Endings by Linda Richards (e ink manga reader txt) 📕

one thing. Actually pulling it off is another. It takes us a long time; longer than it should. He seems to start to rouse again, but when he hits his head on the hard metal around the edge of the trunk, I don’t save him from the bump. The knock on his skull this time is loud enough that even I, who don’t wish him well, cringe. But the hit of his head on the edge of the trunk seems to send him back over, saving me from having to give him another bonk with the mallet.

As we work, I am aware of a certain ambivalence growing inside me. I have a goal and a plan. If Atwater dies before I achieve it, I would be perfectly comfortable shunting him to the forest floor and leaving him for the vultures. I know I would do so without real regret. There are things I need him alive for, but if he dies in the course of getting him there, well, maybe that’s okay, too.

When it is done, and Atwater is neatly tucked into the trunk of the car with the lid closed, I grab everything I think I’ll need from the back of the van. I move quickly while I do it. He’s taken a few good bonks to the head, but I don’t know how long he’ll be out.

“Now take the van and Ashley to the police. If you could give me an hour’s head start, that would be perfect.”

“What’ll I tell them?”

“Just … everything, I guess.” I hadn’t really thought that part through. “I mean, if you forgot the color of this car, that would be a bit of a help, but they’ll need to know everything else that happened so that they can deal with it all in the best possible way. That van is full of evidence—more than we can see, I’m sure. And some of it might help other parents know what happened to their kids.” I blanch a bit thinking about it. Meet her eyes. So much that doesn’t need to be said. “There’ll be DNA, etcetera.” Thinking of that reminds me that I’ll need to be careful to leave none of my own.

“Are you going to kill him?” There is nothing beyond mild interest as she asks this. She will not fight me either way on the outcome. She has her daughter back, so she cares less now what happens to the monster. She has her daughter back and she is looking cool and under control, but there is a wildness at the edge of her eyes, a sort of surprised joy that she is containing. The ordeal is not over yet, but her daughter is alive. Once they are both in a safe place, I think she might collapse with the pure post-shock of it, but for now, adrenalin keeps her moving forward.

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply. Even I am surprised by this answer. I keep thinking the correct outcome will present itself. But right now, I am not sure what that is. “I’m going to try and get information out of him. But I guess it could happen that he ends up dead.”

“Good,” she says. Something hard and unexpected glitters in her eyes. “Good.”

She gives me a quick hug, then secures Ashley in the passenger seat of the van. She hops into the van and drives away. I imagine she doesn’t look over her shoulder. I wouldn’t. The future is waiting for both of them.

I have a lot to do. I watch the van’s taillights fade to distant red specks and then disappear. After a couple of minutes thinking, I get into my now heavily laden rental car and do the same.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THERE ARE MOMENTS in all of our lives that we understand to be pivotal. Not a lot of them. That is, we mostly don’t recognize them while they occur. You can spot them looking back over your shoulder. Sure, that’s easy. But while they are happening? I think maybe each of us gets less than six of those in our lifetimes. Of course, I’m making the number up. It feels right, though. It’s how it seems to me.

Leaving the nearly hidden driveway at Hoyo Lago, and pointing my rented car west, towards the ocean, I get one of those moments. I have the sense that nothing will ever be the same again. And I’m not even really sure why.

I take Highway 46 towards the coast. Before long, I hear furtive noises from the trunk and pull the car over at a wide vista point. I am at the top of the world. The hills roll out and over towards the ocean. The sun is falling fast in a darkening sky. It is as though the gold and blue are bathed in blood. It is beautiful.

I watch the sun set and the darkness grow, not certain I’ve ever seen a more beautiful end of day. Before full dark, though, while the sky is still shot through with indigo and red, I open the trunk and meet angry eyes. Before I silence him again, I see a hatred in those eyes so thorough I almost think it can kill me. But it doesn’t kill me. Maybe it even makes me stronger.

I shut the trunk. Toss the mallet onto the back seat. Keep driving.

When I get to the coast, I head the car and my precious cargo north. I’m not sure why. I just keep following the Pacific Coast Highway while dark falls properly. I am driving into a darkening sky.

I think a lot while driving. I think about what to do. I have done all of this with no real plan in mind, so now I think about what needs doing: what is going to be required of me in this special situation. All of the steps.

And I have a sense of standing up. There would have been easy things to do in this situation. Killing him. Leaving him