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“It’s not like you’re an innocent. You killed that boy in Little Rock in cold blood. You deserved every bit of this game. And what’s to come.”
“Just like I’m gonna love every minute of the game we’re about to play,” Malcolm called out from somewhere overhead. “It’s called sitting ducks. Ever heard of it? Let me explain it nice and simple since you seem to be dumber than a bag of rocks. You’re the duck, and I shoot you.”
Drew swung his shotgun to point it in the direction the voice was coming from and took a shot.
Another shot echoed off the concrete and Drew staggered back a step, then clutched his right arm. Blood bloomed on his shirt sleeve.
I whipped my gun out from behind my back and held it on Drew. “Drop the weapon.”
“Not if you want to play the game,” Drew said with a laugh. “You’re gonna want to know what your sister said about you right before she died. My brother saw it all.”
I stared at him in shock.
Another shot rang out, and Drew fell to his knees, staring at me in disbelief for a split second before his face went blank. Blood gushed from his chest as he fell into a heap.
Another figure stepped out of the shadows, the man I’d seen outside the gas station. He glanced down at Drew, then back up at me. The gun in his hand was still pointed at his son, because there was only one person he could be.
“He was going to hurt you,” Barry Sylvester said, tears streaming down his face. “I had to stop him. He’s hurt enough people.”
It was then I heard Ava’s whimpering.
“Get her out of here,” Malcolm said, walking over to us. “I’ll take care of this mess.”
I gave him a hard glare. “What does that mean?”
Barry Sylvester tossed down his gun and lifted his hands in the air. “Go ahead and shoot me. I deserve it after everything I’ve done.”
“No one’s shooting anyone else,” I said, my voice shaky. “We need to call the sheriff.”
“No sheriff,” both men said at once.
“So what do you plan to do with him?” I gestured to Drew’s body.
“I’ll take care of it,” Barry said. “He’s my son. My responsibility.”
“Is that why you helped him kidnap Eddie Johnson?” I asked.
He adamantly shook his head. “Drew told me that Eddie helped Danny kidnap the girl. I was just trying to make things right. Drew said he could find out where the girl was if I left him alone with Eddie. And I didn’t help kidnap the boy. I only helped move his car and then picked Drew up from the bar outside of town later.” He choked on a sob. “I didn’t see the girl in here, I swear. I had no idea what Drew was up to. Not until I heard they found that guy in the back of the van. Drew told me if I told anyone, he’d tell them I helped Danny do it.”
“Where’s Danny now?” I asked.
“Hiding,” Barry said, tears streaming down his face. “He reached out to me today, telling me Drew was setting him up. But I’d already figured it out by then.”
Malcolm locked gazes with Barry. “Both of your sons are walking pieces of garbage.”
“Only one of ’em’s still walking,” Barry said, his voice breaking.
Malcolm didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes told me he wouldn’t be walking for long.
Chapter 38
We didn’t call the sheriff. In the end, Malcolm convinced me that Vanessa had hired me to find Ava, and it was my responsibility to get her home as soon as possible. The girl was already traumatized enough, and Drew Sylvester was dead. It was up to the Petermans if they wanted to file a report.
I cut Ava free and scooped her up into my arms, carrying her out into my car. She clung to me, wrapping her arms around my neck for dear life. When we got outside, I pried her loose with the promise that she could see her mother in twenty minutes. She immediately released me and fastened her seat belt, ready to go.
To my surprise, when I pulled up to the Peterman’s house, Vanessa was on the front porch wearing a bathrobe—just her. How had she known we were coming?
It had to be Malcolm.
