No Saint (Wild Men 6)
Panting hard, I drop back in my seat as if my strings were cut. I watch two guards wrestle Dad away and can’t relax until the door closes behind them, hiding him from view.
Jeezus.
That was close. I need to get out of here. He seemed insane. Did the killings send him off the deep end? Was wounding me the last straw? Or had he always been crazy and I just didn’t realize?
“Are you all right?” The officer who let me in earlier is standing in front of me, looking concerned.
“Yeah.” I make as if to stand and it takes me two tries before I manage. When I wipe my hand over my mouth, it comes away streaked with blood.
“If you’ll follow me,” he says, “I’ll take you to the visitor bathroom so you can clean up.”
I nod, and then regret it when my ears ring louder. Fuck, my head hurts, though it’s not as bad as the ache somewhere in my chest that’s killing me. Dad is a psycho who’d love to see me dead, Luna won’t stay, I even lost Buddy.
A snicker escapes me, because, really, Ross? You gonna cry over a stray dog? But the snicker almost turns into something else, and I stop it.
No, you don’t deserve to break down.
God, but hope is a tough bastard, refusing to die. That’s where the pain is coming from. That last little flame still burning, after everything. It’s slowly getting snuffed out, and the cold is starting to spread once more.
I got two names, though, I remember as I wash the blood off my chin and splash water on my face. Catherine, and Finn. Did the “C.” on the letters stand for Catherine? Is Finn her son?
Her favorite earrings. Is that a clue? Did he take them from her body? Chances are she wore them all the time. What if she was filed as a missing person, and what if there is a photo of her wearing those earrings?
Too many factors. Too much speculation. But you never know, do you? Not until you search.
And as for Luna... she comes first. Her happiness, her freedom. If I can help her in any way, then that’s what I should start with, and I have an idea...
Well, if my one act of redemption is gonna be this one, I might as well get on with it before night comes.
***
In my pocket, I have a wad of my savings from the past couple of years. In my hand, a bottle of vodka. My plan is to find Luna, but my feet refuse to obey. When I left the house, the money in my pocket, my goal was to head to the diner, take her out back and talk to her.
But instead I bought me some booze, got drunk and stopped to rest on the steps outside the grocer’s. At least, that was the idea. Resting.
Then things got fucking weird, because I found myself walking down the Main street, Luna’s hand in mine. What’s weird is that she’s an adult, and I’m a kid. I have to look up to see her, and she’s taking me somewhere, but I don’t know where, and it twists my stomach into knots.
I trust her. I know that. She wouldn’t hurt me.
Not on purpose.
She’s searching for something, though, for someone, and it’s not me. I try to keep up with her, but I can’t.
And then Dad appears and drags me away from her, no matter how I fight him, kicking and punching and screaming for help. Nobody’s there to help me, and I’m going back to prison, with Dad, where he can finish killing me.
“Ross, wake up. Come on, wake up, please.” The voice, soft, insistent, breaks the dream like a soap bubble, and I’m left gasping on the steps, the bottle rolling away from me.
She’s here
, Luna is here, on the steps beside me—or maybe we’re still in the dream, and she came to rescue me from Dad’s fury.
But then I see Conrad coming out of the store and I know that, dream or not, I’m in for another fight.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Luna
“And... here’s some more frigging orders,” I announce, tearing the papers from my notebook and sticking them on the board for the cook to prepare. “How much can people eat, huh?”