by Penny Reid
“So what were you supposed to do?” Billy asked, sounding curious.
“She wanted me to go to the party, draw the police away, and then she and Kip would make a scene. Then they’d leave. She said she’d talk Kip into coming back to the lodge somehow and then she’d kill him in the car, strangling him with the rope. She’d toss it into the pond after and then leave a tip with the cops to drag the pond, putting the gloves in my mother’s office to be found with the roll of leaded Polysteel.”
“That’s all she wanted you to do? Cause a distraction with the police?” Billy looked at me, and I could see he had a hard time believing the only thing Elena wanted was Isaac to show up and draw the police away. I agreed.
“She wanted to be the one to kill him, she was adamant. But no. That’s not all she wanted me to do. She wanted me to serve as lookout, make sure no one saw her in the car strangling Kip or tossing the rope in the pond. Make sure she could get in and out of my mother’s office unseen to plant the gloves. She also wanted me to get my hands on Jennifer’s phone, text my mother, ask her to meet me—as Jennifer—in the parking lot. Then she wanted me to anonymously call the cops that Kip was dead in his car, or that I’d seen something bad, etcetera. Once that was done, she wanted me to drive her to their home on my motorcycle, her alibi being that she’d stayed at home while Kip turned around and came back to the party on his own.”
“That’s an insane plan.” Billy made a face.
Isaac half-turned his head but didn’t look up at Billy. “Well, she’s insane.”
“Why didn’t you turn her in?”
Isaac glanced down and to the side, his jaw working, surprising me again with his answer. “I wanted him dead. I reckon y’all know what that’s like.”
Billy and I shared a look, but too much pain resided there, too many scarring memories. Our gazes cut away almost instantly.
I cleared my throat against the emotion I refused to entertain and asked, “So, what? What did you do?”
“I told her I wouldn’t do it, and I told her I wouldn’t stop her. I waited at the edge of the parking lot where I knew she’d planned to kill him. But I—” Isaac blinked real fast again, sucking in a breath “—I changed my mind. When it came right down to it, I didn’t want him to die. So as soon as I spotted the car, I ran over and banged my gun against the back window, hoping I wasn’t too late.”
“But you were,” Billy guessed, lowering to his haunches to untie Jennifer’s brother.
“I was. She’d already killed him, with the rope.” He slid his jaw to one side, then the other, his stare hooded. “Anyway, seeing it was done and that she might get away with it—”
“Wait. Why didn’t you just keep her there? Call the cops?”
“Because, fuckface, I’m an undercover agent, as you well know. Do you think babysitting my father’s murderer until the cops show up to arrest her, giving them a statement, cooperating would look good to the Wraiths? No. It would blow my cover. And I’ve worked too goddamn hard and put up with too goddamn much for my father’s death—that worthless piece of shit—to mess it up.”
Billy and I shared another look, but Billy was the one to say what we both were thinking, “Fair enough.”
Now that Isaac was untied, I tossed my keys to Billy and tilted my head toward the door. “Let’s go. You drive. You”—I pointed at Isaac—“come with us. I want the rest of this story before we get to the hospital.”
Isaac grabbed my wrist before we could move. “Wait, wait a second. Tell me what happened to Jenn. I’ll go, but what happened?”
“Elena kidnapped her using my Geo. Somehow, Jenn ended up driving the car into some trees going over sixty. Neither of them had seatbelts on. Jenn broke—” I had to stop, suck in a breath, fist my hand to stop the tremor “—both of Jenn’s legs are broken, she’s unconscious, the ambulance took her to the hospital. Elena is dead. Miller, in the back seat, is also dead. That’s all I know.”
Isaac nodded, all color draining from his face, his next breath just as shaky as mine had been. “Fuck,” he said on an exhale. “Let’s go.”
With that, the three of us ran to the car, leaving Billy’s suit jacket and shirt behind in the little room at the back of the Pink Pony. Isaac and I sat in the back of the Buick while Billy took the front.
As soon as we were on the road, I said, “Go on. What happened? Tell us the rest.”
Isaac’s gaze cut to me. It looked confused, like he wasn’t sure what I was talking about.
“Elena and Kip,” Billy supplied. “What happened?”
“Oh.” Appearing out of sorts, Jenn’s brother rubbed his temple, shaking his head as though to clear it. “Yes. I got there, and he was dead. She’d—already—with the rope. So I shot into the car, planning to pull her out of it, force her to take the gun, and then leave her behind to face the consequences. I’d already removed the roll of fishing rope from my mother’s office, so that wasn’t an issue . . .” Isaac’s voice tapered off.
I met Billy’s stare in the rearview mirror. Billy didn’t know yet because I hadn’t told him, but I knew what happened next.
Elena had run from the car, disinclined to go peacefully. Isaac had chased her, shooting into the bakery, unaware Jenn and I were inside. He’d chased Elena into the woods. Once there, he must’ve knocked her out, left her.
Probably with the gun?
What about Miller? . . . Miller.
“Did you knock out Elena? In the woods? What did you do with the gun?”
“I—uh,” Isaac glanced down, breathed out. “I knocked her out, took off her glove, wrapped her hand around the gun and left her there for the police to find. But Miller—I found out later he’d agreed to be her accomplice—he must’ve found her and taken the gun, put the glove back on.”
“Where does Repo come in?” I asked. “When did you two team up?”
“I saw him leave with my mother. We’d parked on the same slope. His bike was already there when I arrived, so I hid my bike when I parked. The day after, when I realized that my mother and Jenn were under suspicion, I pulled him aside and asked him what he knew. He spilled his guts, seemed grateful I’d asked, and then asked me for help. He wanted to run with Diane right away, but I told him to wait. Burro likes me, told me that you could help—and I knew Burro was your contact—so when the FBI began solidifying their plan against my mother and Repo, I asked Burro to reach out to you, bring you in so we could plan my mother’s escape in such a way that wouldn’t get them caught.”
“Why not just let Repo take the fall?” Billy asked as though this had been the obvious course of action.
Isaac shook his head. “No. My mother is in love with him. She never would’ve let that happen. Believe me, I tried to talk her into it on more than one occasion. She’s . . . stubborn.”
“So we helped your momma and Repo leave,” I said and thought, stewing in this new reality. “And you helping Repo had nothing to do with taking over as the money man for the Wraiths?”
Isaac looked at me like I was nuts. “They would never trust me in that role. No. That’s Catfish’s job now. He’s next in line for any senior level post.”
“Catfish? You mean Curtis?” Billy’s glare zeroed in on Isaac, and he sounded sore about this information. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. He’s always wanted the responsibility, wants it real bad. He’ll do anything to get ahead. If he has things his way, he’ll take over for Razor when the time comes.”
Billy’s eyes cut back to the road, but I could feel waves of rage roll off him as he took a turn too sharply, forcing me to hold on to the ceiling and brace a hand on the back seat.
“And you’re not at all worried? You think the DEA is going to be fine with all this? Helping Repo and Diane escape, shooting your father, knocking out Elena?” I asked, just to see what Isaac would say.
“Who is going to tell them?” Even in the dim light of the car I could see Isaac’s gaze was cool and flinty. “You?”
“I don�
�t have any reason to communicate with the DEA, as long as they don’t bug Jenn’s house again,” I said, making sure he understood the implied threat.
“They didn’t know about the bugs, either. I’m not working for them right now anyway . . .” he trailed off, scowling. “The gun should’ve been with Elena. Her glove should’ve been off,” Isaac ranted suddenly. “Miller must’ve taken the gun as insurance, as a way to blackmail Elena to get his farm before everyone knew Jennifer had inherited. And blackmail my mother in order to get the cows. He tried to play them both.”
“We need to find it,” I said to no one in particular. “If Miller had the gun and it has Elena’s prints, that’s it. Your mother can come home.”
“But Repo can’t,” Billy announced, his eyes still on the road. “There’s no going back to the Wraiths. Even if you clear Diane’s name, he’s stuck on the run from them.”
“But at least Diane would have a choice, if things go south with Jason,” I argued, thinking through our options. We had to find that gun. If I could find a way to give Jenn back her mother’s freedom, I’d grab on with both hands.
“I have a question,” Billy said from the front. “At the will reading, why’d you seem so sure Jennifer knew she was getting everything?”
“She didn’t go to the funeral. I’d expected to see her there, and when she wasn’t . . . But she went to the will reading—”
“She didn’t know, by the way,” I chimed in, rubbing my face, fighting back the dread threatening to blind me. “Jennifer had no idea he’d left her anything. She didn’t think you’d be at the funeral, and the only reason she went to the will reading was to see you.”
I felt Isaac grab my shoulder roughly, forcing my attention to him. “Is she going to be okay?” He sounded raw, his eyes panicked and glassy. “What did Jackson say exactly? Her legs are broken, but how badly? Anything else? Is her back okay?” His voice cracked with the last question.
I hesitated, and then covered his hand to remove it from where he gripped my shirt, unable to believe I was about to do what I was about to do. “Jenn is strong,” I soothed, not knowing where I found the strength to comfort anyone. “She’s the strongest person I know. She’ll make it.”
“You are responsible for Jennifer. You are responsible for keeping her safe.” His throat worked as he stared at me, his eyes wild. “If she dies, you die,” he threatened, fatally serious.
“Yes, I know.” My lips tugged to the side and I nodded, my chest heavy and too tight, each breath excruciating as I contemplated the unthinkable. “If she dies, I will die.”
I’ll have no choice.
Chapter Twenty-Three
*Cletus*
“Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.”
C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
Isaac was Jennifer’s next of kin, and she had no durable medical power of attorney. As such, he’d been the one they consulted on her treatment. He’d been the one asked to make decisions. He’d been the one to whom they gave the official report.
Meanwhile, I stood, seething in a hidden corner while Jackson James filled me in. Since he’d been the officer on the scene, he’d also been privy to the official report. And I, being nothing but an unmarried fiancé of the woman in question, apparently ranked in the zero-eth spot.
“She’s okay.” Those were the first words out of Jackson’s mouth upon tugging me over to the corner. “The first set of X-rays look real good. She broke both legs, but—miraculously—no other broken bones. Her back looks fine, no fractures, no swelling except at her neck. She’s got whiplash and must’ve hit her forehead on the wheel. She’ll be in a wheelchair for a while, have to wear a neck brace, need physical therapy, but after a while, she’ll be just fine.”
I covered my face with both hands, unable to look at anything as those unwieldy emotions I’d held at bay for the last several hours finally reached up out of the abyss and kicked the shit out of me.
Even though I heard his words and understood them, I needed a minute. Actually, several minutes. Maybe hours. I leaned my back against the corner and slid to the floor, setting my elbows on my knees. And I cried.
I wasn’t ashamed. Men need to cry. Life can be shitty and overwhelming and if a man doesn’t cry when he can’t do anything else, then he turns bitter, resentful, and deranged. I was none of those things because I cried.
Maybe Jackson didn’t know what to do with me crying, maybe he was shocked, maybe he never cried. But I sobbed quietly for a long time before I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“My sweet Cletus.”
It was Ashley.
I reached for my sister and would’ve likely tackled her if I didn’t have the last-minute presence of mind to remember she was pregnant, and under no circumstances should she be tackled. Even so, she caught me, held me tight, and let me cry on her shoulder while she ran a hand up and down my back. I let it all out. When I’d released all the pent-up fear, misery, worry, and self-recrimination, I cried my relief, my joy, my hopes, and my gratitude that we’d been given another chance.
Jenn will be okay.
Others came. Others held me. Billy, Duane, Jess, Sienna, Jethro, Beau, Shelly, Drew. I cried on them too. Roscoe eventually showed up and he was already crying and—thank God for that little rascal—he gave me the opportunity to console someone else, and that’s when I was finally able to stop.
We all sat together, waiting in the room that had been aptly named and best reflected its purpose, more than any other room that existed (i.e. the waiting room). Jess brought over coffee no one drank but we were happy to hold as it gave us something to do with our hands. Jackson served as the go-between, ferrying information from the hospital staff to me, not seeming to care he wasn’t supposed to share patient details with nonfamily members. All signs, he’d said, were looking better by the hour.
At one point, in between updates, Drew turned to Ash and said, “We have to get married,” just like that.
She nodded, as though she’d been thinking the same thing. “Agree. We’ll get married.” She swiped at her eye. “We’ll go down to the justice of the peace next week.”
Drew nodded, looking grim. He glanced at me. I thought maybe I could read what he was thinking. He never wanted to be where I was, a life partner with no rights.
“You can get a medical power of attorney,” Beau piped up, threading his fingers with Shelly’s. “That’s what we have. It’s even better than being married, for this kind of stuff. Sometimes, even if you’re married, other folks can try to interfere if they don’t agree with decisions being made. But a medical power of attorney is difficult to contest.”
Shelly nodded her agreement. “It is what I recommend. Even if you get married, get the medical power of attorney too.”
“Then we will,” Drew said, like the matter was settled, putting his arm around Ashley.
“But you should also get married.” Roscoe, staring at the black circle of his full coffee cup, spoke with a sandpapery note to his voice. “I probably don’t get a vote, but I’d love to see Ash in Grandma Oliver’s dress.”
“Agree,” Jethro said, giving our sister a small smile.
She returned his smile, hers just as warm and affectionate.
But then she chuckled, it sounded sad. “I’m not wearing that dress to the justice of the peace. You can forget it.”
“You should wear the dress,” I said and thought at the same time, sounding belligerent even though that hadn’t been my intention. I worked to gentle my voice as I added, “You should wear it and have the wedding you want. Life is so damn short, Ash. Wear it. Have that big splashy wedding. It won’t be perfect, but absolutely nothing is. And that’s why life is so great.” I made a fist on my knee, staring at my sister, hard.
Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded, her chin wobbling. “Okay,” came her raspy response. “But it’ll have to wait until after the baby, because—”
Maybe the words were a tad rude, but Jenn had almost died. I’d almost lost everything tonight. I would not wait to marry her until next week. I was many things, but unmarried would no longer be one of them.
“What—” Ashley glanced at our brothers, at Drew, at Sienna, at Jess, at Shelly. Unsurprisingly, they were all giving her little, hopeful smiles. Finally, after many attempts to spit out the words, she said, “You can’t be serious!”
“Cletus has all the good ideas,” Sienna said, winking at me.
“And don’t worry about your bridesmaids,” Shelly took over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll call Janie. She’ll organize the Chicago contingent. They’ll be here.”
“And I’ll call Paul.” Sienna, referring to the head honcho of her personal stylist and famous people team—or whatever those folks are called—nodded excitedly. She pointed at Shelly first, then Ashley. “He will get the dresses sorted, the makeup, the hair—no problem.”
Ashley sent a wide-eyed stare to Sienna, Shelly, and each of us in turn. “This is madness. I can’t take their wedding!”
“It’s your wedding, and you know it,” I said firmly, my mind made up. “I’m not getting married next week. If it’s up to me, if you don’t want it, it’s canceled. Don’t let all the deposits and your hard work go to waste.”
