Sitting up, I take stock of my surroundings and I’m pretty sure this isn’t where I hit the dirt.They must’ve moved me.
We’re still outside; I can feel the cold crawling into my bones.The first person I see is Everett, he’s standing next to what I’m pretty sure is a compactor, with his back to me.He’s obscuring my view of Wally, whose voice I heard.I can see the back end of his golf cart, but not the man himself.
Who I can’t see is Remi.Where the hell is he?
“But Pa, Doyle said make the boy disappear.”
Disappear?And who the fuck is Doyle?
I shake my head to clear the cobwebs, not knowing if maybe that hit on the head left me confused, or I’m just in the dark on what is going on here.
“Yeah?And what do you suggest we do with this guy?Keep him as a fucking pet?Because we sure as shit can’t send him back where he came from now, can we?”
Suddenly Wally Shirk steps into view, leaning heavily on his cane as he looks past his son and locks eyes on me.
“No witnesses, Everett.That means him too,” he adds, without looking away.
His cold stare sends a fucking chill up my spine.
My head is scrambling for some explanation for what is happening here.I’ve been coming here off and on for years and even though the Shirks aren’t exactly the most welcoming, I would never have thought them dangerous in any way.
Apparently, I was very wrong.
“Who is Doyle?”is the first thing out of my mouth.Not, where is Remi, which is a question screaming through my mind, but am not asking.Maybe subconsciously I don’t want to know the answer, afraid to find out I’ve failed the boy, and failed his mother, who put her trust in me.
So instead, I look for anything that might explain what the hell we’ve walked into.
“My other son,” he answers without hesitation.“The one his useless bitch of a mother never told me about when she took off.He found us though, didn’t he?A smart boy, clearly inherited all the brains, and he understands the importance of a father in the family.Not like this dumbass, who couldn’t find his way out of a goddamn wet paper bag.The other one though, he’s got a good head on him.A teacher and an entrepreneur.”
Except he pronounces itentry-pu-ner,as a proud smile exposes his missing teeth.
Another son.A teacher.The dots quickly connect.
“Could’a knocked me over with a feather when you showed up here with that boy.Same damn kid Doyle told numbnuts here to send a warning to.”He points his gnarly index finger at me before he continues, “You made it real fucking easy for us to find him.All I had to do, while you two were out here poking around my yard, was send Everett off to pick up a couple of punks and head over to your shop to wait for you to get back so he could teach the kid a lesson.”
What are the odds?If I’d have been able to find the grille for Brant’s vintage Bronco at Lutton’s, we wouldn’t be in this situation.Or maybe I should say,Iwouldn’t be in this situation, because Remi would likely still have been targeted.
Remi…
“What did you do with the boy?”I ask, suddenly feeling the need to know.
Instead of answering me, Wally directs his son.
“Put him with the kid.”
Does that mean he’s still alive?
Everett—who reminds me a little of Lurch of the Addams Family with his lumbering gait and almost blank facial expressions—walks over and grabs me under the arms, easily hoisting me to my unsteady feet.
Eager to find out what happened to Remi, I don’t resist when he starts dragging me around the side of the compactor.An old, badly damaged, navy-blue Crown Vic is occupying what can only be described as an oversized can crusher.
I’m not an idiot, I can see the plan now.
“It’s not going to work,” I call out.“People know we were coming here.”
“You never made it.Your truck may or may not be found at the bottom of a ravine along the highway, your bodies will never be found, and no one would be the wiser.”
I don’t think it’ll be that easy.For one, Tessa would never give up looking for her son.Never.
