Another car turns onto the road past the school as we pull out of the lot, and Devlin curses again, glancing in his mirror and then slamming on the gas as we approach the stop sign at the intersection near the school. We fly through it without slowing, and I stop trying to figure out what’s going on as Devlin tears through the streets, ignoring all traffic signs and signals. I yank my seatbelt out and buckle it, gasping for breath as we shoot forward so fast I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster about to drop from under us.
A pair of lights blurs by, and the screeching of tires on pavement and a long honk fades behind us, already far behind. We skid around a corner at breakneck speed, but Devlin spins the wheel into it, correcting his course and shooting forward along the road to our neighborhood. My mind is blank, my heart hammering with blind terror as we fly through the gate and along the narrow drive toward our houses. Devlin swings sharply into his driveway, the tires spitting gravel as we rocket down the long drive. He skids to a stop in front of the garage, the car sputtering and then dying before he spills out the door and sprints for the house.
I jump out and follow, not sure what we’re after. Walking on gravel with bare, injured feet is not fun, and by the time I get inside, Devlin’s already in a far room. He’s not hard to follow, though. He tears through the house, calling his Dad as he throws open every door. I don’t know why we need to find his dad, why he’s in such danger, but I assume it has to do with ratting out the Swans. And even though I don’t know how much Mr. Darling knew all along, I know that Devlin loves his father more than anything in this world. I can feel the anguish and terror in his every footstep, his every call for his father, and I know how it feels to lose someone who is your whole world.
So I go along, starting up the stairs for the second floor. Devlin passes me before I reach the top. We run along the hall, opening the doors until we reach the end.
No sign of Mr. Darling.
“What do we do?” I ask, grabbing Devlin’s hand, trying to calm him. “Is there anywhere else he could be? Do you have a basement?”
He turns, yanking his hand from mine, and runs down the hall. He opens a door at the end and starts up a set of steep, narrow wooden steps that’s more like a ladder with wide steps. I stop at the bottom, staring at the edge of the one that’s just above eye level. There’s a smear of blood on the edge. Suddenly, my heart is racing again, and I don’t want to go up those steps. I don’t want to see what’s at the top.
“Devlin,” I call, scrambling up behind him. Because he was there for me when I opened that body bag, when I was prepared for the worst thing I’d ever imagined. Devlin is not prepared.
We tumble out onto the attic floor together, my hands tangling with his legs before he can stand. It’s dark and dusty, but there’s a scent in the air that stops my heart, though it’s faint. It’s a putrid, dirty animal smell, like piss and copper pennies, body odor and greasy hair.
Somewhere far away, I hear sirens, but it’s distant, in the back of my mind. Devlin’s on his feet, smashing into something that clatters to the floor and shatters. He curses, and a box falls, and then a light blazes on, blinding us. I blink away the darkness and stare, uncomprehending, at a body laid out on the floor. His ankles are bound in duct tape topped with a thick rope which leads up to his middle, where his arms are bound straight down at his sides. As my eyes move up, my stomach lurches, and my knees give way. His face is swollen and bruised and caked with so much blood I can’t make out his features. The tangle of black hair is all that gives away my twin’s identity.
thirty-three
Crystal
Devlin grabs me before I hit the floor, but I dive out of his arms, falling to my knees beside Royal. Tears splash onto his cheeks before I know I’m crying, and I know I’m saying something, but I don’t know what words come out. I cradle his face, pleading for him to wake, to answer.
One of his eyes moves under the lid, but his lashes are glued shut with dried blood.
“Dad?” he whispers, his voice a dry rasp, like the dry leaves scraping against each other as they tumbled across the lawn outside.
“Royal,” I cry, a hysterical laugh mixing with my tears, choking me as I try to speak. “It’s me. I’m here.”
And then I register the sound of the siren is outside this house, that Devlin is standing back just watching us, his face blank, uncomprehending.
My mind races with questions. Was he here all along? Did the cop see him and ignore it? Did the cop believe Devlin and not check this room? Or was he brought here after that? Tonight?
“Devlin?” I whisper, hating how weak my voice sounds, how it pleads for this to be someone else’s doing.
His eyes snap to me, and his mouth tightens. After making a quick 911 call, he strides forward, dropping to his knees at Royal’s feet and pulling out a knife. Making quick work of the bonds around my brother’s feet, he moves up to his middle. Then he sets the knife on the floor and kneels behind me, wrapping his arms around me as I sit there, silent tears streaming down my face for my brother. I can’t even touch him because I’m afraid I’ll hurt him, that there’s no place on him not covered in bruises.
Outside, I hear car doors slamming, and lots of yelling. But I focus on what’s here. At last, I grasp Royal’s hand. “You’re going to be okay,” I whisper. “We’re going to get you out of here. We’re going to be good again.”
I don’t know what I’m saying, words tumble out haphazardly. Devlin holds me tight, holding me up. If he weren’t here, I’m sure I’d have melted into a puddle on the floor. But he’s strong, and he gives me his strength, even when we hear the doors open downstairs, heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“Dad?” Royal mumbles again.
“It’s me, Crystal,” I remind him, squeezing his hand gently. “We’re going to get you some help.”
“Don’t make me move again,” Royal mutters.
“Okay,” I say, laughing through my tears. “I won’t. You don’t have to move. Just stay like that. Help is on the way.”
I can hear footsteps in the upstairs hallway now, coming closer.
“Crystal,” Devlin says, pressing his face to the back of my neck and inhaling once, long and slow. “Whatever happens…”
I turn to him, releasing my hold on Royal and taking Devlin’s face in my hands. His eyes go wide with surprise at the ferocity in my gaze. “We’ll get through it,” I say fiercely.
Devlin’s lips press together, and he nods. “I just… I’m sorry.”