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Jamie’s body swells as if he’s going to lose it completely. He tightens his hold on me, staring down at the photo.
“I had a chance to save him,” he snarls. “Your brother. We’ll be family too, one day, when I marry you.”
I cuddle closer to him, knowing he needs to vent. Anyway, I can’t think of anything to say. Too much shock surges through me, like steam looking for a place to vent, finding nowhere to go. His words light me up, but distantly. I want it so much, but right now, it’s hard to think of anything except the hollow, vacant eyes of the kid in the photo.
“I could’ve grabbed him,” Jamie goes on. “Ran out of there. Maybe Patrick was waiting nearby. Maybe he’d try to stop me, but I didn’t. I sat there. I let the kid leave.”
“Your sister and your nephew were in danger.”
“I thought he was just another kid falling through the cracks. Right then, Lucy, I became like the guards who don’t see the prisoners as people: just the numbers, the cogs, the bullshit. Just the mess of life most people want to pretend doesn’t exist. That was me, letting him walk away. It won’t happen again.”
“I can’t believe I have a brother.”
He turns, leans down, and kisses my cheeks over and over.
At first, I’m not sure why he’s doing it so many times, but then I realize it’s because I’m crying. The tears won’t stop falling. I keep thinking about what Zack must’ve endured, living all his young life with the cruel version of Dad.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Jamie
Lucy sleeps softly next to me, flinching now and then as if nightmares are attacking her.
Outside, I can hear the chatter of a couple of news crew members who’ve decided to camp out overnight. Most have gone home, but three or four people are out there talking. I know there’s a police vehicle parked nearby, too, though that won’t last long.
The police have been tracking a scam artist and his son across the States. It just so happens that this scam artist matches Patrick’s description exactly. The cops didn’t say it, but I could see they were aware of the department’s corruption back then. It would’ve been simple for Patrick to switch the bodies. Even so, without an outright threat, the police will leave soon. They can’t waste resources on us.
I can’t stop thinking about the kid, Zack, sitting in the diner with him, letting his sadistic father talk through him, and doingnothing. I’m supposed to be a hero worthy of my woman. I’m supposed to be the goddamn knight in shining armor, flawless and capable, the type of man she deserves, but I chose my sister over him, an innocent child.
Howhardwas it to get Kylie and Kyle to safety, anyway? I could’ve done that before the meeting, allowing me to save Zack. Sure, I didn’t know he’d be there, but I could have…
The night’s so quiet that I can hear the chatter of the news crew members. One of them says, “Is that kid skateboarding?”
“Nah, you’re seeing things.”
“I’m not. Look.”
Soon, I hear the sound of the wheels on the concrete. I climb out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake my woman, but I have to see this. I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I sneak downstairs, pull my sneakers on, slip out the back door, and walk up the side of the house. It’s probably just some random person—a stranger skating through the night, but I know it’s him right away. He does a trick off the curb a few houses over, his silhouette showing his greasy hair bobbing around his head.
“Zack?” I call.
Suddenly, the news crews are on me. Zack stops, kicks his board up, and holds it as he stares across at me. Cameras are in my face. Bright lights are shining. Questions are coming at me from four different angles, and I swear to God, I almost go back to prison. These people have no shame.
“Zack?” I push past them, shoving a couple out of the way.
Zack walks into the streetlight. He’s got a black eye, and the poor kid is crying. His skateboard trembles as he holds onto it.
“Come here, kid,” I say, taking another step forward.
He looks like he might, biting his lip. His eye looks terrible. I can’t imagine inflicting something so evil on an innocent child. When I take another step forward, he drops his skateboard.
“I can’t,” he says, sounding on the verge of tears.
“I should’ve helped you before. I’m sorry. I’m here now, kid.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You must’ve come here for a reason.”
