She closes her eyes. “That’s a short push.”
As I wrap my mind around this potential nightmare, a new question comes to me. “If Max had this to hang over your head all this time, why didn’t he use it to extort sex from you?”
An eerie laugh echoes off the window glass. “He didn’t need me. He had plenty of women back then. And he cared about Kevin way too much to risk messing that up. I think he sensed that if he pestered me that way, he’d destabilize the situation. So he screwed other women and made sure he always had access to Kevin.”
“But now . . . ?”
Jet’s jaw tightens. “Now it’s different.”
“I honestly don’t see how this situation ends without violence.”
When she speaks again, I feel like she’s talking to herself as much as to me. “He’s been watching me for months. Stalking me, practically. After you and I got back together . . . it was like he could smell you on me. He sensed I was sexually active again. I could feel his eyes on me all the time, even when Sally and Paul were around.”
“And you think Sally never saw that?”
“I’m sure she noticed him ogling my ass. But he does that to any woman with a figure. That doesn’t necessarily lead to the secret.”
“So when Max saw you and me on the patio—”
“He lost it.” She takes hold of my wrist. “Seriously, I think he wants to kill you.”
“He covered his hatred pretty well at my house yesterday.”
“Of course! He’s a consummate liar. A natural liar. Not a pathological one, because he doesn’t lie for the pleasure of it. He lies to get what he wants.”
We’ve entered Bienville proper now. Convenience stores and service stations drift past on either side of the Ford. As we shunt down the dark vein of Cemetery Road, the essential reality of this nightmare finally comes home to me. Kevin Matheson is Max’s son. Jet’s dream that she and I would move away from here and set up a new life in Washington with Kevin was never more than that. A fantasy.
“I always thought Paul was the obstacle to us being together,” I say softly. “But if you took Kevin away from this town, Max would hunt us to the ends of the earth.”
She answers with solemn intensity. “That’s why I hope he dies back there. I hope Warren Lacey tries to save him without going to a hospital, and he dies of a brain bleed.”
As more buildings close in around us, Jet says, “Do you want to wash your hands of all this? Of me?”
Instead of answering, I reach for her hand. As I do, my iPhone rings. It takes me a few seconds to get it out, but when I do, I see the caller is my mother. A pulse of fear goes through me, and I remember my father lying helpless in his bed last night.
“Mom?” I say, trying not to betray my anxiety.
“It’s me, Marshall.”
Something in her voice sets off every alarm in my brain. “What is it? Dad?”
“He’s in the hospital. Don’t worry, he’s not dead. But he’s had a heart attack. A severe one.”
Sensing my distress, Jet reaches out and grips my knee.
“When did it happen?” I ask.
“About an hour ago. Jack Kirby came by the house after work. He tried to convince Duncan to be admitted to the cardiac unit, just as a precaution. But you know your father. He wouldn’t hear of it. I begged, but he just wouldn’t go.”
“That’s not your fault, Mom. Everybody knows how hardheaded he is.”
“I don’t know. Anyway, about eight thirty he got short of breath, and then the pain started in his back. High up. I called an ambulance. He was unconscious by the time they reached the hospital. Jack’s been up here ever since, tending to him. They’ve used some kind of device to put him into hypothermia, to reduce the chance of brain damage. And they’ve induced a coma as well.”
I suppress the urge to say “My God,” but it’s clear that Dad is in critical condition.
“They’ve done enzyme tests, of course,” Mom goes on, “but those take time. Jack’s sure it was a major heart attack, and he says Duncan’s heart failure is worse. He’s got a lot of fluid buildup.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll come straight there.”
“I want to tell you something,” she says, and I hear her voice crack. A single sob comes down the line, and my throat goes tight. I know what it costs her to break down in front of me. “Right up until it happened,” she goes on, “he was talking about you getting out a newspaper tomorrow. He was so excited. He’d talked to Aaron at the barn three or four times. Ben Tate, too. It seems like everybody’s pitching in. Duncan was more excited than I’ve seen him in years. Today was just too much for him. He felt like he’d let us all down.”
“I know. He’s going to see that newspaper tomorrow. You hang tough. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry, Marshall.”
I click end and hit the gas hard.
“Your dad?” Jet asks.
“Major heart attack. I don’t think he has very long.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t. Not after tonight. Where’s your car?”
“My law office.”
“I’ll run you there first.”
“Don’t be crazy! It’s too far out of your way. Drop me somewhere on the way, and I’ll have somebody pick me up and take me to my car.”
“Who?”
“My paralegal. If Josh can’t do it, I’ll get somebody else.”
“With Max’s gun?”
Jet’s eyes go wide. “And the hammer. Shit, I forgot about that.”
As my eyes register where we are, a simple answer hits me. “We’re about to come to that turn where the railroad tracks come together. Roll down your window, and when we get there, throw it all down into the gully. There’s nothing but kudzu and rattlesnakes down there. Nobody’s ever going to find anything.”
“Are you sure?”
“Wipe them on your pants leg just in case. For prints. Hurry.”
“Max’s phone, too?”
“No, keep the phone. Hide it when you get home.”
Jet reaches down for the hammer and wipes it on her pants leg. Then the gun. Twenty seconds later, we enter the turn where my father’s first family slid into eternity. I see no other headlights, no pedestrians on the road.
“Do it!”
Jet hurls the hardware through the window while our tires judder over the railroad iron. I don’t hear any impact noise.
“Did you make the gully?”
“Yep. They’re gone.”
Four blocks past the turn, I pull into a black pool of shadow against the curb. Instead of getting out, Jet turns and takes my face in her hands. Hers is a mosaic of dried tears and mascara.
“I never wanted to lie to you,” she says, looking deep into my eyes. “I love you.”
“I know. I love you, too. Where will you say you’ve been?”
“My office, I guess.”
I wrap my arms around her, hard enough to hurt, then kiss her ear and neck and hair with frantic urgency. Despite all she told me tonight, her skin and hair taste exactly the same. She smells the same. Most of all, her eyes still shine with life. After she shivers against me for a few seconds, I release her, and she vanishes into the dark. When I shift into Drive and press the pedal to the floor, blood suffuses my muscles, and a wild compulsion fills my chest. If I see blue lights behind me, I will not stop.