Follow You Down

by Bradley, Michael;

  “I came back in 2003 to tell Charlie how sorry I was. The guilt had been tearing me apart for years,” Steve said. “I needed to clear my conscience, to somehow feel absolved from my part in his death. I don’t expect you to understand, but I know what you . . . what we did over those three summers was partly to blame.”

  She fingered the St. Christopher medal around her neck. Chris had been wearing it the night he died. It had become a token of her anger. Reminding her that she had unfinished business.

  Jeremy said, “I returned in 2004 for the same reason.”

  “We all came back,” Rob said. “Except the celebrated Neil Brewster.”

  “Every one of us took responsibility for our part in Chris’s death,” said Patrick. “Except you.”

  Sammy turned around, leaning back against the window frame. She remained silent while the others passed judgment upon Neil. This was their time. Hers would come later.

  “How could I?” Neil said. “I didn’t even know he was dead.”

  Patrick leaned forward. “You wouldn’t have come back even if you had known.” His words spilled out like venom. “It’s only ever about you, only ever about Neil Brewster! As long as Neil Brewster gets what he wants, it doesn’t matter who gets hurt in the process! Isn’t that your philosophy?”

  Sammy waited to hear Neil defend himself, waited to see what he’d say. She knew that there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound trite, that wouldn’t sound like a lie. Any denial that he brought forth now would just sound repugnant. But to her surprise, he remained silent. He offered no defense for his actions. She found it curious. Could it be that he finally understood? Finally saw that there was no justifying what he’d done? She studied Neil’s face closely. The wide-eyed look of shock she’d seen earlier vanished, to be replaced by a sad look of contemplation. The corners of his frown lost their anger, curving down in mournful realization.

  “And the penny drops,” said Rob.

  “I’m sorry,” Neil muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Steve stepped out from behind the chair. “Here’s our dilemma, Neil.” He gestured to each person in the room. “We all know how much of a manipulative bastard you can be. We don’t know if you’re truly sorry, or just saying this to get us to untie you.”

  “I am sorry. I truly am,” Neil said.

  His words sounded sincere, and Sammy had no doubt that some part of him meant it. But it was too late for apologies, too late for repentance. He’d lied to her before. Besides, she’d come too far to back out now. Too much was at stake, and she’d committed herself to seeing this through to the end.

  “Look, I know there’s nothing I can say to convince you,” said Neil.

  She heard his voice faltering. He must have realized how dire his situation was. She wondered if he’d figure out what was coming. Was he still holding on to some shred of hope that he would escape unscathed?

  “You have to believe me. I never realized . . .” he said.

  “Realized what?” asked Steve. “How much of a prick you are?”

  Neil nodded his head. “If that’s what you’ve been trying to get me to realize, you’ve done it.”

  “It’s about time. It only took eighteen years,” said Steve.

  Sammy heard a sigh of relief escape from Neil’s lips. Perhaps he thought that it was over. If only he knew.

  “Good. Now untie me so I can go home.”

  Jeremy smiled. “No, no, no. It’s not that easy, Brewster.”

  “We’ve got plans for you,” Patrick said. “You see those?” He gestured toward the ceiling and then to the wall beside Rob. Sammy didn’t need to follow their gaze to know what Patrick was talking about. Her recollection of the afternoon that she and her father had installed the metal hooks was still vivid. She felt a momentary pang as she recalled her father’s words.

  “I don’t want any part of this. Chris would never want to be remembered in this way,” he had said.

  At the time, she’d felt betrayed, felt as if he was abandoning her. She’d quarreled with him, trying to persuade him to change his mind. But, in the end, he left the cabin, driving himself back to the motel. Left alone, she’d broken down, crying loudly in the empty bedroom. Eventually, she’d pulled herself together, determined to see things through with or without her father.

  Jeremy said, “Heavy duty, aren’t they? When mounted into a stud, they can hold up to three hundred pounds.”

  “Neil, how much do you weigh?” said Rob.

  Sammy heard Neil gasp and watched his eyes widen in terror. She didn’t need to be a psychic to read what was going through his mind. He must have reached the obvious conclusion that the entire weekend was a prelude to a lynching.

  “This is it? Lynching me isn’t going to bring him back,” Neil said.

  The time had come for Sammy to set the record straight, at least as straight as she could be in present company. She turned her back on him, gazing out the window once again. “Neil, it’s not just about Chris. When my half brother killed himself, it broke my father’s heart. The man he was died that day, and I spent the rest of my life watching him walk around like a dead man. You destroyed his life, as well as mine.” She paused to gather her thoughts. She’d rehearsed this speech so many times, yet it was still hard to find the words. “After news of Chris’s death got out, parents pulled their kids out of the camp. Although things got better, the camp never fully recovered. Your actions ultimately destroyed this camp as well.” Sammy turned from the window and stared at Neil. “Your friends have carried the responsibility on their shoulders for eighteen years. A responsibility that you should’ve shared. Unlike you, they’ve admitted their part and accepted their share of the blame. Now it’s time for you to make amends.”

  Jeremy and Patrick stepped forward, one on each side of Neil. Clamping their hands on his arms, they lifted him from the chair. He struggled to break free, pulling to and fro, but their grip was too strong. Steve pulled the chair away from behind him.

  “NO! WAIT!” Neil shouted. “I’M SORRY! I DIDN’T KNOW! I SWEAR!”

  Sammy blocked out his pleas. She didn’t want to hear his apologies any longer. Even the sound of his voice was beginning to grate on her last nerve. She watched Neil struggle against Jeremy and Patrick’s restraint. It appeared that panic had finally overtaken him as he thrashed against their firm grips on his arms. He must have understood that he had few options even if he did escape.

  “PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS! I’M BEGGING YOU!” Neil shouted.

  His struggle was getting desperate. He kicked out at Jeremy’s legs and twisted frantically at his bonds. He’d never get loose. She’d tied the knots herself, making sure they were tight. Neil jerked to the left and right, lurching his body against his captors. Blood trickled down his right forearm where Patrick’s fingers had dug deep into his skin. She wondered if Neil had ever had to fight this hard for something before in his life. As he continued to struggle, Sammy watched a form emerge from the shadows by the door. Steve stepped forward, snaking his arms under Neil’s armpits and forcing his bound hands above his head, just behind his neck. Neil yelped loudly when Steve wrenched backward on his arms. His face contorted in pain, and his struggling ceased.

  “Rob,” Sammy said. “Get the rope.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The hangman’s knot had already been tied in the rope when Rob pulled it out of the bedroom’s small closet. The rough fibers of the manila hemp formed tightly woven strands, which Neil knew could rip the skin from his neck. He renewed his struggles, but his three captors held firm, their grip never faltering. Rob tossed the rope up through the ceiling hook, and it came to rest in the crook. The noose hung down before Neil, rocking back and forth, ominous and frightening. He gazed through the loop and saw Sammy’s face framed by the thick tan fibers. She stared back at him, her eyes vacant and dark. Gone was the beautiful, vibrant woman
who he’d slept with the night before. Instead, Neil was staring into the frigid face of a woman he didn’t recognize.

  “Get the stool,” she said.

  Rob limped to the closet again, pulling out a small step stool. Setting it down before Neil’s feet, he grabbed the other end of the rope and moved back to the wall.

  “String him up,” said Sammy, her voice absent of any feeling.

  “With pleasure,” said Patrick, tightening his grip on Neil’s arm.

  In desperation, Neil kicked at the stool, sending it sliding across the room. Using her foot, Sammy stopped the stool before it hit the far wall. Again, Neil struggled to break free, until Steve wrenched back on his arms, inflicting a grueling pain into his shoulders. He let out an agonized yelp.

  “This’ll be easier on all of us if you don’t fight,” Steve said, close to his ear.

  “Easier for you maybe.”

  Sammy moved the stool back into place and held it firm with her foot. Jeremy and Patrick tightened their grip and lifted Neil off his feet, moving him over the stool. When they set him down, his feet landed square in the middle of the stool. Steve released his arms as the noose fell over Neil’s head, the coarse fibers jabbing him in the neck. The hangman’s knot slid down until it rested against the back of his neck.

  “Please. Don’t do this.”

  From the corner of his eye, Neil watched Rob loop the other end of the rope through the hook on the wall. A quick tug caused the harsh cord to rake up his neck until it caught beneath his chin. Rob continued to pull on the rope until Neil was forced to raise himself up on his toes to keep from being strangled. His toes began to tremble almost immediately, either under the pressure or from fear. He wasn’t sure which. Tying the rope to the hook in the wall, Rob gave the taut cord a gentle slap, sending vibrations up to the ceiling and down to Neil’s neck.

  Releasing his arms, Jeremy and Patrick stepped back, leaving Neil to stand precariously on the edge of death. The sweat on his forehead ran down into his eyes, but he was unable to wipe away the burning moisture. The rope’s pressure on his jaw forced Neil to hold his head high, making it a challenge to look at the others.

  “What are you waiting for?” Neil asked. It was his attempt to sound brave, but he wasn’t even able to convince himself. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Patrick replied, “I think you misunderstand, Neil. We’re not going to kill you.”

  Neil tried to shift his head, but the move only served to constrict his throat. “What? Stop messing around and tell me what you’re going to do!”

  Steve stepped closer and jabbed him in the stomach. “If you’re going to die, you’re going to do it yourself.”

  “Can you see that clock?” Rob asked, gesturing to the alarm clock on the dresser. “Maybe not. We’ll move it some place where you can see it. It’s closing in on half past seven. We’re going to give you twenty-four hours to live or die.”

  “We’re going to leave you here. In twenty-four hours, we’ll call the police—anonymously, of course—and tell them where they can find you,” said Jeremy. “Whether you’re dead when they get here will be up to you. If you can keep from falling asleep and hanging yourself, then you’ll get to go home to your fiancée, your partnership, and your perfect life. Of course, if you fall asleep, or give into your guilt . . .”

  Patrick interrupted. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  “You can’t do this to me,” Neil said.

  Sammy moved closer. “We can, and we will.”

  Neil tugged at the bonds around his wrists, but the movement caused the noose to draw a little tighter around his neck. “This is ludicrous. I’ll just tell the cops who did this. They’ll be knocking on your front doors in no time.” “That’s where you’re wrong, Neil,” said Steve. “Do you really think we’d plan all this without protecting ourselves?”

  “We made sure we had alibis for this weekend. No one knows we were here,” said Jeremy.

  Rob smiled. “Besides, you won’t tell the cops anything.”

  Neil tried to twist his neck to glare at Rob without much success. “And why not?”

  “Because if you do, you’ll lose everything. Your fiancée, your partnership, and maybe even your job,” said Steve.

  Sammy reached out, gently touching Neil’s stomach. She twirled her fingers making figure eights on the fabric of his t-shirt. “I suspect that Mr. Waldstein wouldn’t take kindly to knowing that his soon-to-be son-in-law was screwing around behind his daughter’s back. My guess is he’d come down pretty hard on you if he ever knew about our little tryst this weekend.”

  Despite trying to add a defiant edge to his laugh, it came out nervous and unsettling. “It’d be your word against mine. Why should he believe you over me?”

  Stepping back, Sammy stared at him through narrowed eyes. “It’s amazing what you can do with cameras these days. They’re so small, you can hide them practically anywhere.”

  The bottom dropped out of Neil’s stomach, and he suddenly felt ill. “You’re lying!”

  “Every single second is on video,” said Sammy. “Even the moment when you told me you loved me.”

  He swore under his breath. Neil had forgotten about that. It had been in a moment of recklessness, a moment of climatic ecstasy. He vaguely remembered her legs intertwined with his and their naked bodies thrusting in rhythmic synchronicity. The words had been uttered at the height of passion, spoken more in the moment than out of any emotional meaning. Nothing had been meant by them, she should have known that. But it didn’t really matter now. It had been said, and it had been recorded.

  Neil knew she was right about all of it. Old Man Waldstein treated him like the son he never had, but one hint of infidelity would bring that to an end in an instant. Waldstein had always been very protective of his daughter, and there was no way that he would ever stand for a scandal. He would be out on his ass without a moment’s hesitation. And it wouldn’t end there. Waldstein was well connected. He’d ensure that Neil would never work in New York City again. Waldstein was a valuable ally to have on your side, but if crossed, could be a devastatingly powerful enemy. Neil would be lucky if he could get a job as a public defender, a fate worse than death.

  Patrick laughed. “I think he finally gets it.”

  As he glared at Sammy, his sense of betrayal must have been evident in his eyes. “Don’t be angry, Neil,” she said, her voice feigning pity. “It’s not like sex with you was all that good anyway.”

  “You bitch!” Neil lashed out, struggling to free his hands. The rope around his neck chaffed under the chin, the coarse strands rubbing the skin raw. Every movement he made drew the noose a little tighter, reminding him that struggling only served to lessen his chances of survival. “The cops aren’t idiots. Even if I don’t tell them anything, they’ll know someone hung me up here.” He glanced toward Steve. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to track this back to you?”

  Steve’s reply came in the form of a mischievous smile, telling Neil that he was still missing some pieces to the puzzle. “Wrong again,” Steve said. “Everything we’ve told you has been a lie. The company I said I worked for? It doesn’t exist. Our careers? Our lives? All lies. You don’t know the first thing about any of us.”

  “The only thing that’s true . . .” Sammy paused and closed her eyes for a moment, “is that my father died of a broken heart. Losing Chris destroyed him, and I had to watch Dad slowly go to pieces until there was nothing of him left.” She fell silent, and her gaze seemed to drift away for a moment. Her eyes became wistful, not looking at Neil, but through him to another time and place. Then her eyes turned dark and cold once again. “When I found out what you’d done—how you had tormented Chris for three years—I burned for vengeance. But I couldn’t do anything, not as long as Dad was alive. But after he passed away . . .”

  “This began as a joke. We all
came to pay our respects when Sammy scattered her father’s ashes in the lake. We were the only ones here. One of us—I don’t remember who—said we ought to track you down and give you a good fright,” said Rob. “But the more we all talked about it, the more we each realized something drastic had to be done.”

  The room fell silent. They stood around Neil, each one’s eyes conveying a different message. Behind Steve’s blue eyes, Neil found a sense of pity. Rob’s held indignation, while Jeremy’s seemed impatient, glancing at the clock, then at the door, and back to the clock again. Fiery contempt raged behind Patrick’s gray eyes, all of it directed at him. And then, there was Sammy, with her dark eyes filled with anguish. She seemed to be swimming in it, almost wallowing in misery. Neil knew it would be too much to hope that her sorrow was over him. Maybe she wasn’t as sure about this as she let on. Maybe she was having second thoughts, and she’d change her mind, insisting that the others let him go. He knew the chances were slim, but it didn’t hurt to hope.

  “It’s time we left,” Steve said, moving toward the bedroom door.

  Patrick stepped closer, looking up at Neil with a sneer. “You’re getting off lucky, Brewster,” he said. “I still think we should have killed you.”

  Rob picked the alarm clock up off the dresser and carried it to the bedside table. Positioning it where Neil could see the clock face, Rob glanced at him, and then passed by quietly, avoiding eye contact as he exited the room.

  “You’re all gonna burn in hell for this,” Neil said.

  Giving him one final look as he left the room, Jeremy frowned and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Neil. We’ll follow you down.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You can’t leave me here like this!” he shouted.

  The only reply was a faint grating sound as the branch of a pine tree brushed against the small square window across the room. There must’ve been a light breeze outside, but all he saw were the pine needles tapping on the smudged panes of glass. He knew that shouting was an exercise in futility. If anything, it just made matters worse. Too much movement just caused the noose to tighten and constrict around his neck. The margins between life and death were too slim to risk any further reduction. He decided to conserve his shouting for a later time when it would be more fruitful. But then . . .