“Don’t get used to it,” Kinross quipped as if reading my mind.
I let them both lead the way through the maze of tables and into a less formal interview room. Instead of the standard metal chairs, stark interior, and fluorescent lighting, this one was furnished with leather fireside chairs and a bookshelf on the far wall. A camera sat perched on its tripod ready for recording confessions such as the one I was about to give.
“Please,” Detective Kinross said while gesturing to the couch opposite the camera.
Taking a seat, I shifted a few times until I was comfortable, my nerves starting to take hold.
“Relax, Ms. Sinclair,” Detective Walsh urged. You’re not here because you are a suspect in an investigation. At least we don’t think you are… yet.”
“That’s not helping,” I said, taking the bait.
“We’re here because we have one thing in common and that’s Mason Carter,” Kinross encouraged. “Just remember, everything you say will be recorded and may be used when we take Mason to court. Is that acceptable, Ms. Sinclair?”
“Yes, and please just call me Gemma.”
“Okay,” Kinross exhaled. “Let’s get the show on the road.” He signaled to Walsh who aligned the camera and pressed record.
“Please state your full name,” Kinross requested now on auto-pilot.
“Gemma Audrina Sinclair.”
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Mason Carter?”
“We were neighbors growing up until the age of sixteen and a bit.”
“Thank you. Now, what would you like to share with us?”
Sweat pooled in my palms and I wiped them on my skirt while gathering my thoughts. It had been so long since I allowed myself to think of that particular moment, and I didn’t need to remind myself that anything I said would be used against Mason and if I wasn’t careful, Lucas too.
“Gemma?” Kinross prompted. “Can you tell us about that night?”
I nodded, inhaling deeply, preparing my words. “It was almost two months after Mason had used his knife to carve into me…”
Chapter 25
THEN
The night was hot and humid, the air close and uncomfortable.
Temperatures had soared throughout the day, and in the distance a storm was brewing. Lying in bed, my skin sticky with sweat, I stared at the roof which was swimming in darkness. It had been yet another night of arguments. Another night Mrs. Carter had failed to take action and protect her boys from the one person she continued to welcome back in her life. She wore his bruises and cried every time he left. Mason was old enough to leave home, and he often did so, but for Lucas’s sake, he continued to return. He had no other home of his own, and I had suspicions he was staying at the cabin more regularly.
The night had been explosive. Glass had broken, and screams and shouts from everyone in the house echoed straight into my room. One thing I had learned about the boyfriend was that he liked to call Mrs. Carter a filthy fucking whore. He also liked to say ‘your boys are sons of a slut.’ These comments were usually followed by dull thuds that churned my stomach.
Sometimes I’d wait, hoping she would fire back an insult, or until the sounds of her cries drifted across the fence. If I heard either of those it would bring a wave of relief—she had survived the blow. Survived so she could take another punch to the face the next night. The evening had been filled with terrified screams from the mother, and the Carter boys yelling at the abusive man who’d taken their father’s spot. I couldn’t understand what they were saying because everyone was yelling at once and then… like the click of a finger, the noise abruptly stopped, and silence descended on the broken Carter family.
Lightning lit up the dark sky with a bright flash, and a moment later thunder angrily grumbled causing the house and its contents to shake. The storm was right above us, ready to add more anger and aggression to an already volatile night.
The pitta-patter of rain sounded on the window, large droplets falling and exploding on impact.
The lightning and thunder now worked in tighter unison, the wind picking up a few knots, while the tree branches scratched against the side of the house. Yet, beyond all the noise of Mother Nature was the sound of the Carter boys, their bickering voices reaching my ears. Crawling out of bed, I padded over to the window but stayed far enough away to not be seen. Peering over the edge I saw Mason and Lucas, but only their shadowed faces. They were both visibly angry as they continued to debate something. They moved awkwardly, but I couldn’t see why.
Opening the window, I watched what was unfolding. The brothers, cast in a midnight-blue light, were standing at the open trunk of their mother’s Volvo. In their hands, they carried something long and large wrapped in a tarpaulin. It slipped in their grasp, wet hands and the sheer weight of it, difficult to maneuverer. They struggled with the awkward weight of the heavy object, eventually lifting and rolling it into the trunk.
Mason, using his booted foot, kicked hard, pushing the object deeper before slamming the lid. The brothers shared a few curse words while gathering their breath. Mason was becoming irate, his hand wrapping around Lucas’s neck, a finger raised in warning. In turn, Lucas was visibly upset, wiping tears away with the back of his hand. He managed to free himself from his brother’s hold and paced nervously back and forth.
The rain grew heavier on my face, wet hair clinging to my forehead. But I didn’t care. My heart was pounding. My stomach sickened with anxiety. There was a lot wrong with this situation and deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it, I knew exactly what was happening.
A brilliant continuous flash of sheet lightning lit up the neighborhood coating everything in its glory, including the brothers. Clothes and arms were covered in blood, their faces wearing the bruises and cuts of another night’s beating.
Lucas was first to catch my eye as the lightning continued its magical light show. He was sad, frightened. Mason followed his line of sight and turned to face me, his jaw set like stone, eyes as stormy as the one breaking above us.
A booming crack of thunder erupted above like an out of control machine gun. Terrified at both the noise and at being caught, I fell to the floor.
You saw nothing.
You saw nothing.
It’s just thunder.
You saw nothing.
Trembling, teeth chattering, I hugged my knees to my chest. I let time pass, lost in a world that looked and felt like a war zone. When the thunder grew tiresome of chasing the lightning, I turned on my knees, hands splayed against the wall. I wanted to look. I needed to see if what I saw was true. Lifting myself just high enough to peer over the edge I once again met his gaze.
Waiting for me to return, Mason stood alone in the rain. Clothes drenched the blood coating his skin, now diluted to reveal his pure hatred. His stare never broke from mine in a silent standoff.
Mason had remained behind to personally deliver a warning.
Slowly sliding a finger across his throat, I heard it loud and clear.
~
“Gemma!”
The banging on my bedroom door erupted once again.
“Gemma, honey? Wake up,” my mother called from the other side. There was something strange about her tone. It was troubled, anxious. “Darling, are you in there?”
Flicking off the cover, I answered, knowing she’d be persistent. “I’m in here. Come in.”
The door creaked open, and I met my mother’s confused face. “Gemma, you never told me the Carters were moving!”
I blinked slowly at her, my expression mirroring hers. “Huh? They’re not moving, they haven’t even had the house up for sale.”