Bridge burned.
But maybe not, because there’s one thing that I know for sure. Donny Ray Smith still poses a true and present threat. He wasn’t in this house, but he’s still out there, and he’s still after my son. If I can save Devon, perhaps I can save this family from ruins, and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be remembered not for my rapid descent into insanity but for the powerful love that drove me to such extremes. Then they’ll know that, all along, my intentions were pure and good.
I’d really like for that to happen.
Not that I’ll ever get to see it. By then, I’ll probably be locked up inside some institution, warehoused away like the spent human cargo I’ve fought most of my life to rescue.
There will be no time left for that, either.
Another item for my growing list of failures, but I’ll happily give that one up. I’ll give up everything as a price for saving my son.
This is all his fault. Donny Ray did this to you.
“No . . . I did this to me.”
That’s what he wants you to believe. It’s not just your world Donny Ray wants to tear down.
“Huh?”
Think about it. In the car, right here in this house. Donny Ray is drilling deeper into your mind. Soon, he’ll have complete control.
And in a flash, it all makes sense. “That bastard . . . he tried to make me do his dirty work. The one thing I’ve been attempting to prevent. He tried to make me kill my son.”
The one thing he knew would finally push you over the edge.
“And it almost worked.”
And he’s going to keep infiltrating your psyche until every thought belongs to him.
Panic sizzles through me, with seething outrage fast on its trail. “I have to stop him.”
Donny Ray lied to you last night. The battle hasn’t moved here—it’s still alive and thriving at Loveland. You have to change up your strategy, think fast and act even faster.
“But how?”
You know what you have to do.
77
WHEN EVERYTHING ISN’T ENOUGH
My father told me that I was his everything, but the statement would have more impact than even I could have known.
It was his good-bye.
I found him the next morning in his basement shop, hanging from the rafters.
The coroner said he’d been dead for hours. More than likely, he’d hanged himself just after our tearful embrace. A final attempt to keep me safe. Not from the man in the drain, but this time, from his dangerous mind.
My father’s most drastic—most heartbreaking—move of all.
About six months later, at the age of seventeen, I became an orphan when my mother also passed away. The doctors told me she’d suffered a massive heart attack, but I’ll always believe they got that wrong.
She suffered a massive heartbreak.
Now I understand the agony they both must have felt.
78
Sorrow bursts into rage.
It’s raw, hard-driving, and knows exactly where to land. Seeing my son’s pain and knowing I caused it—that was the last straw. I’m declaring war on Donny Ray Smith with every intention of becoming the victor.
I eject the magazine from my gun, fill it with rounds.
“This one’s got your name on it, motherfucker,” I say, snapping in the last bullet. “The others are for anyone else who tries to stand in my way.”
I slam the magazine back in, grab the waistband holder, insert the gun into it.
Within a matter of seconds, I’m peeling out of my driveway. As I wheel down the road, my mind snaps into a state of hyperfocused awareness, thoughts more lucid than they’ve ever been, but it’s not just that. Every sense has taken a definitive and determined shift, far above any state of normal human capacity. My vision is razor-sharp, and even though the car windows are closed, I hear sounds that I normally shouldn’t.
A conversation between two people as they walk along the sidewalk.
A leaf, rustling across the grass and carried off by the wind.
I don’t know from where this gift of penetrating, extrasensory perception derives, but I’m grateful for its help.
Faster. You don’t have much time. You have to take out Donny Ray before he takes over your mind.
My foot strikes the gas pedal. My car throttles forward at breakneck speed.
The parking lot is less than a quarter full when I arrive at Loveland, the remaining cars scattered about like Matchbox toys.
Donny Ray is snatching up bodies even faster now. You know who he’s going after next.
“Not a chance.”
You’ve got very little time to turn this around.
I reach down to make sure the gun is snug to my waist, then pull my blazer down over it. Moving toward the building, my pace is accelerated, my thoughts are urgent. Rage is mounting.
Closer to the entrance, I spot workers wheeling equipment onto a truck. With premonitory heed, I stride toward them and see the trailer is packed to the edge with machinery, file boxes, and scores of computers.
They’re absconding with the evidence.
A drop of sweat rolls down the center of my back. Nerves rattle like pennies in an old, rusty tin can.
“This is not good,” I say, watching one of our security guards pass by. He shoots me an ugly gawp.
Don’t look at him. He’s one of them.
I study the guard with suspicion, then turn and walk away. “Things are getting more complicated than I’d expected. I need help, some kind of backup.”
There is nobody.
Another truck pulls up behind the last. More workers get out and roll dollies toward the building.
You have to hurry. The entire operation’s gearing into full swing. Donny Ray’s army is about to move in and clear everyone out of Loveland, then he goes next.