Page 93 of Dreadful Things
“He’s dead?” If I sound disappointed, it’s because I am. I wanted to kill him with my bare fucking hands.
“I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that’s his brain leaking out on this metal thing. I’d say it’s an easy bet to assume he’s done for.”
“What do we have?” the EMT questions before fully breaching the doorway. I give a quick rundown of what I know, which isn’t much. For all I know, the knife sticking out of herlower stomach isn’t the worst of her injuries. I get nudged out of the way as soon as both men have gloves on. The older of the two peels my shirt back from Harlyn’s wound, and a swell of deep red blood oozes out. I force myself to keep looking as he quickly reapplies pressure with a clean wad of gauze.
“We need to move. Carl, get the stretcher. Mavis, I want you to call the hospital. Make sure Bishop is there. If he isn’t, get him there with a trauma team.”
There’s a flurry of activity as more and more police and rescue arrive on the scene. The seconds stretch to minutes as they get Harlyn loaded on a backboard then on a stretcher.
The same graying officer who told me the male on the floor was dead tries to stop me by gripping my arm when I begin to follow Harlyn as they hustle her to the ambulance. “I need to know what happened here.”
I jerk my arm away from him. “If I knew, I would tell you, but I don’t. I’m going with her. Don’t try to stop me again.” I jog down the stairs just in time to see one of the EMTs insert an IV into Harlyn’s arm. Under the bright lights, she looks even worse, pale and so very delicate. I grab the handrail as a woman begins to close the rear doors.
“No riders,” she insists, attempting to block my entrance. Instead of speaking, I flash my badge, knowing it will get me an all access pass. “Sit down and stay out of the way,” she concedes after pointing to a tiny little jump seat.
Moments later, we bump over the lawn to return back to the road. Instead of watching them hook Harlyn up to more machines than I want to count, I lower my head and pray with everything in me that she will make it.
EPILOGUE
Epilogue
Wind blows, and several short marble slabs show through the tall grass field in the distance. It isn’t the first time I made this trip, and it certainly won’t be the last. The familiarity of the journey doesn’t make it any easier. The starkness of fresh white stone mingled with the weathered memorials is a gut punch I can never prepare for.
I can’t help but think about what nearly could have been if I hadn’t fallen for Edward Blankenship’s ruse. We’re still trying to figure out how he knew who our serial was before we did, but we do know he got someone to call in the tip that led us to William Rollins and planted evidence there to make us think he was Hayzel’s killer. I thought I killed the monster who hurt her, but it turns out, I left her helpless against him instead.
Small rocks pop and fly out from under the truck tires, interrupting the serene silence I know will greet me the moment I step out into the blistering Texas temperatures. Summer here is a different kind of heat. The sun feels hotter than most placesI’ve been to, but that isn’t what’s hard to get used to. What I find nearly impossible to accept is the pain and loss hidden among the unmistakable beauty of the amber grasses and a sky so blue, it almost seems unreal. It doesn’t seem fair that so much hurt could exist in a place so stunning.
I can see the clearing now. The pink peonies from the last visit are wilted despite my best effort. No matter how much water or what kind of vase I use, it’s never enough to keep the flowers fresh, even for a few days.
The truck ticks and makes mechanical noises I usually wouldn’t notice the moment I park along the gravel road and turn off the engine. Selfishly, I wish I was somewhere else. Guilt intrudes, prompting me to turn my head to look at my passenger.
Her blue eyes, much like the rich color of the sky, are already on me. “I think I want to go alone this time.” Her gaze drops in what I can only assume is uncertainty. My instinct is to deny her request because I’m worried she picked up on my internal thoughts, and she’s only doing this for me, but I bite back the immediate refusal, realizing this has nothing to do with me. Harlyn is strong. That has been evident from day one, even if she couldn’t see it herself.
“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re ready,” I tell her in lieu of the apology I feel like I owe her for thinking about myself right now.
She gives me a genuine but forced smile, which I understand considering we’re at her family’s burial plot, and opens her door. A wave of blistering heat circles inside the cab, replacing the artificially cool air. The soles of her boots crunch on the dry gravel, and a bird calls loudly in the distance as if to greet her.
“Boone.” I snap my head in her direction, ready to do just about anything she asks. “Turn the car back on. I don’t need you sweating to death out here.”
I almost tell her not to worry, that I actually deserve to suffer a little seeing how lucky I am to still have her, considering everything she lost, but I do as I’m told without argument.
I watch Harlyn’s long skirt flutter in the wind as she shields her eyes and approaches the small grove of gravestones. There are two trees so massive, you can see them from the house that seems like it’s miles away from here. She wisely seeks the shade they offer before lowering down to the ground, pushing debris away from her sister’s headstone.
I watch her mouth move before focusing my attention elsewhere. She asked to be alone, and while that has felt impossible since the night I found her nearly dead months ago, I can at least offer her some privacy.
Harlyn
“Hey, Hay.” Her old nickname rolls off my tongue as I greet her. I’ve gotten comfortable speaking to her since returning home. It doesn’t make me miss her any less, but it has helped me feel not so distant from her most of the time. Unfortunately, today is not one of those days. Today I feel her absence like a sore tooth, harsh and aching.
Out of all the times I wish she could be here, now is that time. I can’t help but look down at the ring on my finger, and as happy as it makes me to see it there, I can’t pretend there aren’t other emotions that come along with it—guilt, mostly. Hayzel will never get married or have a family of her own. A tear falls into my lap. “I can’t believe I’m crying because you won’t be at my wedding tomorrow.” I sniffle around a wry smile. “I always thought you’d be the first, you know.”
I rattle on about inane things, like the food and flowers, peonies in shades of white and blush with grapevines fromGrandpa’s vineyard, and about all the things I wish I could say to her if she were here. “You would love it.” I find myself smiling again.
A noise in the tree above me has me tilting my head back just in time to see a bird swooping down out of the canopy and landing right in front of me on Hayzel’s headstone. Shock has me holding my breath as I take in the small creature. Its red head turns a few times before it scrapes its beak on the stone then flies away. The encounter only lasted seconds, but in those seconds, I felt something, a peace and closeness to my sister I’ve been longing for since the day I lost her.
I watch the bird until it isn’t even a dot on the horizon, realizing part of the contentment I felt is still with me, just like Hayzel will always be with me. Maybe not the way either of us would have wanted, but I can’t change that.
When I get up, feeling lighter than I have in a long while, I find Boone standing next to the car, watching me. “Was that a cardinal?”
I nod, unsure I’ll be able to speak without emotion filling my voice. He opens his arms without any prompting, and I make a beeline for his chest, burying my face against him.
I thought I lost my home and family a long time ago, but this feeling is proof family is more than blood. Tomorrow he will become my husband, and I can’t wait to begin our life together.
The End
