“Yes.
He leaned closer. “Good. Then you have my word, too. And my word is, if you fuck me on this, Livia, then I better be dead at the end of it. Because if I’m not, I’ll find you. And if you think being a cop will protect you, you don’t know me. And if you think what Hammerhead does for betrayal is bad, I swear, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for just a nice little hammer. Begging. So you better know what the fuck you’re getting into if you and I make this little deal of ours.”
She looked at him, letting him see she respected the threat, but that she wasn’t afraid of it, either.
“Tell me,” she said.
35—THEN
Livia’s junior year went by in a blur. Neither she nor Sean ever mentioned what they had talked about in the playground that moonlit night, or what had almost happened.
Livia’s focus on school, jiu-jitsu, and wrestling was more intense than ever. Even Malcolm grew concerned about her dedication, telling her it was important to throttle back sometimes, to find some balance. She knew he meant well. But he didn’t know what she was enduring in the Lone house. He didn’t know the only way she could push it all away was to obsess about the things she cared about, the things she could control.
She wondered if Rick knew, though. He visited once during the summer and then again in the fall. Both times, he seemed to go out of his way to find a moment alone with Livia, a moment in which he asked her how she was, how everything was going, was everything okay. The way he looked at her, the tone of his voice, always made her feel like he sensed something, but wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was too hard for him to face because it was his brother-in-law, his family. Maybe he couldn’t fully accept what was happening to Livia because if he did, he would have had to accept that his sister, Mrs. Lone, knew what was happening, too, and did nothing.
Livia wasn’t certain Mrs. Lone knew, of course. But over time, she had decided that for the woman not to see, she must have been willfully closing her eyes. The bridge club meetings were just too convenient. And besides, Mr. Lone had started coming to Livia’s room even when Mrs. Lone was home, typically at night, presumably after Mrs. Lone was asleep. But would he really have taken the risk if he hadn’t known Mrs. Lone already knew . . . and that she was unwilling to do or say anything about it?
Livia did sometimes consider confiding in Rick. Or in Malcolm, who also periodically asked how things were in the Lone house, how they were treating her, in a way that made her feel he might suspect. But she was afraid to trust anyone, even Rick or Malcolm. She no longer really believed Mr. Lone knew anything about Nason, even though she continued to cling to that hope. But telling Rick . . . who knew what might happen? And if she told Malcolm, wouldn’t it put his job at risk? And that was assuming anyone else would even believe her story. Probably they wouldn’t. Just as Mrs. Lone averted her eyes because she didn’t want to know, so many people were in thrall to Mr. Lone and his brother, who together were responsible for the prosperity of the entire town. They’d all believe the traumatized little Lahu girl was lying or delusional rather than face the truth—that their local deity was a monster.
Besides, next year she would graduate. She would be eighteen, and could go anywhere, do anything. She thought she knew what she wanted, too: to be a cop, like Rick. She would carry a gun. She would find the monsters and put them in prison. Or maybe even shoot them. She would protect people like herself, people like Nason, from people like Skull Face and Mr. Lone. She would move to Portland, where Nason had disappeared, and keep looking for her there. Be a cop during the day and maybe go to college at night. She hadn’t told anyone—she was afraid if she didn’t keep her plans secret, Mr. Lone would do something to spoil them—but she was pretty sure this was the right path for her. All she had to do was endure Mr. Lone for one more year, and she would be free.