“But… my father?” I take a step back, the first to break our hug. “We can’t ask them now where he is.”
All three of us look at the two dead bodies lying in front of us.
“Dead men tell no secrets,” Anderson reminds us.
“How am I going to find out where my father is now?”
I am overcome with all the emotions, and I drop down to my knees, bursting out into tears. I’m sobbing uncontrollably, and Anderson is the first to wrap his arms around me. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what, and neither do I. I just know that I survived, but at the expense of my father’s life. I wanted at least one more moment, just one, just to tell him that I don’t think he is to blame for anything that’s happened. We can’t be held responsible for what other people do. We can only get entangled into it.
“Wait,” Fynn suddenly says.
I know the sound of that voice. I know that tone. I’ve gotten to know him enough to recognize when he’s on the verge of something, something important.
“What is it?” I stop crying, taking my hands off my face. Anderson also releases me from his embrace.
“Where was that house?” Fynn asks, looking like he got lost in his own thoughts, but he is trying to let us in.
“What house?” Anderson interferes.
“The one we burned down, with Kayne in it,” Fynn reminds him. “Where was it?”
“Wait,” Anderson taps his chin with the tips of his fingers in an effort to remember. “Wasn’t it by the boondocks?”
“I can’t remember. Are you sure?”
“Not a hundred percent, but it’s as good a guess as any,” Anderson shrugs. “Why?”
“Well, Kayne was obsessed with revenge, wasn’t he?” He pauses, allowing us to nod quickly. “He did all of this because he wanted to get back at Hugo, and at us. So, there is only one logical place where he would leave him.”
“You don’t mean – “
“Yeah,” Fynn nods gravely. “We need to get to that house. Now.”
“Are you sure my dad’s there?” I ask, sitting on the backseat of the fast moving car.
Anderson is driving, and I can see the tight grip of his hands on the steering wheel. He wants to get us there as soon as possible, and I fear that every second counts. That is, if my father is even there, which is something we can’t be sure of.
“That’s my best guess,” Fynn replies in his usual nothing-is-certain manner. “If he isn’t there, then I really don’t know where he could be. But, knowing Kayne, that’s not only a possibility, but a probability.”
I know this is as hopeful as his words would ever get, and I’m grateful for them. I huddle in the backseat, wishing for a blanket, but my body is still functioning under the strain of the adrenaline rush, and I don’t even feel the chill of the night.
We drive in silence, each of us lost in their own thoughts, fighting our own demons. Somehow, I feel like there are less of mine. This nightmare is almost over. The persons who were responsible for this will never be brought to justice, but at least they will never do any harm again. That in itself is a solace of some sort.
As for my father, that lack of knowledge still bears heavily upon my soul. I look out the window, into the darkness, and wonder if that is what he sees if he is still alive. Is he breathing his last breath? Is he breathing at all?
All those questions are pressing onto my soul heavily. I feel like the burden of the world is on my back. I want to know. That’s all I want. Even if the knowledge will bring me more pain, but anything is better than not knowing.
The drive is endless. We all shake and rattle on the dirt road that seems to take us into more darkness. A part of me wonders if this darkness will ever end, or will it just continue indefinitely?
Finally, the car stops. The bright lights are on, but I can’t see anything in front of us. Just pure, unadulterated darkness that seems to mock our efforts at finding what we are looking for.
“We’re here,” Fynn informs us, even though it’s unnecessary.
Still, no one gets out of the car. Not yet. My legs seem frozen. I’m petrified with the possibility that my father isn’t here. Because, if we don’t find him here, than he could be anywhere in the entire world, and he could be waiting for me to come and get him. The thought of him waiting somewhere, hurt and alone, brings tears to my eyes.
At that moment, Anderson turns to me. “Hey,” his voice is soft and gentle, as always. Nothing changes it, and that constant returns some of my courage. “We’ll find him.”