It wasn’t even about Lexie.
They couldn’t have given two fucks about the family dog bleeding out in front of us. The reason so many of them turned up is because the “accident” seemed personal.
Calculated.
Finn said he noticed a gray car with tinted windows following them for most of their walk. To make it worse, Lexie wasn’t in the best shape, so he couldn’t exactly book it down the street to lose him.
He’d just convinced himself he was being paranoid when he and Lexie began crossing the street to reach the house. Then the driver pumped the gas and plowed into them at full speed.
Finn barely managed to jump out of the way.
Sheriff Daniels let slip that this isn’t the first time Finn’s family has been targeted. Apparently, there were quite a few incidents following Nora Richards’s disappearance—damage done to the property, attempted break-ins, even kidnapping threats on the kids.
Something about Mr. Richards offering a million-dollar reward to whoever found his wife, back when they still had hope she’d be found alive. Her body hadn’t turned up, and they thought maybe, by some miracle, she’d swam to safety or been dragged to shore by the current.
The massive media coverage and large sums of money being dangled in front of less fortunate folks eventually earned the family a little too much attention.
Some believed the family had the reward stashed somewhere in their mansion. Others thought they’d make bank by breaking in and stealing whatever expensive shit they could get their hands on—even better if that “expensive shit”turned out to be one of the kids… No wonder the police are paying extra attention to this case.
Mr. Richards was furious when he heard. He booked a flight home as soon as the cops contacted him. From what I could gather, he’s willing to move heaven and earth to find the bastard who did this to Lexie.
“Finn? Did you hear me? We can go home.” The lie immediately begs to die on my tongue.
Home.
I’m not sure this house will ever feel like his home again.
“It’s almost midnight. You need to get some rest.” I brace a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches, shooting me an accusing glare that implies I’ve pulled him out of his safe place.
That place in his head where he likes to hide.
The dark corner where nothing hurts, nothing bleeds, and nothing dies.
He doesn’t want to come back, but he’s been hiding in that very place since his mom’s accident. I managed to pull him out that day on the bridge. Then again this morning when he said his goodbyes to Lexie.
I won’t let him go again.
“Finn?” I whisper, pushing my luck and reaching for his hand that’s nervously fidgeting on his lap. “Can you take me home?Please?”
I convinced him to go for a ride while the cleaners got to work, and we’ve been parked in the springs’ parking lot for hours. To think the town owes its name to those springs. Hell, they’re famous in North Carolina, but barely two hours here and I’ve seen enough of them for a lifetime.
Finn’s hand is icy, and I envelop his knuckles with my fingers, aiming to transfer some of my warmth to him. He doesn’t react or reciprocate the gesture, but he looks alive again, like he just took a dive back down to earth, which is more than I could say a minute ago.
At last, he gives a small nod, returning to a world he’d kill to escape, and ignites the engine.
The drive home is as stressful as it is quiet.
Neither one of us says a word, but the fear we share is palpable. We’re both terrified to march into the house and realize today was real. That Lexie is not going to come running to us the moment we burst through the door.
Because she’s gone.
Because she’s dead.
We must stay in the driveway for over five minutes, both lacking the strength to make the first move. Until the urge to pee forces me to take action, and I jerk the car door open. Finn doesn’t follow, but I don’t push it.
He’ll come inside when he’s ready.
The blood on the doorknob is gone.