The decaying remains of Robyn Raynes were found – and Detective Idiot and his crew were only too happy to dump the blame on Brock along with everything else.
And I made Brock’s death look like self-defense. There was still a ton of paperwork to be done, and I knew it will cost me a pretty penny, but I fixed it. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. I had a reliable witness—Detective Stratham— who saw the gun Brock was holding in the woods, and the grave he dug for Red. There was no denying the man intended to harm her and me, and my intentions were well within the eyes of the law. I was bulletproof. Sparrow, though shaken, would be on her feet soon.
Everything was fixed.
Well, other than what was important.
I walked down the hallway of the hospital like I was on death row. Every door I passed brought me closer to the door I didn’t want to knock on. I wasn’t scared, I was petrified.
For the first time in my life, I was going to do the right thing, and I wished it felt better, because the truth was, it felt like fucking shit. It felt like hell, like torture, like a sharp butcher’s knife digging into my chest, piercing into my heart and pulling it out slowly, breaking each and every one of my ribs on its way out.
I knocked on the door softly. If she was asleep, I didn’t want to wake her up. She’d looked so frail when I found her. With blood running from her temple all the way down her face like a veil, her leg completely fucked and twisted, her foot the size of a basketball. She was freezing, too, in nothing but thin yoga pants and a Dri-Fit shirt.
An injured Sparrow.
The first thing I wanted was to tend to her, and then and only then to kill Brock slowly and painfully.
But I couldn’t do it the way I had wanted it to happen. Because Brock needed to be finished before he could give away the fact that I buried Robyn and Flynn right there, in the woods. I had no doubt he’d spill the beans to Stratham the minute the cop took him into custody. Every moment he was alive and at a close proximity to the detective, my life as a free man was in danger.
That was fine. By the time I stopped Detective Impotent’s vehicle in the middle of the woods and bolted out, all my urges and need for vengeance were irrelevant.
My quest was useless and irrelevant.
There was no time for revenge.
Everything darkened, and the only thing illuminated was her.
So I killed him quickly, coldly, efficiently, but not merrily. Still, I wouldn’t change it for the world, because I managed to save Red, and that’s all that mattered.
“Come in,” she said from the other side of the door, and by the edge of her voice, I knew she figured it was me who came to visit.
I let her keep the rotting rag I wrapped her mom in before I buried her. In a way, digging holes for her mom and for Flynn were the darkest moments of my life. They both didn’t deserve it. Even if I wasn’t the one to kill them, I denied them a proper burial, and that was a lot.
In fact, it was so much, that in a way, not paying Robyn Raynes respect had cost me everything.
More specifically, her daughter.
I pushed the door open and walked to her bed. She had shit load of tubes in her wrists, and her leg was in a cast. And she was still nothing short of divine. My girl, my lovebird. The prettiest. Not because she had the pinkest lips or the greenest eyes, but because she was made for me. Tailor-made to make me laugh, to piss me off, to make me lose my shit. Hell, to make me feel.
I placed the Godiva chocolate box on her stand, right next to the orange gladiolas. The florist girl said they represent strength of character when I bought them.
I told her she had no idea.
Chocolate and flowers. That corny shit. But only for tonight, and only for Red. I hoped she’d find it funny, with her sarcastic sense of humor. I wanted to jump on bleachers and sing her a song. She deserved the whole nine yards.
But I also knew it was too late.
She looked at the flowers and chocolate and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she croaked. But it was me saving her life she referred to. Not this stupid shit.
I took a seat next to her bed, looking down at my hands, or maybe my shoes. I wasn’t even aware of what I was looking at, but it sure as hell wasn’t into her eyes, because I couldn’t deal with what was behind them.