“Why?” I gasp out, trying to buy more time, my aching hands scrabbling against the knife in Abe’s grip.
“Why?” she repeats.
“Why this? Why all of this?”
She laughs. “Benji, this isn’t going to be like some movie, where the villain gives a whole speech at the end about the hows and the whys. There’s no extraordinary meaning behind any of this. It’s simple really; I grew up poor. I didn’t want to be poor anymore. Meth is cheap to manufacture, easy to distribute, easy to collect on.”
I turn
my head pointedly to look around the shack. “This? How can you make any money making it in here? It’s not big enough!”
She glances around, almost fondly. “This is where we started,” she says. “When we didn’t know what we were doing. We had some junkie chemist in here who we’d promised all the crystal he could smoke if he showed us how to make it. He was a strange man, but good at what he did. Money was tight at first, but the more we made, the more we sold. We watched his process as closely as we could, figured out we didn’t need the junkie anymore.” She smiled sadly. “He overdosed in a shitty apartment outside of Bandon. All the crystal he could smoke and he smoked it all at once. Such a terrible tragedy.”
The blade catches in my fingers again, but it slips. It isn’t working. My hands are covered in sweat and blood and water. I can’t get a good enough grip on it to pull it out. I don’t think there’s enough strength in my numb fingers to pull it out anyway. The zip ties are cutting into my flesh, cutting off the blood flow. I’m about to give up when I get another idea. Fuck, it’s going to hurt, but it’s the only option left.
“It still doesn’t explain how you could make meth in this little space,” I point out.
“Jesus, boy,” Griggs snaps. “What the fuck is it to you?”
“Curiosity,” I say, pinching the blade once more with two fingers. As soon as I feel it start to pull up, I slide, I curl my hand and fingers up toward my wrist, and slide the tip of the knife down through my knuckles to the webbing between the two fingers. It doesn’t cut, not yet. I grit my teeth, gathering my resolve.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” the sheriff singsongs.
“And satisfaction brought him back,” I growl.
“Caves,” my aunt says.
“What?”
“The cave system is quite extensive,” she says. “Back up in the hills right behind this little shack. It’s almost shocking how far they go into the mountains. How wide they get. How underground they are, perfect for hiding from any normal satellite imaging used by law enforcement. Little shafts that open up from the ground, perfect for ventilation. And since they’re a part of the incorporated township, it means this area is not regulated by the Bureau of Land Management, and the caves have never been recognized as part of a national park. Which means the local government has control of the caves. It also helps when there’s a certain member of the forestry service capable of being bought and told to look the other way. Especially when there are funds to do so, seeing as how a certain mayor likes to skim off the top and got caught by our illustrious sheriff here. Blackmail is a wonderful thing when used correctly, Benji. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
My head is spinning. But still my resolve is growing as the knife begins to cut into my flesh. One quick jerk upward, one solid movement. Yes, it’s going to hurt as it slices into my hand, but it’ll catch on the bone and the knife will snap open. I can do this. I can do this. Pain is nothing in the face of death. Cal felt pain. My father felt pain. I can feel pain. I can do this. It’s not over. It’s not over yet.
“So you blackmailed the mayor to be involved in this?” I say, gritting my teeth against the sting.
Christie rolls her eyes as the sheriff snorts. “He became a willing participant once he saw the financial aspect of it,” she says. “That man has dollar signs for eyes.”
“And you and Griggs? Why did you do this with him? When did you start all of this?”
She looks amused. “Benji, life doesn’t provide all the little answers just because you ask for them. I would have thought you’d have learned that by now.” “What about—”
“Enough,” she interrupts. “No more wasting time. Who else is there?”
Almost ready. I can do this. I can do this. Have to keep my face schooled. I cannot show anything, not even a grimace. Can’t give myself away. “No one,” I say. “You’ve killed everyone else.”
“What did you tell Corwin?”
I look her in the eye. “That I knew Big Eddie had been murdered. That I knew he wasn’t going to Eugene to meet with friends.” Do it. Just do it. The pain will only be for a second. It’ll cut deep but you’ll have a chance. Hit the bone and pull up.
I steal a glance at Abe. He must see something in my eyes because he gives me an almost imperceptible nod. He tightens his grip on the knife.
“Who else?” she asks again.
“No one.”
“Benji, I’m getting tired of this. Who else?”
I start to panic. “No one!” I say again. “What’d Corwin tell you?”