Page 61 of Deadfall

“Hey, Em.”

God, his voice. I heard it over and over again in my dreams, but not like this. It hit somewhere deep I’d tried to avoid for years because it hurt too badly to touch.

“You left me,” I whispered.

It slipped out before I could stop it. I pulled back, about to apologize, but his expression didn’t change. His appearance wavered between the ten-year-old boy he’d been, and how he’d look if he was alive—only his eyes held decades of pain.

“I didn’t leave you, silly,” he said. “I was taken from you. There’s a difference.”

“You’re still gone,” the words came out like a sob.

I took a step back. I needed to get away from whatever the fuck this was. My body suddenly weighed a million pounds and my shoulders sagged.

“I’m so tired, Cole.” The admission cost me. Tears streaked from my eyes, and panic clutched at my chest. I was unmoored, broken, close to losing whatever remained of my grip on reality.

“Don’t give up yet, Em.” Cole flashed that dimpled smile, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A laugh broke through, harsh and raw. “I hate going through this life without you.”

“I’m always with you.” He took my hand in his and pulled me toward the lake that was suddenly shimmering in the background. Our lake. The lake at the lake house. I frantically looked around for the house, but the landscape warped and twisted and made it impossible to see properly.

“Come on, Em!” Cole was ten again. He took off at a sprint toward the dock. “I bet I can catch a bigger fish than you!”

“Cole, wait!” Panic seized me at the loss of his hand in mine.

I tried to run toward the dock, but my feet were heavy, and dragged across the short grass. Each step was monumental, and the closer I got to the dock, the more overcast the sky became.

Everything glitched and I was suddenly standing on the dock. Something slimy was in my hand. I looked down—I held a fish. The lake was dark, ominous and choppy, and the little boat that Dad and I had taken out that day butted up gently against the wood.

Cole stood next to me. “I think you won,” he said. “But, that’s okay—I’ll race you to the house!”

He took off, back the way we’d come, up the soft slope. Fear tore through me. Not the house. Bad men were coming to the house.

“Wait,” I reached out to stop him. My fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt.

“Come on! Mom made spaghetti!”

I lurched after him. I couldn’t let him reach the house. Bad things happened in the house.

“And then later, Dad can read to us!” Cole’s voice drifted across the yard.

The wind had picked up, and the clouds threw the world into shades of grey. It wasn’t like that day—that day had been sunny and bright—so bright. Maybe, this would be different—

Even as I thought it, I knew that was stupid.

Cole disappeared into the house and the moment the door slammed, the heavens opened and rain pounded down from the sky. I could run easier now, and I raced up the steps and yanked on the door.

It wouldn’t open.

“Cole!” I yelled to be heard over the rain. “Cole! Let me in!”

I pounded on the wood. “This isn’t funny! Open the door, Cole!”

I could hear the murmur of voices. Then gunshots.

“Cole! Dad!” I screamed. “Mom! Cole! Open the door!”

I slammed my fist into the wood, my pleas turned to gasps—my gasps to sobs—and still the door wouldn’t open. Screams from inside the house made my blood run cold. I couldn’t get to them. I had to get to them. The windows were glazed over, like someone had put a privacy film over them, and although I tried to slam my fist to break through, they didn’t even splinter.