With that, the three of us ran to the car, leaving Billy’s suit jacket and shirt behind in the little room at the back of the Pink Pony. Isaac and I sat in the back of the Buick while Billy took the front.
As soon as we were on the road, I said, “Go on. What happened? Tell us the rest.”
Isaac’s gaze cut to me. It looked confused, like he wasn’t sure what I was talking about.
“Elena and Kip,” Billy supplied. “What happened?”
“Oh.” Appearing out of sorts, Jenn’s brother rubbed his temple, shaking his head as though to clear it. “Yes. I got there, and he was dead. She’d—already—with the rope. So I shot into the car, planning to pull her out of it, force her to take the gun, and then leave her behind to face the consequences. I’d already removed the roll of fishing rope from my mother’s office, so that wasn’t an issue . . .” Isaac’s voice tapered off.
I met Billy’s stare in the rearview mirror. Billy didn’t know yet because I hadn’t told him, but I knew what happened next.
Elena had run from the car, disinclined to go peacefully. Isaac had chased her, shooting into the bakery, unaware Jenn and I were inside. He’d chased Elena into the woods. Once there, he must’ve knocked her out, left her.
Probably with the gun?
What about Miller? . . . Miller.
“Did you knock out Elena? In the woods? What did you do with the gun?”
“I—uh,” Isaac glanced down, breathed out. “I knocked her out, took off her glove, wrapped her hand around the gun and left her there for the police to find. But Miller—I found out later he’d agreed to be her accomplice—he must’ve found her and taken the gun, put the glove back on.”
“Where does Repo come in?” I asked. “When did you two team up?”
“I saw him leave with my mother. We’d parked on the same slope. His bike was already there when I arrived, so I hid my bike when I parked. The day after, when I realized that my mother and Jenn were under suspicion, I pulled him aside and asked him what he knew. He spilled his guts, seemed grateful I’d asked, and then asked me for help. He wanted to run with Diane right away, but I told him to wait. Burro likes me, told me that you could help—and I knew Burro was your contact—so when the FBI began solidifying their plan against my mother and Repo, I asked Burro to reach out to you, bring you in so we could plan my mother’s escape in such a way that wouldn’t get them caught.”
“Why not just let Repo take the fall?” Billy asked as though this had been the obvious course of action.
Isaac shook his head. “No. My mother is in love with him. She never would’ve let that happen. Believe me, I tried to talk her into it on more than one occasion. She’s . . . stubborn.”
“So we helped your momma and Repo leave,” I said and thought, stewing in this new reality. “And you helping Repo had nothing to do with taking over as the money man for the Wraiths?”
Isaac looked at me like I was nuts. “They would never trust me in that role. No. That’s Catfish’s job now. He’s next in line for any senior level post.”
“Catfish? You mean Curtis?” Billy’s glare zeroed in on Isaac, and he sounded sore about this information. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. He’s always wanted the responsibility, wants it real bad. He’ll do anything to get ahead. If he has things his way, he’ll take over for Razor when the time comes.”
Billy’s eyes cut back to the road, but I could feel waves of rage roll off him as he took a turn too sharply, forcing me to hold on to the ceiling and brace a hand on the back seat.
“And you’re not at all worried? You think the DEA is going to be fine with all this? Helping Repo and Diane escape, shooting your father, knocking out Elena?” I asked, just to see what Isaac would say.
“Who is going to tell them?” Even in the dim light of the car I could see Isaac’s gaze was cool and flinty. “You?”
“I don’t have any reason to communicate with the DEA, as long as they don’t bug Jenn’s house again,” I said, making sure he understood the implied threat.
“They didn’t know about the bugs, either. I’m not working for them right now anyway . . .” he trailed off, scowling. “The gun should’ve been with Elena. Her glove should’ve been off,” Isaac ranted suddenly. “Miller must’ve taken the gun as insurance, as a way to blackmail Elena to get his farm before everyone knew Jennifer had inherited. And blackmail my mother in order to get the cows. He tried to play them both.”
“We need to find it,” I said to no one in particular. “If Miller had the gun and it has Elena’s prints, that’s it. Your mother can come home.”
“But Repo can’t,” Billy announced, his eyes still on the road. “There’s no going back to the Wraiths. Even if you clear Diane’s name, he’s stuck on the run from them.”
“But at least Diane would have a choice, if things go south with Jason,” I argued, thinking through our options. We had to find that gun. If I could find a way to give Jenn back her mother’s freedom, I’d grab on with both hands.
“I have a question,” Billy said from the front. “At the will reading, why’d you seem so sure Jennifer knew she was getting everything?”
“She didn’t go to the funeral. I’d expected to see her there, and when she wasn’t . . . But she went to the will reading—”
“She didn’t know, by the way,” I chimed in, rubbing my face, fighting back the dread threatening to blind me. “Jennifer had no idea he’d left her anything. She didn’t think you’d be at the funeral, and the only reason she went to the will reading was to see you.”
I felt Isaac grab my shoulder roughly, forcing my attention to him. “Is she going to be okay?” He sounded raw, his eyes panicked and glassy. “What did Jackson say exactly? Her legs are broken, but how badly? Anything else? Is her back okay?” His voice cracked with the last question.
I hesitated, and then covered his hand to remove it from where he gripped my shirt, unable to believe I was about to do what I was about to do. “Jenn is strong,” I soothed, not knowing where I found the strength to comfort anyone. “She’s the strongest person I know. She’ll make it.”
“You are responsible for Jennifer. You are responsible for keeping her safe.” His throat worked as he stared at me, his eyes wild. “If she dies, you die,” he threatened, fatally serious.
“Yes, I know.” My lips tugged to the side and I nodded, my chest heavy and too tight, each breath excruciating as I contemplated the unthinkable. “If she dies, I will die.”
I’ll have no choice.
Chapter Twenty-Three
*Cletus*
“Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.”
C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
Isaac was Jennifer’s next of kin, and she had no durable medical power of attorney. As such, he’d been the one they consulted on her treatment. He’d been the one asked to make decisions. He’d been the one to whom they gave the official report.