I’m not so sure about that. “You probably would’ve,” I say. “Then. In that moment. Sheltered by the night and the storm. But can you do it now?”
I’ve stolen some of her thunder. Murder—cold blooded and driven—takes absolution.
She was hurt, and scared, and angry. She’s lost more than a partner or a lover. She lost her whole world. A career. And what about family? What I saw that night is that she has none. She’s all alone in this big, bad world.
I walk away and yank Myer’s body closer to the pit. We have hours to go still.
“I just can’t let you get away with it.” Her voice is soft, fragile. Broken. I get it. She’s losing the drive.
That’s okay. As soon as I tell her what she’s dying to know, she’ll get it back and then some. She’ll become a lightning rod for vengeance. I’ll make my last kill, and then Makenna will put me out of my miserable existence.
Sometimes, things just work out.
15
Smash It
Makenna
I watch Luke empty the barrel with a curious detachment. He spreads the remaining bones that wouldn’t burn down over a clear plastic wrap. I should feel repulsed, or indignant.
But whatever sense of right and wrong, of black and white justice I used to uphold, I lost that night in the ravine. These men are wrong. They were born wrong. They’re just smarter than the average predator.
Had they been brought up on charges, they’d have made bail. Hired high-dollar attorneys to drag their cases out. For years, probably. Until no one cared anymore. They’d do a stretch in some white-collar prison. Then they’d be released. That’s if they ever served a sentence at all. If they’re pricey attorney didn’t get them off completely with some technicality.
Men like Myer don’t pay the price. They have enough money to buy their way out.
That doesn’t mean what Luke is doing is right. I’m not sure what is right anymore. And that’s one of the reasons I didn’t fight handing in my badge. I think he’s doing the only thing he can.
He’s exterminating the men who hurt his sister, the same way I want to annihilate him. There’s always someone injured in the crossfire. You don’t take justice into your own hands without hurting an innocent in the process. There are consequences. That’s all I know for sure.
I can watch him wrap the bones of Keller and Myer with a cool disconnect, because I’m patient. He’s leading me to the answer. Luke believes he’s above the law, and that he removes every trace of evidence.
There’s always something left behind.
I stare into the blackened barrel. Only ashes remain after Luke removed the bones. That would be enough. Having Hudson’s ashes. For me, it would be enough.
“Leave them here.” Easton directs where to lay the plastic-wrapped remains. The cellar is a labyrinth of half-finished slab and walls, and his crude art creates a maze through the underground chamber.
It’s too dark to see to the end, the blown glass orbs only providing enough black light to illuminate the entrance. The cellar door is to my right. The spiral staircase to my left. I’m trapped in the middle…with bones and ash barricading me on either side.
An antsy feeling takes hold; I’m losing my calm. “Where do you keep the ashes?”
He jangles the keys in his hand. He can’t lock me inside that room again…not yet. “Where, Luke?” I demand.
He slips the keys into his pocket, and I release a breath. “We’re not done yet.”
He walks toward the corner of the cellar, where inlaid shelving holds some of his demonic glass pieces. He picks up a sledgehammer.
Then he holds the heavy tool out to me.
I almost want to laugh. This is insane. I glance at the bag of bones, then look down at my bandaged hands. “I’m not smashing bones.”
Head cocked, he says, “Imagine they’re mine.”
No derisive undertone in his voice. He’s serious. I extend my hand, and he places the handle of the sledgehammer against my palm. The tool is half my size. I lift it, and already this feels impossible, like if I do this, I’m chiseling a piece of myself away.
“It’s too heavy.” I drop the hammer to the slab.