The canopy of green blocks the rain, but it also increases the darkness. Any speed I would have been able to gain is reduced by the need to be more cautious. I’m surrounded by the heavy scent of trees and moldering wood. The roof of the round pavilion on a high point overlooking the sea emer
ges in the night, and I slow my speed as I approach our meeting place.
A small car is parked along the side of the black asphalt road. I continue past it, steering my bike so it’s around the back of the wooden structure, hidden in the trees. The noise of a gunshot will be loud, and I want to be concealed in case anyone else is out here tonight.
For a moment I sit on the bike, eyes closed, breathing deep. Ice filters through my chest, and the muscles in my arms feel jangly. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to pray before killing someone… I decide this is justice, and I think of ancient kings going into battle. I think of knights facing dragons. If Dwayne Vega isn’t a modern-day dragon, I don’t know what he is.
Fire and ice… I go back to that tiny bedroom in Florida. I think I know enough of hate…
Stepping away from my bike, my boots make a swishing noise on the wet leaves beneath my feet. I follow the path out of the trees to the round building where my task awaits. Reaching up, I slide the wet scarf off my head. It didn’t keep my hair dry, and I shove it deep into my pocket. It’s a warm night, so I loosen the belt on my coat. I slip my trembling hand between the layers of fabric and press the button to turn off the safety on the small revolver hidden there.
I’ve arrived at the front of the building. Concrete steps lead up to an open-air doorway. The pavilion is open to the night, but it’s dark. When I reach the top of the steps, I wait. My pulse races beneath my skin, and I strain my eyes for any sign of his body. A small flame flashes orange across the space from me, and as it rises to light a cigarette, I see the face from my nightmares. The pale, doughy face, the watery, brown eyes that always made me think of raw eggs. He smiles, and my throat tightens.
“Beautiful Ava.”
“Dwayne,” I say, feeling the dormant hatred and rage smoldering to life in my chest.
He slowly begins walking toward me. His shoes scuff against the concrete floor. “The most beautiful one…”
“You wanted to see me again.”
“I’ve dreamed of this night.” He’s closer now, close enough that I can smell the familiar stench of stale whiskey. If the light were better, I could see the tobacco stains on his teeth.
“What did you dream about this night?” I ask.
My goal is to have him confess. I want him to tell me he killed Ramona and Grace. I want to know if he is the man behind the recent crimes. But I have to lead him to that truth. He won’t confess right away.
“So many things…” Reaching out, he touches my arm, and I’m thankful for the coat protecting my skin from his hand. “You were the only one I loved.” He sighs as if remembering something. “Your sweetness shined in your eyes, your smile…”
And you tried to destroy it. “I’m not as sweet anymore,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“Oh, but you are. I’ve read every story… You are helping orphans now—just like I did.”
My stomach turns at the suggestion. “It’s a little different from what you did.”
His eyes flash, and I pull my lip between my teeth. My tone was too sharp, and I know if I don’t play his game, I’ll lose him. I’ll never get the truth I need.
Swallowing the bile, I change my voice. “I only meant you were selfless. You gave us your home and your love. I only house them and ask for donations.”
His expression returns to fascination. “Yes! That’s what I said. I loved you all. I treated all of you like you were my own.”
My stomach is in knots, but I press on. “Emily… Grace…” I pause, waiting to see how her name will affect him. “Ramona…”
A line pierces his brow. “They were different. They didn’t see things the way you do. They didn’t understand.”
My heart beats faster. “Why do you think that?”
“They weren’t grateful. They said bad things. They called me bad names…” His voice is changing to something I’ve never heard. It’s higher, slightly crazed. “Like this man… this king who is trying to keep you away from me.”
Rowan.
I have to keep him talking. “No one can keep me away from you,” I say, as if I’m soothing a crying child.
“I only want to love you,” he whines like a pig.
“You only ever loved me,” I agree. The taste of acid is on my tongue. “Tell me… tell me about Ramona. What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t let her say those things anymore.”