by David Bell
“What is this all about, Derrick? Why was Hayden here? And Sierra? What did Jesse Dean want with them?”
Derrick reached up with his free hand and rubbed his eyes. Then he brushed his hand across the top of his head, letting out a long sigh as he did so. “I’m tired,” he said. “I’ve been up for two days.”
“You came out here after you left our house?”
“I did. I needed to bring Sierra to Jesse Dean. That’s the only thing I could do. He wouldn’t rest until he saw her in the flesh.” His composure cracked even more. His chin quivered.
“You brought your daughter to Jesse Dean?”
“I didn’t have any choice. I thought if I brought Sierra out here, then maybe Jesse Dean would let both of them go, Sierra and Hayden. I thought maybe he’d be done with them.”
“What did he want them for? What does Sierra have to do with it?”
“Can’t you guess what this is all about?” Derrick started to pace, side to side in front of the wall, one hand still in his coat pocket. “Don’t you know?”
“It’s about Logan?”
“Yes.”
“Jesse Dean killed him, right?”
“Mostly. I mean, yes, Jesse Dean killed him. But he didn’t do it alone. Do you know who helped him kill Logan and bury his body in the woods?”
“You?”
“Yes, yes. Me.” He continued the pacing. He still wore only one shoe, so he moved with an awkward shifting gait. Step-clomp. Step-clomp. Again he raised his hand and ran it through his hair. “I helped him kill your buddy Logan. Pretty boy, rich boy Logan. And we buried him in the woods on graduation night. Hell of a present when you get right down to it.”
Jason swallowed. “Why did you kill Logan?”
Derrick stopped pacing. “You always thought we were trash, didn’t you? Troublemakers. Hillbillies.”
Jason couldn’t—wouldn’t—deny it. He had always looked down on Jesse Dean as well as Derrick.
“You lumped me in with Jesse Dean,” Derrick said. “Your family did. I wasn’t good enough for Hayden, even when she was drinking a fifth of vodka mixed with grape juice before school every day. Even that didn’t make her fit for me.”
“That was a long time ago,” Jason said. “Things change. Lord knows you were better for Sierra a lot of the time. Better than Hayden.”
“A long time ago?” Derrick said. “Nothing is a long time ago in this life. Doesn’t it feel like just yesterday we were all up on that bluff on the night of graduation? Tell me, how long ago does that seem?”
“Sometimes it feels like five minutes,” Jason said. “Other times like it was another life.”
Jason saw beads of sweat popping out on Derrick’s forehead, and in the enclosed space of the cabin, he smelled body odor, some combination of anger and fear leaking out of his ex-brother-in-law’s body. Jason looked down where Jesse Dean lay. His pants were stained around the crotch, a physiological release of urine at the moment of death. It added to the pungent mixture of smells brewing in the heat of the room.
“Did Hayden know you killed Logan?” Jason asked.
“She knew enough.”
“And she wrote those cards to Logan’s dad to cover for you?”
Surprise showed on Derrick’s face. “How did you ever see those? Did you go out to pretty boy’s house or something?”
“I did. I saw Hayden’s handwriting.”
“That was her idea. Her and Jesse Dean’s. They had a lot of ideas together, I guess. I was opposed to it. I thought it would just call more attention to the fact that Logan was gone. I thought his parents would take one look at those cards and say, ‘That wasn’t written by my son.’ Hayden thought she was so clever, and so did Jesse Dean. I guess they were right, weren’t they? Everybody believed he was still alive all those years until they dug him up on the Bluff. Hayden and Jesse Dean. They made quite a team.”
“Why did you kill Logan, Derrick? Was Hayden cheating on you with him? Is that it? Was it jealousy?”
Derrick was shaking his head. “Your sister’s a whore, and Jesse Dean and I are trash who settle our problems by killing somebody. Is that it?”
“What was it, then? Why did you do it?”
“What makes you think we had a choice?”
“Why wouldn’t you have had a choice?”
Derrick froze. He raised his hand, the index finger extended.
“What?” Jason asked.
“Shh.” His hand remained in the air, and he tilted his head. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Listen.”
Jason turned his head toward the front of the cabin. He heard nothing at first; then something emerged from the quiet night. A soft rushing. It sounded like—
“It’s a car,” Derrick said. “Shit. The police.”
“It might be Tricia.”
“It’s the police.” He started pacing again. “I killed Jesse Dean. I killed Logan. That’s all they’re going to hear.”
“Tell them the truth. You were protecting your family.”
“They don’t care about that. Not with a guy like me. Look at you. You can’t help but think I’m a killer.”
“Sierra and Hayden will back you up.”
“I got arrested again. Almost two years ago. Assault. That’s why I had to get a new job. I punched my boss.”
“It’s okay.”
“That’s why I didn’t see Sierra. If they know about this—”
Derrick stopped pacing. He pulled the gun out of his jacket pocket and turned it toward Jason.
Everything in Jason’s body went cold. Something unclenched in the center of his body, and he thought his bowels might release right then and right there.
“Derrick—”
“Get out.”
Jason started backing away.
“Faster. Get out.”
“Don’t fight with the police, Derrick. Drop the gun. They’ll kill you if they see you with that.”
“Get out. Go. If Sierra’s out there, take her away from here. I still care about her, even if people have always disrespected me. That doesn’t change things with her and me. Tell her that.”
“What would change that? Killing Jesse Dean?”
“Go.”
Jason stopped at the door. His shaking hand rested on the knob.
“Come out, Derrick.”
Derrick shook his head. He pointed the gun at Jason’s torso. “Last chance,” he said. “Go.”
Jason didn’t hesitate. He fumbled the door open and stepped out into the night.
Chapter Forty-eight
Jason didn’t run. His eyes had adjusted to the light inside the cabin, and stepping out into the night again left him blinded. He moved toward the road, and as he did, he saw two small circles of light, and then behind the circles of light the looming figures of two men.
“Get on the ground!”
Jason froze.
“Get on the ground, sir!”
He raised his hands, surrendering. The two figures reached him. He saw the uniforms, the flash of the badges in the reflected glow of the flashlights. As they came closer, Jason heard leather creak and equipment rattle.
Police.
The police had arrived. Tricia had done her job.
Jason fell to his knees. One of the officers came up to his right side and took his arm. Not so gently, he forced Jason to the ground, his chin and the side of his face thudding into the grass. The officer placed his knee against Jason’s back, while the other officer stood nearby.
“Are you armed, sir?”
Jason tried to answer, but the officer with his knee in his back was already running his hand over Jason’s body, patting his back, his legs, the insides of his thighs, and then rolling him a little to get at his front pockets.
“No,” Jason
said. He smelled the rich earth, which was practically inside his nostrils.
“Is there anyone else inside?” the standing officer asked.
“My brother-in-law.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes.”
“Is he armed?”
“He has a gun. Please be careful. He’s upset.”
“Is anyone hurt in there?”
The officer rolled Jason onto his back. Saliva caught in Jason’s throat, and he tried to swallow to work it free so he could speak.
“Is anyone hurt?” the officer asked.
“One man,” Jason said, his words choked. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead. My brother-in-law beat him. Killed him.”
The standing officer spoke into his lapel microphone. He requested backup as well as an ambulance. He referred to a possible hostage situation.
“Is my niece okay?” Jason asked. “My niece and sister ran away from here.”
“Sir, for your own safety and for ours we’re going to place you in handcuffs.”
“Are they okay?”
“We’re dealing with the situation in the cabin right now.”
The officer pushed Jason over onto his side and took hold of his hands.
“Please,” Jason said. “Are they okay?’
“Just let us take care of this, sir.”
The officer drew his gun and stepped toward the cabin.
“Be careful,” Jason said, although he doubted they heard him.
Jason buried his head against the ground.
“Suspect with a gun in the building.”
Jason closed his eyes. His body went limp as another officer placed handcuffs around his wrists.
“Get him out of here.”
He was pulled to his feet, and he went along without even thinking. One officer held his arm and moved him back toward the road, while the other officers, including the one who had been standing over him, moved closer to the cabin. When they reached a police cruiser, Jason was placed in the back. Before he closed the door, the officer removed the handcuffs.
“Just sit tight,” he said.
Jason didn’t know what else he could do except worry about his family.
Chapter Forty-nine
More officers arrived, as well as an ambulance, and for the longest time Jason felt as though he’d been abandoned in the back of the police car. Close to twenty minutes passed and then thirty while police and paramedics came and went from the cabin. Their movements and gestures lacked any real sense of urgency, which confirmed what Jason already suspected. Jesse Dean was dead, killed by Derrick. And Derrick was inside the cabin with the police . . . confessing? Resisting? Had he been hurt or even killed by the officers who saw him with a gun?
Jason couldn’t open the car door once it was locked, and the air in the cruiser grew musty and close. He started sweating while he waited, and as the minutes ticked by, he worked hard to convince himself that Sierra and Hayden were okay, that they had managed to get down the road and were found by the police. What else could have happened to them once they left the cabin? Jesse Dean was dead. For all Jason knew, Sierra and Hayden were very close at that moment, safe in one of the other police cars that lined the small road in the middle of the woods.
Jason began replaying his final conversation with Derrick inside the cabin. He admitted that he and Jesse Dean killed Logan on graduation night. He knew that Hayden covered for them. But he didn’t know why any of it had happened.
He looked out the window of the cruiser, where a light rain had started to fall, spitting against the glass and partially obscuring his view of the comings and goings around him. He wondered if he’d ever know.
* * *
Eventually a figure appeared outside the window of the cruiser and pulled the door open, letting in a welcome rush of fresh air. The man bent down, and Jason saw a familiar face.
“Hello, Mr. Danvers,” Detective Olsen said. “Are you doing okay in here?”
“I’m hot. And I want to know if my family is okay.”
“They’re doing just fine. We’ve been talking with both your niece and your sister to get their versions of events. We have to get yours as well.”
“But they’re okay?”
“They’re okay.” Olsen reached up and wiped some rain off his forehead. “Understandably they’re shocked by the turn of events here. Your brother-in-law is in some trouble.”
“Is he okay? I was worried because he had . . .”
“He’s lucky. The responding officers showed a lot of restraint when they went into that cabin. He had a gun. Things don’t always end well when someone has a gun out.”
“But he’s okay?”
“He’s settled down now,” Olsen said. “He’s telling us a lot. It’s going to be a long night of talking to him. And then . . . well, we’ll just see where things go from here.”
“Is he going to be charged with something?” Jason asked.
“Something. But let’s worry about that later. Would you like to stand up and get out of that car? We can talk out here. It’s raining a little, but you’re probably tired of sitting.”
Jason left the vehicle. It felt good to move and stretch his legs. The night air had cooled, and the drops of rain that pinged against his head and shoulders were much more of a relief than an annoyance. He leaned back against the car with Detective Olsen facing him.
“Can you tell me what happened in there?” Olsen asked.
Jason did. As he spoke, he remembered certain details more vividly than others—especially the smell of fear coming off Derrick and the wild, haunted look in his eyes. Jason left nothing out, even going so far as to include Derrick’s comments about Jason’s judgment of him. He felt like that part of the story needed to be shared.
“So your brother-in-law admitted being involved in the killing of Logan Shaw?”
“Yes. He said he and Jesse Dean killed him and buried him on graduation night.”
“And he didn’t say why?”
“No. The police arrived. That’s when he sent me away.”
“And you didn’t see the fight between the two men?”
“No. Jesse Dean was dead when I arrived. Like I said, the first thing I did was help Hayden check his pulse.”
Olsen absorbed the story without showing any emotion. There was a pause while he reached into his pocket and brought out a small notebook. He flipped it open and looked it over. He didn’t say anything.
“Detective?”
“Yes?”
“I realize my wife doesn’t know where I am. And I can’t call her because my phone doesn’t work out here. She’s going to worry, and I don’t want that. Is there a way you could reach her and tell her what’s going on?”
“Sure. We’ll be done here pretty soon.” Olsen stepped away and summoned a uniformed officer. He had Jason give the man in uniform the pertinent information—Nora’s name and address—and instructed him to take care of the notification.
As the officer turned away, Jason said, “And can you make sure to tell her that Sierra and Hayden are okay as well?”
“He will,” Olsen said.
When the officer was gone, Olsen flipped the notebook shut and tucked it back into his pocket. The rain had picked up a little, and Jason squinted as a couple of drops hit him in the eye and face.
“Your sister has already given a partial statement tonight,” Olsen said. “We still have more to talk to her about. Understandably, she’s worried about her daughter right now. We’re aware of that.”
“Thanks.”
“What I’m saying is . . . she still has more to account for. And it’s possible you will as well.”
He turned and walked off toward the cabin.
Chapter Fifty
Jason walked along the line of cars. He counted six police cruisers as well
as two ambulances and two unmarked sedans. No one paid much attention to him as he made his way down the row. He looked inside every car he passed until he reached the ambulance. Hayden leaned against the side of the large vehicle, wrapped in a blanket. She smoked a cigarette, but when she saw Jason, she dropped it on the ground and came toward him.
“Jason, my God.”
They hugged and held on to each other tight. He held her a long time, her body pressed against his, listening to her sniffling. He was prepared to hold Hayden as long as she needed it, but she gently slipped free from his grip and took both of his hands in hers and looked up.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I was going to ask you that. And Sierra? Where is she?”
Hayden nodded toward the ambulance. “They’re checking her out in there. Just routine. They have to do it, I guess. They did it to me first.”
“Does she know they’re going to arrest Derrick?”
Hayden nodded and turned her eyes down to the ground. “They told us. That crazy kid, she didn’t run out to the road like you told her to. She was coming back to help you and me—that’s when I ran into her out here. I grabbed her and said, ‘Let’s go,’ and we ran away. We came across the police on the way out. And Tricia was still there, too, down at the end of the road. She waited until the police came and made sure they knew where to go.”
“What happened to you, Hayden? What were you doing out here?”
“Jesus, I wish I had another cigarette. One of the cops gave me that last one.”
“Did you know they killed Logan? Is that why you came back to town?”
“Oh, big brother, there’s so much to tell. So much you don’t know.”
“I’m listening. You’ve been out here with these guys for over a week, haven’t you?”
Hayden looked up, anger in her eyes. “I didn’t choose to stay out here with them, with Jesse Dean.”
“They held you somehow?”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “It wasn’t that rigid or restrictive. I wasn’t a hostage or anything. But I sure wasn’t free to just walk out the door. I didn’t care about that so much, but I knew you and Sierra would be worried. I was still in town when I texted her that time. I was just seeing that things weren’t going the way I wanted them to go with Jesse Dean. I probably scared her more than anything, but I knew she’d be worried.”
