“Good afternoon,” he calls pleasantly. A small smile spreads his lips revealing white teeth. He removes his baseball cap and runs his fingers through glossy black hair.
I force myself to move forward, one small step at a time. “Can I help you?” My voice shakes and I try to steady my breathing.
The passenger side door opens and another man emerges. He’s taller than the other, broader, and unfamiliar. I can’t remember if he was there at the Amoses or not. He tips his head at me in greeting and I nod back. The two men exchange a glance and the taller one nods his head once, almost imperceptibly. My eyes dart back and forth between them, not daring to look up at the house. I’m playing through it in my head, imagining how long it would take Kameron to get out of the barn, sneak around the back of the house, get to Flynn, get him out of the house, and far enough into the field.
I think I need to distract them longer, hold their attention just a little while more.
“I’m Detective Jacoby, ma’am, and this is Detective Morris,” the bastard says, gesturing toward the bigger guy.
I nod again, not giving my own name. “Is there something I can help you with?” I offer with a tight smile.
He regards me thoughtfully before closing the door and resting his hand on the roof. There’s another silent exchange and Morris dips his head into the car for a moment, coming out with a gun that he holsters at his side. My blood runs cold and I can’t swallow the fear that’s lodged itself midway down my throat. I feel like I can’t breathe. I glance at Jacoby’s belt, and sure enough, he’s wearing a gun as well. Probably the same one he used on Flynn.
Oh, God. Shit.
I take an involuntary step back. My brain refuses to work. Both men step away from the car and come around to stand, one on each side of me.
“There might be something you can help us with. Are you Briar Gallo?” Jacoby asks. My heart stops beating as a cold dread washes over me. I wasn’t expecting him to know my name. His eyes are locked on my face and I know there’s no point in lying. Somehow, he knows who I am.
“Why?” I ask. I take another step back, trying to put some distance between us, but they follow my movement, closing the gap. And though I’m not claustrophobic, I suddenly feel like they’re boxing me in, taking my space, and trapping me.
“We just have a couple questions,” Jacoby answers in a mild tone. I bet he used this same routine with the Amoses right before he murdered them. “Are you Briar?” he repeats. I nod hesitantly. He looks intently at me again, his eyes narrowing. “Your cell phone was found in the vicinity of a crime scene.”
My mind is racing. I feel sweat beading across my forehead as I try to think quickly. Do I play dumb or just admit I was there? I have a horrible feeling I’m dead no matter what my answer is. “My phone?” I say quietly, hoping to stall as much as possible.
He’s close enough now that I can smell the stench of smoke that clings to his clothing. I nearly gag. Did he just come from murdering another family? Did he just burn more innocent people’s homes? Or does he do it so often the smell is stuck to him?
He lifts my chin with the tips of two fingers and I flinch away, stopping myself just short of slapping his hand away. He goes motionless, eyes icy as they regard me.
He bends forward and places his mouth right to my ear. His hot breath slides against the side of my face causing me to cringe. “Are you afraid of me, Briar?”
I can’t move. I’m frozen except for the convulsive shaking of my limbs. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat and force myself to breathe, to inhale his murderous stink. “Do you know me?” He asks quietly, his voice rough, like sandpaper in my ears.
I look at him then, my eyes going wide. “No,” I stammer. I shake my head, hoping he’ll believe me and leave. I look away swiftly, unable to hold his piercing stare.
He grabs my face then, his thumb digging into my cheek. “I think you’re lying. I think you’re very afraid.” I wrap my hand around his thick wrist and try to pull away. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tsks. He holds me a moment more, just to prove he can, I think, and then shoves me away. “Arrest her,” he says with a look over his shoulder.
I have to repeat his words in my head to make sense of them. Arrest her. “What? No.” I start backing up until I hit the barn door. The image of Axel, on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, fills my sight. “NO, please.” I put my hands up in front of me defensively and Morris takes hold of my wrists. “I didn’t do anything.”
“It’s best if you don’t resist,” he says, ignoring my pleas.
Every instinct screams for me to run, but somehow, through my panic, I remember Flynn. I recall the lifeless bodies of his parents, and I think of Benji and Jax, so close and unaware. “I won’t.” I won’t resist. Maybe they’ll take me with them. Maybe they won’t hurt me. Maybe…maybe I can get them away from here.
I hear the all too familiar sound of my front screen door creaking open. I stay very still, only allowing my eyes to find the source of the noise.
“What’s going on here?” Jaxon demands. He steps slowly down the steps, his gaze sweeping over the large man in front of me. I have never been so happy and so frightened to see someone at the same time. I want to scream at him to run. I want to scream at him to help me.
“Hey, big guy,” Jax calls. “Please take your ginormous fucking hands off my friend.”
Morris’ hands slip roughly down my arms as he reaches for the plastic cuff on his belt. It slides over my hand and my fight or flight instinct takes over. I don’t want to be cuffed. I kick Morris in the shin. He grunts, leaning forward, surprised by my mini-assault. His grip tightens painfully. I move to kick him again, but he holds me at arm’s length and I miss. “Don’t resist,” Morris shouts. But now I’m thrashing, trying desperately to wiggle out of his grasp.
Flynn runs around the side of the house, all six foot three inches of him. A noise bursts from his throat as if he’s being ripped apart. He crashes into Jacoby, both of them slamming to the ground. Morris spins, knocking me down as he withdraws his gun, but Jaxon is reaching for it before he has a chance to aim. They struggle for an agonizing moment and I feel glued in place as everything spins out of control around me.
Morris shakes Jax off. He slams the butt of the gun into Jax’s face with a loud, cracking echo. I scream and rush forward without a plan. My fists fly against the thick muscle of Morris’ back.
Jaxon rolls, bringing his knees to his chest, hands over his face. There’s blood gushing from between his fingers.
Jacoby flips Flynn off him and pounces on top of his chest, his fist flying quickly. “You,” Jacoby seethes. He brings his hand down again, slamming it into Flynn’s face several more times until he goes still, his head lolling to the side. Jacoby reaches for the revolver at his hip and I lunge for Morris’ weapon.
My hand grazes the cool steel just as Morris backhands me. His rough knuckles scrape across my cheek and I hear my jaw pop. As I fall back, I wonder fleetingly if it’s broken.
And then Benji’s there, seeming to have materialized out of nowhere. He grabs Morris from behind and I scream as the gun waves through the air.
He turns Morris around, his fist smashing into the man’s face over and over, quicker than any person has a right to move. Beside me, Jax stumbles toward Jacoby who is now pointing his revolver at Flynn’s forehead. A shot rings out and everybody freezes. Everybody except Benji. He continues to savagely assault Morris as if he doesn’t register anything going on around him. As if there is nothing of worth beyond beating this man to death.
I turn my head, searching for the fired weapon. Payton is a few feet away, shotgun aimed to the cloudless sky, Kameron right behind her. Jacoby finds them at the same time I do, and as he moves his gun, taking new aim, Payton swings the barrel straight at his chest.
“Get off him, now,” she demands. “Jaxon, get his gun.”
A wet thwacking sound makes me look back to Benji, bent over Morris. “You don’t ever fucking touch her,” he
says in a low monotone. I blink as a forgotten memory resurfaces in a flash.
I was eleven. Benji, Jaxon, and I were playing at Flynn’s. His two older cousins were visiting from the next town over—Mark and Mike.
Mark was fifteen and not at all interested in any of the games we normally played. He and Mike teased us endlessly until I had had enough. I announced I was going home. Jaxon took my hand, ready to leave as well. I knew Benji felt bad for Flynn. After all, it wasn’t his fault his cousins were assholes, but I was miserable. As I stomped past the brothers, Mark threw out his foot, tripping me. I fell forward, bringing Jax with me. My face met the dirt as Jax tumbled over top of me, skinning the flesh of his palms.
I helped Jaxon stand, brushing the dirt from his hands gently. I was so mad—I turned around and shoved Mark as hard as I could. He lost his balance and fell on his ass, which embarrassed him enough to shoot to his feet and punch me in the stomach.
Benji jumped on Mark’s back, smacking his hands against the older boy’s ears. “You never hit a girl,” Benji shouted.
Mark fell forward and Benji slid off his back. As Mark held his ringing ears, Benji moved in front of him, wound his fist back and let it fly. “Don’t ever touch her again.” He spun around and grabbed Jax and my hands, dragging us home.
“Benji,” I whisper. Morris isn’t moving. His gun lies loosely in his open palm. But Benji still doesn’t stop. “Benji,” I say louder. As if he doesn’t hear me, Benji slams away. Blood splatters his face with every hit, but he doesn’t seem to notice that either. Suddenly, Dad’s there, probably summoned by the gunshot. He takes hold of Benji, locking his arms around his chest. He heaves Benji off the unrecognizable man and swings him around.
“Enough,” Dad shouts. He takes Benji’s face in his hands. “Look at me.” Benji’s crazed eyes slide to my dad.
“He fucking hit her.”
“Enough,” Dad murmurs again. Benji gasps as if he had been holding his breath and looks at his hands, turning them back and forth. He pulls away quickly, wiping his knuckles across his jeans. Dad holds his hands up, palms out, as if in question, and Benji nods.
I don’t know when Mom got here, but now her arms are wrapping around me and she’s pulling me up. Benji stares at me with wide eyes that are no longer cold and unseeing, but aren’t quite Benji either.
“Get inside, Benji,” Dad says firmly. I turn back to the others. Jax has Jacoby’s gun pointed at his head. Jacoby is on his knees a few feet away from Flynn. And Flynn is sitting up, a large circle of blood spreading across the back of his shirt. Kameron helps him to his feet.
“What the hell happened?” Dad demands.
“I’m a police officer,” Jacoby pants.
“It’s him, Dad,” I cry. “He killed the Amoses.” Jacoby actually has the audacity to smirk at me as I confirm his suspicions.
Flynn’s head snaps up. His eyes hold me as he speaks through clenched teeth. “He’s the one?” He points accusingly at Jacoby. I nod one jerky bob of my head.
“We need to calm down and think,” Dad calls out to all of us. Then to Jacoby, “What do you want?”
Jacoby looks at the dirt covering his shirt. He brushes it away casually, not bothering to answer the question. Laughing instead, as if amused by the situation. There’s blood in his teeth, leaking from a split lip. He spits on the ground and slides his fingers under his mouth.
“It doesn’t matter where you go,” he says, his eyes darting from face to face. When his leering gaze slides over me, I stop breathing. “You can’t hide. We will hunt you down like animals. And we will kill you.”
In a blur, Flynn yanks the gun from Jaxon’s hand. He presses it against Jacoby’s forehead, howling loudly as he pulls the trigger. Jacoby collapses backward, smoke rising from the open hole in his head. I look down where blood and small pieces of brain matter now coat my legs. My mouth drops open and I try to scream, or cry, or something, but nothing comes out.
Kameron shrieks loudly, turning her face away. Jax is still in motion reaching for the gun. He pries it from Flynn’s trembling fingers. Like a deflating balloon, Flynn drops to his knees, tears streaming relentlessly down his face.
Benji flies out the front door, ready to attack again. His feet slide to a stop when he sees Jacoby, dead on the ground, blood pooling around his head.
Mom pushes my face against her chest, trying to shield me from seeing, but I’ve already seen. Little noises bubble in my throat. “Briar, I want you to take Kameron and Payton inside,” she commands firmly. She turns to the other girls. “Right now. Clean yourselves up. Briar put your clothes in a trash bag and do it quickly.” She releases me and I see Dad take the gun from Morris’ open hand and press his fingers into his wrist.
“He’s alive,” he says. “Jax, gun.” Jaxon pulls Kameron after him. He hands Dad the gun then grips Kam hard, pulling her in for a hug. She hiccups as he wipes the tears off her face. And then everything becomes a blur.
20
Benji
As soon as Corbin ushers us into the house, I grab Flynn by the collar of his t-shirt and swing him around, slamming his back into the wall. I’m sure it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch if the hiss of breath he releases is any indication.
I fist both hands into his shirt, pulling him forward so we’re nose to nose. “You shot a fucking gun in her direction.” I knock him back against the wall, releasing him.
“I-I didn’t. I shot that piece of shit that killed my parents.”
I whirl back on him, jabbing my finger in his face. I’m so pissed off I could beat the shit out of him right now with a clear conscience. “What if the bullet went through that fucker’s head and hit her? Did you even think about that? Think about her?”
“Benji,” Corbin says carefully. He touches my shoulder and my first instinct is to shake him off. But I pinch my eyes closed and inhale slowly.
“She’s okay,” Jaxon says, trying to reassure me.
I step back from Flynn and Corbin drops his hand. “If you ever even think about lifting a gun in her direction again, I’ll break every fucking bone in your arm. Got me?”
Flynn nods, but his eyes are glazed, blank. I’m not sure he heard a word I said. Where’s his remorse? His guilt? He could have hurt her. Killed her.
She was covered in a man’s blood. Fragments of his skull and brain. The image of it replaying in my head makes me want to hurt Flynn so badly I can nearly taste it.
“You need to go,” Corbin says, shaking me from my morbid thoughts. “You have to get Briar away from here. They know her name. What she looks like. Christ, they must have access to all her information.”
His hand comes down on my shoulder, squeezing hard. “Can you get her somewhere safe?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“You’ll protect her?”
“I’ll do anything to keep her safe.”
He nods slowly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. I want to tell him how sorry I am. I brought this to his door. This is my fault. I should have stayed far away. I want to plead with him to forgive me. But nothing comes out as I watch his shoulders shake with a silent sob.
Jaxon surprises me when he grips Corbin’s arm, pulling him in for a hug. As if he’s lost all his strength, Corbin leans on my brother, allowing him to hold him for a moment before he steps back and wipes his eyes.
“Go home, get changed, and pack. The sooner you’re gone the better.”
I nod and follow Jax out the door. My feet stumble over the steps as my gaze locks on the scene just a few feet away. No matter how many times I see a man’s blood, I never get used to it.
Humans are such savages. We’re the only species insistent on causing our own distinction.
Corbin and Flynn come out behind us. The screen door swings shut loudly, causing me to startle. I watch as they move past me, stopping beside the lifeless body. Corbin sticks his hands inside the man’s pockets, coming back with a set of keys. He tosses them to Flynn who staggers to the trunk and unlock
s it.
I continue watching, detached, as they lift the corpse into the trunk. I see them struggle, but I don’t move to help. I can’t. My feet are rooted to this spot. My hands are shaking. My forehead is slick with perspiration.
Maybe I should save everyone the trouble and hand myself over to Delphi.
“What?” Jax asks. The one word is full of emotion. I turn my head slowly because my muscles feel weighted, heavy, as if my mind is filled with sand. He’s glaring at me, his eyes full of pain and I realize I said that aloud. “What good would it do?” he demands. “He’d still kill all of us just to make you suffer.”
My lips part, ready to say something, but nothing seems right. I just look back at him. Watch as he takes a purposeful step in my direction.
“The best thing for you to do—the only thing to do—is to make sure we’re all safe. And the only way to do that is to fight back. Get your shit together, man the fuck up. And. Fight. Back.”
21
Briar
Cleaned and changed, we scramble to my room. Mom’s moving about in a rush, shoving clothing into a backpack. I watch her quietly as she quickly weighs the importance of each item.
As I sit dazed, everyone in chaos around me, I realize there are some things you can’t come back from. Like death. Or taking a life.
I need to go back. I need these past two days to have never happened. And even though I know it’s impossible, I can’t help wishing for it over and over.
“Kameron,” my mom says, “you need to go straight home and tell your parents what’s happened. You need to decide as a family what’s best for you,” Mom says breathlessly. “I can’t make that decision.” She glances at me. “Say your goodbyes now.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Say goodbye to Kameron? Why?
How?
“What?” I rasp, my throat barely more than a whisper.
“Now,” Mom repeats.
Kam throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. She squeezes my shoulders once before running past me. I hear the screen door open and close, and that’s it. She’s gone.