Chuck drained the rest of his beer in one pull and motioned for another. “Shit.”
“Yeah. No kidding, right?” The barkeep poured him a fresh mug and set it down. “They found him handcuffed to the wheel of his own truck.” He shook his head. “He was all fucked-up, man. Ears cut off. Eyes cut out. Cops figure it was a drug thing. Joe Bob was a distributor. The guess is he was moving in on somebody else’s territory. And that somebody decided to set an example.”
Chuck grunted. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
Chuck knocked back the rest of his second beer. “I think I’m done here.”
“Sorry to bum you out, dude.”
Chuck shrugged. “Hell, I barely knew Joe Bob. It’s too bad, but…what can you do?”
The barkeep swiped his card and handed it back with the receipt. “That’s too true, bud. The lesson here? Stay out of the drug business.”
Chuck signed the receipt and passed it back. “Yeah. No shit.”
He walked out of the bar and got back behind the wheel of the Porsche. He started the car and drove around to the back of the building. There were two cars out back, a single small loading bay, and an overflowing blue Dumpster. A shiver crawled up his spine as he surveyed the back lot. Missy Wallace had been here. He could feel her presence. He experienced a mixture of anger and deep confusion. Killing Joe Bob, he was certain, had not been a case of exacting revenge on his behalf. It made no sense. She hated him. There had to be some other motivation. He thought about it some more and came to the only conclusion that made any sense to him. Missy Wallace was a lot of things, nearly all of them bad, but she was smart. And cold. She knew what men were like. She would have known how likely it was he’d return here one day for his pound of flesh. So she’d decided to take his chance at that away from him, too.
Just as she’d taken Zoe.
You fucking bitch.
Chuck sat there a while longer and wondered what his next move should be. There were some immediate and obvious impulses. He could get blind drunk. Go back in the bar right now and just get started. He could spend the rest of his life getting hammered and stewing in his anger, lamenting his powerlessness.
Or he could just let it all go.
He could accept that things were the way they were and go back to just living his life. And moving on. He thought of something his father had said over and over during the summer. It is what it is. A stupid, overused phrase. It had always annoyed Chuck, but hearing his father utter those trite words so often had pushed him to the point of near insanity. But maybe Dad had been on to something there. Maybe there was some small bit of wisdom in those words.
And maybe, just maybe, it really was time to let it all go. His grief. His bitterness at Emily Sinclair’s survival after playing dead. The deeper bitterness he felt every time he thought about Julie and Missy still being free. His regret and his self-loathing over his failure to save anybody.
Just…let it go.
He was pretty sure it was what Zoe would want.
And it would be the last thing Missy Wallace would ever expect.
For the first time in months, a genuine smile brightened Chuck’s face. He put the car in gear and drove away from Big Sam’s forever.
October 31
Early evening on Halloween, and the neighborhood was alive with a spooky vibe appropriate to the event. The leaves had turned and a strong wind was scattering brown piles of them across the streets and sidewalks. Adults and children wandered about in costume. One girl in a sexy nurse outfit staggered out of a house party and puked into the bushes as Lindsey drove by in her Pontiac Sunfire. An athletic-looking guy in a devil costume held her hair back as she heaved her guts out.
Lindsey had to chuckle.
Chivalry ain’t dead yet.
She turned down another street, went down a block, and turned in at the parking lot outside the apartment complex where she lived. There were more drunken revelers milling about here. More parties and more people in wild costumes. She lived in the shadow of Vanderbilt University, in the Hillsboro Village neighborhood, and here Halloween was mostly a really good excuse to get stinking drunk. Lindsey was thinking she might crash one of the many parties happening later in the evening. She was in a mood to celebrate.
The prosecution had finally offered its plea deal and Rob’s attorney had accepted on his behalf. And it was just like they’d been told. His sentence would be ten years, but he’d almost certainly be out earlier than that. When he got out, he’d still be a relatively young man in his late twenties. He would still have a shot at a productive life as a solid citizen.
More importantly, as far as Lindsey was concerned, he would be forever in her debt. She smiled as she got out of the car and threw the door shut, barely resisting the urge to skip along as she walked down the sidewalk in front of her building and climbed the steps to her third-floor apartment. The apartment she was still essentially sharing with Rob. His uncle was covering Rob’s portion of the rent for now, though lately he’d been making noises about helping her get a house. Lindsey was resisting, because she liked being in a place where she’d spent so much time with Rob. She liked to sleep in his bed and feel his presence. She could still smell him in the bedsheets and in the clothes that hung in his closet, especially in the collection of rock and roll and horror T-shirts he’d worn so often. That scent was there no matter how many times she washed them, and that comforted her. She slept in a different one every night, lying there in the dark as she stared up at the ceiling and thought about the future.
She entered the apartment and closed and locked the door behind her. After setting her purse on the dining-room table, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a cold beer from the refrigerator. She pried the cap off and took a deep swig. It was beyond refreshing. She carried the bottle out to the living room, curled up on the sofa, and turned on the TV. The local news was all over the story about Rob’s plea deal, but on CNN and Fox, at least at the moment, it only rated a two-sentence ticker alert. Which figured. The cable outlets were way more interested in the girls. Good. Her hope was that Rob’s story would continue to fade into the background over time. Then, when he got out, they could spend a relatively normal life together.
And again, it would be a life in which he could never forget or fully repay his debt to her. She would wait for him. She would see to his affairs. And she’d be loyal to him, with the small possible exception of the occasional one-night stand. Five years or whatever was a long time to go without getting laid, after all. Still, she wouldn’t give her heart to anyone else during that time and would be there for him when he got out.
Her eyes grew wet.
She’d waited so long for this chance. He belonged to her now. She saw it in the desperate longing evident in his eyes every time she visited him. Heard it in his voice every time he told her how much he loved her. It filled her with an intoxicating sense of power. She had a strong hold on him now and she would never, ever relinquish it. In fact, she meant to exploit it to the fullest. Among other things, he’d never be allowed to forget what a mistake he’d made in ignoring her all those years.
She finished off the beer, stretched, and yawned. Maybe she should take a short nap before heading out to one of the parties. She returned to the kitchen and dumped the empty bottle in the trash can. The beer had made her feel a little tingly. Pleasantly so. Maybe she’d hook up with some guy later. It’d been more than a month since the last time.
She was smiling as she entered Rob’s room.
That changed when she sensed the movement behind her and felt the hand at the small of her back.
She let out a yelp as she was shoved forward. The bedroom door slammed shut as she stumbled a few steps and dropped to her knees. Panic gripped her, made her heart race and her breath come fast. Someone had broken in while she was gone. She hoped she wasn’t about to be raped.