Passerby: A Psychological Thriller

by Britney King

  If my memory serves me correctly, they only went out of town twice, once to see a specialist, and the other time for a funeral. They hated to leave Magnolia House just as much as they hated leaving us. It was their baby in the same way that we were, and they saw little point in being anywhere but here. The fact that they left things in Julia’s hands says it all. It wasn’t like they didn’t have family here. It was that they trusted Julia more than anyone.

  When the constable appears on the porch, I am not expecting what happens next. For several long moments, I stare at him through the screen door. I’m expecting him to tell me he’s come to arrest Davis, and I’m contemplating places to hide him, the best way to get him out of town, or out of the country if it comes to that. It feels like a ticking time bomb, my brother’s freedom. Between Bobby Holt and Danny Vera, it seems like he’s bound to be accused of something. Whatever that something is, I just hope it isn’t murder.

  “I’m looking for Ruth Channing,” the officer says, after tipping his hat. His tone tells me he’s all business. His demeanor tells me he’s polite.

  “You’re looking at her.”

  He hands me the manila envelope. He does not tell me I’ve been served. But that’s exactly what has happened.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ruth

  “She’s not even dead,” Cole says. My head is on his chest and I’m naked in his bed, and it’s as though I haven’t made enough mistakes lately, I had to go and make one more. I don’t care. I needed something to break me out of my funk, and it seemed like an orgasm would surely do it. Plus, I needed a little honesty, even if it’s soft, and I’m not sure I believe it. It feels good. Momentarily, at least.

  “I know. But they want us to cover her medical bills. They’re mounting up. I can imagine it’s a lot for them. Nevertheless, I didn’t think they’d sue.”

  “What did you think would happen?”

  “I figured they’d work it out with our insurance company,” I sigh. “I don’t know what I thought. But I really didn’t think they’d make it this personal.”

  “It’s not personal.”

  “Well, it feels that way.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much. She’ll wake up soon, and this will all be a distant memory.”

  I lift my head and search his eyes. “And if she doesn’t?”

  “She will. Julia would never sue your family. She is family.”

  “That means nothing.”

  “True,” he smiles. “I don’t know, Ruth. What do you want me to say?”

  “I could lose everything.”

  “You will never lose everything.”

  “Davis suggested we sell.”

  Cole’s brow rises.

  “I know. And he’s the one who’s always on my side. He’s the one who keeps Johnny at bay.”

  “I haven’t heard Johnny mention selling—not in a while.”

  “He has. Here and there. He gets tired of hearing me complain.” I lay my head on his chest once again, this time scooting in closer. “He doesn’t understand. It comes with the territory. I mean… He complains about the fire department all the time. But dare anyone suggest he quit?”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know.” Cole pulls the sheet up and tucks it around me. “Strange things have been happening. Things I can’t explain.”

  “Like?”

  “Weird noises. And I get the feeling that someone’s watching me. A lot.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “It’s her fault,” I say. “This is all her fault.” I recant the conversation between me and Ashley the other day in the parlor. Cole is riveted through it all. I know because I make sure to watch his face as I tell the story. “See?” I say when I’m done. “She’s crazy.”

  “She’s young.”

  “Young and crazy. Not a good combo.”

  I watch as he lifts the covers and climbs out of bed. “It’ll all shake out, one way or another.”

  “That’s not very comforting.”

  “What would make you feel better?”

  “Get back in bed. I’ll show you.”

  Cole gives me a wide-eyed look. “I’m going to need a minute.”

  “Fine.” I shrug. “Then tell me the truth. What do you really think?”

  “All right.” He looks around the room and then runs his fingers through his hair. “The truth.”

  I wait for what feels like a very long time until finally he looks back at me. “You know, Ruth, people that fuck with other people’s hearts tend to get what’s coming to them.”

  I don’t know if he’s referring to Ashley Parker or to me or perhaps even to himself. I don’t even know if I agree. I only know I don’t want to argue. Sex this good isn’t easy to come by. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To the kitchen,” he says, pulling on his boxers. “Want anything?”

  “No, I can’t stay.”

  He turns and looks over his shoulder, brows raised toward the ceiling. “When have you ever?”

  “I have,” I say, and I try to recall a time, but I can’t. Running a bed and breakfast doesn’t really afford me the kind of lifestyle of not being around to see that said breakfast is prepared.

  “You’re welcome to stay. You know that. But I’m not going to beg.”

  He makes me smile. He had no problem with it just a few minutes ago. “Please?”

  Cole picks up my T-shirt and throws it at me. “Never.”

  “A lot can happen between now and never.”

  We don’t talk about what happened before. I can’t call it a fight, because it wasn’t that. It never is. We just walk out of each other’s lives until one of us gets needy or desperate or both and somehow finds our way back in. And then it’s like nothing happened, though of course it did. You can bury quite a lot with good sex and decent conversation.

  “You coming? I bought ice cream yesterday. Rocky Road.”

  I roll my eyes behind his back. Rocky Road is my favorite, and he knows this, which means his purchase was either wishful thinking or deep knowing and both scare me a little.

  I don’t bother putting my T-shirt or anything else on when I follow him to the kitchen. I need him to want me to come back. And part of me somewhere deep down wants him to ask me again to stay. That part of me, the weak part, it wants him to keep asking until I do.

  As he pulls two bowls from the open cupboard, I glance around the kitchen. Two wine glasses sit next to the sink. I do not miss the lipstick stain on one of them. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn makeup. He sets the bowls down and walks over to the freezer.

  I hop up on his counter. “I feel like I need to make my move.”

  He fills a glass with water and hands it to me. “Your move? What’s your move?”

  I’m talking about the situation with the lawsuit, mostly. But I’m talking about a lot of things. “I don’t know. I’m still deciding.”

  “Just be careful what hill you pick to defend. You may die doing it.”

  I’m afraid he’s more accurate than he realizes.

  “Instead of ice cream, can I have a drink?”

  He pulls open his liquor cabinet and motions. “Pick your poison.”

  “Tequila.”

  I watch as he fills a tumbler. “You aren’t drinking with me tonight?”

  He shrugs. “Might as well.”

  Cole puts on an old record and we sit on his porch drinking and talking for a long time. I want to ask about the wine glass, but I don’t. It’s peaceful out here, and I’d like to keep it that way.

  “She’s like the Trojan horse, Ashley is. But I think maybe there are bigger fish to fry. At least for the time being. I’m not going to just sit here and let them take my house. What’s next after that? Where does it stop? Where does it end?”

  “Who, the court?” Cole cocks his head. “Julia’s family?”

  “Anyone.”

  “They can’t make you sell your house, Ruth. But they can make things pretty rou
gh for you.”

  “What should I do?”

  He finishes off his glass, places it on the arm of his chair, and looks over at me. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  I watch him pick up the bottle and refill his glass. He starts to fill mine too, but I wave him away. “I have to get going soon.”

  “You asked me what you should do.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want to know what I really think?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  “I think you should marry me.”

  I laugh, and then he laughs, even though nothing is really funny. We don’t look at each other or speak much after that. And that’s my signal that it’s time to leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ruth

  There are eight miles from Cole’s cabin to Magnolia House. For six of them I am followed. It’s either a pickup truck or an SUV tailing me, I’m not sure which. I call Cole first, considering he’s the closest.

  There aren’t many vehicles on the road this time of night, especially not way out here. So when the driver comes on my tail fast and doesn’t pass, I know something isn’t right. He flips on his brights and rides my bumper. Ordinarily, I’d move to the side and let him pass, but on a two-lane country road in the middle of nowhere at this hour, he has options. He can go around.

  Only he doesn’t go around. He pulls up close and taps my fender with the front of his truck. It’s a dangerous maneuver, especially at this speed, and I am certain I am going to die. I reach into my purse and fish for my pistol, only to find it isn’t there. I keep a spare in the glove box, but I can’t reach it from the driver’s seat without leaning way over.

  “Drive to the police station,” Cole says through the speaker. “He won’t follow you there.”

  “Okay.” I am just hoping I don’t die before then. “How far away are you?”

  “Not far, I don’t think.”

  “Cole?” I scream. “He’s bumping me. I’m going to lose control, or he’s going to run me off the road.”

  “Stay calm. I’m not far.” He speaks slowly, drawing his words out. I realize how much he had to drink, and I instantly regret calling. “Can you give a description of the vehicle?”

  “It’s dark. I can’t see anything. Not with his bright lights in my eyes.”

  “It’s the Holts,” he says, although it feels like he’s speaking more to himself than to me. “I’d put good money on it. They’ve gone awfully quiet since Bobby died. And for them, that’s never a good sign.”

  “Please hurry.”

  “I’m coming up behind you now.”

  Seeing another set of headlights allows me a sigh of relief, but just a small one. That’s when I hear it. Loud popping sounds. I hear the engine behind me rev and then there are headlights coming around me and up beside me. A vehicle passes doing at least a hundred and when I look in my rearview mirror, there’s only darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ruth

  I’ll give anything. I’ll do anything. Just let him be alive. Without even thinking, I slam on the brakes quickly, bringing my car to a full stop. I throw it into park, push the door open, and take off in a full sprint toward Cole’s truck. A nearly full moon lights the sky, but still it’s dark and I can hardly see where I’m running to. But I am not thinking. At least not rationally. I am running, and I have only one goal. That’s getting to him and making sure he’s alive.

  His truck is partially in a ditch, which makes it hard to see from the road, unless you’re looking. His tail lights are lit, which helps. I use the flashlight on my phone to guide me down the embankment.

  I pray the short way down. Let him be okay.

  When I reach the truck, I try to open the driver’s door. It won’t budge, so I try to go in through the passenger side and I realize they’re both locked. I search the ground and then the bed of his truck, looking for something to break a window. I can see Cole inside, slumped over the steering wheel. I beat on the window with my fists.

  The heavy scent of gasoline fills the air.

  I work up the courage to break the glass with my hand. Pulling off my T-shirt, I wrap it around my arm as many times as I can manage. Briefly, I consider running back to my car, but I worry that the truck will go up in flames in the meantime. He would burn alive, and I would never forgive myself.

  Thankfully, I don’t have to make that choice because I hear sirens in the distance, and within seconds state troopers are on the scene.

  I watch helplessly as they break the glass and pull Cole from the truck. They lay him out on the pavement.

  An officer pulls me back and peppers me with questions, and I am so sick of this. I only want to make sure Cole is okay, and maybe that makes me combative and uncooperative. But I’m sick of ambulances and hospitals and seeing people I care about require medical attention.

  Eventually, Cole regains consciousness. I answer their questions and calm down enough that they allow me to ride with him in the ambulance. He doesn’t remember anything prior to the crash. He can’t recall why he was on the road, or what he was doing, or even whether he was following a truck. He doesn’t remember me calling.

  I tell the officer about being followed. About being rammed from behind. I explain I know it was a Ford by the emblem on the grill. I know it was a dark truck with a crew cab, and that I suspect it being one of the Holts’, but I do not know what they drive because I’ve never paid much attention.

  They ask me to do a sobriety test.

  They tell me Cole failed his. His blood alcohol level is two-and-a-half times the legal limit. He has a concussion and cervical sprains.

  And I may have just ruined his life.

  Chapter Thirty

  Passerby

  Some people. They just don’t know when enough is enough. It’s the greatest travesty, really. When a good person sticks their nose where it doesn’t belong. When they don’t know when to leave well enough alone.

  It happens. I get it. We’ve all been there.

  I may or may not be there now.

  It’s just… In that case, you have to do something about it.

  I should have killed him. Even if that wasn’t really my intention, I should have. There’s no room in this world for being soft. When something gets in your way, when it stands between you and what you want, well, only one person can win. We’re not all winners, and there’s no trophy for participation, no matter what people want you to believe. You either win or you don’t, and that is that.

  For me, there’s still time to settle the score. Even though I’ve gone about it the hard way.

  I don’t often make mistakes but when I do…well…

  It’s always the things you leave undone that come back to bite you in the ass.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ruth

  I am not expecting to find both of my brothers and Ashley in the kitchen when I get home from the hospital. I come in the back door hoping to avoid guests, but also my family, only to find them seated at the table.

  Despite doing my best to act nonchalant about the fact that all eyes are on me, my hands shake. The way they’re looking at me, it isn’t good. They know what I’ve done. They sense my guilt. The pity written on their faces tells me they’re not all up at this hour out of coincidence. They’re waiting on me.

  I know instantly, something is wrong.

  “How’s Cole?” Johnny asks.

  “He’s okay,” I say, dropping my purse onto the table. “Not great. But he’s home at least.”

  I walk over to the coffee pot, pull a mug from the cabinet, and pour a cup. “Those state troopers…” My eyes meet Johnny’s. “They’re relentless. They were going to send a man with a head injury to the slammer.”

  Everyone looks at me, but I’m not sure if it’s out of surprise or concern. I press my lips to the cup and feel thankful for its warmth. The rest of the kitchen is filled with icy stares. “Had to get some strings pulled,” I add. “Than
k God for favors.”

  “I’m just glad he’s alive,” Johnny says.

  Resting the small of my back against the counter, I shift in his direction. “I’m surprised you weren’t there.”

  “I was on call. I couldn’t leave the station. Not till about a half-hour ago. And by that point, I heard he was headed home.”

  “I see.” I glance from Johnny to Davis and back. “I take it y’all aren’t gathered here for chit-chat. So, what is it?”

  Johnny shifts in his chair. “Julia passed away last night.”

  His words hit me like a sucker punch. I expected something, but it wasn’t that. I try to form a response, only nothing worth saying comes to mind. I grip the coffee mug so tight I’m afraid it might break into a million tiny pieces. Bile rises in my throat. I think I might be sick.

  “Ashley went to see her last night, at least.”

  “Why would she do that?” I say, just before I turn and look at her directly. “Why would you do that?”

  “Ruth,” Davis warns. “Don’t start—”

  “What?” I scoff. “I can’t ask the question? Mike advised us to stay away. On account of the lawsuit. Her going there was out of line. She didn’t even know Julia!”

  “I knew her,” Ashley says. “Not as well as you guys but—”

  “Shut up. I don’t care.” There’s more I want to say. A lot more. Only I’m too enraged, and suddenly I feel very, very tired. The lack of sleep combined with everything that’s happened just hits me like a freight train. I should have been there. I should have gone to see her. But when our family attorney advised against it, when he said that doing so could only make things worse, that I could lose everything, I listened. Now, I realize what a mistake that was. A mistake that can’t be undone.