I nod as we leave the house. That’s one possibility. The other possibility is in my purse. Killing isn’t the first choice, but it’s on the table. Reid put it there.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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DAY 15: “THE FIGHT”
Judge
WHEN I WAKE, GRACE is still asleep. I check her pulse. She’s fine. I was careful with her dose. She’ll probably wake while I’m out. I check that her collar is secure, and then I kiss her. She doesn’t kiss me back, but that’s just because of the medicine. I slip out of bed and get her phone. I had turned it off when Grace dropped it outside my car. I need to tell Eva that Grace is safe. I can’t tell her where we are, but I want her to know that we’re okay.
I glance at Grace and then turn on her phone. It blinks to life, and over a dozen text messages flash across the screen. I don’t care about most of them, and I can’t leave it on long just in case it has a GPS chip. As soon as the messages stop, I go to settings and set the phone to “airplane” mode so the Wi-Fi is inactive. Then I return to the messages. They’re not surprising. Her mother, CeCe, and Eva all texted. I see messages asking where she is, saying that Madison is missing, but then I stop. Eva texted me. She knew I’d see these.
At first I’m elated, but then I see the lie. She says she “loves” Bouchet. I know it’s either him sending a lie to anger me or another test. She couldn’t love him—or anyone else.
I pull on my still-damp clothes, and in mere minutes, I’m outside and locking the door behind me. Grace will be safe in the house. Her leash stretches far enough that she can get to food and the buckets. There are cans of soda. She could stay here on her own for several days. It won’t be that long though. Soon, I’ll be back, and this time Eva will be with me.
It takes a while to get back to Jessup. The cabin is a little over forty minutes away, but I’m careful. I don’t see any police officers, and even if I did, the tags on this car wouldn’t come up under my name.
I’m on Old Salem Road when I see Bouchet’s truck. I didn’t expect to find him on the road. I thought I’d have to figure out how to get him out of his house, but he’s here. The Lord simplified things to show he approves of my actions. I smile as I accept that the Lord put Bouchet in my path so he could be punished.
All of my earlier rage comes back. Bouchet touched Eva. My Eva. He had his lips on my soon-to-be-wife. After everything I’ve done, all of the sacrifices, he tried to steal her away. It won’t work. I have Grace, and once I get rid of Bouchet, I’ll find a way to let Eva know where to come looking for her. Everything will be fine. I have faith in the Lord’s plan.
I accelerate and swerve toward the truck, trying to force him to drive it into the trees.
It’s dark, and there are no street lights on Old Salem Road.
The front of the truck clips a sapling.
I debate ramming it. I will if I have to, but then Bouchet swerves farther and smashes into a much larger tree.
The truck shudders to a stop at the tree, and he kills the engine. I wait in the dark to see what he’ll do. I wonder if he’ll call her. I can’t use my phone. I shut it off so they can’t track me. Maybe I can text her on his so she knows I’m safe. She’s probably worried by now. She probably thinks I’ll reject her.
Now that I’ve calmed down, I realize it was all his fault, not hers. She was weak without me to guide her, and he tricked her. There’s no other explanation.
Bouchet pushes the driver’s side door open and steps out of his truck. He’s limping slightly, probably from the accident. I smile as I watch him touch his head and then glance at his hand. He must be bleeding too.
He looks back into the truck, and I realize that he’s not alone. I see the outline of a passenger, and my heart feels like it’s beating faster by the moment. I can’t tell if it’s her. I hope it is. I can’t imagine who else it would be. It has to be Eva.
I know she’s clever enough to see through his lies.
Maybe she brought him so we could kill him together.
I flick the high beams on and pull my car slowly toward them. Bouchet lifts an arm to block the light from his face. I realize I’ll have to be quick. There aren’t a lot of people who drive along Old Salem Road, but there are a few houses and the reservoir. I don’t want to be interrupted.
I grab the crowbar and think about what I’m about to do. I’ve practiced on pumpkins and a raccoon and a few possums I’ve trapped. I know Bouchet is bigger, but the basics are the same: I need to smash his skull or throat. Arms or legs are good to keep him from fighting back, and to hurt him, but the skull is the target. I know this, but I want him to feel pain like I did when he touched Eva. I didn’t want the others—the messages—to be in pain, but I want Bouchet to bleed and scream and try to crawl away on broken legs.
I keep my arm straight down, motionless and tight against my body so I have the element of surprise, as I walk quickly toward the truck and my target. Unlike Madison, Bouchet is strong enough to fight back. I can do this though. I can show Eva that I’m strong enough to protect her.
I don’t speak. I lift the crowbar and swing it as hard as I can. He dodges my first blow, making me stumble briefly, but I recover and catch his shoulder on the next swing. It’s only a glancing hit, and he doesn’t fall. The sound he makes is so different from the ones Amy and Madison made. It’s a grunt like an animal. The girls made smaller noises, more ladylike.
I realize Bouchet has grabbed a Maglite from somewhere. It’s not as long as a crowbar, but it’s still more of a weapon than I want him to have. It makes me angry and my next swing misses him completely.
I slam my crowbar down into his already-injured leg. He falls to his left and swings at me with the Maglite, hitting my left knee and prompting a pained yell.
My next blow is unfocused, and the driver’s side window shatters as I hit it. As it breaks, I realize that I don’t see anyone else in the truck. Maybe I imagined that Eva was here. That’s happened before.
While I’m distracted Bouchet twists away and stands, I can see that his already-injured left leg is worse from my hit. He dives at me, his shoulder hitting my stomach, and while I’m down he punches me. We’ve both dropped our weapons, and for several minutes, we roll around on the ground exchanging punches and grappling like we’re in a wrestling match.
Bouchet gets free of me and goes for his Maglite. I’m faster because my crowbar is closer. The Lord provides. I grab it and swing as I tell him, “You’re not worthy. You aren’t worthy to ever touch Eva.”
Just as I’m about to hit his face, he rolls to the side and strikes my right wrist. The crowbar falls again, but he’s crouched down, using the side of the truck to brace his back. It keeps him partially upright, but limits his movement. I hate to admit it, but I’m grateful that he’s limited. I’m exhausted from the day I’ve had, and he’s far more experienced at fighting than the girls were. I can’t lose. I won’t, but it’s not easy.
I pull my knee up and slam it into his face, following quickly with a kick to the ribs.
Bouchet won’t stay down though. He slams his fist into my knee, trying to knock me to the ground. I step back searching for my weapon, and he kicks out with his injured leg.
I see the crowbar and grab it when I hear, “Stop!”
“Stop!” Eva repeats. “Reid! Stop it.”
I turn to look at her, the girl who was made for me, and I’m torn between pride and fear. She is here, and she sees me. She’s balanced on crutches, leaning against the front of Bouchet’s truck; she’s also holding a gleaming silver-and-black revolver in her hand. She’s aiming it right at me, and her eyes are only on me.
I hear the click as she cocks the gun. It’ll only take the touch of the trigger now. She’s amazing.
My arm is raised, holding the crowbar up. I don’t swing again, but I don’t drop it to the ground either. She’s here, and she
’s fierce. I am more in love with her than ever before.
“You came to me. The Lord sent you to me,” I say.
She’s shaking a little, even though she leans against the front of Bouchet’s truck. Now that she’s so close, I drop the crowbar. I know the look in her eyes. I’ve seen it once before when I was a lot younger. That was the night my mother permanently solved the problem of my father’s infidelity. They always say boys pick girls like their mothers. I knew Eva was made for me.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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DAY 15: “THE CONFESSION”
Eva
“I’LL SHOOT,” I WARN Reid. “If you try to hit him again or try to leave, I’ll shoot you.”
I lean against Nate’s truck because I’m not sure I can hold the gun and balance on crutches. It took far too long for me to get out of the truck and around to them as is. Seeing Reid try to kill Nate in front of me is even worse than feeling it when I’ve fallen into his death.
“I mean it, Reid.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel. I will shoot if I have to, but I don’t want to do it. I’ve seen this. I’ve felt Reid’s emotions and pain when it happens. I don’t want that—not even for him.
“I know you do.” He steps away from Nate, but he doesn’t look afraid at all. If anything, he looks happy. He’s bleeding, and he’s filthy, but he looks happy.
Nate doesn’t. He walks toward me and holds out a hand. “Let me have that, Eva.”
“If you do, I won’t tell you where Yeung is,” Reid blurts out. “She’ll starve before anyone finds her.”
My attention hasn’t wavered from Reid. Even though Nate is walking toward me, I can’t look away from Reid. I don’t understand how we got here to this moment when I am aiming a gun at him. This is Reid. I’ve known him my whole life. I trusted him. I asked him to drive Grace home just yesterday. I don’t even know where to start on my list of how fucked up this all is.
“You’re more beautiful than ever right now,” he says, adding to my mental list of things that are grievously wrong right now.
My hand doesn’t tremble yet, but it will. There’s only so long I can hold a gun without my muscles shaking. People in movies never seem to have that problem, but in the real world, guns are heavy.
“I want Grace,” I tell him.
“I’ll trade. Her for you,” Reid offers.
“Not happening,” Nate says, and I’m not sure if he’s telling me or Reid, maybe both.
“What will you give me in exchange then?” Reid sits down on the ground, looking as calm as he has so many nights in our life.
In my vision, he was standing when he was shot. A car was coming. I remind myself that Reid doesn’t know about my visions. He doesn’t know that this is where is he is supposed to die. I don’t want to kill him. What I want is to rescue Grace, so I will try to negotiate.
“I’m not running, Eva. I’ve been waiting for you for years, wanting you to see me. You said you did. Yesterday, you said that to me. I did what you told me to do with Madison, but when I came to you—”
“No! You killed her.”
“You said I should. I did what you wanted.”
“I said you should talk to her.” I hear the crack in my voice. Nate must too because he steps closer to me and starts to wrap an arm around my waist.
“Stop,” Reid snaps. “If he touches you, I stop talking.”
“I have a gun, Reid.”
“And I have Yeung.” He smiles self-assuredly, reminding me that he has the control; even now with a gun aimed at him, he has power over me. “Call the cops, and I won’t tell you. Cuddle up with him, and I won’t tell you. Shoot me, and you’ll never know where to find her.”
Maybe he’s lying. Maybe the police can get an answer out of him, but I can’t be sure.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“You.”
This time Nate and I both answer, “No.”
“I’ll take you to her. You can keep your gun, and even your cell phone and his. He”—Reid motions to Nate—“can follow us in his truck.”
“Eva, don—”
“What’s the catch?” I cut off Nate.
“I just want you to hear me. I want you to understand.” Reid stares at me with such a hopeful expression that it makes me feel like running. He’s obsessed and a killer—and he thinks he loves me. The last place I want to be is alone with him.
“I did all of this for you, so we could be together,” he adds.
I swallow to ease my suddenly dry mouth before I ask, “If I ride in your car, you’ll drive me to where Grace is? You promise?”
“Eva, you can’t trust him,” Nate starts.
Reid’s attention snaps to Nate. “I’ve never lied to Eva. Not even once. Can you say that? Can Robert? Amy? Micki? Madison? No.” He looks back at me. “Never once, Eva. I’m not lying now either.”
Maybe I’m the world’s biggest idiot, but I believe him. More importantly, I don’t see any other choice. If Nate wasn’t here, I would’ve already traded myself for Grace. She’s my best friend, the closest thing I have to a sister; I have to try. “Nate will give me his phone, and he’ll follow us, and you’ll drive me to Grace.”
“And not wreck the car,” Nate adds.
Reid doesn’t reply, so I repeat, “And you won’t wreck. Those are my terms.”
“Deal.” Reid stands and brushes off his trousers despite the fact that they’re filthy, ripped, and stained with both blood and dirt. “And you’ll listen to me. I’ll tell you everything, and then you’ll see why you should stay with me. You just have to listen, and you’ll understand.”
“I’ll listen,” I agree. It makes me sick to think about the things he might say. It’s been hard enough hearing the news and seeing the photographs, but I’ll listen. I’ll listen to anything he says if it means he’ll take me to Grace.
Reid walks over to his car as if I’m not pointing a gun at him. I lower it briefly, making due with one crutch, as I follow Reid to his car. It’s awkward and slow, but I don’t want to hand the gun to Nate. I don’t want his prints on it. If I shoot Reid, there will be no confusion as to who’s responsible.
“You brought a gun, Eva?” Nate asks as we walk. “You should’ve told me.”
“I said he wasn’t going to kill you. I said that I’d be here, and that would change everything. It did.” I try to sound like I have a valid argument, but I know I really don’t and truthfully, this isn’t the time to play word games. I think I’m going to survive this, but I can’t swear it. I whisper, “I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you. I saw how he dies though, Nate. Remember? Someone shoots him.”
Nate stops mid-step. “Eva . . .”
“It’s fine.” I keep my voice low as I try to explain, “You’re alive, and Reid is taking me to Grace.”
“You’re getting into a car with a crazy killer. That wasn’t part of the plan . . . as far as I knew.” He stares at me intently.
“I’m improvising a little,” I murmur. “But it’ll be okay. He’s taking me to Grace. You’re following us. It’ll be okay.”
Nate opens the back door of the car, and I slide inside.
“Don’t try to run,” Nate orders. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Reid scoffs, “Eva is getting into my car, leaving you to come with me, why would I run?” He flashes a smile at us and opens the door. “Give her your phone, Bouchet. I trust her not to call the cops, but I don’t trust you.”
Nate opens his mouth to retort, but I stop him. “Please, Nate?”
“I don’t like this,” he mutters, but he still pulls his phone out of his pocket and drops it into my lap. He puts my crutches at my feet, too.
When Reid opens the driver’s door, Nate leans into the car and whispers in my ear, “I love you.”
“Me too,” I mouth.
Then Nate straigh
tens and closes the door, and I’m alone in the car with the boy who almost killed me—who did kill my friends. I stare at the back of his head for a moment, the gun aimed at him, and wonder how many ways this could go wrong. Would he kill us both? What if Nate can’t keep up or runs out of gas or . . . something happens that means we’re separated? What if the police come and think I’m an accomplice? I shove the thoughts away and say, as steadily as I can, “I don’t want to have to shoot you, but I will.”
Reid looks over his shoulder and smiles before saying, “I know.”
He doesn’t look afraid. That alone would be enough for me to suspect he was crazy. The other things I now know make “crazy” seem like too mild of a word.
“Your phones won’t work, by the way,” Reid says. “I have a machine to block them.”
“I said I wouldn’t call the police,” I remind him.
“I know, and I want to trust you, but . . . you were with someone else, Eva. That hurt me.” He watches me expectantly, like he thinks I should apologize.
The lights from Nate’s truck shine into the car, and I hear his truck engine. I take a steadying breath and say, “Just take me to Grace, Reid.”
“I am. You can trust me, Eva.” Reid turns the key in the ignition and pulls onto the road. “We have about an hour to talk.”
For the next forty minutes, I listen as he tells me about his father, about his mother killing his father, about how he’s had to hide that his whole life, about how his grandmother made him lie about them, about how he’s prayed to know the right choices. He tells me about having sex with Amy in some strange attempt to get closer to me, about how he remember “locking gazes” with me and knowing that I meant for him to speak to me through flowers. He tells me about parties where he watched me and how he was “faithful” to me aside from Amy the past year—and how he knows that I know she doesn’t “count” because she was really Amy-Eva, a girl who adopted my “impure” needs so I could stay untainted.
As he talks, I try to record all of it. I might not be able to call the police, but I can get at least some of his confession on record. I’m not sure if my phone can record conversations this long. I think the app claims to be unlimited, but I’ve never recorded more than quick memos to myself. I’m not looking away from Reid to check if it’s still recording either. I can’t. I watch him with my gun aimed at him. I realize as he talks that he’s far less stable than I thought. He still sounds like the boy I’ve always known, but the things he’s telling me are horribly wrong.