Page 117 of Nowhere Good

A pair of headlights appeared up the road, and dread shot through his veins.

Somehow, he knew this wasn’t help.

A pick-up truck barreled toward them, its wheels squelching in the damp earth as it skidded to a stop in front of them. The grumbling engine shut off. There were two shadows inside. Marty Dyer got out of the passenger side and cocked a rifle at them.

Then Ron slinked out from behind the wheel, brandishing a handgun.

Dillon and one gun, Seth could handle.

But not this.

“See, boys, what’d I tell you?” Ron taunted. His shadow moved in front of the truck’s headlights, just in time for them to dim, for his face to become clear under the moonlight. “A bleeding heart’ll always get you killed.”

Dillon laughed and nudged Seth’s temple with the shotgun. Seth remembered the last time he had a gun held to his head, back when he was working undercover in New York and he’d been burned. His colleagues arrived in time to scare the shooter off, and afterward, they said they had no idea how he’d stayed so calm. Maybe some part of him knew that guy was all talk, or maybe it was because his team was there with him, but he hadn’t been scared. He’d had this rational voice in his head telling him he’d get through it, and he did.

That voice was nowhere to be found now.

Out here, by a cornfield on the Missouri countryside, under the witness of only the distant stars, no one was coming for him. And in that moment, he knew he wasn’t making it back to Kansas City.

THIRTY-FOUR

The stars spun out above her head. A rush of adrenaline sent shockwaves to her brain that forced her awake, forced her to remember. Fragmented memories clicked back into place.

Then there was her and Seth, before all this.

A motel room.

A future that could be real, not just a fantasy, if only she could fight for it.

How had she forgotten?

Somewhere in those days in the cage, in that swamp of drug-induced euphoria, broken by stretches of cold terror, Claire had lost herself again. And she was still lost, but her heart was pounding hard and loud, and things were making sense again.

She was in a field. Seth was beside her, and a gun was on them. No, not one gun—three.

Her dad held one, a handgun. That scared her the most.

Because he had no heart.

She’d known it, felt it, her whole life. But now she had truly seen it.

And she’d dragged the man beside her down with her. This innocent man who’d never done anything but try to help her.

“Daddy,” she managed. She had to do one thing right. “Please, please let him go. I’ll go back to the cage—I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt him.”

Her dad had an amused look on his face as he paced back and forth in front of them. “Aw, you’ve already done what I wanted, sweetheart. Went a bit off-script, but that’s all right, we got where we needed to. Look at our boy out here alone without a weapon.” He limply pointed the gun at Seth, then let it fall to his side. “Don’t waste too much breath on ’im. He’s already a dead man. He knows it. He’ll never keep his mouth shut about what he’s seen here. Ain’t that right, Detective?”

Seth looked down. Claire prayed he’d say something, anything they wanted to hear.

“Tell him, Seth,” she pleaded. “Tell him you won’t say anything. Please, just say it.”

But he was quiet, his profile downcast. He didn’t look at her.

“See?” her dad said. “He can’t even lie to us. Smart boy.” He let out an exhausted breath, almost like he was bored as he paced back and forth, back and forth. “Waste of a half-decent man, this is. It’s too bad you make so many stupid decisions, Detective. Y’see, Haylock was smart. Corrupt, but smart. When I first met ’im, I could read ’im like a book. I knew he’d take the cash to look the other way about my wife’s death, and he did. Fact is, it was his brilliant idea to plant the blood on the opposite side of town, really throw the trail off. But you…”

Her dad crouched in front of them, his knees cracking as he did, reminding Claire of so many moments in the cage.

“I could read you too, boy. You’re always runnin’ from somethin’. Always lookin’ for somethin’ weak to save, like maybe it’ll absolve you of all your sins. Could’ve found God instead.” Seth tried to resist as her dad grabbed his arm and twisted it down, observing the inner part of his elbow. His track marks were clear under the moonlight. “Huh. Wouldja look at that?”