Just keep her safe.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” I whisper through her cries. “You’re such a big girl now, Stacy, Bunny.” The nickname sounds free and easy, like I never stopped saying it. “You’re beautiful. I’m so glad to see you. I missed you.”
She doesn’t respond, but as we sit squished together, the rain pattering against the roof, each time she clings to me harder, I tell her she’s safe.
And she is with me. I won’t let anyone hurt her as long as she’s with me.
Cars screech to a stop somewhere on the road ahead, and Will runs up to my door followed by Ted, their wide eyes searching, frowning, as if they can’t see her—until they spot her under my arm. She pushed herself almost behind me.
I open the door, and Will ducks his head in. “Oh, Stacy, baby, Daddy’s here.”
She peeks out from behind me, and he opens his arms to her, but she clings to me.
“Stacy, Bunny, it’s me. You’re alright now.”
He still uses the nickname I gave her.
She pushes off of me and reaches out to him. He scoops her over me, out of the car and into his arms as the officer walks up beside Ted.
“We need to bring her to the station,” the officer says. “Has she said anything?”
Will and Ted look to me, and I shake my head. “Not a word.”
“And she was just in the middle of the road?” Will asks me.
“She was walking across it,” the woman from before says as she approaches. “I almost hit her, and when I stopped, she fell down. I could barely see her over the dash.”
“Stacy,” Will whispers. “How did you get here?”
“I’m going to get an officer over here and see if there’s anything we can find around the scene. Your girl might be in shock, Will. Let’s get her dry back at the station and see that she feels safe first, okay? We need to check her out after that and ask some questions.”
Will nods, holding her close as the officer leads him away, and Mitsy stops them, wrapping her arms around them.
“You alright, Sam?” Ted asks me, not taking his eyes off Stacy.
“Fine,” I say. “Maybe I should come, too.”
“I think you’d better go back with your mom.” He looks down at me. “Cliff and Amelia stayed with her, but it’d be better if you were there too, ya know? All looking after each other while we’re gone.”
I nod and step out of the back seat.
“Thanks for being here, Sam,” he says and follows Will back to their car.
I wipe the rain from my eyes as they get in their vehicles and another officer arrives.
I can’t believe it—that she’s alive—safe. How did she get here?
As the car backs up, like Ted, I don’t want to take my eyes off Stacy either.
“You did it,” Mom says as I walk into the kitchen, soaking wet. “You found her.”
“I didn’t do anything. She was walking by herself on the street and… It was more like she found me, if anything.”
Stacy’s eyes looked so hopeful when she reached out to me, and to think she knew who I was. I still can’t believe it.
Mom stares at me as I lean against the wall.
“What?” I ask.
“You don’t even realize, do you? We don’t know how she got there. Mitsy told me Stacy still wasn’t talking when they got to the station. They have no idea what happened. Stacy could have escaped whoever took her. They could have been coming after her, and they could have just picked her up and taken her back to wherever they were keeping her. You saved her.”
I shake my head.
I can’t wrap my mind around a fully formed reason as to why Stacy was taken, or who would have the motive to do it. The adolescents and adults in this town have done terrible things to each other, myself included, but she’s an innocent child. Was it a random intruder in their home who saw an easy entry with the unlocked window? Could Stacy have woken up, recognized him, and he took her because she was a witness?
Or was it planned? Premeditated, down to making sure the window was unlocked so they could creep in and out with her easily.
There was no ransom requested.
Was it someone who wanted to hurt the Hutchings? Someone like Lawrence Hopcroft after Ted and Cliff beat him last year?
There are so many other possibilities.
“She could have found her own way back.” I shrug and fold my arms over my chest. “Or someone else would have helped her if I wasn’t there. What matters most is we have her back.”
Mom raises her brow, and I realize what I’ve said.
We.
I shake my head and push myself off the wall. “Listen, I forgot your prescription. I drove back here in kind of a fog.”
“Oh.” She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about that.”
“We’ll get it on the way out.”
She nods, taking a drag on the cigarette.
“I’m going to pack up some things for you. Tomorrow’s the thirteenth, and I’d normally say you could come back right after, but while we’re at my place, I want you to call Aunt Linda. Tell her you need a place to stay while you show and sell the house.” Mom opens her mouth to protest. “It won’t be for too long, and it’ll be nice for you guys to bond. Spend more time together. You might even like Arbordale, and besides, I don’t want you here with…you know, all the Perry shit going on right now.”
“Once the house is sold, we’ll pay him, and there won’t be any more trouble with that. We’ll talk about the rest later.”
I shrug and slide my hands in my jean pockets. “I’ll finish packing the essentials, and then we’ll go, okay?”
“Oh, but I want to see Stacy first.”
“It’s not like you’ll never see her again. She’s safe now, and you know you can visit with her.”
“I just think—”
“You promised me we’d leave. You want to be here for Founders Day?”
She closes her eyes for a dramatic moment and shakes her head. “Fine, fine. Have it your way.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t forget about the ring!” she calls to me as I climb the stairs.
“Mhmm.”
Two small bags rest on the bed, and I zip them open, filing through each. Some clothes, personal hygiene, good. She might need another pair of pants. I bet she hasn’t gone out shopping since Dad…
I step up to their dresser and scan the top, gliding my hand across it, past old bottles of cologne and perfume, some of my mom’s costume jewelry, and a picture of them on their wedding day as dust collects on my fingers.
No ring.
I check the medicine cabinet again, and the Percocets sit on the middle shelf where I left them, but they’re not calling to me like they did. Maybe to take away the pain of Perry’s attack, but nothing else. For the first time in a long time, I feel the cold, hard reality of sobriety washing over me as I push past the pills and check each shelf.
No ring.
Back in the bedroom, I open the drawer to Mom’s nightstand. A vibrator! Ugh, gross. Didn’t need to see that. I slide it shut and shake off the willies the visual gave me.
What about Dad’s nightstand? He wouldn’t have a reason to keep her ring in his, but I wonder what is in there.
I slide the drawer open bit by bit. I don’t want another surprise again. Just a book about Texas Hold’em, a few used tissues, and his hand gun. Always slept beside it to protect Mom every year when this week rolled around. To protect us all.
I slide the drawer closed again and whirl around.
I crouch down on the worn carpet and check under the bed. Just dust bunnies. As I push myself up, I catch the edge of something under the mattress on Dad’s side. I lift it and take out a simple piece of white, folded paper with the power to make my hands shake as I unfold it.
Stay away from Eve or I’ll kill Mary.
The words are typed, just the once sentence.
Stay away from Eve. That’s Lawrence’s w
ife’s name.
Dad’s last word was “Lawrence.”
Lawrence could have left this under his windshield one day, or in our mailbox, or any number of places after he found out what my dad and his wife were doing. This isn’t enough evidence for the police, just like the testimony of the neighbours and Mom wasn’t.
Ted saw him in the Hopcroft’s driveway.
I picture Dad going inside, telling Lawrence’s wife about the threat. Maybe he was breaking it off with her.
No, because he wasn’t fully clothed on the way back.
Maybe they were having sex, and Lawrence stabbed him from behind. At his most vulnerable. He’d warned him, after all. Maybe Mom’s right.
I read the sentence over and over.
Lawrence stabbed you, and you tried to get away. Tried to come home, but it was too late. And Mom couldn’t even say goodbye. But you told Ted who did it.
You wanted Lawrence to be held accountable. To pay.
Cliff and Ted tried to get revenge, but in the end, they spared him. Why? Because they didn’t know for sure. No one did.
But this. This is it. My sign.
And he’s been driving down our street, trying to what? Scare everyone? Show them he could come and get revenge for the beating they gave him?
No.
You want to rub your freedom in their faces. You killed my Dad, and you get to drive down our street and smile at his widow. Taunt her, knowing full well you threatened to kill her. Maybe you still want to, and you could have if she hadn’t called me. She finally reached out when she felt scared enough, and now I know why.
And I left them here to deal with all the horrors this town holds. Left Stacy, and Will, and everyone I loved to save myself. I’m a coward. Mom’s right. I abandoned everyone when it suited me.
Now that I’m sober, I can see it.
One weak link in the chain will break us all.
And I did.
I clench my jaw and struggle for each breath, turning toward the bathroom.
The percs are right there…
But.
I turn back to Dad’s night table and open the drawer. I rest my hand on the knob, staring at the gun.
What are you doing, Sam? Close the drawer and get out of here. Get Mom, protect her, and leave this place… this place…
This place is my home.
I can’t run anymore.
In Crimson Falls, you have no choice but to defend the ones you care for. You don’t leave them. You stay and you fight and do whatever it takes. You hurt for them if you have to. You do the best you can. That’s all they’ve been doing. It’s all they ask for.
I reach down, and my fingertips brush against the cool metal, skimming the barrel and finding the handle. Almost on their own, they pick it up.
I pick it up.
All the guilt and shame.
I pick it up.
The blame.
I pick it up.
It’s mine to own. It’s mine to carry. I let this happen—all of it. Stacy—it could have been him, Lawrence, driving by, watching her. Seeing she’s the weakest link and trying to get back at them all for the beating they gave him by taking her. I won’t let anyone hurt her or Mom again, and I’ll…
I’ll get the revenge you deserve, Dad.
Tears slip down my hot cheeks as I raise the gun and click open the chamber. Fully loaded. I snap it back in place and stare at it, wide-eyed.
This.
This is what I wanted all along.
I could have left the first day after I realized Mom wasn’t going to leave, or the next day, even though Stacy was missing, or the next. I could have even left after Perry and Roger were done with me.
But I didn’t. I blamed Stacy, and Mom, and Perry for stopping me.
I’m going to Lawrence, and I’m going to make him pay for what he’s done. Doesn’t matter what happens to me after that, because I owe this. I owe it, and as it’s festered inside me all these years.
I’ve fought it, but it’s what I am.
Since I was little, I’ve watched my parents and the neighbors intimidate anyone who tried to harm us. As I grew, participating in the town’s anniversary week myself, I set fire to the high school, hurt people I never thought twice about, just to impress Albert. I cut myself to prove my love for him, and at the same time, to show him how he hurt me. To show his family what their son was really like. I took money for a loan I never intended to pay back, using my body to get it. I refused to return after Dad was murdered, and then told myself none of it mattered. That it was all in my past, and that somehow, after leaving the town, I was better. That anyone who stayed was bad. Wrong.
I couldn’t face the truth. I’m one of them. I haven’t left…because…
I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the ones I love.
It’s how we survive together.
Blood-lust and belonging.
I fought it for so long with the pills and the alcohol. I numbed myself out until none of the mistakes I made could touch me. I have a chance to make up for what I’ve done. Can’t make it right—no, never—but I can make sure it doesn’t happen again. It’s my job.
I shove the gun into the back of my jeans, the cool metal barrel gliding along the skin on my lower back, and stalk out of the room, down the stairs and to the door.
“Sam?” Mom calls.
I want to go to her. Hug her. Apologize.
There’s no time for that. I’ve stalled long enough.
I open the door and march to the car, my stomach swirling with a sickness I’ve never truly known. Never fully felt.
I start the car and peel out of the driveway into the rainy afternoon.
No more pretending to be someone better. Pretending it’s everyone’s fault but my own. Pretending the man who killed my father might not have. It was convenient to deny the killer was right there under everyone’s nose, getting away with it like it was nothing.
I know it. I’ve known it this whole time. I wouldn’t have gone to Lawrence’s house and checked for Stacy if I hadn’t believed she could be there. Dad used his last breath in the hope that justice would be brought down on him.
It’s why I came back.
I’m coming for you, Lawrence.
I don’t remember the drive here, or why I decided to park so far down the street. I blacked out again, but as I take the keys out of the ignition and shove them in my pocket, a rage boils inside of me, shaking me with adrenaline. I’m ready to explode as I jump out of the car and jog down the street in the rain. It should cool me off, but it doesn’t.
I cross the boulevard outside the small house, run up the porch steps, and knock on the door before grabbing the gun from my jeans and keeping it behind my back.
The door creaks open, and Lawrence’s wife stands behind it, frowning. She opens her mouth to speak, but it hangs agape as she stares at me, a twinkle of recognition in her eyes.
She knows who I am. Does she know why I’m here?
“Hi,” she says, resting a hand on her hip, keeping the other on the door knob.
“Is your husband home?”
“Can I ask what this is about?” she asks, but she knows.
She has to know. If it all happened like I think it did, she was naked with my dad when her husband stabbed him. She’s kept the secret this whole time.
I bring my gun out and point it at her. Her eyes grow wide as I push inside through the door, keeping it pointed at her. She raises her hands and shakes her head. “Please, no.”
“Whoisit?” A deep voice I recognize from hiding by the side of the house drifts into the hallway from another room.
I put my finger to my lips. “Shh.”
Her uneven breaths turn into hyperventilation, and tears pool in her eyes as her face turns red.
“No,” she whispers. “No, no.”
“Eve, who the hell’s at the door?” he calls.
I press the gun against her side and pull her into the bright light of the tiny kitchen. “C
all him in.”
“I—I can’t,” she cries, and I hear a rustling come from down the hall and heavy footsteps.
I push her down onto a chair at the kitchen table, keeping the gun aimed at her, and step toward the counter, keeping my back to it.
“Eve, you left the door open—”
Lawrence stops in the doorway, not six feet away, and jumps when he sees me, clutching his hand to his chest.
“Don’t move,” I tell him, still aiming the gun at Eve. “I’ll kill Eve just like you threatened to kill Mary. Those words must ring some bells for you, huh?”
He shakes his head, frown lines forming on his forehead.
“I found the note. ‘Leave my wife alone or I’ll kill yours.’”
“Whatever you think you know, you don’t,” he says. “Point the gun at me.”
I sneer at him. “Oh, I will, but I have to make sure you do as I say. You really love her, huh? Willing to die for her, even after she betrayed you? My mom feels the same. How ‘bout that? Sit down with her.”
I shuffle over, leaving more room for him to pass me, but he remains in the doorway.
“You think I killed your dad.”
“I know you did, you sick sonofabitch!” I put both hands on the handle and point the gun at him.
His eyes shift to Eve, and I catch movement from the corner of my eye.
“Move and he’s dead,” I say.
I check my peripheral, and she’s rocking in the chair.
“Please, just let her go,” he says. “This is between you and me.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t leave my mom alone. Still driving by. What have you been planning? What have you done, Lawrence? Did you take Stacy?”
“What? No!”
Eve’s crying at the table, going into a full breakdown.
“Shut up!” I shout at her, but she doesn’t stop.
“She’s scared,” he says. “Just—just let her go. I didn’t kill your dad.”
“Yeah. Forgive me if I don’t believe you, Lawrence. I’m gonna kill you, and ya know, I guess in these last few moments, I’ll leave you wondering what’ll happen next to her.”
“No!” he moves closer, and I aim at his head.
“Stop!”
“Why?” he shouts. “You want to kill me? Do it! Just do it, but leave her alone! She’s innocent!”
All the Dark Corners Page 8
