Under Her Care(81)

Genevieve hurting Mason was why my daddy was so mad at her. That’s why he was going to leave her. And that’s why she killed him. He doesn’t say anything about leaving her in the texts, but he told me two nights before he died. Made me promise not to tell anyone.

I knew Genevieve killed my daddy in the same way I knew she had something to do with Annabelle’s murder from the moment I heard about it. I couldn’t prove either just like I couldn’t prove she’d tried to get rid of me too. That’s what she does with people she doesn’t have any use for anymore or who stand in the way of what she wants—she tosses them away like nasty trash.

Brett and I have been plotting how to blackmail money out of Genevieve for the last year. We met in the psychiatric ward at White Memorial when we were both fifteen. He was in for a drug-induced psychosis, and I was in for a mom-induced one. We’ve stayed in touch ever since, and he was thrilled when he found out I was going to Ole Miss, since he was too.

We went back and forth on our plans, debating whether we should kidnap her or Mason, weighing the pros and cons of both. He voted Mason, but I voted Genevieve. Eventually, we settled on her and were busy figuring out logistics when this opportunity practically fell in our laps. We couldn’t say no to it since it was a win-win for me. Whether I blackmailed her successfully or she went to jail, either outcome was fine with me. It’s fun playing a game you can’t lose.

The trick was making her think we knew more than we did. I have no idea what happened down at the creek. Simon never existed. We made him up. I don’t know what happened to the real guy who was down there that day. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s probably in a trailer somewhere doing his best to lie low until this whole thing blows over. But she didn’t know any of that. Still doesn’t. We had her hooked from the very first hello.

Genevieve should be grateful I’m not going after her for more money. I could go after everything that’s mine, but that’s being greedy. I just want enough for a new name and a fresh start in a place where nobody knows me or my family. That’s easy to do in California. It’s the place where everyone reinvents themselves. I couldn’t do it alone, though. I had to have help.

I turn my focus back to Brett. “What happened after you told her she couldn’t delete the video?”

“Nothing. I turned to walk away, and that’s when she shot me. Right in the back of the leg. She was trying to shoot me dead, though. I swear she was. She just missed.” He wipes the sweat off his forehead. I grab one of the bottled waters from the center of the table, unscrew the cap, and hand it to him. He crackles the plastic while he chugs half the bottle. “Anyway, she was trying to kill me, but Ms. Walker grabbed her. She—”

“Ms. Walker was with her?” He insisted on driving me to our meetings and waiting in the car until they were over. He never thought meeting with her was a good idea, but it just added to the fun. Another layer to the drama.

He nods.

“I don’t understand. What was she doing there?” It was a delicate dance with Ms. Walker. For a while, I was afraid she would miss what was right in front of her. I’m so glad she didn’t disappoint.

“I don’t know. She just jumped out of nowhere when your mom tried to shoot me. She probably saved my life.” He sits up straight in his chair, reliving the moment again. “See, we’d already done the exchange, and I was walking away as fast as I could, just trying my hardest to get to the truck and back to you, when—pop!” He gestures wildly with his hand. “The gun goes off and the bullet hits me. Out of nowhere. Just zings my leg, and I drop to the ground.” He flops back in his chair with his arms spread out to show me. The sudden movements make him wince in pain, and he stiffens immediately. “And then next thing I know, I turn around and Genevieve is pointing the gun at some lady. It took me a second to recognize her, but it was Ms. Walker.”

“Did she say anything?”

“Not to me.” He shakes his head. “The two of them started tussling and fighting. That’s how I got away. I just crept away right when they were in the middle of carrying on.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “What are we going to do, Savannah?” He points at his leg and grimaces.

“Can I see it?” My voice is as tender as my touch will be.

“It did nothing but bleed for the first hour. It’s all over the truck. You should see it. It looks like some kind of massacre happened in there.” He sucks in his breath through gritted teeth. “I didn’t think it’d ever stop. Then it just did, but I’m afraid to touch it in case it makes it start all over again.” He cringes as he moves the fabric near the wound and backs off. “I just don’t know what to do. What are we going to do, Savannah?” He’s wound as tight as I’ve ever seen him. Teetering in the narrow gap between breaking down and freaking out.

I lean over and wrap my arms tightly around him. He collapses into my chest, and I rub his back in soothing strokes. His body is damp with sweat. He smells metallic. I whisper into the top of his head, “Don’t worry, baby. It’s going to be okay. You just let me take care of you.”





NOW



What is this me?

I remember you.

Will you remember me?

She said I couldn’t get out. That I’d always have to stay. That way. With her.