She nodded, and he released his hand.
“Why?” she asked.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she said, a tear dropping from her eye. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m doing nothing. I just need you to walk outside. That’s it.”
She swallowed. “Who gave you the right to do this?”
“Do what?”
“Decide if I should live or die.”
He stopped and bowed his head before raising it. “I wish it was some other way. But it’s what seems best to me.”
“What seems best to you? That’s it? Just because you feel it doesn’t mean it’s right.”
He said nothing.
“What you feel is wrong.”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
She blinked. More tears. “Oh, God. I’m not ready, I’m not—”
He snapped the tape from the workbench and pressed it onto her mouth. She started to scream just before he got it on, but the sound didn’t last long. She slapped at his arms, and he grabbed her wrists. “Stop. If you just do what I ask, it’ll be over quickly. Put your hood up.”
She sniffled and pulled the hood of his jacket over her head and looked back at him, her eyes red and puffed.
“I’m sorry, Kelly. You’ve been—you’ve been great to Aidan. And to Molly. I’m sorry. But everyone dies one day. Just know you’re helping Aidan—right now—listen, right now you’re helping him live as long as possible. If you just do like I ask, I promise you won’t suffer. I promise.”
Though he couldn’t keep that promise. It all depended on Michael’s aim. He puffed up the jacket on her shoulders and said, “You’re going to walk out to the stump. Put a chunk of wood on it, but don’t try to cut it. Just take the axe in your hand. Be very still and face away from the house, okay? If you don’t, I can’t guarantee the first shot will end it.”
She pleaded with her eyes.
“I’m sorry, okay? Don’t be scared. It’ll be like going to sleep.”
He picked up the rifle he had set on the wall earlier. He pulled the garage door open and tilted his head out the door, not meeting her eye. “Come on. Go.”
She listened. As she made the slow walk across the icy, dark snow, Sean lagged behind, stepping out only far enough so that his back was to the side of the garage. He slid along it away from the door, his rifle close to his chest and his knees bent. Kelly kept going. If she turned around, he would have to shoot her himself.
The thoughts came then. For a second Sean couldn’t breathe, watching her walk to her death, his own justifications growing weaker in his mind. Don’t do this. It must be done. You can still pull her back. He’ll see you. No, he won’t. Michael might kill you first. Not like this. Not like this.
Don’t think.
Sean grunted, slipped around the corner of the garage, and backtracked a few feet toward a fallen tree. Only some of it was left; he had hacked most of it for firewood, but it was a good vantage point of the backyard. And a good spot to hide behind. He planted his knees into the snow and brought his rifle over the top. Lowered his body, flipping up the two covers on both ends of his scope and positioning his phone on the log in front of him.
Kelly had the axe now. She placed a block of wood onto the cutting stump. Something was wrong. She was staying still, but every passing second made Sean wonder what Michael was thinking. He watched on the screen while Michael sat at the gun, looking down the mounted rifle scope. The shot had been in Michael’s crosshairs for a while now. Perhaps, he had overestimated Michael’s resolve. Sean kept his eyes darting between the screen and Kelly when—
A rifle popped.
Surprised, Sean ducked down below the plane of the fallen log. He knew Michael couldn’t see him, but the sudden rush blurred his reality. Slowly, he raised his head back up over the log, almost expecting to be shot. His shock waned, and he brought his eye back to the scope.
Kelly was squirming on the ground. Sean grunted. The least Michael could do was finish it. It was the merciful thing to do. He was tempted to do it himself, but the illusion had to be sustained. Michael needed to think he had won.
The wood exploded over Kelly’s head, but this time Sean was ready for it. He winced but kept his scope steady on her. She squirmed, almost as if she were trying to turn around. Sean whispered for Michael to just end it already. She had suffered enough. When her back popped and blood shot into the air, he knew Michael had done it. Her limbs flopped and sank to the ground, lifeless.
Sean waited, releasing a sigh. He scarcely had the will to look at Kelly’s body, but he forced himself to. Told himself that it was for the best. That she would not have made it anyway.
The most dangerous part of his plan was now in play. There was no guessing what Michael would do. He might stick around inside, or he might venture out to check the body. There was no way of knowing. If Sean barged inside, Michael might be waiting with an ambush. If he stayed outside too long, he could freeze.
He stayed put. It seemed like the best idea. He waited, listening for the garage door to open and Michael to walk out onto the charcoal snow. He wouldn’t even know what hit him. Before he even made it to the body, he would be dead.
Minutes passed. It became increasingly likely in Sean’s mind that he would have to kill Michael inside. He weighed the options. Sure, it meant another bloodstain on his carpet, but he could live with that. His family would finally be safe. Their future would be secure.
His joints cracked as he rose from his position. He got up but heard something. He paused, listening, sinking back behind the fallen log, Michael’s shape creeping closer toward Kelly’s body in the corner of his eye. Sean set his rifle back into position.
Michael’s pace was glacial. Sean would have it done before he ever reached his wife’s body. He looked down the scope and put the crosshair onto Michael’s side. Michael just needed to angle a bit more toward the chopping block and Sean would have a clean shot. Michael did as Sean had expected. He turned toward Kelly’s body and picked up his pace, holding the shotgun from the living room. Almost to the body.
Sean held his breath to steady his shot. None of his nerves fired. His mind was relaxed.
“Michael!”
Elise. Somewhere inside.
He lifted his eyes and brought them back to the scope, grunting soft and low. Michael reached down toward the body. Sean gritted his teeth and lined up the shot.
“Michael, where’s Kelly?”
Michael pulled his wife’s shoulder, her body rolling to the side. He screamed and dropped to his knees. Sean lost the shot. The shotgun tumbled to the side, and Michael wrapped his hands around the back of his head and then grabbed at his wife’s body, shaking it and crying out her name. Sean tried to keep his bead steady, but Michael picked her up into his arms and rocked her back and forth, his movement erratic. When Michael finally paused, Sean squeezed the trigger.
Michael fell like he had been hit with a wrecking ball. Sean jumped over the log, keeping his rifle level with the ground, crunching the deep snow around him. There were only thirty yards between them. His steps were large. He came upon Michael, wiggling around on his back, blood pumping out of his upper abdomen, gasping.
Michael reached out for the shotgun next to him.
Sean said, “I took the powder out of the shells weeks ago. Save your energy.”
Michael’s hand gripped at the snow, and he yelled, either in pain or frustration. Sean didn’t know. “You son of a bitch,” Michael said in between gasping breaths. “You killed her.”
“I killed her?” Sean said, standing over him.
“You motherfucker,” he cried.
Sean said nothing.
“You, you motherf—” he said and coughed up blood.
“What did you think would happen? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know what you were planning?”