“In the car, I think.”
“Go get it. Then come right back.”
“But—”
“Adam.” Coach turns to look at him impatiently. “My job is to look out for you. Your job is to listen to me. What do we say?”
“Family first.”
“That’s right. So let me take care of this. Go get the gun.”
I can hear the rustle of brush as Adam walks off. Coach waits until he’s gone before turning his attention back to me. His hand loosens on my neck, moving lower.
“No.” The word rips from my lips, because I’m terrified of what he might do. But he leaves his hand resting on my shoulder, pinning me to the boulder.
“They’ll figure it out,” I pant, wanting more air, not being able to get it. “They’ll get you. You can kill me, but they’ll get you. It’s over.”
“It’s not over until I say it is.” Coach’s fingers flex into my shoulder, five points of pain radiating through me. “I won’t let you ruin my nephew’s life.”
But I’m going to.
And with that understanding, despite the panic, a beautiful sense of calm falls over me. It’s probably shock or trauma more than an epiphany, but I don’t care. It feels too good after all the fear.
Adam’s blood is all over my car. Even though Coach will kill me, this is the end for them. Trev and the police will figure it out. He’ll make sure they pay.
I lift my head with some effort. My vision wavers; I’m running on adrenaline and I’m gonna crash soon, but I want to be looking into his eyes when I say it. “I’m going to ruin both of your lives. I don’t have to be alive to do that. Too many people know what I was doing. By now, the police are looking for me—and for Adam. They’ll find my car. They’ll find my body, wherever you dump it. You know my mom—you think someone like her will stop at anything? My dad thought you were a friend, but he’ll see through you. My aunt is a bounty hunter; finding people is her job. Trev has all the evidence—he’ll never rest until it’s done. Until you’re done. You were right, Coach: family does come first. And my family will bring yours down.”
“I’m not going to discuss this,” Coach says, like I’ve brought up something mildly annoying.
“You’re a murderer. You killed Jackie and her baby. You probably raped—”
The shift in his demeanor—so in control, so steady and normal even while he’s got me pinned—is lightning fast. He slams me against the boulder and I cry out as he presses close. My spine feels like it’s being crushed by his weight. “Don’t you ever say that,” he hisses. “Should I have let Matt drag her down with him? I saw the way he was going. I loved that girl. And she loved me.”
My eyes widen at the implications. “You—did you—were you and Jackie…together?” The disgust drips from me. He’s my dad’s age. It’s almost worse if she’d loved him. If she’d trusted him.
He doesn’t say anything.
“You didn’t even have to force her to go with you, did you?” My voice cracks. It hurts to talk. My throat’s bruised from his hands. “I bet it was easy. Just told her you wanted to talk about the baby, and she got right in your truck.”
He stares at me, his hands loosening on my shoulders, transfixed by my words, by the exposure of the secret he’s been keeping for so many years. I recognize that look, know it all too well. When you’re kept by a secret, the first time you hear it spoken out loud is mesmerizing.
Over Coach’s shoulder, through the shadow of the trees, I see a pinprick of light. It moves steadily back and forth, like someone’s looking for something.
Looking for me.
Trev.
Coach doesn’t see it; he’s lost in the past. “I told her to get rid of it, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t understand what it’d do to me. She just…” He lets out a rough exhale, angry at a girl who just wanted to live.
His hands tighten on my shoulders, pinning my arms and lifting me off my feet. I scrabble frantically with my hands, trying to grab something, anything. My fingers brush against some loose pebbles, scattering them, and then snag a bigger, rougher piece of slate, unable to get a good enough grasp to lift it.
I lick my bloody lips. The light is getting closer, and there are more now—I count four, sweeping steadily toward us. If Coach sees them, hears the footsteps, he’ll kill me before they can stop him. I have to keep him talking, keep him distracted.
He looks me in the eye, big, cold pools of dark, and my stomach lurches at the smoothed lines of his face, at how relieved he looks.
He’s made up his mind.
“She was going to give it up,” I gasp out. “Did you know that? That she was talking to an adoption counselor? She was gonna do what you wanted.” It’s a gamble, but it’s the only card I’ve got left.
Coach’s grip on me falters for a split second. It’s just enough for my fingers to reach the loose piece of slate, and I swing it high, slamming it into his head as hard as I can.
He grunts and lets go of me, and I duck beneath his outstretched arm as he lunges forward, trying to catch me.
I manage only a few steps before my leg gives out and I collapse on the ground. I shout as loud as I can, even though it hurts so much I think my eyes will pop out of their sockets. I crawl forward, hoping they’ll reach me before he does. I can hear shouting now; it’s close, so close. Please just let them find me.…
Coach slams into me from behind, flattening me before roughly flipping me over. I yelp; my shoulders take the worst of it. My head slams against the ground as he pins me again with his body, grasping my hands with one of his, forcing them to the ground above my head. I want to shrink away from him, from the pain as his other hand clamps over my mouth, stealing my air.
I manage to open my mouth underneath his hold and bite down hard on his palm, shaking my head back and forth like a dog. The flesh between my teeth tears and he shouts, yanking his hand away as blood arcs from it.
“Stupid bitch!” He reaches forward with both hands, curls his fingers around my throat, and squeezes.
Kneeling on my stomach, he’s pressing whatever air’s left out of my lungs as he cuts off the rest at my throat. Gasping for air where there is none, I try to twist out of his grip, but he’s too heavy, and I’m still yanking uselessly at his arms as things go gray around the edges.
My lungs burn as I start to drift, my hands fall away, and the world fades.
The police are here. It’s over. I can be done now. And maybe…just maybe she was right all along about the heaven thing.
Bang.
Coach jerks, and as he slumps to the side and falls off of me, I suck in air in huge gulps, choking on it. Suddenly, the darkness of the forest is obliterated—everything’s too bright, like someone’s just turned on a spotlight. I blink dazedly up at the sky. There’s a whooshing sound above my head. I feel a sudden breeze on my face and see the pines bending and swaying from the chopper hovering above us.
“Sophie!” Someone’s grabbing me, dragging me across the dirt. I bat at the hands on my wrists, trying to fight again. “Sophie! It’s okay! You’re okay!”
“Where’s Adam?” I croak. “He has a gun.”
“It’s okay,” the guy says again. I’m having trouble focusing on the blurry person in front of me, I’m shaking so badly. “We got him. It’s okay,” he repeats, and then turns his head and yells out, “Can I get some EMTs down here?!”
“Where’s Coach?” I mumble. My throat hurts, like someone’s dragged a razor through it. Everything hurts. I push at the cop who’s holding on to me, trying to sit up. There’s a branch digging into my back. “Is he dead?”