We Begin at the End(106)

“Change and decay in all around I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to talk.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to tell me what happened, I don’t want to know.”

“Okay.”

“People say it’s not fair.”

“It never is.”

“That day when you gave me a gun. You said it was your father’s gun.”

“Yes.”

“I cleaned it like you showed me. Respect it, right? But then I hid it in the closet, even though you told me to use it to protect myself.”

“I shouldn’t have told you—”

“So that’s what I’m doing. Hal said you’re a cancer. Everything you get near … you just kill it all dead. He said you don’t deserve to live.”

“He was right.”

“Walk stood up in court and told a lie. Star said he was all good.”

“I’m sorry, Duchess.”

“Fuck.” She reached up and fixed her hat, her breath left her. Her voice barely held but she steadied her hand and reached for the trigger. “I am the outlaw, Duchess Day Radley. And you are the murderer, Vincent King.”

“You don’t have to do this.” He smiled gently.

“I know what I have to do. Justice. Vengeance. I can handle it.”

“You can still be anyone you want, Duchess.”

She leveled the gun.

His tears fell but still, he smiled at her. “I came here to say goodbye. This isn’t on you. I won’t let you carry me with you.”

She gasped when he stepped back, his arms out as he took flight.

She ran and screamed and stopped at the cliff edge as the darkness took him.

The gun fell by her side. She dropped with it, her knees in the dirt as she reached a hand out, over the cliff, and grasped at the air.

Behind, her mother lay, and Duchess used the last of her strength to crawl over to the grave. She pressed a cheek to the stone and closed her eyes.





Part Four


Heartbreaker





46


BLAIR PEAK BORDERED THE ELKTON-TRINITY National Forest and the Whitefoot, the kind of town where Walk could have spent the day just staring out at the sprawl of wilderness, at trees so tall it was as if they were reaching up for God’s hand.

He’d made the drive, past the barren hills and dead grass of a dozen haunted communities, more than a hundred times over the past twenty years, Star beside, counting off the miles in quiet thought. And then, after, as happy as he ever saw her. What demons lived in her soul were exorcised by a man named Colten Sheen, a counselor who worked out of a room above a store that sold second-hand pianos.

In his hand was a small urn. The service had been brief.

The last will of Vincent King had been clear and vague enough. The forest spanned six counties and two million acres, Walk figured here was as good a place as any.

He crossed the street and dropped down, trod the dead leaves to towering sugar pines, and then scattered the ashes over the forest floor. He said nothing, no grand goodbyes, just allowed himself a moment to remember a time finally beginning its fade.

After, he walked up Union Street and found the door, the shop closed up but a light burned against the winter’s day. He buzzed up, heard the door give and headed into the small lobby and up narrow stairs. He’d been in once before, the first time, just to make sure she didn’t bolt.

“I’m Chief …” Walk stammered. “Sorry, I’m Walker. Just Walker. I used to be Chief of Cape Haven PD.”

Walk was not surprised when Sheen drew a blank. The man that stood before him had aged nicely, full head of gray hair, an inch off six feet. He extended a hand when Walk mentioned Star Radley.

“I’m sorry, it’s been such a long time,” Sheen said. “I have someone due in ten minutes, so I can give you those, but that’s all, I’m afraid.”

They sat, Walk falling into the soft chair, smiling at the serene prints on the wall. Beside was a large window, opening up to a view of the Elkton-Trinity and the white-capped alps.

“I could lose a day staring out.”

Sheen smiled. “I often do.”

“I’m here about Star.”

“You should know I can’t tell you anything. I’m bound—”

“Yes,” Walk cut in. “I just … I’m sorry, I found myself in town again, just thought I’d stop by. You see … she died.”

Sheen smiled, compassion emanated. “I saw it, I followed the story in the news. It’s tragic, really. But still, even in death …”

“I’m not even sure why I’m here, not really.”

“You’re missing your friend.”

“I … yes. I’m missing my friend.” It hit him then, out of all the feelings, all the chasing leads and battling theories, he hadn’t thought about just how much he missed his friend. It was easy to see her troubles, her beauty, everything but the real, sweet person he had known a lifetime.

“I guess I just wanted to know why she stopped coming. She did well, for so long she did so well. And then it all stopped so suddenly. And she never really came back from it.”