Oh God, it’s so beautiful. The relief hurts, but it’s the hurt of a wound being cauterized, all the bleeding stopped.
I am still rocking my children back and forth on the floor of this hell when Kezia and Sam find me. Both are breathless, braced for the worst. I see Sam’s face and I think, My God, because he has just walked through a shrine to the place where his sister suffered and died, and I can only imagine how hard this has been, to take these steps past that winch and reach us.
But we’re alive.
We’re all alive.
15
The blood in my house, I find, was from Kyle. And it was Lanny’s doing.
“I heard them fighting,” she tells me, once we’re outside again in the clean night air. Kyle and Lee Graham are both tightly handcuffed, and Kezia has fastened them to a hook set into the cabin’s wall. I can’t imagine what it’s for. I don’t want to. “I grabbed the knife and I came in and I cut him. Kyle, I mean. I would have got him, too, if his damn dad hadn’t been with him. I got us to the panic room just like you taught us, but he knew the code. I’m sorry, Mom. I let you down—”
“No, I did.” Connor’s voice is a bare whisper, almost pulled away by the wind. “The code was in my phone. I should have said so. You could have changed it.”
It all fits together now. Connor’s phone, taken from him by Graham’s kids. I remember my son’s hesitance the night Graham brought the phone back, how Connor had almost told me something important. He hadn’t wanted to make me mad, because I’d told him over and over again not to write the codes down.
I can’t let him believe this is his fault. Ever.
“No, baby,” I tell him. I kiss his forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’m so proud of you both. You stayed alive. Right now, that’s what matters, okay? We’re alive.”
Kezia’s got foil blankets in her survival kit, and I wrap the kids up to preserve their body heat. They’re bruised. They took a beating in the fight. I ask if there’s anything they want to tell me about what happened at the cabin. Lanny says nothing happened. Connor says nothing at all.
I wonder if my daughter is lying to me.
We sit in the clearing. Backup finally arrives in a swarm of NPD uniforms, and I see Javier Esparza’s there, too. He nods to me, and I nod back. I doubted him. I never should have.
Detective Prester himself has made the climb; he’s still got a suit that’s never going to survive this mud, but he’s thrown on a heavy pea jacket. He comes immediately to us, and I see something new in his face.
Respect.
“I owe you one hell of an apology, Ms. Proctor,” he says. “They okay?”
“Time will tell,” I say. “I think so.” I don’t know, but I have to believe they will be. It’s going to be hard. They’ll have questions. I can’t imagine what Lancel Graham told them about their father. I think that, more than any other trauma, is what keeps my son mute.
Prester nods and sighs. He doesn’t look like he wants to go down into that basement, but I imagine he’s seen worse. “Kezia says you have Graham’s phone. I’ll need that for evidence, and anything else you took.”
“I left most of that stuff in his truck,” I say. “The gun’s mine.” I’ve retrieved it from the floor of the basement; I don’t need more complications. “Here.” I dig the phone out of my pocket.
The screen is on. I pushed the button accidentally. It’s just the lock screen, and without Graham’s thumbprint or code I can’t unlock it, but what freezes me is the text message that’s appeared on the screen.
It’s from Absalom, and it says, He wants an update.
I show it to Prester. He doesn’t seem surprised. “Who’s Absalom?”
I tell him about my hacker benefactor. My ally, who’s been selling me out the entire time. I don’t know how to find Absalom, and I tell him that, too. I hold out the phone and say, “My turn. Who do you think Absalom is talking about?”
Prester takes an evidence bag from his pocket, and I slip it in. He seals it before he answers. “I think you can guess.”
I don’t want to say his name, either. It’s almost like saying the name of the devil. I’m afraid he will appear.
Prester’s expression has turned darker now, and I don’t like the way he keeps watching me, tentative and thoughtful. Like he’s trying to decide if I’m strong enough to stand what he’s got in mind.
So I say, “You have something to tell me.” I’m not afraid of anything anymore. My children are with me. Safe. Lancel Graham isn’t going anywhere. It’s possible his sons can be saved, unless his particular psychopathy is inherited.
Prester gestures me off to the side. I don’t want to let go of Lanny and Connor, but I do take a few steps away and position myself to watch them. I know this is something he doesn’t want them to hear.
But I’m still not afraid.
“There was a well-coordinated breakout from El Dorado. Seventeen prisoners. Nine of them are already in custody. But—”
He doesn’t even have to say it. I know, with the sick inevitability of fate, what he’s going to tell me. “But Melvin Royal is loose,” I say.
He looks away. I don’t know what I’m feeling, or what he’s seeing in me. But I do know one thing.
I’m not afraid of Mel anymore.
I’m going to kill him. One way or the other, it ends the way it began so long ago: with the two of us.
The Royals.