The Weight of Silence (Nicole Foster Thriller Book 2)
Page 29
A logging truck comes at us, and I blink away its headlights.
Stacy is quiet now. I don’t like it when she’s silent. It means she’s thinking.
“I’m sure you’ll come up with a defense,” I tell her. “You’ll say that you were in fear for your life. He beat you. Something. That you knew too much of what he was doing. You could say that. Convincingly. And that he’d found out.”
Stacy’s eyes are on the road.
“Something like that,” she says.
I drive on. It will take us a couple of hours to get to Bellevue.
“Don’t do this,” she says, her voice now pleading. “It will ruin both of our lives. I promise never to do anything like what I’ve done again.”
Once more I hear her voice as a girl: Candy likes Nicole better than me. I only poked her with the weed puller once.
“Did you arrest me?” she asks, looking at the handcuffs.
“No,” I say. “Not really. Remember, I was going to kill you.”
Just then, Stacy reaches over and grabs the wheel.
“What are you doing?” I scream at her.
“You bitch!” she screams back. “I’m not going to go to prison. I’m going to take my chances right now.”
Chances. Gambling. That would have been my line. It plays in my head as my car careens into the shoulder and starts to roll over. One time. Two. Maybe three. I don’t know which way is up. Glass shatters. Blood sprays over me. Stacy is screaming. I scream too.
Finally we stop.
The car’s engine is still going, but we are no longer moving.
We are hanging upside down in my silver Honda Accord. I think of Carlsbad Caverns. I think of our parents. Of Shelby. But mostly of Emma.
I manage to unhook myself from the seat belt that suspends me from the ceiling, and I fall downward. I climb outside and crawl to the passenger side of the car. My hands are bloody. Dipped in red. Diamonds everywhere. Glass everywhere.
When I get to her, Stacy is panting like Shelby after a lazy hour in the sun.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She looks at me, and I see a gash in her neck. A cut, I think from the edge of the shoulder harness.
I start to cry.
“I’m not going to make it,” she says. “Am I?”
I don’t lie to her. I shake my head.
“Tell Emma that I wasn’t all bad,” she says.
I look up as headlights stab through the darkness from down the highway. I find the keys to the handcuffs and undo the lock, releasing her wrists. I throw the bloody cuffs toward the ocean.
A second later a man gets out of his camper and runs over to me.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
I tell him I am.
“Anyone else in the car?”
“My sister,” I say, my voice weak. “I think my sister’s dead.”
“Stacy?” I call out to her. By now her eyes stare upward. They are blank. Devoid of life. I know that she’s gone, and as horrified as I am, another feeling washes over me. A sense of relief. It is so overwhelming. I’m falling down the witch’s trapdoor. I’m in the smoke right now. I know that when it’s clear, Emma and I will be free.
The man is calling for an ambulance.
“A terrible accident,” he says. “Mile marker one hundred thirty-four. Driver says her sister’s in the vehicle. Pretty sure the girl’s dead.”
He holds the phone away from his ear as he kneels next to me.
“Honey, what happened?” he asks.
“A deer jumped out,” I lie.
He gives me a reassuring look and speaks back into his phone. “Says a deer jumped in the road. Dammit, that happens all the time around here. Should post a sign or something.”
My eyes sweep back over to Stacy. She’s still. Quiet. She’s so very over. I take a deep breath. Emma is safe. I think that of my mother and my sister, maybe I’m the only one who knows that being a mother means doing anything you can to protect your child.
No matter what.
I am not a liar. Stacy died in a car accident. I didn’t kill her. That’s not to say I couldn’t save her. It is very Stacy of me not to. It might be the only part of me that’s like my sister. And I’m okay with that.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The end of the publishing process (the part where you are waiting for the book to find its way into readers’ hands) is a great opportunity to look back with appreciation for those who’ve helped launch it on its journey. I’m grateful to my wonderful editor, Liz Pearsons, for her incredible support and always spot-on advice. Liz’s secret weapon is the equally talented developmental editor Charlotte Herscher, who did such a phenomenal job ensuring that the manuscript flowed smoothly and in logical order—not an easy task, for sure. Many thanks to Gracie Doyle, Sarah Shaw, Brittany Dowdle, and Heidi Ward for their help too. I’d also like to take a moment to acknowledge my awesome readers and Street Team for their enthusiastic support. Special shout-outs to Chris Renfro and Tish Holmes for their great ideas and enduring friendship.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © Claudia Olsen
#1 New York Times bestselling author Gregg Olsen has written more than twenty books, including the first book in the Nicole Foster series, The Sound of Rain. Known for his ability to create vivid and fascinating narratives, he’s appeared on multiple television and radio shows and news networks, such as Good Morning America, Dateline, Entertainment Tonight, CNN, and MSNBC. In addition, Olsen has been featured in Redbook, People, and Salon magazine, as well as in the Seattle Times, Los Angeles Times, and New York Post.
Both his fiction and nonfiction works have received critical acclaim and numerous awards, including prominence on the USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists. Washington State officially selected his young adult novel Envy for the National Book Festival, and The Deep Dark was named Idaho Book of the Year.
A Seattle native who lives with his wife in rural Washington State, Olsen’s already at work on his next thriller. Visit him at www.greggolsen.com, or follow him on Twitter @Gregg_Olsen.