by Anna Paige
Talia picked up and greeted me with her singsong voice but once she heard mine, she was instantly concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’s happened?” Instant mama-bear, just add drama.
“I’m fine. But Brant isn’t where he said he would be and I can’t get him to answer his phone. I don’t know why, but that has me really worried.”
“Where are you now and when did you last talk to him?” There was an echo that told me she’d put me on speaker. It was only fair, since I was using handsfree to talk to her.
“I’m at his cabin. I was supposed to meet him here to leave for Jennie and Will’s. He’s not here. The place is locked up tight and he’s not answering his cell.” I thought back a minute. “The last I talked to him was this morning when I was leaving for the diner. He called to check in and make sure I remembered the gifts we picked up in Charlottesville and remind me to be here at noon so we would get there before dark.”
Spencer’s voice sounded far away. “His cell is ringing before going to voicemail, right? It’s not going directly to it.”
“Yeah. It rings four times first.”
“Okay, so it’s turned on. Give me a sec.”
“Wait, are you tracking his phone?”
“Yes. All of our phones are on the business account and can be tracked by an admin on the account at any time.”
I knew Spencer was the one I needed to call. But I didn’t have his number in my phone, so calling Talia was the best alternative I had. She came back on the line. “Give him a minute to work his magic. He lives for this kind of thing. He’ll find Brant. And don’t worry. He’s probably inside one of the stores getting a last minute gift and left the phone in his truck.”
“I hope you’re right, Talia. I just wish I didn’t have such a bad feeling right now.”
Talia and Spencer were in Asheville with her family, and I suddenly wished they were back at their cabin here in Denson so I didn’t feel so damn alone.
“Aha.” Spencer muttered. “Got a lock on his phone.”
“Where is he?” Talia and I both asked at once.
There was a moment of silence followed by Spencer’s perplexed voice. “It looks like he’s at the cemetery where Teach was buried.”
Eighteen
My stomach felt like it hit the floor and the rush of fear that hit my spine sent a chill down both arms, making my fingers tingle as they gripped the steering wheel. I put the car in drive and took off down the driveway, headed that way.
“I don’t understand what he’s doing there. I was just there myself. I didn’t see anyone and I would have noticed if I passed him on the road.” I watched as the tiny flakes of snow—falling more heavily now—cascaded over the windshield as if there was an invisible force field keeping it from making contact as I picked up speed. It was a neat optical illusion that I’d always joked about with Teach.
“You just left there? As in immediately before you went to his cabin?” Spencer asked.
I nodded distractedly, forgetting that he couldn’t see me.
“Lauren?” Talia prodded gently.
“Sorry. Yeah, I was at the cemetery for around twenty minutes, left there, and came straight to the cabin.”
“How long were you waiting for Brant before you called Talia?” Spencer’s voice was even, but I got the feeling that he was formulating an idea that I wasn’t going to like.
“About fifteen minutes, maybe a less. Probably less because panic makes time stand still. Why? You don’t think he’s just there paying his respects, do you?” My stomach knotted as my anxiety skyrocketed.
“You would have noticed Brant’s truck following you but was anyone else behind you when you drove out there to visit your uncle? Any cars at all that you remember?”
I considered a moment. “Maybe. I think another car may have driven past when I parked at the cemetery but it didn’t slow down and I wasn’t paying enough attention to it to remember what it looked like.”
“And once you made it to Teach’s plot, you wouldn’t have been able to see the road, right?”
He’d attended the burial, so he knew the answer, which meant he was trying to guide me toward his theory. “You think someone followed me out there without me knowing?”
“I think it may be possible. I talked to Brant yesterday and he told me you two were leaving today. He also mentioned having to pick up your gift before you two left town. That would mean he was just a couple blocks from the diner around the time you were leaving for the cemetery—an excursion I’m sure you hadn’t mentioned to him, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, he apparently knew me well enough to guess. “So, if he sees you headed in the opposite direction of the cabin, of course he’s going to wonder where you’re going.”
“You think Brant followed me?” I frowned through the windshield. “That’s not something I think he’d do.”
“Me either. Unless he thought someone else was already following you.”
“Shit.” Talia whispered and I could practically see her hand flying to her mouth, just as mine would have been if I weren’t squeezing the hell out of the steering wheel.
“I need to call Clay,” Spencer muttered. “He needs to know what’s going on, just in case.”
I shook my head, not buying their theory. “Why wouldn’t he have called me if he thought Isaac was after me again?”
The line was silent for so long that I glanced down at the display to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped.
“Spencer? Talia?”
“We’re here,” Talia muttered quietly. “You don’t think…” This was definitely to Spencer, barely audible and frightened.
“Think what? Someone talk to me! Why do you think he didn’t call me? Why would he let me leave that cemetery without saying anything, without letting me know what was happening?” I was getting pissed. And more terrified by the minute.
Spencer’s voice was low and steady, telling me he firmly believed what he was saying. “So you wouldn’t stop him from killing Isaac.”
•••
The place looked just as deserted the second time around, with the addition of a light dusting of snow adding to the vacant feeling. I’d listened to Spencer and Talia for what seemed like hours, warning against going back, begging me to call the police, telling me that I had no idea what I was walking into. None of it dissuaded me in the slightest from my course. In the end, Spencer announced that he would give me exactly fifteen minutes from the time I ended the call. If I hadn’t called back in that time, he was calling the police himself.
What could I do? Argue? I couldn’t stop him from calling any more than he could stop me from going back. Distance was a real bitch sometimes. We could only trust each other to do what was right. And I trusted him to keep his word, something that would have been unheard of just a few months ago.
I stepped from my car and hit the fob a single time, locking the doors against anyone looking to sneak in but not setting the alarm to avoid the telltale beep that would announce my arrival. Walking carefully along the closely cut winter rye grass, I scanned the open area and spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Lots of silent stones, a smattering of silk flowers and a few real bouquets that were wilted by the cold. A wreath or two that made me take second looks as I hugged the wood line and followed it around the sharp bend that led to Teach’s grave. I was careful to check behind me every few yards, and I peered into the dense trees often, looking for any signs of movement.
All was still.
Deathly still and quiet.
Passing Teach’s grave with a glance at the undisturbed dusting of snow on his headstone, I moved toward the back of the cemetery, rounding the last bend and stopping dead in my tracks at what I saw there.
Isaac stood no more than twenty yards off to my left, in the furthest corner near the tree line, only a few feet from an open grave. He was bleeding freely from his mouth, a trail of blood dripped from his right ear down onto the collar of his surprisingly clean button down shirt. It
fit him loosely enough to let me know it was most likely stolen. As were the rest of his clothes, I was sure.
He glanced my way and the blood in my veins ran cold. His eyes on me felt like an invasion, an unwanted caress like so many before it. I felt ill.
Turning my attention from his leering face, my eyes fell on Brant, who was standing a few yards away.
My breath whooshed out of my body at the sight of him there, bleeding himself and back ramrod straight, pointing a shotgun at Isaac’s chest. My feet began to move on their own, Brant drawing me to his side like a magnet, but I faltered and froze in place when his cold, distant voice called out to me.
“Stay right there, Lauren. Don’t come any closer.”
I glanced at Isaac again, his tongue darting out to lap at the blood on his lips. I actually felt the bile rising in my throat. “I need to see that you’re okay. Please.” I took a careful step forward, but he shook his head, eyes still locked on Isaac.
“No. You need to turn around and go back home. I don’t want you seeing this.”
“You can’t kill him.” I pleaded. “He’s not worth it. Let the police take care of him.”
Brant laughed sarcastically. “Like they did last time? They let him out after what he did to you and look, look how that turned out.”
Isaac smacked his lips wetly, and I could feel his eyes on me. “You filled out real nice there, sugar. Best tits I’ve touched in a long time.”
I glared at him defiantly, working hard not to let him see how hard I was shaking. “How you liking those new scars, fuckface? They’re bound to be an improvement.”
“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” He snarled, blood misting off the corner of his mouth as he spoke.
Brant growled low in his chest, leveling the gun at him, pointing at his head now. He spoke to me as his jaw clenched. “Get out, Lauren. Now. There’s only one way to be sure he never bothers you again. And I intend to see that it’s done. I planned to make him dig his own grave like he made you dig that hole for your dog, but then I figured since there was one already dug, there was no reason to waste time.”
“So, let’s say you shoot him. Okay, then what?” I threw up my hands. “You go to prison and what happens to me while you’re rotting away for twenty years over killing this piece of shit? How is making me live without you helping me? He’s nothing. I shredded his ugly face once and, if he ever gets out of prison, I’ll be glad to do it again. He doesn’t scare me, Brant. Not anymore. The only thing that scares me is the thought of losing you. Please…” I took a few steps in his direction and he didn’t stop me. “Don’t choose revenge over our future.”
“I heard you talking to Teach.” He said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“You did?”
He nodded, glaring at Isaac. “I let him climb out of his car and start through the woods before I got the drop on him.” He tapped the barrel of the gun with the hand steadying his aim. “Took this from him and held it across his throat until I knew you were gone. I could almost see you through the trees, but not quite. I could hear you talking though.”
“And?”
“You really want to grow old with me?” His eyes dropped momentarily to the ground, like a he was warring with himself, wanting revenge but also picturing the future I’d spoken of. He went back to watching Isaac a moment later, fully composed.
“Of course I do. I love you, Weirdo.” I reached out to lay my hand gently on his shoulder.
His voice was low and husky when he said, ‘Your heart is more than enough. Now and forever.”
“Now and forever.”
He was still watching Isaac, who was feigning like he was wiping away a tear, muttering how sweet we were and how we should star in a made-for-TV movie. The distant sounds of approaching sirens fell on my ears and I sighed in relief. Spencer hadn’t waited the full fifteen minutes, and I was immeasurably grateful for that. It was almost over.
The sirens were getting close, so I looked to Brant and told him I’d step around the corner and show them the way. He nodded, the only assurance I needed that he was going to let them handle it.
I was only a few yards away when I heard Isaac call out, talking to Brant.
“So, tell me, the pussy still any good after what I did to it? I swear man, last time I fucked her I damn near ripped her shit in two. Fucking blood everywhere. It’s a good lubricant though, so I kept right on pounding her.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins and I spun around just as the deafening sound of a shotgun blast rang out across the valley.
The sound echoed into infinity as everything switched into slow-motion and I watched Isaac’s bloodied body fall back into the open grave.
•••
Brant
The flashing blue lights were making my head throb. People were moving all around me but I just stood there, numb, silent, and completely unremorseful. I only wished I could have shot him twice before he fell in that fucking hole.
The cops had ushered us both to the waiting paramedics to be assessed, Lauren was fine, of course. And now she always would be. A fresh-faced medic with blindingly white teeth dabbed antiseptic on my split lip and checked my various scrapes, all incurred during my initial skirmish with Isaac, during which he managed to get in a couple of good punches. I was pronounced stable—at least physically—and asked to move aside, presumably so the team could recover Isaac’s sorry carcass.
I would have left him for the buzzards, but it wasn’t my call.
Lauren stood at my side, not talking, not touching me. Just quietly watching the flurry of activity around us.
Eventually, a cop with a clipboard came over and nodded for the two of us to step over to the front of his cruiser. “So, who wants to go first?”
Before I could open my mouth, Lauren spoke up. “I will.”
He nodded for her to continue, only asking her to clarify the spelling of her last name before letting her get started. Another cop stepped over just as she began and nodded to her in a friendly manner. I thought I recognized him from the diner.
“I came out here to visit my uncle’s grave. Brant was following me, as was Isaac, apparently.” She motioned to me. “I didn’t want to come out here alone, so we agreed to meet here. I guess Isaac was sneaking up behind me when Brant caught up with him.”
I was careful not to let the surprise show on my face.
What the hell was she doing?
“As you can see from Brant’s injuries, they fought.” She motioned to my bruised face. “Brant managed to get his gun from him and I was just about to call you guys when I heard the sirens.”
He nodded. “We got a call from a passerby, saying they thought they saw two people fighting out here.”
Lauren didn’t seem surprised. “I had just started back toward the road to flag you down when Isaac lunged for me. Brant had no choice. He shot him to keep him from finishing what he started.”
The familiar cop looked at his buddy. “She’s the one who was nearly kidnapped at the gas station across town.”
The first cop quirked a brow. “I remember that.” He nodded to me, his expression softening. “You did a number on him, from what I heard. Good job, miss.”
He turned his attention to me. “That about the gist of it, sir?”
I blinked stupidly for a moment, awkward me making an appearance. I nodded, swallowing thickly. “I had to protect her.”
“Well, you sure succeeded. Ruined his whole damn day, you can bet that.”
I frowned, confused at his flippant tone. “Yeah, getting killed will do that, I guess.”
Both officers looked at me for a minute, and then the friendly cop called out to another uniformed guy standing near the ambulance, the shotgun in his gloved hand. “Charlie! Come here a minute.”
Officer Charlie waltzed over like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he wasn’t holding the still-warm weapon I’d just used to kill a man. I knew cops could get desensitized—had to in order to deal with
the shit they saw on the job—but fuck. This was cold, even to an unrepentant murderer like me.
Friendly cop pulled on a glove and held out his hand. Charlie handed him the gun, along with the spent shells that were in a small baggie taped to the stock. He pointed the barrel at the ground and motioned Lauren and I closer, pointing at the baggie. “You see those?” He thumbed the shells through the plastic.
“Yeah?” I looked at Lauren who was as perplexed as I was. “So?”
“Target load. Bird shot. Lots of small pellets that didn’t get much deeper than half an inch into his skin. He’ll live. He’ll never be pretty, not that he was in much danger of that to begin with, but he won’t die.” He shook his head, running his hand over the barrel. “Old man Hargrave reported this thing stolen out of his hunting truck yesterday. He was out gunning for squirrels.” The cop made a face. “Puts the damn things in everything. Remember that if he ever offers you stew. If he insists, take it and toss it in the nearest dumpster. He’s a nice enough old man but he can’t cook for shit. Damn pellets floating all in that stuff.”
Lauren chuckled softly. “He was in the diner a while back offering tips on our Brunswick stew. I just gave him the standard smile and nod. He gave up eventually.”
“Just wait a goddamn minute, will you?” I held up my hand to silence them both while the other two cops smirked at my outburst. “Can we discuss soup later? Right now I’d like to hear more about how I didn’t just kill someone.”
“Stew.” Lauren muttered, averting her eyes when I turned to glare at her. Was she actually smiling?
Friendly cop laughed. “Nope. Not dead. Pissed off and looking a bit like Swiss cheese, but not on his way to hell just yet.” He leveled his gaze on me. “Why? You wishing it’d been buck shot?”
“Wouldn’t you be after all he’s done to her?”
Nods all around but not one verbal confirmation. They could sympathize with the situation but none of them would ever admit to agreeing with that.
