“Teddy! Teddy!” she yelled between gasping breaths.
Teddy was gone.
She screamed and rose to her feet; then pushing herself with all her might, Darla began to follow the helicopters, chasing them across the sidewalk, cutting through yards, until they were nothing more than tiny spots in the sky.
“Darla! Stop!” She heard and she turned.
Running after her, his big body thumping along the paths she had taken, was Dean.
“They’re gone,” he breathed. “They’re all gone.”
“I tried to get him,” she sobbed and gulped. “I couldn’t run fast enough.”
“No,” Dean shook his head and he put his hands on his knees. When he looked up at her, he had tears in his eyes. “At the house. Back at the house.”
His meaning dawned on her and she paused. “Everyone?”
“They shot everyone,” Dean answered. “God Almighty, Darla, they shot everyone.”
They ran back to the fire. The flames now burst through the second-story windows; orange and red, they danced toward the sky. And black billowing clouds of smoke followed the colorful hues into the air above the house. Soon, the entire neighborhood was painted in a thin blanket of white and gray.
“Ainsley…Doctor Krause…” Darla said trancelike. She tumbled to the ground when the heat of the fire touched her skin. Her thoughts next went to Teddy’s toys. The action figures he had come to love; she resisted the urge to go back into the fire to salvage them. He would be so heartbroken to learn they had burned; her desire to save the toys overwhelmed her. She turned away and let the tears fall.
“Doctor Krause was gone for sure. I saw her as I left. Execution style. Ainsley…I don’t know…” Dean replied. “The fire moved fast…”
Darla nodded, but she wasn’t listening.
She scanned the grass and then jumped. Sitting upright against the shrubs in the far corner of the yard was Spencer. His shirt was stained red and splotches of blood stuck to his neck and his chin. His face was pale, his eyes closed, but Darla could see the rise and fall of his chest.
“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled and crawled forward.
“Darla—” Dean said, but he let her go, following on her heels.
“You gave them my son,” Darla screamed over the roar of the fire. “You told them where he was…this…this death…this is on your hands!”
Spencer kept his hands pressed to his belly, but blood still seeped through his fingers. The men had shot a hole into his stomach and left him to die. Joey, Doctor Krause, were killed instantly—Spencer was dying slowly, bleeding out with each painful intake of air.
They had wanted him to suffer most.
Darla felt Dean’s hand on her arm. Her lips trembled, her limbs shook, everything inside of her was cold. The heat of the fire radiated toward them, but Darla was freezing, her teeth chattered together.
“I wish, I wish,” she breathed, “that they had left you for me.” And she rocked her body forward, with Dean’s hand still wrapped around her wrist and she spit on him. Her saliva rolled down Spencer’s cheek and nose.
“I was never the enemy,” Spencer said in a whisper.
“I don’t have to choose,” Darla screamed. “It’s not you or them. It’s you and them. He’s all I have left! Can’t you understand that? He’s all I had left!”
“Trying…to save…”
“Yourself,” Darla cried. “That’s all everything was ever about. You. You. You. Their blood is on your hands. All those people…who trusted you…”
Something within the house crumbled and crashed; wood and debris began to tumble inward. The crackling of the fire was deafening and the heat became more intense.
“We have to get away from the house,” Dean said and he tugged on Darla.
“Gun,” Darla commanded, but Dean shook his head.
“We have to go, Darla, now,” he said.
“Gun!” she said again and Dean reached into his waistband and pulled out a second small shotgun.
She raised the gun and held it to Spencer’s head. Another crash; sparks and smoke flew upward into the sky.
“You took away everything that mattered to me,” she said as the tears spilled down her face.
“I’m…already…gone,” Spencer muttered with his eyes closed. “You’re…doing me a favor. I want you to…shoot me.”
Darla’s hand trembled as she held the gun in front of her. Then she dropped it to the ground and kicked it away toward the house.
“I want you to suffer,” she said and Spencer did not reply. Blood began to pool at his sides.
Dean marched back through the heat and whisked Darla away, grabbing her around the waist, and pulling her toward safety. She kept her eyes trained on Spencer—the principal followed her gaze and then closed his eyes, his breathing slowing.
“Rot. Rot. Rot in hell…murderer…” Darla screamed at him and then she crumpled into Dean’s arms and let herself get dragged to the opposite side of the street. “He took away everything I had,” Darla said again. She sobbed and watched as the King house succumbed to the fire.
Dean lugged her to the neighbor’s porch and he lifted her up, rested her against the steps. With the burning house in the background, he cupped his hands around her chin and looked at her.
“We’re getting our sons,” he said. “Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Darla answered. “I hear you.”
“Grant and Teddy are okay.”
“Okay.”
“They didn’t take Teddy to hurt him. They took him to save him,” Dean said. “If they wanted to hurt him, they would’ve left him to die. Right?”
Darla nodded. She didn’t know if she believed Dean, but she understood the logic. She nodded again. Then she wiped her face, aware that she was covered in dirt and grime and sweat. With her insides feeling like gelatin and her brain still reeling, she turned and bit her lip.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Right now?” Dean asked. “You okay? You need a moment?”
She shook her head, her raven hair flying. With her hands on her hips, she shot a look to her new unlikely ally. “I don’t need anything but my child.”
“Where are we headed?” Dean asked. “You lead the way.”
Another boom and crash exploded behind them, Darla flinched, but she didn’t move. Her thoughts went to Ainsley, whose body was still out there, probably buried in the house. She wondered what her last moments were like…if she fought, if she sacrificed herself in those final seconds before they took Teddy. Darla pushed the thoughts away; her mind gravitated back to Teddy and the look on his face as they carried him down the street.
They took him away.
“The men knew Ethan was here. And they knew about my child. Which means one thing…Grant and Lucy made it to Brixton. So, we go to Brixton.”
“Nebraska,” Dean said. “Into the lion’s den.”
“You can stay if you want,” Darla spat, turning to him, her eyes flashing with betrayal. “But nothing…nothing…will stop me from going after my son.”
“Hey,” Dean said and put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her into a brief hug; her body stiffened as he embraced her. “You’re the boss. I’m with you. Let’s go get our kids back.”
He let his arm linger on her shoulder for a second and then he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze; then, mechanically, they both turned to the pyre and stood frozen on the sidewalk, as the home tumbled downward, crashing to the earth in a pillar of smoke and ash and flame.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO