’s too soon for either of us to get serious. But that doesn’t change anything. I’d be heartbroken if you got hurt. You have to be safe. So, please, go home to Whiskey Creek, to your brothers.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, “not without you.”
“Rod—” She was about to tell him that she’d called the police, that they might already be at Sebastian’s door, asking about him. Their time playing undercover investigator was over. But he interrupted before she could get that far.
“After we get out of this mess, we’ll go home together,” he said.
* * *
Sebastian wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, not like those psychopaths he saw in the movies and on TV. He didn’t take pleasure in hurting others, so he couldn’t see how more prison time would reform him or do a damn thing for society. Why couldn’t India understand that? If only she could find it in her heart to forgive and forget, maybe he could be whole again, like the man he used to be when she loved him. The real Sebastian would never hurt anybody. He wouldn’t h
ave killed Charlie if he hadn’t been in the depths of despair and not thinking straight.
She hated him these days. But a single night shouldn’t define his whole existence, should it? He’d done good things, too. He’d spared her and her little girl, didn’t hurt them at all. Considering the rage pouring through him at the time, it was remarkable that he’d managed to retain that much control.
She had no concept of how lucky she’d been, how kind he’d been. When he’d shown up that night, he’d planned to kill them all in one last, desperate act before turning the gun on himself.
Too bad he hadn’t been able to go through with it. He would have, except she’d been there, telling him she’d come back to him, that they’d be together. When she’d touched him, when she’d let him make love to her, it reminded him of how great they were together. She’d convinced him he’d have someone he loved and respected to help make his life easier.
But that had been a lie, a manipulation.
And she thought he was bad...
“You see that?” Eddie spoke as if he’d known from the beginning that Rod wasn’t someone they could trust. His “I told you so” tone irritated Sebastian, but what could he say? His brother had shown more caution than he had.
“Yeah, I see it.” Sebastian couldn’t look away. India was kissing Rod in the parking lot of McDonald’s as if the rest of the world could burn to the ground for all she cared.
The sight of them so caught up in each other turned his stomach. They were coming after him together. She didn’t care about him, never would—even though he’d reached out and tried to apologize, tried to rekindle the friendship.
This was what his willingness to forget the past and move on had brought him. She was determined to see him destroyed. Never mind that taking his freedom and his dignity for decades wasn’t fair, not for something that was more of a mistake, a screwup than anything else.
She’d left him no other option, he decided. He had to finish what he’d set out to do eleven months ago, or he’d soon be locked away in an eight-foot cell, where he’d become some bigger man’s bitch.