Bitter Falls (Stillhouse Lake #4)(65)

“Then why are you here?”

He points at Vee. “Girl there called,” he says. “She’s a friend of my boy Olly. She said there was trouble here. Ms. Proctor, we ain’t got time for this. Your neighbors might be hunkering down, but I guarantee they’re on 911 right now—”

“Why would you help me?”

“Fact is, you live ’round here, Ms. Proctor. You’re our neighbor. They’re strangers come in to do you harm.” He smiles. It’s cold, and I see the predator under the friendly disguise. “Besides, this is a chance for us to horse-trade a little. I help you find these bastards, you get your girl to say my son didn’t have nothing to do with that girl getting hurt up at Killing Rock.”

“Police are going to get involved,” I tell him. “These kidnappers took their car and uniforms. Did you find the officers?”

“Trunk of their own cruiser,” he says. “Trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys in their undies. My son Jesse took some photos for posterity. They’re all right. But the clock’s running fast, Ms. Proctor. Better decide quick if you want my help.” He’s staring at me, but I can’t read anything in his face.

I grab for the SUV’s keys. I miss.

He’s shaking his head. “No good tearing off after them, even if you could drive without passing out. And you got no idea which way they went.” I don’t like the smile he gives me. Or the look in his eyes. “I do.”

I feel every muscle in my body tighten. Painfully. “Where?”

“Favors for favors is how we do business. Now, my girl Florida, she’s one hell of a smart kid. You know anything about drones?”

“Drones,” I repeat.

“I had my boy Jesse follow that RV when it left; it went up onto an old logging road, don’t even have a name. Florida got a drone up and landed it on top of the RV before it got off that road. So we can track it . . . or I can just have Florida fly that drone on back home.” He pauses. We both register the sound of sirens coming. “Time’s up. I’m good either way.”

I swallow hard. I feel fragile now, all my bones turned to milky glass. I hurt. My head’s throbbing so hard I see pulses of red in front of my eyes. What he’s asking is a terrible thing. And I can’t decide for my daughter. She’s the one who’ll have to lie.

I look at Lanny, and she says, without a second’s pause, “I’ll do it. Anything, Mom. If it gets Connor and Sam back, I’ll say whatever he wants.”

“And your whole clan leaves,” Jasper says. “You pack up and you leave Stillhouse Lake when this is done. Agreed?”

Like my daughter, I don’t hesitate. “Agreed,” I say. I offer my hand. He takes it.

“If it helps salve your conscience, Olly ain’t no killer. He’s foolish, and he’s a good man in a fight. He may sell some recreational drugs now and again. But he never wanted Candy hurt. That was all on Bon, the idjit.”

Lanny bites her lip and nods. “That’s true,” she says. “I mean, I’m pretty sure. Bon admitted it.”

I walk to her and take her in my arms. I press my forehead to hers and whisper, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “We’re going to find them.”

Jasper grunts, but makes no promises. His phone makes a chiming sound, and he looks down at it. “Spotters say Johnny Law’s coming ’round the lake. You tell them what happened here, but leave us and that stuff about the drone out. You have your girl change her statement. Then come out to the lodge, and we’ll get to finding your boys.”

“Lodge?”

“I suppose you’d call it our compound,” he says, and huffs, as if he takes that personally. “Anyway, I’ll have Jesse waiting to lead you up when you’re done. You bring Vee and Lanny; my wife will look after them. Best you bring what you need for some days.”

“You’d better not screw me over, Jasper. I’ll kill you.”

“Ma’am,” he says, “I’m going to consider that you’ve been bashed silly and not hold that against you. Hospitality’s a sacred thing, and when I offer it, I mean it. No harm will come to either of you under my roof, and I’ll swear to that.” It’s weird, but I believe him. He’s actually offended that I’d think otherwise. Southern customs. In some ways they’re utterly incomprehensible to me still. But right now I’m just abjectly grateful.

“Mom? I want to come with you,” Lanny says. “I want to find Connor!”

I just shake my head. It’s impossible for me to take my daughter into this fight, and she knows that.

Doesn’t mean she likes it. At all. Doesn’t mean I do either.

I give Jasper a few minutes to clear out; then I call the police and report the home invasion and the abductions—it would be strange if I didn’t. I excuse the delay by telling them I was unconscious. Kezia and Prester burn rubber and arrive together just behind the patrol cars, and their professionalism and kindness shake my hard-won composure. It feels like I’m standing on a thin pane of glass over a hole as deep as the Grand Canyon, and every move I make cracks it a little more. Please, Sam, I pray, in the quiet moments between questions. Please stay alive. Please watch over our son. I know he will, if it’s humanly possible. But the thought of losing one of them, or both of them . . . it destroys me.