Killman Creek (Stillhouse Lake #2)(11)
“I’ll call tonight,” she tells me, and I shrug, like it’s no big deal if she doesn’t. Except it is. We both know it.
When I get my makeup set up to my satisfaction, I find that Mom has gone out to the living area and is at the kitchen table. She’s sitting across from Connor. Javier has put a glass of water in front of my brother, but he’s ignoring it. All his attention is on the page he’s reading. Mom takes his glass of water and sips, but he ignores that, too. “Must be a good story,” she says. I settle into one of the armchairs near the windows. I was right. Comfy. I sling a leg over one arm and watch the show, which consists of my mom trying to gently get behind Connor’s walls, and Connor pretending she isn’t even there.
He finally gives in enough to say, “It is.” He carefully inserts a battered bookmark between the pages of his book, closes it, and puts it down on the table. “Mom. Are you going to come back?” I can see his eyes. I’m worried about how they look. I don’t really know what my brother is thinking about anymore. Since Lancel Graham took us, he hasn’t felt safe; I know that. He’d put such faith in Mom to keep us completely secure, to keep the world away, and for him, that failure had been epic. Hadn’t been her fault, and she’d come for us like I knew she would.
But I don’t know how to fix my brother.
Mom says all the right things, of course, and she hugs him. He breaks away quickly, which he always does . . . Connor isn’t much of a hugger, especially when other people are around. But it’s more than that.
Mom kisses me on the forehead, and I give her a hug, a real one, but I don’t say anything. Sam, who’s been quietly leaning against the door, comes over to me and says, “Hey. Take care of your brother, okay?” Sam is a good man. I was wary for a long, long, long time, but I’ve seen him do quietly amazing things for us, including fighting to save us when our lives were on the line. I believe him when he says he cares.
I also believe it’s hard for him, because our asshole dad killed his innocent sister, and when he looks at us he can’t help but see some part of Melvin Royal in me and Connor. I study myself for hours in the mirror sometimes, picking out bits that resemble Dad. My hair’s more like Mom’s. But I think the shape of my nose is more like Dad’s. And my chin. I’ve looked up how old I have to be to get plastic surgery, just to remove any trace.
Connor sometimes looks exactly like pictures of our father when Dad was a kid. I know it bothers my brother a lot. I know he spends a lot of time obsessing about whether he will turn out . . . bad.
Mom needs to get him help. Soon. And if she won’t, I will.
“I’ll take care of him,” I tell Sam, then give it a shrug for good measure as if it’s no big deal. But Sam gets it.
“And yourself, tough chick.”
“Who you calling chick?” I demand, giving him a grin. We don’t hug again. We bump fists, and he goes to do the same with Connor.
Then he and Mom are gone, out the door, and we go out on the porch with Javier Esparza and Boot the dog to wave goodbye. Well, Boot doesn’t wave. He still looks unhappy he didn’t get to chew my face off. I give him a guarded pat on the head. He snorts again, but then he turns to Connor, and without the slightest evidence of fear, my brother sits down next to the dog and scratches him between the ears. Boot closes his eyes and leans against him.
Boys, I think, and roll my eyes.
I watch Mom and Sam get in the car. I watch them drive away. My eyes are clear and dry, and I’m proud of that.
Mr. Esparza says he’s going to make chili dogs for lunch. He puts Connor to work chopping up onions.
I go to my room, shut the door, and weep into my pillow, because I am as afraid as I’ve ever been in my life that I will never see my mother again.
And that Dad’s going to find us.
3
SAM
Gwen is still too quiet, an hour out onto the road. I can feel the pain vibrating the air around her.
“You okay?” It’s an inadequate question, but I have to try. There’s something haunting in the blank way she’s staring out the window at the flickering trees, like she’s trying to hypnotize herself into something like peace.
“I just abandoned my kids,” she says. Her voice sounds strange. I shoot her a quick look, but the road is narrow and curved, and I can’t spare much focus from keeping the SUV on the road. “Left them with . . . strangers.”
“They aren’t strangers,” I say. “Come on. You know they’re good people. They’ll do everything they can to keep the kids safe.”
“I should have stayed with them.” I can tell that she’s aching to ask me to turn the car around. “I just want to take my kids in my arms and never let them out of my sight again. I’m terrified . . .” Her voice fades out for a few seconds, thin as fog, then comes back stronger. “What if I never come back to them? What if they’re taken while I’m gone?”
She sounds so shaken that I pull the SUV off on the shoulder, in the blue shadow of trees. “Do you want to go back?” I cut the engine and turn to look at her. Not judging, but worrying. If this is going to work, I need to be sure that she’s up to it. I won’t blame her if she isn’t, but deep in my heart I know I have to go, with or without her. Melvin Royal is out there, and he’s going to come for Gwen, and those kids. This used to be about revenge for me, about getting justice for my sister, Callie, but now it’s something more.