Link shakes his head, his eyes narrowing as if he’s disgusted with me. “Get in the fucking car.” He pulls his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to me. “You can drive,” he adds.
I get in and buckle up without a word, but as I try to find the right key, I can’t help wondering if I’ve just made myself an accomplice to a soon-to-be murder.
“Get in, Anthony.”
“Where are we going?” Anthony croaks.
“Get. In.”
I watch in the rearview mirror as they both slide into the backseat. Link meets my eyes in the mirror.
“Take a left. At the second light, go right.”
I do as he says, but my gaze repeatedly returns to the mirror, watching both men.
“Where are we going?” Anthony asks again. Link doesn’t answer. Instead, he glowers at him with barely controlled fury.
Without taking his eyes off of the man beside him, Link orders me to take the next left. With this last direction, Anthony must finally understand where we’re going, because he begins to weep loudly.
“Please. No. Please.”
“Shut up,” Link growls. Then to me, “Pull into the driveway with the chalk drawings.”
“NO. Please. I’ll go wherever you want. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t do this in front of my family.”
I gasp as I realize he’s talking to me. Our gazes lock in the mirror, and I read the terror etched into his features.
“Please. My daughter—” Anthony throws his upper half over the seat, reaching for the steering wheel. He jerks it to the side, causing us to veer onto the sidewalk and graze a row of bushes.
Link yanks Anthony back by his shirt, smashing a fist into his cheek. I correct the car, swerving back onto the street just as all hell breaks loose in the backseat. I pull to a stop, throwing the gear into park.
The Anthony who quietly complied before is gone, now replaced with a man aggressively fighting to defend his family. There’s a blur of wild punches and flying elbows. Both men attack each other with a relentless ferocity I’ve never witnessed before.
What fear can do to a person is chilling.
Anthony lands a hit on Link that knocks his head into the window. I watch the glass splinter into a large, spider web crack. He looks dazed as he places his arms on either side of Anthony, almost as if he’s hugging him.
Anthony breaks out of the hold, reversing it, and pinning Link’s arms instead. I reach over the seat, trying to break the two men apart as they continue to cling to each other, both preventing the other from landing a hit.
“Not here,” Anthony says. “You’re not going near my family.” He gets a hand free, shoving Link’s head back at an odd angle, as if he’s trying to push his face into the cracked glass.
“STOP,” I scream, pushing on Anthony’s shoulders. I curl my hands into fists and begin hitting him in the back. I claw at his neck. Link’s face grows red as he pushes back against him. It’s like two walls trying to knock each other down.
Link releases Anthony, reaching into his pocket. Taking advantage, Anthony’s able to get another hit in. His fist whacks into Link’s jaw, sending his face right into the window.
It takes me a moment to understand why Link isn’t fighting back. Why he’s allowing his blood to be spilled so easily. What’s so important in his pocket.
The image from the other night of his knife falling from his pants just a beat before the picture had floated slowly to the ground fills my mind’s eye.
I hook my fingers into Anthony’s hair, and then I twist at the same time I yank, jerking his head back and buying Link the last second he needs to tug the knife free.
I have one moment of horrifying clarity, hoping Link doesn’t actually use the knife.
Anthony stops struggling as the audible click of the blade sounds in the small confines of the car.
Link wraps his fingers around Anthony’s throat, nodding for me to let go of his hair.
“I’m going to give you the choice you never gave me,” Link says coldly. “Cooperate, and you and your family will walk away unscathed. Continue to fight me, and I will not hesitate to kill you and everyone you love.”
Five
Link
Rocky is huddled into my back as we wait for Anthony to unlock his door. He pushes it open slowly, calling out immediately for his wife. His voice cracks with dread over every syllable.
I can’t help feeling slightly relieved when there’s no reply.
No matter how much I want him to fear for his family’s life—no matter how much I want him to feel that unyielding terror—I would never do anything to harm an innocent woman or child.
“Where are they?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He tries to turn around, but I grab his shoulder, squeezing tightly, warning him to keep going.
“Please. Don’t bring my family into this. They have nothing to do with my past. Emma’s only three. She’s innocent in all of this.”
I shove him forward. I know what he’s doing. Humanizing himself—his family. It’s all in vain. He didn’t give a shit about Liv’s innocence. I’ll never see him as anything but a murdering monster.
I begin to walk him through the house, peering into each room to verify we’re definitely alone. Rocky stays at my back the entire time, quietly following.
In the hallway, just before we come to the last two doors, Anthony shoves back against me, trying to throw me off balance.
One of the first rules in boxing—always keep a strong core balance.
His effort is in vain. I swing him into the wall, raising my knife to his face. I watch him weigh his options, trying to determine whether he can get the knife away from me before I have time to use it. I feel him tense, his muscles tightening in anticipation of whatever move he’s about to make. I press the tip of the knife into the skin just below his eye.
“I wouldn’t,” I warn. “I won’t hesitate next time. And I won’t remind you again. Next time you pull a stunt like that, I’ll fucking stick this blade into your chest and watch you bleed out.”
He doesn’t reply and I don’t expect him too. Rocky peeks into the last two rooms, giving the all clear, and I guide Anthony back through the hall, the blade tight against his throat.
We come to the kitchen last, and I figure this is as good a place as any.
Directing Anthony to the table, I kick out a chair and he sits, resting his head in his hands. His fingers tremble as he clamps them into his hair. I can hear his feet tapping out a quick, anxious beat on the tile floor. Probably counting the seconds until his wife comes home.
I drag the chair out opposite him. Rocky chooses to stay back, leaning into the wall. I prefer her there. I hate that she’s even here. That she is witnessing this. Witnessing me do this.
I have no idea what she thinks of me in this moment, but I hope she understands why I’m doing what I’m doing. I hope she understands I would never hurt his wife and daughter.
“You’ve made a nice life for yourself,” I say casually, glancing around the room. Colorful drawings align his refrigerator held up with tourist magnets. It appears Anthony traveled well over the years. Canada, Mexico, and a lot of states in-between.
I grab an apple from the bowl of fruit centered on the large wooden table and roll it in my hands.
“You appear to be doing well. You have a beautiful wife and an adorable daughter.”
Anthony’s head snaps up. His gaze meets mine, eyes wide with alarm. I can feel the cruel smile tugging on the corners of my mouth. This is what I wanted. This right here. The agonizing realization that there’s no way out. All he can do is wonder what I’ll do to him and the family he loves so much.
I lean my elbows on the table, pressing my chest into the edge. “How surprised do you think your wife will be when she comes home?”
He flinches with each of my spitted words as if every single one beats him down more and more.
I slam my fist down, hard, causing him to jump. “This should h
ave been MINE.”
I shove the chair back, knocking it into the wall. “This should be my house.” I kick the chair, sending it crashing to the floor on its side. I bend over and pick it up, flinging it back toward the table.
“This should be my fucking chair. My fucking table. MY FUCKING LIFE.”
I point to the fridge as more and more rage coils around my heart. “You don’t deserve those pictures—colored with so much adoration for a murderer.”
I step back up to the table and place my hands flat against the smooth, cool surface. Because if I don’t, I know I’ll wrap my fingers around his throat, squeezing until the life seeps out of him.
“You took everything from me,” I breathe. “Everything.”
“I’m sorry,” Anthony utters. And fuck if he doesn’t sound sincere. I can hear the tumultuous regret in his voice. But what good does his regret do for me now? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring her back or erase the past four years.
“Tell me where I can find Carter Bates,” I command.
He shakes his head slowly, as if he’s confused. “I have no idea. The only contact I’ve had with him since that night has been when he seeks me out. What he did that night… It was never supposed to go that far—”
I stop him with a menacing look. I don’t need to hear this. I can’t. Each man responsible for that night has given me some version of this same statement. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.
“How far was it supposed to go? How far was okay in your mind? Beating us? Raping my girlfriend? Was it the stabbing that was too much? Too far? Or maybe it was when you left, bought bottles of bleach, and returned to the scene of the crime to dump it over her lifeless body. Maybe it was when you all walked away and left us for dead.
“The moment you decided to wait for us, it had already gone too fucking far.”
“That was Carter. It was all Carter.” He tugs on the ends of his hair, his knuckles whitening. “He was the one who stabbed you. He stabbed your girlfriend. He was the one who bought the bleach. He made us pour it over her. We didn’t want to do it.”
His eyes dart to Rocky as if pleading with her to believe him. To understand. To sympathize. I step sideways, cutting off his view.
“Don’t fucking look at her.”
“Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I didn’t want to kill anybody.”
Please?
He didn’t want to be a part of it?
I snap.
One second, I’m standing in front of Rocky, hiding her from Anthony’s gaze, and the next, the table is flipping into the counter, and I have my hands fisted in his shirt collar. I propel him into the wall, the plaster crumpling with the force.
I pull him toward me, and then I slam him back again. His head hits hard, making a fleshy thudding sound.
“He didn’t make you rape her, you fucking piece of shit.” I slide my thumbs up until they rest on each side of his windpipe, and I press. “He didn’t make you walk around free for all of these years. He didn’t make you stay silent. You should have turned yourself in. You should be rotting in prison.”
“Link,” Rocky says, a plea clear in her tone. “Stop.”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they did. What he did.” I choke over my words as the image of Olivia invades.
“You didn’t hear them laughing,” I rasp, shaking my head as tears blur my vision. “They laughed at her when she screamed. What kind of animal finds joy in terrifying a woman? He enjoyed it, Rocky. You don’t understand. Her lips were shivering. She was cold and naked on the icy ground.” I push my fingers deeper into his flesh. He tries to shove me away. He’s probably been doing it for a while now, but I can hardly feel it.
“When Olivia reached for me—when we touched for the very last time—this bastard kicked our hands apart. He couldn’t even allow us that.
“And then he unzipped his pants.
“Do you know what my last memory of that night is?” I look into Anthony’s eyes, now red form the bursting blood vessels.
“You climbing on top of my girlfriend—the woman I loved with all my heart—and violating her as she whimpered her pleas for you to stop.”
I release him, letting him fall to the floor. He wheezes, gasping and gagging as he fights for air.
“Tell me how to find Bates or I will make you understand firsthand what I witnessed that night.” I peer down at him, making sure he hears my next words. “You have a lovely wife. It would be a shame for her to be punished for your sins.”
Six
Rocky
Seeing Link break down like this rips my heart to shreds. I’ve never watched someone relive their pain like this before. But I feel every ounce of his anguish.
“I swear,” Anthony says, his voice hoarse and raspy, “I have no idea where Carter is. I don’t have a number. I don’t have an address. I’ve never wanted to look for him. But if you give him time, he’ll contact me. He always does.”
“What do you mean?” Link demands.
Anthony rubs his throat, eyeing Link as he paces in front of him. “He shows up randomly. Checking in. Making sure I’m keeping my mouth shut about that night. With Steve killing himself—his picture in the paper and the connection to you with those articles he kept—Carter will come for me, reminding me to ignore any conscience I might be struggling with.”
Link stares Anthony down, contemplating his words.
I don’t understand the sound I hear until Anthony’s face pales and his eyes widen with horror.
A little girl skips into the kitchen, humming to herself. Her shoes skid to a stop as her eyes trail over the mess Link made in his rage. And then she looks at each of us, one at a time, her gaze finally landing on her dad, still sprawled on the floor. He raises a hand as if he’s trying to grab her or push her away. I’m not sure which.
“Emma, did you take your shoes off?” A woman who can only be Anthony’s wife comes around the corner directly behind the girl, flipping through the stack of mail in her hand.
“NO,” Anthony screams. “RUN.” He propels himself to his feet, leaping toward Link.
The woman sucks in a startled breath, dropping the envelopes to the floor. She reaches blindly for her daughter, curling her other hand protectively around her belly.
As Anthony plunges into him, Link brings his hand up defensively. The solid length of his forearm connects with Anthony’s chin, snapping his teeth together loudly.
Link grabs Anthony’s wrist, twisting until the man falls to his knees, his face distorted with pain. Link kicks him away, pulling the knife from his pocket once again.
“Bethany,” Anthony says carefully, his voice gravelly. His eyes flick rapidly between his wife, his daughter, and Link. “Take Emma and go. Get out of here.”
Link moves quickly, stepping between Bethany and Emma. My heart pounds in my chest. I don’t want to believe Link would ever hurt either of them—but I have no idea the lengths he’ll go to at this point.
“Bethany,” Link says softly, “I need you to come have a seat beside your husband. Now.” He places his hand on Emma’s shoulder, making sure her mother can see the knife. Bethany cries out, doing as she’s told.
“Please don’t hurt my little girl,” she begs between sobs. Emma begins to cry, witnessing her mother’s tears.
I want to cover my ears. I want to close my eyes—block all this out. I want to be anywhere but here. I can’t do this. I can’t watch Link do this. I can’t watch him torture this poor woman and her daughter.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Link murmurs. My head snaps to him because I think he’s talking to me. That he somehow read my thoughts. But he’s staring at Bethany, his face a mask of regret. “I don’t want to hurt either one of you.”
We’re at a stand-off now. Anthony and his family have no clue what Link will do—what he’s capable of—and that makes for an even worse situation. Desperate people do crazy things to protect their loved ones. And
a desperate man can do even crazier things to avenge his.
“Get up,” Link tells Anthony. The words no sooner leave his mouth before Bethany is sobbing again.
I can’t watch this. I’m just not made that way.
“Link,” I breathe. “There’s a better way. There has to be.”
“What other way is there, Rocky?”
I glance between the men, my mind spinning. “He said Carter will contact him. We can wait for that to happen.”
Link shakes his head, his brows crinkling. “You really think he’s going to tell me? He won’t. He’ll tell Bates. And Bates will come for us. For you.”
I point at Bethany, her hair sticking to her face, wet with tears as she stares at her daughter, so close but so far away. “If you walk out of this house with her husband or child, she’ll call the police. How far will you get then?”
Link squeezes his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls quickly. “He has to pay for what he did.” His voice is full of misery and indecision. My heart bleeds for him. I understand his need to punish Anthony. I do. I feel it every day for Garrett.
But this isn’t the way.
I look into Emma’s sweet, little face—at how terrified she is—and I know she doesn’t deserve this, no matter what her father has done. Link is going too far.
“Then make him pay,” I say. “But not like this.” I look around the room, taking it all in. There has to be something else we can do. My eyes meet Bethany’s. She reaches over, taking Anthony’s hand. And all I can think about is what Link just told me. How Anthony kicked his hand away from Olivia’s before he raped her. How he tore them apart. How he denied them that last comfort.
I dip my chin, nodding to Bethany. “Tell her,” I say with certainty. “Tell her what her husband did to you and Olivia.” I look back to Link, meeting his gaze. “I can’t think of worse punishment than the way she’ll look at him for the rest of their lives.”
Seven
Link
The amount of pleasure I take from the thought of Anthony’s wife cringing at his touch is almost scary. I’ve traumatized this woman and her child so much already, but Rocky’s right. Forcing him to face what he did in the form of his wife’s disgust is a much better punishment than death. He’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life.