I lay on the beach until the sun came up. Then I drove the two hours home. As I neared Wilmington, though, I stopped at a traffic light and noticed a large art and crafts store across the intersection. I didn’t think about it, really. It was more like I found myself pulling into the parking lot and walking through the doors. In a daze, I wandered around, ending up in the section with acrylic paints, easels, and pre-stretched canvases. I stared for a time, unmoving. Then something inside me snapped. I stuffed my hands with everything I could. Then I checked out without making eye contact with the woman behind the counter.
When I got back to my trailer, I set up the easel and the canvas. I laid out all the paints. Then I closed my eyes, picturing Patsy as she looked when I first saw her, before everything else happened. I thought of her the night before, the anger on her face as my brother bored into her soul. The way her hand instinctively moved to protect her unborn child.
I mixed burnt umber with water, swirling the paint with my brush until the wash thinned. I closed my eyes the second the bristles touched the canvas. The lines sprang from my heart. Sketching the contour of her neck, the angle of her cheek. The fire in her eye.
As my brush made that first mark on the white, blank surface, I thought about her life. My life that had passed. I thought about love and protection, fear and crushing truth. I painted and painted, tears running down my cheeks, mixing with the paints on my palette. I couldn’t stop. The pain coursed through me, out my fingertips and onto that canvas in brushstrokes so real and firm that in the end, I swore they must have come from someone else, someone with far more strength than I had.
It took me ten hours to finish the painting. Once I was done, once I had spent the years of anger and pain, I left my trailer and found Patsy. I sat her down and told her everything. For the first time in my life, I set the story free. The truth, as I knew it would, opened her eyes. It buffered her against my brother’s words.
“Is this true?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I said, the word burning my throat.
Patsy searched my face. Then she nodded.
“I’m pregnant, Liam.”
“I know.”
“Is that why you finally told me?”
I thought about all the times we’d spoken in the past. All the times I’d sensed her unspoken questions. I felt small, weak, but I nodded.
Of all things, she smiled. It didn’t come from sadness. Or repression. It was something else altogether. Resolve, maybe. But I don’t know. I will never know. But the sight of it has stuck with me. It will until this is finally over.
“He needs to be stopped,” she said.
“Are you sure?” I asked, trying to hide the hope that surged through my body.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked.
“What?”
“What he does . . . How he does it. I think I lost myself in it. I believed him. The things he did . . . He needs to be stopped.”
“What about the baby?”
She touched her stomach. “That’s why, Liam. It can’t happen again.”
HER PLAN TRULY started that day. Maybe Drew sensed something. I know Patsy felt it. Whatever it was, his attention shifted off of her. It returned to the person whose strings he’d held for decades.
In a way, his plan started that day, too. My brother called me as I knew he would. He asked me to meet him at a large sports bar on the river. Neither of us ever hung out there. In fact, no one I knew did, either. I called Patsy right away and she told me to go and meet him.
When I got there, he was already sitting at a high-top in the corner. The music was loud and the place had a good crowd, but somehow there was space around us. I sat down and he bought me a Rolling Rock. As I sipped it, he watched me. I swore he could see it on my face, that I had finally let our secret out.
He acted nice for a while, talking about work. About how much help I was. I nodded and smiled. I felt good, but I knew what he was doing. I could see the familiar patterns now, how he filled me with pride before breaking me apart. How he broke me down and used me. Regardless, his words just seemed to be heavier than anyone else’s. He was going to test me. And somehow, I already knew the stakes would be life or death.
“I went by Mom’s grave the other day,” he said, slipping that fact into the conversation like it was the next logical step.
I flinched, and he saw me. Drew leaned forward, his face blank but his eyes hungry.
“We wouldn’t have made it if we didn’t stick together.” He took a slow drink and then stared at the alcohol in his glass. “It’s a shame, really. Her disease. I guess it was just too much.”
I said nothing, yet his words cut straight through me. I knew what he was talking about, and he knew I knew. He was reminding me of our past and the sway he held over me. He was, as always, pulling the strings. Playing his game by his rules.
As he looked into my eyes, Drew placed a folded-up piece of paper on the tabletop, slowly sliding it across to me. Hesitating only a second, I picked it up, straightening the sheet. I looked down to see a photocopy of a Delaware driver’s license. Lauren Branch. 3509 Clayton Street, Wilmington, Delaware. Five four. One hundred twenty-two.
“What the hell, Drew?” I asked.
“She’s trying to blackmail me.”
“What?”
“She’s claiming that we had an affair. It’s all bullshit. You know that.”
I nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“She wants me to pay her a hundred grand to stay quiet. Or she’ll blow up the campaign. I don’t have that kind of . . .”
“Fuck that,” I said, but it was an act. I had to play along, no matter how far it went.
His smile grew. “Yeah. Who the hell does she think she is, messing with us.”
“She’s fucking crazy,” I said.
He took a big drink this time. He looked so damn proud of himself.
“Look, can you take care of her?”
I paused, just long enough. I knew that if I agreed too quickly, he would know something was up. At the same time, my options melted away. Patsy knew the truth. That, more than anything, meant there was no turning back. His eyes narrowed and that grin dropped off his face.
“Seriously, bro. You owe me. You want me to . . . ?”
“No,” I interrupted him. “It’s cool. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to grab her. Either late at night or early in the morning. Somewhere no one will see. I’ll meet you back at your trailer. I figure I can leave my car there and no one will notice. You pick me up and we’ll go to the hotel on the river, the fancy one. I have her credit card number already, so I’ll make a reservation. I also have a staff pass that can get us in a side entrance, one without any cameras. I know a guy there in security, too. He’ll kill the ones on the floor once we get there. We’ll have to take care of him afterwards, but that’s no problem. No big deal. Right?”
“Sure,” I say, looking at my drink.
“What’s one more, right?” He laughs. “Anyway. I’ll get some pills. And liquor. We’ll have some fun. Why not, right? Then it’ll look like a suicide. I already have some notes from her that will paint her as crazy, obsessed with me. The story will be huge, you know. Philly media will pick it up. Huge!”
I meant to stay quiet, but the question slipped out. “Won’t that look bad . . . on you?”
“Of course not. I’ll play the victim. I’ll act like I had no idea. The devoted married man. We’ll add a platform to the campaign. Something on mental health. I’ll talk about Mom. It’ll be perfect.”
He added bits and pieces, but I had stopped listening. I had enough, and all I could think about was calling Patsy. Once our meeting ended and I drove back to my house by the water, that’s what I did.
“We can’t hurt her,” she said.
Her response surprised me. She was the first of the three of us to be concerned with Lauren’s well-being. And she, of all people, had a right to feel otherwise.
“Maybe this is our chance,” I said.
Reluctant at first, Patsy finally understood. Once she did, the conversation changed. She took control, devising the steps of her plan.
“Your trailer?” she said. “What if you got one of those surveillance systems? Could you set it up there?”
“Sure,” I said.
“That’s it, then,” she said.
I agreed and she laid out the rest. It involved cameras and the police. Catching Drew just as he was about to hurt Lauren. Recording his orders to kill her. The authorities swooping in before someone got hurt. I could tell she put a lot of thought into it.
“It sounds good,” I said, looking out my window at the black water of the river.
“Do you think it’ll work? Is it too dangerous?”
“It’ll work,” I said.
I realized something in that moment as I stared out at the night. Patsy didn’t know Drew like I did. Just like Lauren didn’t, either. He was too dangerous. The truth was, anything we planned would be too dangerous. Yet every day we walked a tightrope with my brother. Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, I knew one thing for sure. Patsy, Lauren, and I were locked in. There was no turning back. Either we did something, or one of us would end up dead.