The Sinclair Heir

by Scott, Eliot

  I head through the back, grabbing our fishing rods as I go on an impulse to save them from the encroaching flames. I hit the path with long strides and pray with every step.

  I see Jojo’s hair first. A long, curling wisp of it blows up and plasters itself against the rock she’s wedged herself under like it’s a waving flag, giving her horrible choice of a hiding place away.

  I stare at it for a moment, breathing in a surge of relief that I’ve found her so quickly. Then, on silent feet, I creep forward, working hard to stay under the canopy of the trees just in case the local news helicopter that’s circling above, dodging in and out of the smoke plumes, is one that works for my father.

  If he’s alive, then of course it’s not reporting any real news whatsoever. Whoever’s in that thing is looking for footage that can be distorted or turned into lies. I wonder if Father’s hired a sniper in that thing. At this point, anything is possible. My whole childhood I’ve been aware of how many millions have been paid to the police department for my father’s sick reasons. I’m sure even more passed hands to pull off his death.

  I glance around at the smoke that designates the fire line creeping toward the shore, and assess the amounts of ash falling around me and coating the surface of the lake, hoping the winds keep the fire burning in another direction—away from us, at least for now.

  Helicopter and sniper worries aside, there is probably also a very real danger that my father or one of his fucking paid-off soulless minions is creeping nearby with the same orders to find, capture and kill Jojo.

  I can’t risk calling out to her, so instead I stash my backpack full of supplies as well as the damn fishing rods in the brush. I have no clue why I brought them with me—somewhere deep inside I must have felt like they would lead me to Jojo. I just couldn’t just let them burn.

  I creep as close as I can to the rock and silence my breathing as I crouch down to try to make eye contact with her. When I realize her entire body is contorted and all wrong under the rock—and when she doesn’t move at all or appear to be breathing—my heart stops beating.

  Is she dead?

  Am I too late?

  Is this not a hiding place?

  Is it where someone’s buried her?

  Panicking, and needing to hold her body next to mine dead or alive, I reach and grab at her ankle with one hand, and then at an elbow with another, pulling her out with all of my might. As her body comes loose she erupts into movement, kicking and fighting with all she’s got. I feel a deep bite hit the shirt over my forearm, tearing it just before her teeth sink in. At the same time, a gun gets shoved into my gut.

  I whisper back fast, “Don’t pull that trigger. It’s me. Jojo—please. It’s Alex.”

  At the sound of my voice she pulls the gun away and utters, “Alex,” while her entire body grows limp. I keep my grip tight and drag her inside some thick brush next to the shelter of the large rock and then I let her go.

  “I thought you were dead,” we both whisper at the exact same time, our voices jagged and dry, meshed with the air we’re pulling in. We’re choking on the surge of heartbeats, hope and relief we’ve allowed our bodies to feel.

  “I nearly shot you, I could’ve—killed you.” Her body is trembling now as she loses control. She falls into me crumbling and sobbing quietly against my chest, and I find I can’t hold her tightly enough. “And why didn’t you just say my name first?” she accuses after a time.

  Instead of telling her I couldn’t breathe—that I thought she’d been murdered—I tell her only half of the truth. “I didn’t want to shout out that I was there. It’s not safe. We need to stay hidden.”

  She’s gasping, trying to get control of her shaking. “I was so afraid—I thought…” A hard swallow chokes her and her eyes pool with heavy tears as she looks at me. “I was alone. I thought I’d have to do this alone.”

  “I had to make you think that,” I add, trying to make her understand. “I couldn’t let anyone know I was alive. I left my car and my phone, and I didn’t call you on purpose because I wasn’t sure what was going on or who was tracking me. I got a rental car one block away from where the explosion went off, then I went back to the house as quickly as I could to get you and Emily. I needed to get the gun and some supplies. Only, when I got home, you were gone, the gun wasn’t there—and there’s this fucking fire! Where’s Emily?”

  Her eyes connect to mine while one arm points toward the lake. “Emily called me. She’s…she’s there. I ran. I took the gun.” She points again at the lake, her voice disappearing into her tears, all of her lost to what looks like full panic now. “She’s there.”

  I lose my mind all over again. Is she saying Emily’s dead? Why is she pointing at the lake?

  I grip her tightly and give her a little shake. “You need to tell me more. Everything.” We’re both so gripped from adrenaline and relief that we’re not making any sense. “Where’s Emily? And Shelly?” I blink, helping her wipe away some of her tears. “Where’s Walt? Because my father—Jojo—my father…”

  I glance at her pale face, struggling for the right words to tell her the awful truth.

  “I know,” she bursts in. “Your father’s alive.”

  Those horrible words, now said out loud, sober both of us into gaining back some control. “You dropped the deed on the way to the garage. First, I woke up and saw your note, and I thought you were fishing, maybe just saying goodbye to the lake. Then I read the small print on the deed, about how Emily’s the heir to everything now, and I felt so stupid.”

  My heart hurts at her words, even the ones she can’t quite say. She thought I’d tricked her. It hurts more watching her face replay it all.

  “But then,” she starts up again. “I saw the building—the penthouse—the top two floors are gone. I figured it out. Only, I thought it was May or Grady. But all along it’s been your father. Alive.” Her voice goes low with heavy despair. “We fell for it all over again, Alex. He tricked us—again. We’re so stupid.”

  I shake my head, relieved as hell she doesn’t think I’ve betrayed her—that she knows I’m with her, not with him.

  “He fucked us all.” I shake my head again. “Fucked even himself by faking his murder. All of this just to lure you here. And we’re not stupid, Jojo. We just can’t fathom his levels of darkness. Who knows how long he’s known about Emily? This plan could have simmered for years,” I whisper, gripping her hands in mine, willing her not to blame herself for any of this. “Grady—he killed himself. Saved me.”

  She gasps as I continue. “He actually saved my life. He wouldn’t let me up in the building. He’s supposed to be here instead of me, working for Father. Those were his orders. But he let me come instead. He didn’t know Father was alive, either. Not until last night when our father appeared, giving him instructions. And new bruises and breaks.”

  Jojo’s eyes are going black, as though she’s going into shock. To keep her with me, I give her shoulders another shake. “You need to tell me all that you know right now—where the hell is Emily? Where?”

  She points at the lake again, and my eyes fall to a lone, empty rowboat that has drifted about two hundred feet from us. “She’s in that boat, hiding. She said she’s with your mother. I think May’s passed out. Emily says she’s bleeding, and sleeping. She told me that your father hit May. I don’t—I can’t believe that she’s truly asleep, though, because you know I can’t trust her. Emily said your father locked Shelly and Walt in the cellar of the hunting lodge.” She glances toward the massive smoke plumes in the sky. “They’re both probably—”

  Her swallow is hard.

  “Don’t say it.” Quickly, I place my hand gently over her lips. “Shh. Shh.” I soothe her. “We don’t know that, so don’t. Let’s work on what we know—let’s work on Emily, okay?”

  She swallows, nodding and gulping back breaths and tears as she points at the boat again. “Alex…I told Emily I’m coming, and so I am.” She pushes the gun into my palm and jerks my ar
m violently, trying to tug me out of the bushes. “I’ll swim to her, and you cover me, and we’ll get her.”

  I grip her tight and wrap her back into my embrace, but it takes nearly all of my strength to keep Jojo still. “It’s a trap, Jojo. You swim out there, and someone will play target practice on you. Worse, they’ll hit you and I’ll come out to try to save you, and we’ll both die—and Emily will be alone with my father.”

  Those last words finally register for her and she freezes.

  “Can you hear the helicopter going around? That’s not just for the fire. We need to stay hidden under these trees. We need to be smart about this. I have an idea. Stay here.” I leap up and work my way back to my backpack and supplies, and her eyes light up when she sees the old fishing rods in my hands.

  “Why do you have those?” she asks incredulously.

  “I honestly don’t know. I grabbed them on impulse as I was running out. I had this flash in my head—this idea that they’d burn in the fire. I couldn’t leave them.”

  Jojo’s already separated the rods and has handed me hers—the one that looks to be in better shape. I go to work untangling the bits of tackle that got snagged while I was running, and just as I’m looking around for a small rock to tie on as a weight for casting, she pulls the engraved lure from her front pocket and hands it to me.

  Jojo’s powered up her phone. “Hold on. I’m calling Emily; I’ll put her on speaker.”

  “Mommy?” I hear the little voice coming through the speakers and nearly crumble. “You took so long,” she accuses, voice raspy with her tears. “We need you. Nana ’s awake now but she’s sad. She says her head hurts, and we just need you.”

  “I’m so close, and I’m with Daddy,” Jojo says, making her voice bright. “But don’t tell Nana that Daddy’s here. We want to surprise her. You stay down; he’s throwing a fishing line with a hook at the boat right now, then we’re going to reel you right in to us, okay?”

  “Fishing for us? Okay.” Her voice grows less worried.

  I’ve got the lure attached, and I’ve cast. I miss on the first try and realize that I’m still going to need a rock tied on it to hook over the side of the boat so it will help me pull the boat closer. The tiny hooks on this lure won’t do the trick. On my second try, I get the rock over the side of the boat, and the lure seems to have hooked onto the tarp as well. I’m momentarily distracted by the sound of my mother moaning in the background of Jojo’s cell speaker.

  “Can you ask Nana if she’s able to talk to me?” Jojo asks Emily while I slowly reel in the boat, my heart flying with hope as everything holds tenuously and the boat heads in our direction.

  “She’s just crying, Mommy. I don’t think she can talk.”

  “Okay, love. You’re both so close. Tell her we’re so close.”

  When the boat makes it nearly to the shore, Jojo whispers into the phone. “Emily, can you peek through the tarp and look for Mommy without moving the tarp too much—and if you see me, don’t jump out until I say ‘go,’ okay?” she says, watching as the helicopter circles back in our direction.

  I hear Emily’s voice cry into the phone. “But what about Nana? She can’t run or hop or jump. You’ll need to carry her.”

  We both wait as the tarp moves and we see half of her little head appear. I nearly shout out as she gives us a wave.

  The sight of her has set Jojo into action too, and she’s bee-lining towards Emily. I don’t call her back because the helicopter is not facing our direction anymore. I think it’s going to be okay.

  In seconds, Jojo’s dropped her phone, waded in, has the tarp off of the boat and Emily in her arms. “Oh God, May!” She cries out, nearly sobbing at whatever she sees. “Alex is going to carry you out. We’re going to get you to a hospital. May, thank you for saving Emily. Oh God, oh God…” Her voice goes up in a panic. “Stay with us, can you? We’ve got you. We’ve got you. It’s going to be okay. Hang on. We’re all right here. ”

  “Yes—we are. All here now? Aren’t we?” My Father’s voice—and the first blow from my father’s crowbar—comes out of nowhere.

  The second one I see coming—dead on, as does Jojo.

  “Alex!” I hear her scream my name a breath before the stars and blur take over. “Mr. Sinclair, no!”

  My father doesn’t respond to Jojo; he keeps talking to me. “Except for that fucking idiot, Grady!” His voice ramps into a madman’s shriek. “He’s not here. He’s betrayed me, hasn’t he, Alex? Tell me what’s happened? Did you at least kill him in a good fight, or did that motherfucker, sad excuse for a son of mine off himself by staying inside the explosion and send you out to kill me? What a joke that kid was from the moment he was born. Both of you. Horrible Sinclairs.”

  The third blow slams me in the chest so hard I hear ribs crack. I’m knocked flat. I assume he’s been watching us this entire time, letting me get Emily to the shore. As usual, he’s done this all so perfectly. The fire, the penthouse…even how he hit me with a crowbar like this, so not one ounce of air could be left in my body. Down to the detail.

  My head is spinning, my ears are ringing, and I can’t move my neck. Father’s got the gun Jojo handed me earlier, and it’s pointed at my wife and our daughter.

  He’s laughing as the flames from the fire barrel down behind us all. “What a nice day for a family reunion. Or…a family funeral? What do you guys think?”

  He’s acting how he always did—like a psychopath who’s having a fun day at a lake torturing his family.

  “Alex, do tell your mother, your wife, and your dear little daughter that I’m so disappointed in them.” He scrunches up his face as he looks into the boat to eye my mother—his bloodied and battered wife. When she doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes like he finds her annoying before stepping away from her and back to me.

  “Oh May…I don’t remember ever telling you to get into a boat. Did I? You and dear Emily,” he sneers out. “You two should have been in my car. We should be long gone from this fucking fire, but instead, you’ve placed us all in danger.”

  My mother doesn’t answer.

  “Nana didn’t want us to be burned in the fire,” Emily calls out, defending her grandmother’s actions. “It’s safer by the water.”

  My father looks at Emily like she’s an insect, like she needs a slap for speaking out of turn, and if I can’t fix this, she will get one as soon as this is over. She’ll get one every day of her life until she’s trained. Emily, who doesn’t know how to read my father’s expressions, simply blinks up at him, expecting him to say something normal. But he doesn’t. Instead, he kicks the side of the boat hard, and adds, “Too bad you’re not already dead inside that boat woman, because now I’m going to have to come up with a plausible news story of what’s happened to you—how you died on the day I came out of hiding.” He chuckles. “But I’ll figure that out, won’t I? I always do. I have so many friends…”

  “Emily.” He orders my daughter in that voice that brings up every hair on the back of my neck and every single horrible childhood memory I’ve ever had. “Do you want your mommy and daddy to live today? If so, you will come right over to me now, and you will take my hand. Listen to your grandfather, Emily, and no one else dies…today.”

  Emily’s eyes go wide, and Jojo begins to release Emily out of fear, and maybe…to save me. She’s trying to save me, but this is not the way.

  “No!” I croak, managing to pull in one rush of air before blood starts splattering out of my mouth. Apparently, more than just my ribs are broken, my father’s fucked up my insides with that blow, too. “Emily, don’t trust him! He’s going to kill us. He’s a liar. Jojo—Emily—run,” I gasp.

  Father walks over and kicks me hard, then levels the gun directly at my face. I say it again.

  “Run!”

  I hope and pray Jojo and Emily have taken my command to heart as I watch my father’s fingers move on the trigger, and I close my eyes, imagining Jojo’s beautiful face as I wait to die. As the sound of the
too-close gunshot rings out, I jerk and go deaf—but then nothing happens. Nothing. Meaning…he’s missed?

  By the time I open my eyes, my mother’s fallen on her knees beside me, the small gun she’s always kept in her purse since we were kids is clutched in her hands, and though I can hardly hear her words, I register the fire barreling down on us all.

  “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m sorry, Alex. I had to, though. I’ve saved at least one of my sons. Forgive me for all of this horror…”

  I roll to my side and make it to my knees, instantly realizing my father’s been hit by a shot fired by my mother. She shot him directly between the eyes, leaving no room for error. She was taught very well, by the man lying in the dirt and brush. This is real. This is not pretend.

  “We have to go…we have to go. Get back to the boat.” I manage to gurgle out my words.

  “Emily…can you get in the boat first?” I point at it, and because I can’t stand at all, I do what I can and start crawling towards it, away from the raging fire.

  Jojo gets her arms around my mother and somehow manages to get her back into the boat, then she returns to help me up and into the boat too.

  We drift by the shore for a moment, all of us staring at the raging firestorm. The tree-tops are crowning down and shooting fire bombs of smoke and flame into the air. Emily’s curled up in Jojo’s lap, her eyes closed against the smoke. Jojo has her face pressed against Emily’s. She’s whispering beautiful words to her—affirmations that we are all safe and good now. She promises a rescue crew will come. She tells her that I’m okay, and that Nana’s okay.

  My mother starts shaking and seems like she’s going to faint as the heat from the fire threatens to scorch us. Jojo picks up the paddles and starts rowing while I pull my mother into my arms to keep her upright and give her some comfort.

  “Please…please hang on.” Those words aren’t just for my mom. They’re for all of us.

  A motorboat revs from the distance, then, like I’m deep inside a tunnel, I hear Jojo make Emily promise to never speak about what happened here at the lake. To never once mention that she met her grandfather, and to tell everyone we only got hurt because we all got trapped trying to escape this fire.