Chip steps out with a smug smile on his face. He leans on Ryan’s shoulder like they’re best buddies, making sure I understand that they’ll stay together, and I can’t come between them, that they’ll protect one another no matter what.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, looking from me to Ryan, then back at me. “You bringing any more lies and crazy stories?”
“Did you kill her?” I ask and hold up the case with the rattling e-cigarette inside of it. “Was it you?”
When he sees the case, he lights up. “Where did you get that? I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”
He snaps it from my hand. The motion startles me, and I pull back, but not for long. I can’t let him feel how scared I am of him.
“I know what you did, Chip,” I say, trying to sound as matter of fact as possible, given the situation. “And don’t give me any more of those lies. I saw you when you pushed her into the water.”
He sends me a look of surprise, then glares at Ryan. “What’s she talking about now?”
He’s still grinning until I pull out the gun and point it at him.
“I know you killed Vera.”
“Whoa.”
Chip puts his hands up and steps back.
“Ryan, what is this?” he asks. “Please, tell your wife to calm down.”
“Laurie,” Ryan says. “Please put down the gun.”
I shake my head. My hands are trembling.
“Laurie,” Chip says. “I didn’t kill anyone; please, calm down and explain. What are you talking about?”
“Vera,” I say, struggling to get her name across my lips. “She was killed, and I saw you push her over the railing. I saw you put the gun against her head, then pull the trigger and drive away in your truck, the blue truck!”
Chip steps forward. “Laurie, please, stop this insanity. I haven’t hurt anyone. I don’t know why you’d think this. I don’t even have the blue truck anymore.”
“What?” I stare at him but don’t lower the gun.
“It’s true,” Ryan says. “He sold it two weeks ago.”
“And the case?” I ask. “The e-cigarette case I found on the ground where you and Vera stood. You have an excuse for that as well?”
Chip looks down at it, then turns it in the sparse light from the window. “Actually, I don’t. I haven’t seen it for several days. I thought I had left it somewhere, or maybe Lotty had thrown it out. You know how much she hates that I vape.”
“Laurie,” Ryan says. “I think… I don’t think you’re well.”
I can’t think straight. I look into Chip’s eyes, and I don’t know what to believe. I have known him for years. Our kids played together. I trusted him with my husband’s life when they deployed. I suddenly don’t know what has gotten into me. Am I wrong? Could I be mistaken? I look at Ryan and feel confused. I don’t know if I can trust either of them. I don’t know if I am the one who’s lost sight of reality or if they’re playing games with me. I don’t know if Ryan is right.
Am I the one who is insane here? Am I just being paranoid and seeing things?
“Laurie, hand me the gun,” Ryan says. “Then, we can talk.”
I look at him, and our eyes lock. My nostrils are flaring, my heart pounding so hard it almost hurts. I shake my head. I don’t know what to do.
“I…I…”
“Laurie,” Ryan says and gets that tone to his voice, the one that makes me feel like a child. My throat grows tight, and I touch it with the hand not holding the gun while I remember the look in his eyes when he tried to strangle me. I am reminded of seeing the same look in them when he shot our daughter and blamed me afterward.
“Laurie, hand me the gun before anyone gets hurt.”
I shake my head again, this time violently. I lift the gun high and point it at them. “No. Stay back. Don’t come anywhere near me, you hear?”
They both back off, and I turn around, then run for my minivan. As I race back toward the exit, I fear they might have called the security forces on me, to arrest me, but I slide through the gate with no problem. Tears spring from my eyes and spill onto the steering wheel as I hit the accelerator and floor it on my way home.
Chapter 48
Frank is a mess. After Vera’s funeral, he comes up to me and leans onto my shoulder, crying. I feel sick. Ryan and Chip are there too, as are the rest of their unit. They stick together like glue. I have paid my respects to Vera’s parents, Sammy and Hattie, and told them how sorry I am. It’s unbearable to look into their eyes, knowing they have been told it was a suicide. The police investigated for about a week before they came to that conclusion, apparently completely ignoring my statement. I have a feeling that Investigator Rick Thibodeau might have had a finger in that, disregarding the value of my testimony. Maybe he’s a part of it all too, I wonder. Maybe they all are, and I’m just one person trying to fight them, up against a brutal and massive force, fighting a fight I know I can’t possibly win. I know that I have messed it all up. If I hadn’t taken the e-cigarette case, maybe the police would have found it and used it as evidence. Now, I have messed up any chance of taking down Chip.
Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.
“I can’t… I can’t…” Frank says, his eyes red-rimmed.
I hold him close. “You don’t have to. Not now. How about we get out of here? You need to get away. Spring break is coming up. My sister has a cabin up in North Carolina. Let’s go up there for a couple of days, just the two of us. My sister can take the kids. She’ll like that. She misses them, and she recently moved, so Ryan doesn’t know where she lives. They’ll be safe there.”
Frank sniffles and looks into my eyes. His face is strained in deep pain. I can’t imagine how deeply it must hurt to have lost two sisters in such a short amount of time. I feel painfully guilty for Vera’s death, and it is eating me up. I’m the one she was supposed to meet. I keep thinking it wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t planned to meet. I keep thinking I should have kept her out of it from the beginning. I fear she was killed to shut me up—to scare me—which I have to admit was a success. I am so terrified that I barely sleep at night.
“I’d like that,” he says, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his black shirt. “I’d really like that.”
I have another reason for taking Frank to the cabin in Bryson City, besides getting him away and maybe helping him feel better. I have thought it through a lot and decided I want this to be Frank’s child. I want to tell him I am pregnant, both because I think he’ll be very happy and because it’s time. I’m not getting any smaller, and since we’re sleeping together, he’ll start noticing soon. I’m ninety-percent sure it’s his, or maybe seventy-five if I am honest. But I don’t care about that. I want Frank to be the dad, whether he is so biologically or not. He’ll be a great father, and he and I will make a good couple. If he asks for a DNA test, I will make sure to get one, but if he doesn’t, then there’s no need for us ever to know. In my eyes, he is the father.