Chapter 17
The End at 1,014 Miles
Lincoln Wilks
“You better hope to high hell I find her, or you’ll regret ever bringing me into this world,” I say furiously to my mom. Then turning to my dad, I snarl, “Keep your fucking wife away from me.”
“Calm down, Lincoln. None of this will help find Oakley,” my dad says, wisely positioning himself between me and the bitch.
“Are you sure she’s not at her fucking apartment?” I ask the police officer again.
“No, we’ve checked,” he responds, treating me like a three-year old.
My mom’s fucking sniffling catches my attention, and I fucking blow.
Racing over, I take a knee and get in her face. “Do you know that’s probably the man who raped Oakley when she in high school, and that fucking lady you so proudly marched in here watched as another man burned Oakley’s palm on a stove top.” My rage grows even more intense as I imagine Oakley enduring these tortures. “Ever notice the fucking scar running down her neck? Again that would be her fucking mother. She wasn’t good enough for you, was she? You just had to break her and embarrass her enough to leave your son. Fucking newsflash, you can’t break an already shattered soul, you fucking piece of trash.”
I feel hands on my shoulders pulling me back, but all I want to do is tear my mom’s face clean from her skull.
“I suggest calling your family doctor and having him sedated,” the officer says to my parents as if I’m not even there.
“Well, I fucking suggest that you…”
My dad grabs me, wrapping me up in a hug and burying my face in his neck.
“Thank you, officer. We’ll handle it from here,” he replies calmly.
I hear the door shut and know he’s gone.
“I want her gone, too. Tell her to leave,” I whisper.
“Elaine, out now,” Dad commands.
Again, I hear the sound of the door shutting.
“Son, I’m going to let you go, but you have to promise to keep it together. Don’t force me to call the doctor. We’re going to sit at the kitchen table, the three of us, and wait for the call. I know you want to go look for her. Just let the cops do their jobs.”
He slowly lets me go, and I head straight for the table.
“But, Dad, what if she’s trying to call me and my fucking phone is trashed?”
I pick up the waterlogged piece of shit and throw it across the room. It goes sailing through a window, sending glass flying in every direction.
“Lincoln, that’s strike one,” my dad warns.
The anger loosens and desperation sets in. She’s gone. She’s really gone. I know my Oakley, and she’s gone. The sun begins to rise, and I’m still in the same spot at the dining room table staring at the broken window. My dad sat by me all night and didn’t say a word.
Levi walks into the room with newspapers in hand and two cups of coffee. He slides one of each to me. The huge color picture on the front page makes me smile. It’s me holding Oakley with my head held back screaming, and the title ‘Conference Champs’ above us. There’s a knock at the door. I’m unable to pull my eyes from her smile, but I feel my dad leave the table to go answer the door.
“Us,” I whisper.
My dad comes back to the dining room, grabs me by the shoulders again, and puts me in the same position as he did last night.
“Son, they think they found her.”
I try to pull away, but he keeps me cradled to him.
“They found two girls in the area last night, but, Lincoln, one of them was dead in the road. We are going to the hospital, and you’re going to have to identify both girls, because the other one is unconscious and not expected to make it.”
I fight even harder with every word he speaks to get loose and run. I just want to run.
“Son, you can’t do this. Stop. Put your head on straight and come with your brother and me.”
Each of them grabs one of my hands, and we walk toward the door. Everything is a blur and passing by way too quickly. Dad puts me in the middle of his truck between him and Levi and begins to drive.
“Hey, Dad?”
“What is it, Lincoln?”
“Why do they even think one of these two girls might be her?”
“They found her cell phone at the scene, son.” His voice is weighted with grief and exhaustion.
“By which girl?” I ask.
“Lincoln, it doesn’t matter.”
“By which fucking girl?” I seethe between gritted teeth.
“The dead one,” Levi finally answers.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Lincoln,” he replies.
“Why do you fucking hate me?”
He dares take his eyes from the road for a moment to give me a sorrowful look. “I don’t, son. I’ve fucked up. Blinded by greed and fame. I’ve only wanted the best for you two boys, and you scared me because you were always so hell bent on blazing your own trail. I didn’t know how to deal with you, so I didn’t.”
“Basically, you’re saying that you’re an asshole.”
“Yes, son, I’m an asshole.”
“I never want to see her again, Dad,” I admit.
“You won’t have to, Lincoln,” Dad promises.
Levi grips my hand as Dad pulls into the hospital entrance labeled ‘EMERGENCY.’
“We’re both here for you, Lincoln,” Levi reassures me.
“She hates Dallas,” I tell him.
“What?” Levi furrows his brows, puzzled.
Dad joins my other side as we walk into the hospital.
“Oakley hates Dallas. I’ve brainwashed her, and she’s an all-defense kind of girl. Just thought you should know.” It seems important to me that he know.
An officer meets us at the front desk and ushers us back to a narrow hallway.
“I know this is hard, but we need you to identify the deceased first. The other girl was raced back to the OR. It’s a miracle she still has a pulse. Both bodies were found on highway 25. It looks as if one was on foot and the other driving. The driver was ejected.”
“No. No. No, Dad, I can’t do this. I can’t.” I look around, frantic to find an exit.
“I’ll go, Lincoln. I’ll go. You stay here with Levi,” Dad says.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I watch my dad vanish behind a door and bury my head in my lap. All night, I’ve kept my fear and rage in, all night while I waited for any word or beacon of hope. All motherfucking night, and now I have to sit on my ass and wait for my dad to ID the corpse of my Oakley.
Unable to control my anger any longer, I stand and begin beating the shit out of the walls and ripping down pictures. I feel Levi try to restrain me, but I push him to the ground. My fist flies through the sheetrock walls not once, but several times. I lose track as the rage boils out of me. Each time I land a punch, it’s my mom’s face, or Duane’s, or any cocksucker who has ever hurt Oakley.
“Lincoln,” someone screams.
This time I feel several sets of hands on me, and I end up on the ground cradled in my dad’s arms. He’s violently shaking his head, but too breathless to speak. Tears roll down his cheeks, and he trembles.
“It’s not her. Lincoln, it’s not her in there.”
I feel a small poke in my arm and turn my head to see a nurse giving me a shot. The last words I hear are my dad’s.
“They’ve confirmed the girl in surgery has scars on her palm and her neck and a tattoo on the top of her foot. Oakley’s in surgery.”
The room spins round and round. I feel my head begin to slowly slip off my shoulders, and I jump.
“Go to sleep, Lincoln.”
Closing my eyes, I feel Oakley’s soft body under my right arm with ESPN playing in the background and music on the iPod. I feel, hear, and smell it all.
My eyelids are heavy, and the more I try to force them open, the heavier they become.
“Thank you for the update, doctor.”
It’s my dad’s voice. Update? Oakley, it’s about Oakley.
Struggling through the sedative to sit up straight, I demand answers.
“Lincoln, I will tell you everything, but you can’t lose it again.”
“Dad, talk to me,” I plead.
“Oakley was hit by a car. Your mother admitted to everything. Bringing Oakley’s parents to town and hiring someone to make her disappear if she refused to leave with her parents. The plan was all messed up when Oakley ran, so the getaway driver tried following her and ended up hitting her. She’s out of surgery.”
“Goddammit, Dad, fucking tell me! Is she going to live?”
“Son, they don’t know. She’s sustained so many serious injuries the surgeons don’t even know how she survived the operation. Lincoln, it’s not a day by day scenario right now, it’s more like an hour by hour case. Every hour she hangs on is proof of her fighting to live.”
“There’s more,” Levi adds.
“What? Fucking tell me everything.” I’m not sure I can take any more, but I have to know.
“She lost the baby,” my dad says.
“Baby?” I say, confused.
“She was seven weeks pregnant.”
“Baby,” I repeat.