“Two more clients have called. Rumors must be starting. It’ll only be a matter of time before the Corps find out. And then…”
Mr. King trails off. He doesn’t need to fill in the blanks.
Victoria takes her hand from his. She brushes away tears and runs her fingers through her hair. She takes a sip of water. She sniffles. “That’s why you’ve been so upset. You’re afraid of the Corps finding out. I understand now.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to anyone. I never meant to hurt you. I thought over and over how I could spare you from this. If I should turn myself in, disappear or…I’m sorry.”
Victoria suddenly goes still, though her eyes focus on some invisible spot on the table. With her father’s words echoing in her mind, she thinks back over the last few weeks. She recalls the way he cried, the sudden bouts of depression and shocking displays of anger. She remembers the way he just sat in his car for hours without moving. The awkward way he had placed his head on the steering wheel. She thought he was resting, but a new explanation ignites in her mind. And finally, she remembers William’s gun cabinet.
Without warning, Victoria stands and hurries out of the restaurant. Mr. King follows, calling her name, but she doesn’t answer. She picks up her pace until she’s running, splashing water on her calves. She races to the car and wrenches the passenger door open. She roots through the glove compartment. She ducks her head and peers under the seat.
“Victoria,” Mr. King says. “What are you doing?”
Without answering, she goes to the driver’s side. She looks beneath the seat and with a strangled cry, stands and faces her father. A gun is in her hand.
“Was this what you were thinking of?" she yells. "Is this one of the ways to spare me?”
“Victoria, put the gun down.”
“I knew it. That day in the car—you sat there for hours! Were you trying to build up the courage or something to shoot yourself?”
He raises his hands in surrender. “I'm not going to do anything. I swear."
"You're lying!"
“Give me the gun.”
“How could you do this? How could you even think it? Do you realize what I’ve done for you? How meaningless it would’ve been? Do you?”
He steps forward. He extends his hand. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I got low and I just—I hit bottom, but it's fine now. I'm fine now. So please. Give me the gun.”
“No. You can’t hurt yourself this way.”
Another step. “I won’t.” He reaches for the gun.
“Stay away!” She pulls the gun back by her ear, out of his reach. “I don’t trust you!”
“Yes, you can.”
She shakes her head. “You should’ve told me from the beginning. You should have told me everything! I could’ve helped you! Instead I had to deal with it on my own. Do you know what that was like?”
“On your own? What are you talking about?” He steps to her and she immediately moves back. “What do you mean that you dealt with it?”
The gun is still by her head.
“You’re all I have, Dad. It’s always been just us. And if you—if you ever—” Victoria shakes her head, unable to even say the word. “You might as well kill me, too. Understand? I might as well be dead, too.”
Her voice fills the empty, wet street. The sound is broken and anguished. Mr. King’s insides twist. His heart clenches until it feels like it’ll burst. And all at once, the last few months fall away. The mistakes, the lies, the cover ups. Now, as thunder rumbles overhead, there’s only Victoria and that gun.
And the desperate need to get it away from her.
He lunges forward. His fingers wrap around her hand.
Victoria screams in surprise but she holds on.
She pulls. Because she’s scared. And she can’t let him have the gun. He is her world, and she can’t risk that he won’t shatter it.
He pulls. Because he’s scared, too.
And then: an explosion. A crack of heat and gun powder.
And Mr. King stumbles back, hand to chest, then collapses on the ground.
VICTORIA
“I called 911. Dad was still conscious by that point. But then he whispered the word gun, and I realized I was still holding it. Even then he was watching out for me. So I hung up. Threw the gun in a dumpster a few yards away. By the time I got back to him, his eyes were closed.”
Derek says, “That’s why you called twice.”
I nod. “It was an accident.”
“But you still had to lie.”
My nostrils flare and I bite down a cry. I’m sick of crying, though it feels like I’ll never stop. I sit on the couch. “If I would’ve told the truth, the Corps would want to know the details. They’d want to know why Dad had a gun. They’d want to know why I was so upset. They’d want to know why he was so upset. Add to that all the clients calling and complaining about him and, well…they’d dig. They’d pull up everything.”
Derek finishes: “And they’d find the connection between your father and Issy. It’d snowball from there. And then you’d be back at square one, on trial for murder. Only this time, it wouldn't just be for your dad. It'd be for Issy, too."
“I thought it’d be better to blame it on a random robbery. And once I said it, I couldn’t take it back.”
For several moments, the only sound is Derek’s back against the wall as he slides to the floor. Neither one of us says a thing. There’s nothing left, except the feel of the gun and the way it jerked in my hand when it fired; the warmth of his blood when I tried to stop the bleeding; the horrible crunch when I swung that weight. There’s nothing left except a heartbreaking silence and an undeniable, unstoppable sense of goodbye.
This is it. We both know it. And yet. I still want to tell him I love him. I still want to tell him everything he's meant to me, will always mean to me. But in the end, I’m scraped out and empty. Even my love seems useless. A dangerous thing. So Derek and I sit without touching, look without speaking. And as the sun sets, casting him in a glow that looks ethereal and lovely, his front door is flung open and Corps soldiers sweep in.
DEREK
It's been two days since Victoria has been arrested. The judge didn't even bother with bail or anything else. She was found guilty the minute she walked in the door. Her execution was later that evening. Yesterday, I received another package in the mail. The ring I gave her fell out of it, along with a white sheet of paper. Four words in black ink were written upon it. The paper joined the ring on the floor and I’ve yet to pick up either of them.
Dad and Mom came home to find me still sitting on the couch. I’m not sure what I was thinking or doing. Just that I was there, and I remained there all night.
If they asked me where Victoria was, I don’t remember replying.
Dad and Mom are in the kitchen now. I can’t understand what they’re saying, but I hear their voices and recognize that they’re talking about me.
And then it dawns on me.
I blink, as if finally waking up. The smell of food comes rushing at me. Suddenly, their voices snap into place.
“He’ll be fine. We just need to give him time.”
“I think we should get him help.”
“Sarah, he’ll be fine.”
I gently touch the cross that hangs from the chain Sabrina gave me.
Have Faith.
"Dad, Mom," I say, "I'm going out."
Mom comes to the living room doorway. "Did you say something?"
“The field.”
“What?”
I don’t reply. I get up and head out. That answer wasn’t for Mom anyway.
DEREK
She’s already outside, standing beside a bench the teachers used to sit on when they'd chaperone recess.
No one was around when Victoria confessed to me. I hadn’t called the Corps, she certainly hadn’t. So how did they know? How did they show up so quickly?
I grab the cross from beneath my shirt collar and pull. The chain snaps.
I extend my hand out and when Sabrina doesn’t make a move to take it, I throw it at her feet. As it lands with a quiet plink, I remember her telling me about the sound bugs—the ones she could put in William’s car or house or work—the ones that looked like common objects.
“Why did you even bother to help me?
“What I told you wasn't a lie,” she answers. “I wanted to help you. But a soldier didn't tell me about Victoria. I found that out on my own. I had already been searching through Corps files.”
“For what?”
“You already know.”
“I know I do. But I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say what you were looking for.”
Sabrina sighs and bows her head. When she looks at me, her eyes are defiant. “My mother.”
“Tell me her name.”
She doesn’t even hesitate, “Issy Campbell.”
DEREK
The eyes. I can’t believe I never noticed.
Nordic Issy Campbell was cinnamon-skinned Sabrina's mother. The light coloring of her biracial heritage. Now that I know, I can't believe I'd never seen it. And even though I had already put the pieces together, it’s still incredible to hear her say it. Unbelievable and yet, now that the words are spoken and the truth’s been told, it all seems so inescapable, like I never really had a chance against it.
“Do you hate me so much that you’d do this?”
“I don’t hate you.”
I chuckle, a sick and wheezy sound. “I hurt you, I know that. Me and Victoria both did. It was so long ago, though, and I was a different person then. But…” I clear my throat, suddenly finding it hard to speak, “I never meant to hurt you.”
“This wasn’t a vendetta,” Sabrina says, stepping to me. “This was about the truth. It was about finding my mother’s killer.”
“So what was I?”
“Collateral damage.”
The way she says it, so matter of fact, has my blood turning cold. “So you send me that cross, hoping to hear me say something incriminating.”
“Not you. Victoria.” Sabrina crosses her arms over her stomach. “I had all the pieces in place, but I really couldn’t prove it. Not totally. So I thought this would be the best solution, that maybe one day, weeks or months or even years from now, she’d slip up and say something.” She adds softly, “I never thought she’d say something so soon. I never thought you’d…”
“What?”
She shifts on her feet. Her eyes glance away from me before coming back again. “I never thought you’d confront her about it.”
And because I can’t not know, I ask, “How did you even figure it was her?”
“I came to you because I was genuinely concerned. I wanted to help. When my mother was killed, I started to search for the person responsible. I wanted…needed…to know who did it. That’s when I came across the King case. Your name was mentioned. So I felt for you. I knew what you must be going through and I wanted to help. But during the investigation, I began to notice things. The time frame of everything, the coincidences. And then the stuff on the iBullet...well, that cinched it.”
“How did you even access it? I had it on me the whole time.”
She reaches into her back pocket. When she extends her hand to me, palm up, I see a miniscule version of the thing we put on the back of the computer in the Steel Tower. “I told Matthew to call me when he got the chance. I told him to put this on the bottom of the device.”
Ah, so it wasn’t my talking to the damn thing that opened all those files, after all.
I nod. And because there's really nothing left to say, I turn. I don't look back, even when she says my name. I walk and walk and then I find myself running. A light jog that turns into an all-out run. My arms pump at my sides, my feet slap the pavement, my hair blows around my face. I run and run and run, waiting for that burn and ache to make me forget about the pain in my chest.
It never does.
So I keep on running.
EPILOGUE
I put the remaining devices in the safe and lock it. Bracing my hands on my lower back, I arch and stretch. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long year. Collecting my hat, I tuck it beneath my arm and head for the door. That’s when it opens.
Three Corps soldiers come into my office. Private Andrew Evans is the first to enter.
“Captain Pearce,” he says. “You’re under arrest for the murder of William King.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s been a long and sometimes crushing journey, but luckily, I haven’t had to walk it alone. Much love and many thanks to:
My beautiful family, who encourage and inspire me daily and who not only tell me to reach for the stars, but help me build the ladder to get there.
Karoleen Aboud, best friend and sister, who makes me laugh until I cry whenever I need it most.
Sherry Thomas, for being the first person to lay eyes on the manuscript and really take it apart with humor and brutalness.
Caitlin McNulty, for reading this story more times than I even read this story. You’ve been with me every step of the way, talked me down from several high edges, and helped me shape this marshmallow of a story into something structured and real. And the cover...you did me proud, girl! Thank you for such a beautiful cover!
Macdara Loftus, Coralee Gianta, Heather Stewart and Shannan Turner for being the best critique partners and cheerleaders a girl could ask for.
Hank Phillippi Ryan, Gwyn Cready, Andrew Grant, Summer Lane, Eileen Cook and Kelly Parra for being so generous with your time and gracious with your words. I can’t believe I can call such amazingly talented writers and kind people my friends.
My editor Kate Brauning and copy editor Alex Yuschik, who pushed this story far beyond where I thought it could go, who made this book sparkle and shine.
Jeaniene Frost, Sherry Thomas (yes, again!) Ally Carter, Barry Eisler, Felicia Browell, Alyssa Hensel and Christopher Tobias for being amazing sounding boards and career counselors when I needed it most.
And finally, to the bloggers, reviewers, booksellers and readers who gave Unstoppable a chance. I can’t ever truly put into words how grateful and humbled I am by your enthusiasm for this story.
Thank you thank you thank you.
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for reading Unstoppable! I hope you enjoyed it. I’d love to hear from you, so please always feel free to contact me on Twitter at @b_twon13 or my official author Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/bethanyhenselofficial. Interacting with readers is one of my favorite things to do!
Also, if you feel so inclined, you can leave a review of the book on any e-tailer websites. Good or bad, I appreciate them all.
And finally, to get even more information on this book and the rest of the stories in the Truth and Love series (Unforgettable, Irreplaceable and Irreversible), in addition to learning more about my upcoming releases, please check out my official author website bethanyhensel.com. It’s full of teasers, deleted scenes, character bios and more!
Once again, thank you so much for taking the time out to read this book! I can’t say thank you enough. I hope to hear from you.
Much love and happy reading!
Unstoppable: Truth is Unstoppable (Truth and Love Series) Page 21
