Page 90 of The Death Row Club
“And you believed him? A man who drugged you, locked you up, and then set you free just so he could run you over? You looked at him and thought,Yes, this seems like a man I can trust?”
“You wouldn’t understand—”
“Then make me! We survived him, you and I; we’re supposed to be the same. We’re supposed—” She chokes on what sounds like a sob, then collects herself. “The shack was less than an hour’s walk from where you were living. You never once thought that maybe you should check to make sure no one was inside?”
No, not once.
“You’re just as much to blame as he is,” she says. “Those other women, you could’ve saved them, but you didn’t because you believed whatever he told you.”
I know.
God, I know.
But instead of telling her how those women have been scratchingon the door to my mind ever since, I say, “I’m not the only one here responsible for someone’s death.”
Silence. The back of my neck itches, like someone’s watching me, and again, I search the bridge for any signs of her. The mist swirls in front of me; when I raise the axe, I can’t even make out the edge of its blade.
“What happened, Audrey?”
“Zach offered to tell me where you’d be this weekend if I gave him something in return.”
The research folder.
“That night, I found him downstairs in the kitchen, pressing a freezer bag full of ice against his nose. Nicola had punched him, he told me, after she discovered him photographing her sketchbooks. He was worried about what might happen if you found out, that somehow you’d use your connections to get his book deal canceled. ‘Forget about the follow-up,’ he told me, ‘the first one won’t even make it onto the shelves.’ He’d never mentioned anything about a follow-up. That’s when he let it slip: He’d received a two-book deal. The first would be about the club, but the second he wanted to write about me. He’d planned on pitching it during our meeting on Monday. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he announced he was going to write the book anyway—with or without my help. I argued with him, threatened him even, but nothing I said was enough.
“No one knows who I am. If he broke my anonymity, I would never be able to escape Tom Woods. I don’t want him to be the most important thing about me.”
She doesn’t realize she’s already made him the most important thing about herself. Audrey had everything growing up—supportive parents, a good education, all the opportunities in the world. However, in the years since her abduction, her life has grown smaller andsmaller, until the only thing left in it is Tom Woods. She’s still locked in that shack, still trying to break loose, and she thinks vengeance is her way out.
Vengeance is never the way out.
“He started for the staircase, and that’s when I noticed the statue on the pedestal by the front door. I didn’t mean to kill him; I just wanted him to stop.”
“I understand.”
I’d just wanted my father to stop, too.
“I’ll make sure no one ever finds out.” I’ll convince Connor not to call the police; we can bury Zach in the backyard like we’d originally planned. “You can start over, put all this behind you—”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“Not until Tom Woods is dead.”
I wish that we were standing face-to-face, that she could see how difficult this is for me. “I’m sorry, Audrey. That’s not going to happen.”
A crunching sound comes from somewhere nearby—rocks caught in the water maybe, grinding against the cliffs. “It’s not.”
“I won’t let it. I love him too much. And even if I didn’t, I don’t believe in the death penalty.”
“Well.”
A searing whiteness floods my vision. I spin to find two lights carving their way through the fog. Cupping my hand across my forehead, I’m finally able to tell what the crunching sound is: the Challenger, its headlights aimed directly at me.
“I do,” she says.
The receiver drops from my hand. I’m standing in the center of a single-lane bridge. I glance over my shoulder, but the mainland isn’t even visible from here. The Challenger revs its engine, andthat’s all the warning I get before it comes barreling toward me at full speed.
