“But Snare—”
Candace cracked her across the face with the gun.
Ash’s cheek exploded. She didn’t remember hitting the ground, but she was writhing in mud, face roaring with heat.
“Fuck you, lady!” Cheeto snarled, running toward them.
Candace aimed at him. “Back down, Cheesehead. You don’t want to mess with me. I’m a good shot, and I’m not the only one who can shoot you dead.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Candace whistled, and the thicket shook behind her. Within seconds, Bill Werner and Gina Narducci marched through holding pistols of their own.
Cheeto froze.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Berke whimpered, but aside from that and the flapping tarp, the clearing was silent.
Ash lay there, hand cupped to her aching cheek. The pain had worn off, but she pretended otherwise to buy herself time to think. With three guns, Candace had an overwhelming advantage. Reasoning with her had already proved useless, but somehow Ash needed to talk her way out of this.
The thicket shook again. Dad poked his head through.
“Bout time, Karl,” Candace said. “What took you?”
“I was… Ashlee, what’re you doing here?” Dad said. He shined his light across the clearing, his brow folded in confusion. He stopped abruptly. “That’s the tarp from my truck. What’s that doing here?”
Ash swallowed hard. Her father knew exactly what. He was playing dumb to make Candace believe he was still a team player.
“Dad, I tried to talk to Snare. I almost got my hand back.” She looked toward Candace. “Give me one more minute alone.”
“You’ve had your last minute.” Candace glared at Cheeto. Raised the gun. “How much does the singer know?”
“He barely knows anything!” Ash cried, her voice rising. Losing her hand was bad enough. Losing her lead singer would crush her. “He snuck up here. Followed me and Berke. He doesn’t know anything. Please, you can’t shoot him.”
Candace stared. “Believe me, I can.”
“I don’t know shit. Really.” Cheeto held up both palms, trembling. “I just followed her because I was worried. Ash has been acting strange all week.”
Candace steadied her aim.
“Candace,” Dad said, stepping toward her, “if you shoot that young man, I’ll have to arrest you.”
“Do that,” Werner said, lifting his handgun, “and you’re dead. Same with your dirtbag daughter. Whatever it takes to keep us Traders safe.”
“Safe?” Ash asked, incredulous. “You think you’re safe? One of your own died this week. John MacReady. He’s gone, and there’s no telling what happened. Any of you could be next.”
“Spare us the fear and panic,” Candace said in a bored tone. “You sound like cable news.”
“You’re the one who’s afraid. Otherwise you wouldn’t be charging in here with a gun.”
With a snort, Candace pocketed hers. “Happy now? See, I’m not afraid. I’m just prepared for the worst. I have lives to protect. People count on me for their survival, and you sneaking up here is no different from you sneaking into their homes with a knife and bad intentions.”
“Bad intentions?” Ash got right in Candace’s face. With the gun gone, she felt like herself again. “I intend to free the Traders—to help them live normal lives.”
“They don’t need your help.”
“The hell they don’t. This town isn’t safe. Look at MacReady—he was killed for his parts.”
“We don’t know that. He could’ve had a heart attack. Besides, he traded his kidneys. I doubt someone would murder him for kidneys of all things.”
Ash stood her ground. “What if he traded something more?”
“He didn’t.” There was a slight twitch in Candace’s stance, as if she’d been knocked off balance. “MacReady traded his kidneys. End of story.”
“You’re lying,” Ash said, but she stopped herself before she could reveal how she knew. If she mentioned the stolen money, Dad would eat shit. She needed another explanation. “Snare told me MacReady traded more than his kidneys. I almost got the answer before you barged in.”
“Snare told you? Wow, what a reliable source.”
“You’d be surprised,” Ash said. “Snare said Bill Werner traded his skull. His wife traded—”
“Shut up!” Werner shook his revolver. “That’s private!”
“Candace, you can’t protect everyone forever,” Ash said. “The outside world will find out eventually. Traders will die from cancer, organ failure, car accidents, whatever. And when they do, they’ll leave behind bodies with missing parts. How’s an ER doctor gonna react when Werner’s skull disappears from his head?”
“We’ve dealt with this before,” Candace said. “Someone died with a foot missing. That was eighteen years ago. Nobody cared after a week.”
“Because it was one person.” Ash met Narducci’s eyes. The woman’s gun was aimed at the dirt now. “What happens when four or five Traders die within a couple years? What’ll stop reporters from sniffing out this place? Or the police? Or the FBI? Face it, the truth will come out.” She gestured to the creek. “This is our last chance.”
“Not ours. Yours.” Candace stepped close until their noses were almost touching. A stare-down ensued, like two boxers before a Vegas fight. “We’ll make adjustments as needed. Just like we always have. If we end up starring in a Netflix documentary someday, so be it. Till that day comes, we’re riding this out.”
Ash squeezed her fist in frustration. Her fingernails pierced her palm. She wanted to smack that snide look off Candace’s face. “Know what? Why wait for the documentary? If you’re so comfortable with the world finding out, I’ll get on the phone and tell everyone right now.”
The clearing went quiet again, aside from the click of the creek. Candace stared back without a word. Her silence sounded like victory. Sounded like freedom.
Then Dad spoke up. His voice sounded wounded.
“No… Ashlee, no.”
“What, Dad?”
Candace cleared her throat. “You just broke the number one Trader law: selling out the group. Normally that would earn you the highest punishment. But since you don’t have a traded part, your father will suffer in your place.”
41
Candace stretched out her hand. “Karl, your gun, please.”
All eyes swung toward Karl. His heart slammed wildly as the clearing shrank around him, its fishy odor leaving him queasy. To his left stood Narducci, to his right Werner. Funny how just hours ago Candace had pegged Werner as her top suspect in the MacReady investigation. Now the two of them banded together like allies, both armed and ready in case Karl gave them a reason to shoot.
He didn’t plan on giving them one.
He also didn’t plan on holstering his weapon.
“Your gun, please,” Candace repeated.
“First, I wanna say something.” He locked eyes with her. “My daughter is right. We can’t go on like this forever.”