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Beth didn’t know how long she stood motionless on the deck, but eventually she looked over the balustrade. If she’d dived in headfirst, she would have been fine. The water was pretty deep the other side. Driftwood churned. She waited for him to surface, but he didn’t. It looked like the trauma of their struggle had brought on a heart attack. The river was flowing fast. Strong undercurrents had probably already dragged him away. Behind her, the lodge boomed. Smoke skimmed over her and out across the river where the cloudless blue sky was reflected. It was still only early morning.
Her adrenaline started to ebb. A few seconds later, Beth’s pain and exhaustion followed her out of the back door. Her body started to buzz and harmonise with the high-pitched whistle in her ears. She put one hand on the balustrade to support herself and the other gently on her stomach as her whole frame started to quake.
Two armed officers found her in the same position and quickly guided her around the side of the burning property and up the steps to safety. A fire engine was on the scene, parked at the edge of the bank, water already jetting from it onto the smoking roof of the lodge.
Mrs O’Doole was waiting at the top, talking to a female police officer, a blue blanket draped about her. Beth realised she was now wearing one, too.
The lines in Mrs O’Doole’s features momentarily evaporated. She shrugged off the blanket and walked to meet her. She seemed to consider an embrace but instead put her fingers lightly on the side of her arm and tugged in a faltering breath. Her brown eyes steadily held Beth’s.
“The boys?” Beth couldn’t see any sign of them.
“They’ve been taken to the hospital. They want to check them for smoke inhalation. I said I wanted to hang back here.”
Suddenly, the blanket felt heavy around Beth’s shoulders. “Kevin’s OK?”
Mrs O’Doole nodded. “Tyler tried to come back for you. The heat was too intense. What happened to the... Is he...?”
Beth coughed and nodded. She spat onto the floor and threw up. When she stood, two medics had joined them. The medics told the officers they wanted to examine Beth before they interviewed her.
“Ma’am, are you OK to walk to the ambulance?”
Beth nodded, and they led her and Mrs O’Doole over to the vehicle. The back doors were open, and they were both taken inside, told to sit on the gurneys. Neither of them spoke. Then the medic treated Beth, and she answered his questions while he dressed her ear.
The two women looked out of the open back doors, their shared ordeal making the frantic activities of the emergency services seem insignificant. Beth’s seared ear prickled as the medic moisturised it. She looked at his sandy moustache but focused on the sound of the trees rustling overhead.
Minutes passed before Beth eventually asked, “When Tyler said he didn’t have much time...” But she already knew why he’d been wearing the bandana. Mrs O’Doole didn’t answer. Eventually, Beth turned to gauge her expression.
She was still looking out of the doors, her expression composed. “He has grade three chondrosarcoma, cartilage cancer.”
Beth’s pain momentarily halted. The medic stepped between them again, but when he shifted, Mrs O’Doole’s expression hadn’t altered. Beth could see just how exhausted she was.
“Doesn’t make him any less a monumental pain in the ass, though.” Her eyes glistened. “Trying not to treat them differently is the hardest thing. Trying to remind them they’re special and ordinary at the same time... and giving them the life they should have, however long it is.”
*
Four days of questioning followed. On the second day, Agent Scott Morales, a softly spoken FBI suit whose sideburns had been painstakingly shaved to razor points, commandeered the cross-examination.
The connection between the gunman’s victims was incontrovertible, but it was obvious from the direction of inquiry that the motive for the murders was as unclear to them as it was to her. She couldn’t offer them any theory as to what the clips contained that warranted the immediate removal of them and their owners. She’d given them the few remaining online remnants of her communication with the gunman and explained how he’d threatened Jody’s life and why she’d been afraid of involving the police. Morales said they’d run a background check on her and asked her about the accident and Luc’s business dealings. She waited, drank endless cups of coffee and wondered what they’d find.
They’d hinted Beth would have to remain in the States pending further investigation, but by Wednesday, they’d given her the all-clear to fly back to the UK. She agreed to return if they needed her further. Beth booked a ticket before they could change their minds.
*
“I’m parking out front.” Marcia O’Doole put her cell on the dash.
It was early evening when she pulled her car into the front lot of the Overton Motel. It was just off Stillwater and not far from home, but nobody wanted to go back there. The FBI had said they’d be in touch.
The boys were staying in the motel with her mom and dad. They’d driven up from Spokane. She thanked God for them. Her sister was gone, and she knew the reality of that hadn’t even begun to sink in for any of them.
The doors at the front of the motel slid open, and they all came out to meet her. Tyler, Kevin, Mom and Dad. Ted was there too. He stood behind the boys, a hand on each one’s shoulder, and she could see how pleased they were to have him there. He would use that as cover, she knew. They were all smiling a little awkwardly, happy to be welcoming her back safe but not knowing what her frame of mind would be.
She’d vowed never to let Ted back into their lives, but now wasn’t the time. She climbed down from the car, and while she got her bags out of the trunk, they crossed the lot to meet her.
She hugged the boys and her mom and dad. Ted didn’t wait for her permission. He squeezed the air out of her, and she briefly inhaled the smell of him from the collar of his sweatshirt. The tears started to well, but she held them back. He released her and took her bag. Dad took the other.
