Paint It All Red (Mindf*ck #5)(47)

I fill up his food bowl, and he slides across the slick, tile floor when he tries to tackle it. Then I kick on some sandals and head out for my daily walk, making my leg stronger and stronger.

At least I’m good at rehabilitation.

Per the usual, I plug in my earbuds and start playing my music, while also internet searching for any news from the states that might pertain to the FBI finally fessing up to the truth.

I know it’s doubtful, despite the mounds of evidence, but I keep hoping they’ll eventually exonerate my father’s memory.

Delaney Grove has started rebuilding, according to one article. The people are trying to piece their town together, and the dorky but sweet deputy has been named the new county sheriff. It might have helped that we spared his life, along with two others who weren’t involved.

The rest of the world may forget us and the legacy we left behind, but Delaney Grove will forever be changed. No one there will forget.

And maybe Jake and I took a long trip back to the states just to kill Jason for the purpose of letting Logan know I was alive.

Jake had to help me subdue him, considering I’m still not as fast, given the leg injury.

But I don’t know if Logan ever figured it out. It took them longer to recover the body than I expected. Sheesh. That house must have the lowest interest in the market.

However, it was discovered over two weeks ago, and nothing suspicious has happened. Jake is too busy fishing and still too mad at me to hack anything for me, so I’m stuck with the regular articles everyone sees.

Most of the buzz is still going, and weird conspiracy theories have formed, overshadowing the actual conspiracy theory.

But one article has me almost tripping over myself when I’m right in front of my house. My eyes read over it quickly, trying to understand the words.

The same day Jason’s body was discovered, another man died, though his body was just recovered yesterday afternoon.

It’s the man’s name that has my skin prickling.

Christopher Denver.

Olivia hasn’t called to tell us anything. At least Jake hasn’t mentioned it. Then again, he’s still pissed at me for almost dying, so prying information about following events has been difficult, since that’s part of my punishment.

I turn and look at the beach where Jake is lying down, a pole between his legs as he sleeps and fishes at the same time. I trudge through the sand, wincing when I try to run. Then I kick the jerk.

A loud oomph leaves his lips as I kneel beside him.

“What the hell?” he snaps, rubbing his side as he glares at me.

“When did Olivia call? And don’t tell me she hasn’t.”

He looks genuinely confused.

“I haven’t felt it safe enough to contact her with a new number yet, considering there was some federal activity on her name. I set her phone up for alerts to notify her if anyone got wind of her trail, and had her a new identity ready and waiting. If she has to leave, she’ll go to the safe house, and I’ll get an alert when she does.”

He holds up his phone and I sink to the sand a little more as I hand him my phone to read.

He skims the article at first, then bolts upright to a seated position.

“Olivia wouldn’t have shot him,” he says, shaking his head. “She was content with drawing it out as long as possible once his organs started failing.”

“Apparently something happened. I never pictured her as a crotch shooter, but that’s where he bled out from.”

“Maybe she spent too much time with you,” he quips, still reading it.

I remember the day Jake figured it out. I’d already been suspicious, but couldn’t bring myself to fully believe it. Not until Jake walked in and we both confirmed the worst case scenario together.

He had all the copies of his father’s DVDs in his hands, and tears were in his eyes. We watched the trial again together, saw the occasional slip up when Christopher would smirk as my father sobbed.

It became overtly obvious during one home video when his father couldn’t look away from my mother at a birthday party. And his jaw was grinding when my father came up and kissed her, causing her to giggle in his arms.

It was the most painful realization.

My father’s best friend.

My best friend’s father.

The same man who had sat at our table for holidays when we were growing up, was the same man who’d sentenced my father to the worst death imaginable.

That’s when we called Olivia.

Jake didn’t even hesitate. He hated him already, but he said his father was dead to him after that.

He started the regimen Olivia concocted—a new synthetic parasite she’d been working on in her lab—and so it began. The first thing to leave him was his sex drive. Not even a little blue pill could fix that.

The second thing to go was his energy.

From there, things just slowly, agonizingly, started getting worse and worse. She assured us the pain would grow to be unbearable, and she was all too happy to make it happen.

Jake helped her get the synthetic parasite off the lab property and even hacked the files that held the information about it. She also took a few extras for later on—the endgame.

My part was miniscule. All I had to do was be the lookout during the planning of this.

This wasn’t just my revenge. It was theirs more so than mine.

Christopher Denver wronged my father in more ways than I can even fathom, even played his best friend and lawyer, but at the end of the day, Jake was his own son. He was wronged the most.