Page 89 of Nowhere Good

Seth took out his radio and carefully spoke into it. “Suspect located, two-hundred yards northeast of the farmhouse. Attempting negotiation. All units maintain distance.”

He flicked off the radio and moved closer. The sound of his movements blended with the wind as it breezed through the cornstalks. He hadn’t been detected yet, but even a breath could signal his presence. He got close enough to peek through the stalks to a small opening. Claire’s back, her yellow shirt. A kitchen knife on the ground beside her, gleaming in the sunlight. She held her shaky arms in front of her.

Seth pushed past another cornstalk. Finally, he got a visual on the suspect.

Trevor held a limp Clementine Dyer in a chokehold with one arm, his face strained and red, his veins bulging from the strength it took to support her dead weight. In his other hand, a boxcutter was pointed right at her throat. Clementine’s eyes were rolling into her head—he’d injected her.

“I was supposed to be with her,” Trevor was saying. “Ron promised me that. Your dad promised me that. We were supposed to have a baby. His first-born grandson. It was supposed to be me.”

“I know,” Claire stammered, “and I’m so sorry, Trevor. He hurts us too. He makes empty promises, but—but Clem never did any of that, did she? She was always nice to you.”

Trevor’s eyes were wide and sunken-in. They stared at Claire, full of emotion. He wore the same blue jumpsuit he wore to work at Belleville, and without a surgical mask covering half his face, Seth could see his chin was covered in scruff. “She—she was always nice to me.”

Closer. He held his gun, his palms slick with sweat. He might have a shot, but it was too risky with Clementine so close. And he wanted Trevor alive.

“Then why do you want to hurt her?” Claire asked.

Trevor’s entire body was shaking, willing him to give up. “Be—because of him. It’s the only way. I gave him so many chances to come out. Three strikes. Now, he’ll lose his precious family. Then he’ll confess. He won’t let me kill both of you.”

“He won’t care, Trevor. You can’t hurt him. All you’ll do is take Clem’s life. Please, please let her go.”

Claire’s words seemed to make the gears clink together inside Trevor’s head. Maybe there was enough humanity in him to break this psychosis.

Slowly, carefully, Seth stepped into the clearing. Trevor sucked in a breath, pressing the boxcutter harder to Clementine’s throat, but not hard enough to draw blood. Seth held his hands up in peace, his weapon pointed at the sky.

“Trevor. Hey, it’s me. Detective Winslow. We talked on the phone.”

Claire shot him a desperate look as he stepped in front of her, still holding his peaceful position. Trevor only stared, but those eyes—they were begging for help.

“Come on, man, you don’t wanna hurt Clementine. You want Ron to pay for what he’s done, I get that, but this isn’t the way. Let’s let these girls go and talk, just you and me.”

“No.” Trevor’s voice was strained. “No, I can’t. I need to do this.”

But he didn’t budge. Seth took another cautious step forward.

“You witnessed something, right, Trevor? But you never told anyone about it. Listen, man, I believe you. And if you let her go, I’ll hear everything you have to say. I promise you that.”

“It won’t matter what I say. He has to say it.”

“I get it, you want a confession. I’d want one too, but your word does matter, Trevor. I wanna hear it.”

“No. No, not mine. Now I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying. I believe you. I know about Ron, about Celine, about what he promised you to keep quiet. And I know he abandoned you. He thought he could make you go away, didn’t he?”

Trevor nodded. Tears fell down his cheeks.

“That’s hard, man. You have every right to feel hurt. Hey, I didn’t have a father either—believe me, I know how much it hurts to be left behind. But Clementine has nothing to do with any of that. She’s a nice girl. She’s always been nice to you, right?” He tried to mirror Claire’s words, which seemed to land with Trevor before.

And they must have landed again, because more tears fell down his cheeks. “Yes,” he choked out. “Yes.”

Seth let himself breathe. There was still hope.

“Okay, no problem. Put her down, and we can walk away from all of this. Trevor, you haven’t done anything you can’t come back from.”

When Trevor held Clementine tighter, Seth tensed. “I—I killed th—three people. It was only supposed to be one, but—but I couldn’t stop. It was supposed to go different in—in my head.”

“I know, Trevor. You had your reasons. We’ll figure that all out together. Just put Clementine down. She’s innocent.”