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I stared at their corpses, not moving, until one word flitted into my skull.
Mom.
I parked and jumped out. I should’ve called Jarrod or Calvin or Cora or the police. Whoever killed the guards might’ve been waiting for me.
Hell, I knew who did it.
Noah and Raymond. I didn’t need to guess.
I didn’t hesitate. Mom was inside and she needed help. I barreled in through the front door, breathing hard, freaking out. “Mom!”
I ran into the living room.
The TV was on. Her blankets were in a pile on the floor. A glass of white wine with two ice cubes it in stood alone on the coffee table.
She was gone.
I searched everywhere. The kitchen, her room. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood, no bodies.
She was simply gone.
I went back into the kitchen, trembling. I paced, freaking out. I could barely keep myself together.
It took me way too long to notice the note stuck to the refrigerator with a Margaritaville magnet my dad brought home as a joke a few years back after a business trip.
I tugged down the paper.
The handwriting was immaculate. It was neat and lovely, looping, feminine.
Dear Robyn,
I have your mother. I’m sure you’ve realized that by now.
Don’t mourn the dead men out front. They weren’t kind.
If you want your dear mother returned, please accept the very kind and generous offer I made you. Renounce your relationship with my son and divorce him. Toss that gaudy ring down the drain. Turn your back on our world.
In exchange, your mother will live, and your father will die.
Fitting, yes?
Darling, I wish this could be easier, but I cannot leave this to chance.
Please do what’s best.
Sincerely, Diana
PS, I do so dislike violence, but my sons are not so averse. You have a day to decide.
26
Calvin
My mother insisted on meeting on the Blackwoods campus. “I went there too, you know. Best years of my life.” She crooned at me over the phone with too much glee in her voice.
I sat in the second row in the central Blackwoods Cathedral, an enormous Catholic church at the edge of a manmade lake called Student’s Folly after all the dead kids that drowned out there after drinking too much. The ceiling was high and voices bounced off the stone walls and floor, amplifying every whisper, every prayer.
The place was empty except for me and Robyn.
She sat rigid beside me. Her back was straight and her chin was tilted up toward the altar. I didn’t know what was going through her mind. The stained-glass images of Jesus and his apostles stared down on our sinning bodies and I wondered if this had been a mistake—but the cathedral was the only place on campus where I didn’t think my mother would try to have me killed.
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I said as quietly as I could.
Robyn shook her head, a slight turning of her chin. “It’s the best option. You said so yourself.”
“We could try—”
“No,” she said, eyes hardening. “I have to face her.”
I slipped my hand into hers. She held onto my fingers tightly, and I could feel her anxiety despite the calm and centered exterior. She was trembling, and I knew her frustration was a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Fear for her mother, and fear of mine.
This hadn’t been my first option. Originally, I wanted Matthias to track down where my mother was staying, break into her hotel room, and cut her throat. But Matthias had talked me out of that, and suggested I try something that didn’t come naturally: diplomacy.
“My mother wants to end this as much as we do,” I said, shifting closer, my thigh touching Robyn’s. She was warm and soft, everything I wanted, but could never be. I was much too broken for that. “She isn’t stupid. She knows hurting your mom will only escalate things further.”
“Noah and Raymond aren’t quite so restrained.”
“They are with her. Noah’s her favorite for a reason, and Raymond does whatever they want, because he’s a mindless idiot.”
“They nearly killed you. Jarrod said if he hadn’t stopped them—”
“It doesn’t matter. They want me dead, not your mom.”
She turned her face to mine. She had tears in her eyes and her lip quivered. “What if they hurt my mom? For fun? Or revenge?”
“They won’t.” I squeezed her hand hard. “And if they do, I’ll kill them both myself.”
She nodded. I reached up and wiped her tears and she smiled. She composed herself as the sound of the doors opening echoed into the room.
My mother’s heels clacked as she came down the aisle. When she reached our pew, she crossed herself and curtsied to the altar before slipping in beside me.
She looked good. Well rested, put together. She wore a light black jacket and a cream-colored sweater over a pair of designer pants and heels. A big, black bag hung from her shoulder. I wondered if she had a gun in there, but it was more likely she came packing books than heat.
