Rules of Survival(73)

Patrick took a step forward. He kept both hands in plain sight and moved slowly. “Same old, same old. You?”

Mick shrugged. He patted me on the shoulder and said, “Just tying up some loose ends.”

Patrick made a sweeping gesture. “Doing pretty good for yourself. Solid alias, nice place—you’ve even got boys.” He clucked his tongue. “Hired muscle, Mick? Not really your style, is it?”

Mick shrugged. “I’m getting older. Have to roll with the times. They come in handy.”

“Dabble in the game, huh? Still running petty crimes. That’s pathetic.” Patrick snorted.

Mick’s shoulders stiffened. “I run a very lucrative pharmaceutical business.”

“Pharmaceutical business?” Patrick chortled. “You’re a drug runner? That’s classic, man.”

“Coming from the poor shmuck who chases petty crooks across the United States for chump change.” He leaned forward. “I’ve got money and power. All the things Melissa wanted. Tell me, Pat. Which one of us do you think she’d choose now?”

“Me. For sure.” Patrick mimicked Mick’s movement and bent a bit closer. “From what I heard, your, um, assets were a little too small, if you know what I mean.”

Mick twitched, but he didn’t lunge. Instead, he straightened and smiled. “We’ll see who has the last laugh.”

Patrick held out his hand. There was something small and thin between his fingers. “I’m game. Maybe you’d find this funny.”

Mick feigned interest, but I could tell he wasn’t into playing Patrick’s game. He nudged the cinder blocks closer to the water’s edge with the toe of his shoe. “What’s that?”

“Come on, Mick,” Patrick snapped. The forced humor from their exchange was gone, replaced by anger. “Mel was smarter than the both of us put together. You don’t think she’d find a way to get this to me?”

Mick lost his grin and stepped a little closer. “Get what to you?”

“The evidence.”

Mick shook his head, the smile returning to his lips. He tapped his foot against the dock and said, “You’re lying. She wouldn’t come to you now. Not after all these years. Not after how you treated her.”

“You’re right. She wouldn’t. I was an ass to have reacted the way I did, and Mel would have never forgiven me. But she knew you were closing in and she had to think about Kayla. We knew each other very well. She sent me a hint about where she hid the evidence. I found an SD card.”

“You knew her well?” Mick said, stunned. The evidence was forgotten. “You didn’t know her at all if you so easily could have believed her capable of murder. You never questioned it. Not once. You didn’t deserve her.”

Patrick took a deep breath and stepped forward. One step. Then two. He was only about six or so feet from us now. “No. I didn’t. But neither did you. Just tell me—tell me why you did it. If you loved her, why would you set her up like that? Was it so she would turn to you for help? Did you think she’d beg you to take her away?”

“Idiot,” Mick yelled. “I didn’t set her up. I set you up—but as usual you got away with it! It’s about you. It’s always been about you. From day f*cking one.”

If Patrick was at all surprised by Mick’s revelation, it didn’t show. Expression unchanged, he said, “So you’re willing to kill two innocent kids—one of which is your own daughter—to punish me because of a relationship that died a long time ago?”

“See, this is where the revenge part comes in, Patty-boy. You were so obsessed with attacking Melissa for the murder of that kid, that you never gave her a chance to tell you the truth. About more than one thing.” He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a good shake. “I did love Melissa. Want to know how I’m sure? Because even after this little bitch was born and we confirmed it, I was still willing to tolerate her.”

Patrick’s face paled. “What are you talking about?”

Mick winked at me, then turned back to Patrick, who had stopped moving closer. “She’s not my daughter.”





Chapter Twenty-Four


Patrick’s eyes grew impossibly wide, and he started to lunge forward, but Mick was too fast. He kicked the brick over the edge.

“No!” Patrick screamed.

“Shaun,” I panted as every inch of me went numb. Eyes squeezed shut, I whispered to myself over and over again, this is not real. Notreal-notreal-notreal. I’d fallen asleep. My eyes would open before I hit the water, Mom sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room with her shoes on and the blanket pulled tight around her shoulders. I’d find myself curled up on the couch at the cabin, blankets kicked aside and pillow on the floor. None of this. None of it had been real.

And my eyes did open. Only nothing had changed. We were still on the dock.

We were still about to die.

I held my breath and leaned back as far as I could. If I threw all my weight back, maybe I could keep us from falling over. Offset the brick somehow. I watched in horror, heart about to explode from my chest, as the block disappeared beneath the water with a huge splash. The seconds seemed to last forever as the pile of rope on the dock in front of us got smaller and smaller, uncurling beneath the surface like a serpent diving to strike.