Page 109 of The Quiet After The Fall

“There’s things behind the scenes that you don’t understand,” he says. “That you’ll never understand.”

“Then explain them.”

“What you did was stupid, Knox.” He sounds tired more than anything. Not scared. Not anxious. Tired, like I’ve made extra work for him. “And now I’m going to have to clean up your mess.”

My mess.

And that’s when I feel the words coming up my throat. He’s going to kill you. I’ve seen what his men do. I’ve got the bruises. You don’t have much time left. All of it, right there and ready.

I hold it behind my teeth.

Because Sawyer’s voice is in my head. We can’t go warn him and have him bolt. We need him here and unsuspecting. I’ve already done the work, found him out. Eight people are dead because of him, and I refuse to give him another reason to hide out like a snake waiting to strike.

Vince can find him if he wants to. Or maybe he won’t, maybe the detectives will get to him first.

“Promise me one thing.” My hand’s shaking against the desk so I move it to my side. “Whatever you’re doing, wherever you are, you take care of Mom for once in your life. Stop treating her like another possession. Actually fucking help her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I watch you with her. How you bark orders and she folds in on herself.” Long held anger comes up with every word. I should’ve let it out years ago. “She’s not well and you know it. She hasn’t been well for much longer than I ever knew. I don’t care if you’re scared, or drunk, or losing everything you built. You don’t get to keep making her smaller just because your own life’s falling apart.”

I can almost hear him grinding his teeth.

“And Richard,” I say. “I want you to hear it from me. You’re done.”

“Done?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “We’ll see.”

The line clicks.

I stand there with the phone in my hand, listening to nothing for longer than I should.

When I lower it, my mother’s in the doorway.

I don’t know how long she’s been there. She’s in her robe and slippers, hair flat on one side, holding a mug with both hands. Her eyes move past me to the drawers, the folders on the floor, the empty cabinet, and then back to my face.

“Mom? You okay?”

She doesn’t answer.

I cross the room and give her a side hug. She smells like coffee and hairspray and the same perfume she’s worn my whole life. One of her hands rests on my back and she lets me lead her to the couch in the living room.

“He’s not coming back today,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says.

I get a good look at her, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She seems like she’s in shock. Where was she when I searched the house?

“Can I get you something to eat? Anything?” I ask, unsure what to do with her.

She shakes her head. “No, I’ll be fine. You go. Get your rest for the wedding.”

I blink at her, and wait a full minute absorbing what she said. “Yeah, okay, Mom. Call me if you need anything. And let me know when Dad comes back.”

Leaving her is hard, but I know I can’t stay. Maybe I should call someone to be with her? One of her friends from town. No. She’d kill me if I let someone see her that way. I’ll have to call her in a few hours and check in.

Once I’m in the Jeep with the engine running and cool air coming through the vents, I glance back at the house I grew up in. It doesn’t look like home. Never did. More like walls that held too many thoughts no one ever said out loud.

I said some of them today. Not the one that would’ve saved him from his own grave. I keep waiting to feel bad for my omission but it doesn’t come.