But he felt something else as well, and as tears streamed down his face, his blood and his life seeping from him, he tried to say it, tried to spit out the gag and tell Carl. . . .
"Choking again, good buddy?"
Carl's hand pulled out the vile rag. Cavanaugh's mouth was almost too dry to force out the words.
"Got something to say?" Carl asked.
Cavanaugh nodded weakly.
"Let's hear it."
"I'm . . ."
"Yes? Keep trying. Get it out. Last words and all that."
"Sorry."
"Ah."
Cavanaugh's mind seemed to plummet.
"Sorry? You know what, my friend?" Carl said. "I am too. Three years ago, maybe I should just have kicked the shit out of you. Maybe I was afraid I couldn't do it. But hey, I sure kicked the shit out of you now."
Cavanaugh felt more tears streaming down his face. What he had tried to say was that, Jamie aside, he was sorry that he and Carl had ever grown up. I wish we were still kids, he thought. His head thudded onto the blood-soaked wood.
Chapter 43.
"John, help me think," Jamie said. "Where did they go?" Jamie aimed the flashlight through the fog. Frantic, she stumbled forward into the darkness.
"What's that over there?" Rutherford said.
"Where?"
" There. " Rutherford guided her hand, the flashlight dimly revealing a children's climbing-gym: rods and railings and tubes in a rock-walled grotto whose sides were topped with bushes and evergreen shrubs.
Jamie entered the grotto and shivered as if in another dimension. She scanned the dim light over everything, the wood chips on the ground, the little bridge over a culvert through which children could crawl, the beams that formed a sandbox, the picnic tables.
"There's no blood." A sob escaped her. "I don't know what to do."
She stepped farther inside the grotto. She aimed the light at everything, lingering, staring. Finally, desperate to search somewhere else, she turned away. Her flashlight swung past something.
"Wait."
She redirected the light.
"Tell me if I'm seeing things."
" Where? "
"There!"
She and Rutherford walked toward the children's bridge. It spanned a cement culvert that children would find exciting to crawl through. On the right, there was a second culvert, smaller, more exciting. Between the two was the rock wall, huge boulders embedded in a dirt slope.
"That boulder," Jamie said. "The one in the middle. Why are-"
"Wood chips on it?" Rutherford asked.
"There aren't any on the others. Help me," Jamie pleaded.
They rushed to the boulder. Rutherford grabbed its top.
"Stand back," he told Jamie. "Aim the light."
Jamie did. She also aimed the gun. Rutherford pulled with all his broad-shouldered strength, unprepared for how easily the boulder toppled away, revealing a nightmare, two men smeared in blood, the smell of excrement streaming out. Next to them lay the strap that Carl had wrapped around the boulder, hoisting the rock back into place, then pulling the strap through slits on either slide.
At first, it was impossible to tell the difference between them, both were so mired in gore. One wasn't moving. But the other raised his head and peered out. His left eye was missing. His lips were crusted with blood.
"Looks like I lost the bet." Carl's voice sounded like his throat was filled with sand. "No matter. I was never going to let you win it, Aaron."
Carl lowered a knife to slit Cavanaugh's throat.
Jamie shot out Carl's other eye.
Chapter 44.
Cavanaugh saw lights in his coffin. Blinding. Panicked, he jerked up a hand to shield his eyes.
Fingers startled him, grasping his arm, lowering it.
"You'll pull out your IV line," Jamie said.
His eyelids felt as if they were sewed shut. Slowly, he managed to break the imaginary threads and open his eyes.
Jamie sat next to him. She was haggard with exhaustion, her green eyes dull, her brunette hair lusterless from tension, and yet she looked as beautiful as he'd ever seen her.
He was in a hospital bed. His side and back throbbed. Stitches and bandages squeezed him. His lips felt thick, his tongue swollen and dry.
Jamie put a straw in his mouth.
Grateful, he sipped. The water was tasteless for a moment. Then it became exquisite. But weakness made it difficult for him to swallow. He drooled. Jamie used a cloth to wipe it away.
"Afraid I'm not at my best," he said.
"Nonsense. You're perfect."
Weariness drifted over him.
When he wakened again, Jamie continued to sit next to him.
She squeezed his hand. "Asleep, you look like a little boy."
Mustering his strength, Cavanaugh managed to ask, "Carl?"
"Dead."
"How?"
She told him. He had to concentrate to take in all the details.
"The boulders and wood chips were wet from the rain," she said. "When Carl lowered the boulder that hid him, wood chips stuck to it. They were under the boulder. He couldn't have seen them when he pulled the boulder back into place. He must have been so delirious with pain that he didn't realize."
"The second person you've killed."