I still have a bad feeling sitting sour in my stomach. As if what’s already happened isn’t enough, I still feel like the worst is yet to come.
“Bray?” I try again to get her attention.
She doesn’t answer. She appears stoic. Vacant.
I try another approach, with Caleb at least. I feel like Caleb is the one I need to fix first. To keep Bray safe, I have to talk Caleb down. An hour ago, I tried to talk him into giving himself up, but it was useless, as I had a feeling it would be.
I push myself to my feet. The gun in Caleb’s hand is pointed right at me the second he notices.
I raise my hands out at my sides. “It’s just me.” He starts to lower the gun. “I just want to talk.”
“Five more minutes!” an officer’s voice on a loudspeaker calls out. “We’re sending him back in!”
He’s referring to the man—a cop of some sort—Caleb agreed to let in thirty minutes ago. He wanted to hear Caleb’s demands and I’m sure to assess the situation inside for the officers outside. Bray and I stayed by the restrooms, out of sight.
“Talk about what?” Caleb says acidly.
His eye has turned blue and purple over the past two hours, and it’s so swollen the skin is raised nearly an inch over what is normal.
“You say you’re not going to hurt anyone,” I begin, “so just let everyone go. Show them you mean it. You keep these people in here like this, they’re hostages.”
“So fucking what?” he says. The woman in the dress looks up at him but is afraid to meet his eyes. “They’re already gonna charge me with having hostages. Doesn’t matter now.”
“Then let them go. You didn’t intend to have hostages, so let them go. I’ll stay here with you. But let Bray go, too.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bray finally speaks from behind me.
I turn around to see her looking up at me from her sitting position on the floor. I leave Caleb carefully, backing my way away from him so that I’m not making any sudden movements, and I go straight over and kneel beside Bray.
“You need to get out of here,” I say.
“No. I don’t,” she says simply. “If I go out that door, I go straight to jail. I told you, baby, I’m not going to jail. And I meant it.”
My heart is racing. Time is running out, and all I can think about is what’s going to happen when it does. Every possible scenario has run through my mind like a wide-awake nightmare, each of them ending with Bray facedown in a pool of her own blood.
Five minutes later, the guy in the casual clothes who somehow still reeks of cop reenters the store with his hands raised above his head. And just like before, Caleb keeps the gun trained on him.
“Where is my brother?” Caleb asks.
“He’s still outside waiting for you,” the man says in a calm voice. “He’s worried about you, Caleb. He just wants you to come out of here safely so that you can go home.”
Caleb laughs. “Home? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’m fucking stupid? I won’t see home for a long time.”
“No, you won’t,” the man says, still with both hands where Caleb can see them at all times. “But you will someday, and the longer you stay in here like this, the worse you make it for yourself, the farther away the prospect of seeing home becomes. What about these people?” He points at the male clerk and the two women sitting in the aisle. “They want to go home. They haven’t done anything to deserve this.”
I wonder why the man didn’t include Bray and me, why he’s acting as though we aren’t sitting here several feet away and as much a part of this as they are.
Just as I think that, the man looks at us, his dark eyes peer at us underneath dark, bushy eyebrows.
“And what about Brayelle Bates and Elias Kline?” he says and my heart stops.
How did they find out so soon? I think to myself, but then it becomes obvious. We’ve been on the news. It wasn’t hard to figure out. But still, his saying our names like that took me by surprise.
Bray has the same reaction. Her eyes grow wide. She looks at me for a split second before giving the man her full attention.
“They still have a chance to go home,” the man goes on, though he’s looking right at us, making sure that we get the message he was sent in here to give. “Everybody knows that they’re scared. But no one is accusing them of murder. Innocent until proven guilty. They want to go home to tell everyone what happened that night on the river, tell their side of the story, to have a chance at life.” He looks at Caleb again. “But you have to let them go home so they can do that.”
“I’m not keeping them here,” he says. “And she doesn’t want to go.”
The man looks at Bray. “Is that true?”
“You’re not in here for me,” Bray says. “I’m the least of anyone’s worries. Leave me out of it.”
“I’m afraid that’s not something I can do,” the man says.
“He’s the one with the gun, you asshole,” she snaps. “Just leave me alone!”
The man turns to me. “And what about you?” he asks. “Are you a part of this?”
“Wait a damn minute!” Caleb shouts. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You accusing them of being a part of this?” He points the gun forward at the man. “See, fuck the system! Fuck ‘innocent until proven guilty’! They already think you’re guilty, that you are as much a part of this as I am, even though I’m the one holding the gun to his fucking head. See how the system works? They send innocent people to jail every fucking day while murderers, child molesters, and real rapists are set free because of some stupid goddamn technicality. Fuck you and your system, you piece of shit!”
The man takes two steps back and raises his hands a little higher. He’s getting worried that Caleb might get trigger-happy. So am I.
“No, I’m not accusing them of anything,” the man says in surrender. “But it looks bad on them if they stay in here when they have a chance to be set free. It makes them look even guiltier of Jana McIntyre’s death than they already do.” Then he adds, “And I know about your rape sentence, Caleb. I’ve seen men get sent to jail for rape, men just like you who don’t fit the profile. It happens all the time. You’re not the only one.” He looks at us once more. “And accidents happen all the time, too. Sometimes people run when they’re scared. It’s the worst thing you can do, but it happens. All the time. None of you are alone.”
“Are you saying you believe us?” Caleb asks. “Or is this your way of gaining trust?” He doesn’t give the man a chance to answer. Caleb already has it set in his mind what he believes and nothing this man can say will ever change that. He laughs. “That’s exactly what it is. You come in here wearing your stupid fucking running pants and your stupid fucking running shoes, trying to look like a civilian, when really we all know you’re just another cop trying to fit in with the little people. Gain our trust. Make us believe your bullshit lies.”
“Your brother is outside right now, Caleb,” the man cuts in. “He’s worried. He told me to tell you that he will visit you every single day while you’re locked up. He said that he didn’t mean what he said before, that he never wanted to see you again. He wants you to know that no matter what, he’ll put you first and visit you every day until the day you get out. Because he loves you and nothing can keep him away from his little brother.”
I hear Bray rupture with sobs and I look down at her. It’s as though what the man just said struck a nerve.
Caleb’s eyes are now brimming with tears, too. His mouth is twitching at the corners, his nose wrinkling under the deep setting of his eyebrows as he tries to hold the tears back. But he can’t hold them in and they begin to run down his cheeks in rivulets.
“Is my brother in trouble?” Caleb asks, the gun, still shaking, pointed at the man. “Is he going to face charges for running with me? It wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t even thinking straight when he ran out of that liquor store with me! He had nothing to do with it! He only ran because I was running! He wasn�
��t thinking straight!”
“Calm down,” the man says, motioning forward. “No, listen to me, Caleb, I’m sure I can get him out of it. He did run, yes, and he shouldn’t have, but he called nine-one-one, and the man you shot is going to live. Your brother is going to be fine.”
“He’s going to live?” Caleb asks, his voice desperate and nearly breathless.
I see the relief wash through him beneath all of that anger and rage and fear.
“Yes,” the man says. “He’s in stable condition. It was a shoulder wound.”
“And my brother? You fucking swear on your life he’s not going to be charged?”
“Caleb, I’m not going to swear it,” the man says, “because I want to be completely honest with you. But his chances are very good. The only thing he did wrong was run, but he didn’t go far. He did everything else right. I believe he’ll be fine. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure that he is. I know he’s innocent. He’s got a good heart. I’ve been doing this for a long time and I know a good man when I see one.” He pauses, looks at me and then back at Caleb. “I’m looking at two good men right now. And one good woman. People who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. People who have screwed up and who will have to face charges no matter what, but people who still have a chance to prove that they’re good people.”
The woman in the flowered dress breaks into sobs of her own. The clerk holds her next to him.
“Let them go, Caleb,” the cop says.
“I will,” he says. “You go back outside and I’ll send them out after you.”
“What about you?” the man asks suspiciously. “Are you going to give yourself up?”
“I want to think about it,” Caleb says. “But I’ll let them go.”
The man nods, accepting what Caleb gives him. He leaves the store.
Caleb paces back and forth in front of the drink coolers, staying out of sight of the front windows. Then he stops and points at the three hostages.
“Go,” he says motioning his free hand toward the front doors. “I’m sorry that I put you through this. I’m so sorry.”
The woman in the flowered dress raises her eyes to him and then immediately bolts out of the store sobbing hysterically.
“Bray,” Caleb says turning to her, “I’m sorry for being such a dick.” He looks at me. “I really am.”
“I know,” I say.
Bray just sits there quietly with her back pressed against the wall. Her tears have dried up, her face devoid of any emotion.
Caleb goes to the door and opens it enough that he can yell out, “I’m going to come out! I’m going to surrender!”
Bray gets up, and her movement surprises me. She walks past me and goes toward the end of the candy bar aisle.
I follow behind her.
“Put the gun on the floor and come out with your hands up!”
Caleb sets the gun on the floor right in front of the door, raises his hands high above his head, turns around, and pushes the glass door open with his back.
The second the door closes, I see Bray’s dark hair whip behind her as she runs toward the door. I panic inside when she falls to the floor and grabs Caleb’s gun and then backs herself against the bread display.
“What are you doing?” I approach her carefully. My heart is hammering against my rib cage. “Baby… please… please don’t—”
She shoves the gun underneath her chin, pushing her head back against a loaf of bread, and her finger rests on the trigger.
I fall to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I feel like I’m going to throw up my heart is beating so fast.
“God, please, Bray… please… if you do this, if you take your life in front of me it will kill me. I love you so fucking much. I always have. I always will.” I’m choking on my tears, and the back of my throat burns. “You remember that pact we made when we were kids? Best friends always. Do you remember?” I inched closer on my hands and knees. My hands are shaking so badly I can hardly hold my body up. Bray’s face holds no emotion. None. She just looks at me through glass eyes, but the more I talk to her, the more I remind her how much I love her, the more I see the faintest of emotion flicker inside the glass. I see the Bray I’ve known and loved since I was nine years old, the one stronger than the darkness that lives inside of her. “I know you remember. But you’re more to me than my best friend. You always have been. My heart beats for you. If you die, every part of what makes me human will die.”
Her hand begins to shake. It makes me nervous. Her finger on the trigger… I don’t want her to shake.
“God damn it, Bray… I love you! Don’t put me through this!”
“I can’t be locked up!” she screams. “I can’t live like that! Away from you! You’re all I have in this world! All I’ve ever had!”
“I’ll be there!” I scream back at her with every ounce of emotion my body can produce. “I would never leave you alone! Do you understand me?! Never! I don’t care how long it takes, Bray, I will wait for you!”
And then the significance of the moment hits me.
“I will die for you, Bray! I will die WITH you!”
Her lips quiver uncontrollably. She stares deeply into my eyes for what feels like forever. And then she shakes her head no, the barrel of the gun moving with the movement of her head.
“Don’t say that!” she roars.
“I will!” I scream, and then I try to calm myself enough to make her understand. I inch closer. “Brayelle, this, this moment right here is the ‘anything’ I vowed to you last night. You didn’t ask me to prove it, but I’m going to prove it anyway—don’t look away from my eyes,” I say, and she looks back up. “Stay with me. Right here.” I point at my eyes with my index and middle finger. “If this is what you really want, then I go down with you. I don’t want to live without you, either. We’re in this together. We always have been. I won’t abandon you now. I’ll die with you if you think death is the only way.”
She shakes her head, over and over, and tries fruitlessly to produce words.
“I don’t want you to die because of me,” she finally says, her voice raspy from crying so much and so hard.
“I want to live, Bray,” I say breathily, and with desperation. “I want to live a life with you. I want to marry you. I want to grow old and have babies with you. I want to live. But I’m prepared to die. Do you understand?”
“Why are you doing this?!” Her features are tortured, her body trembling.
“Because we belong together! In life and in death! Because without you I’m dead anyway!”
She throws her head back against the bread shelf and screams, dropping the gun on the floor. I grab her and scoop her up in my arms and crush her so hard against me that it takes the breath out of my lungs. We cry into each other, her fingers grasping my shirt, mine digging into her back.
“Baby, I fucking love you so much. I’ll never let you go,” I murmur into her neck.
The police burst through the door, but I can only faintly hear them. They’re ghosts, like Bray had always been to her parents. I only see and hear and feel Bray when they’re pulling us apart. I only hear her yelling out my name as everything else around us is mute. My heart breaks as she is reaching out for me and I know I can’t reach back. Everything seems to happen in slow motion.
“I won’t abandon you,” I say almost in a whisper, as she’s being dragged away with her hands behind her back. “I won’t abandon you.”
And then she’s gone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
One year and two weeks later…
Elias
I have written her every day. I’ve visited her every week during visiting hours. I’ve spent every waking moment not only proving to Bray that I would never abandon her, but fulfilling my own need to be with her.
Bray was sentenced to three years for involuntary manslaughter and for leaving the scene of a crime, but her attorney expected her to actually serve less than half of her sentence. Having no prior crimi
nal record except a harmless stint in juvenile and offering to take a polygraph test really helped her case. Bray passed the polygraph, but it almost wasn’t admissible in court because Jana McIntyre’s family initially didn’t agree. But in the end, they relented.
Turned out that Jana McIntyre had more of a record than Bray had. Jana spent most of her teenage life in and out of juvenile detention and juvenile court for behavioral crimes, most of them related to violence. But the one key thing that Bray’s attorney made sure to bring to light in court was Jana’s three-month stay in juvenile for attacking a girl in the school gym and beating her unconscious. This helped back Bray’s story about Jana attacking her on the ridge and Bray shoving Jana only to get her off. Bray might’ve been given a lesser sentence if she hadn’t admitted to pushing her out of anger rather than self-defense. But at least she told the truth. It was self-defense, and the judge believed this, given the details of the situation, but it wasn’t life or death for Bray, and she had acted more out of anger than fear.
Also, since Jana’s death was considered suspicious, an autopsy had been ordered. Along with enough alcohol to put her three times over the legal limit, a host of drugs were also found in her system.
And there was nothing noted about Jana being pregnant at the time of her death.
As for me, I got off much easier than Bray.
Two years of probation was all I got for my involvement. I didn’t have to spend any time in prison. But being without Bray and knowing that she was locked up and lonely all that time was my own personal version of prison.
And she made me swear that I wouldn’t try to be her witness. I was going to do it. I had planned everything out in my head, even though we never really got the chance to plan the story together, but she told me if I did it she’d never speak to me again. She told me that she would only tell them the truth: that I wasn’t there when it happened, and that I was only trying to help her by claiming that I was.
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