I pull around to the back end of the apartment complex and park the Mazda beside the entrance to the access road. Coming back to this place is like stepping into my own grave. One I have spent months digging. It turns my stomach. But it’s time.
With a quick look around, I get out of the car and unhook the chain that spans the trail. When I get back into the car, Lauren doesn’t move. She hasn’t since I laid into her. She just stares out the window again.
I don’t bother putting the chain up. We won’t be here long. At the top of the rise, I crack my window. I let the sound of the birds fill the car, countering her discomfort. It calms me, a little. By the time we reach the cabin, I’m refocused. I will do what I have to do. It will hurt. But I can’t care about that. Not anymore.
When I park the car, she inches away from me, leaning on her closed door. I get out and head to her side. Before I reach the door, though, my phone rings. The call is from Drew’s burner.
“You stay here,” I say, though I’m not sure she can hear me through the closed window. Then I answer the phone. “Hello.”
“We found your truck,” Drew says, his voice flat and hard.
The adrenaline forces me to move. With my eyes on Lauren, I back toward the water’s edge. I can hear the soft lapping of the current against the bank. It calls to me like a forbidden whisper.
“I thought you would,” I say.
“You really think that lady, that shrink, is going to help you? You’re such a child, Liam.”
“Did you call your buddies at the station? Did you tell them it was me?”
He laughs. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to be at a meeting at Buena Vista in fifteen minutes. Then I have dinner with Frank. I’m going to give you one chance. Get her to the trailer, now. Forget the hotel. And the rest of the plan. Just finish it. Do what you have to do. And get rid of her. Understand?”
I don’t say anything. When I look back at the car, I see Lauren. She stares at me through the window. He’s changing the plan. No more hotel. No more of his “fun.” This means something. He never changes. He never gives up even a hint of control.
“Liam,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?” I snap, my voice rising.
“Say what I’ll have to do if you screw me. One word and you’re spending the rest of your life in prison. Does that sound good?”
I reach the lake. The sun shines off the water, white ripples rolling along the surface. I wish I could just walk out into it, let it carry me to the bottom. I wish the water would fill my lungs until I settle forever in the silt.
“Do it!” I snap back.
The line is silent. I grip my phone so tightly that I might shatter the glass and plastic. The birds continue to sing over my head, but they sound wrong now, harsh and grating. God, I hate him so much.
“Dad was right about you,” he says finally. “No matter what, though, I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t toughen you up. I tried. I really did.”
“Why, Drew?”
“Because you were always crying about Mom. And you embarrassed him. You were always doing stupid stuff. Like that day when Mom was in the hospital and you beat that dude up. The one who was just trying to help you. Just dumb.”
“Do you hate me?” I ask.
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” I say. “Just say it outright. Just say it.”
“You’re so dramatic,” he says.
“Why, Drew? Why do you hate me? Because I tripped you when you were ten? Is that it?”
Drew can’t stop laughing. “You are such a baby, Liam. Dad was right. He came into my room that night you kicked the shit out of his model. He told me that you were my responsibility. That I had to do something about you. Or it would go bad for me.”
“I don’t care, Drew.”
“You do,” he says. “You always care. You cry and whine and crawl through life like some slug. You’re pathetic. You always have been.” His laughter cuts more than any words he might throw at me. “I know you’re trying to screw me over. If you were even a little bit smarter, I might be worried about that. But I’m not. You know why? Because you’ll mess it up. You always do.”
As always, he does enough. His taunts set me afire. My vision tunnels and a feral sound rises up my throat. It turns into a scream as my arm cocks back and whips forward. The phone leaves my fingers, sailing through the air, over the water. I swear I can hear his laughter before it plunges through the sunlight and sinks to darkness.