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She’s still not talking as I hug her to me, pressing my lips to the top of her head as I stroke her back.
I need to get to a phone.
With that in mind, I shift back behind the steering wheel and start driving again.
Zoe is definitely in shock. I need to get her something to drink and maybe some sugar.
The roads are windy this far up, but it’s only a few minutes later before we are approaching the gate to the property.
The first sign that something isn’t right is that there are no men at the gate. The next sign is that no men stop our attempt to drive up the dirt track, leading to the old house. The third sign is that it feels like a ghost town, and if it weren’t for the motorbike tracks coming in and out of the property, I would think no one has been here in a long time.
But those tracks are fresh.
Too fresh.
Pulling the truck to a stop, I cut the engine and listen to the dead silence, other than some birds in the distance. I scan the area. The old barn, the house, they look normal, just not bustling with life like the last time I was here.
Slowly, I unbuckle myself, eyeing Zoe who is quiet, but no longer crying. She’s not exactly paying attention to what’s around her either.
Reaching under the seat, I pull out the hidden bag and reload my revolver with the bullets kept there. Then I fish out the Glock, checking the clip is full before glancing up at Zoe again.
“Zo,” I whisper but it’s loud enough to gain her attention. “I need you to take this.” I hold the Glock between us, but she shakes her head. “Zoe, baby,” I cup her chin, “I need you to listen to me carefully. Okay?”
When she nods, I continue. “I know you don’t like guns, but I need to go inside the house and check things out, and I can’t leave you out here without a way to defend yourself. Please take the gun.” I drop my hand from her face and look down at the Glock, pointing to it. “This is the safety. It can’t shoot unless this is off. You just have to remember that if you’re in danger, flick the safety off first. Okay?”
She shakes her head, so I lean forward and press my forehead against hers.
“Zo. Please.” I beg, “I can’t fucking think straight if you’re out here alone and unprotected. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
“I remember,” she whispers, and I frown.
“What?” I stroke her hair behind her ear and her pained eyes lock with mine. “The attack after my graduation. I remember now. I didn’t before, but I do now. It was you.”
Nodding, I cup her cheek. “Yes, Zo. I told you it was me.”
“I wanted to believe you, but I just couldn’t remember, but then… before with the shooting… on the floor, while you shielded me. It was the same. It all came rushing back.”
Fuck. She actually remembers. This is good, I think, but we aren’t safe right now, so I don’t have the time to give her to talk this through.
“That’s good, Princess. But for now, I need to make sure you understand what I need you to do, because I need to go inside that house, and I need to know you understand what I’m telling you about the gun.”
“I’ll come with you,” she whispers, and I lean back to look into her hopeful eyes.
“No. I have a feeling that there’s nothing good inside that house. If I’m right, I don’t want you seeing it. Just please, stay here. Protect yourself. For me?”
Her blue gaze roams over my face, like she’s committing it to memory, before her eyes find mine again.
“Okay.”
“Fuck, Princess. Thank you.” I press my lips to her forehead, relief washing over me that she is here with me and understanding what I need her to do.
I pass her the gun, and this time she takes it, and I go through the process again of what does what before I kiss her forehead again and climb out of the truck to rush up the front steps of the old house.
I knock, but after a few seconds of no sounds, I open the door.
I smell it before I see it. The metallic scent of blood thick in the air. Dread fills my gut, but I continue forward, finding the dead bodies in the dining room. All of them shot dead.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my eyes landing on Old Man Wilson. He was a grumpy old prick, but he didn’t deserve to die like this.
