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He’d already paid off a hospital staff who closed off a wing like I was royalty, and they patched me up enough to travel by sea—on the yacht Jake also bought, since flight plans had to be changed to avoid anyone noticing my condition.
From time to time, I check in on Logan—or try to. He’s been on leave, but Jake won’t hack the FBI data base to find out more than that.
We know we have to let Logan and Hadley go. It’s what’s safest for them.
We can’t condemn corruption then drag more souls into our own damnation without facing our own hypocrisy.
I pick up Jake’s underwear and groan as I toss them into the laundry basket he can never seem to find. I still have a small limp, but I’m getting stronger with each passing day.
My hand has healed up much quicker than my leg, but the doctor swears I’ll make a full recovery with just a scar as a reminder. At least I won’t mind my new scars. They tell a better story of survival than the others.
We’re both a little lost right now, trying to find a new purpose to channel all our energy into. Jake has gotten good at fishing—weirdly enough. We’ve both gotten really good at being drunk half the day.
The pain in my leg is barely even there anymore. I’ll be glad when it’s gone completely.
My wax apple is proudly stationed next to a portrait of the ashy remnants of Delaney Grove, and I smirk at all the nails sticking out of it. The last one was added over a month ago. There’s only one more nail to go before the apple art is complete.
Something falls, and I whirl around, a knife in my hand, just in time to see a black blur of fur as it dives behind my couch. I see the coaster that has been knocked off the table, and I curse Bennett.
“Bennett,” I hiss at the fur ball.
A small meow follows the scolding as Bennett pokes his head out from behind the couch and peers at me with innocent eyes. Damn cat.
I fill up his food bowl, and he slides across the slick, tile floor when he tries to tackle it. Then I kick on some sandals and head out for my daily walk, making my leg stronger and stronger.
At least I’m good at rehabilitation.
Per the usual, I plug in my earbuds and start playing my music, while also internet searching for any news from the states that might pertain to the FBI finally fessing up to the truth.
I know it’s doubtful, despite the mounds of evidence, but I keep hoping they’ll eventually exonerate my father’s memory.
Delaney Grove has started rebuilding, according to one article. The people are trying to piece their town together, and the dorky but sweet deputy has been named the new county sheriff. It might have helped that we spared his life, along with two others who weren’t involved.
The rest of the world may forget us and the legacy we left behind, but Delaney Grove will forever be changed. No one there will forget.
And maybe Jake and I took a long trip back to the states just to kill Jason for the purpose of letting Logan know I was alive.
Jake had to help me subdue him, considering I’m still not as fast, given the leg injury.
But I don’t know if Logan ever figured it out. It took them longer to recover the body than I expected. Sheesh. That house must have the lowest interest in the market.
However, it was discovered over two weeks ago, and nothing suspicious has happened. Jake is too busy fishing and still too mad at me to hack anything for me, so I’m stuck with the regular articles everyone sees.
Most of the buzz is still going, and weird conspiracy theories have formed, overshadowing the actual conspiracy theory.
But one article has me almost tripping over myself when I’m right in front of my house. My eyes read over it quickly, trying to understand the words.
The same day Jason’s body was discovered, another man died, though his body was just recovered yesterday afternoon.
It’s the man’s name that has my skin prickling.
Christopher Denver.
Olivia hasn’t called to tell us anything. At least Jake hasn’t mentioned it. Then again, he’s still pissed at me for almost dying, so prying information about following events has been difficult, since that’s part of my punishment.
I turn and look at the beach where Jake is lying down, a pole between his legs as he sleeps and fishes at the same time. I trudge through the sand, wincing when I try to run. Then I kick the jerk.
A loud oomph leaves his lips as I kneel beside him.
