“Then we’ll talk out here,” I said. “Pull up a chair.”
The front deck wrapped around both sides of the house. I gestured to the Adirondack chairs to the side.
“Can you get Jade?” Colin asked.
“Sorry. She had a scare at the hospital today, and she’s resting.”
“All right,” Colin said. “Go ahead, Cade. Tell her what we’re going to do.”
He opened his mouth when Joe’s truck came rumbling up the drive.
“Shit,” Booker said.
“Hold on,” I said. “If you’re willing to tell me, you should tell Joe and Bryce.”
“They let that bastard take me.”
“They were nine!” I said.
“I’ve been talking to him about that,” Colin said.
Joe and Bryce exited the truck, and both came running toward the front deck, their guns in their hands.
“Cade Booker,” Joe said. “We’ve been looking all over for you. I ought to shoot your brains out.”
“He’s armed, Joe,” I said.
“I’ll have his brains splattered on the deck before he can draw his weapon.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Booker said. “Same man who taught you taught me.”
Tom Simpson. Bryce’s father.
Bryce was holding a gun as well. He nodded to me. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah. I don’t think they’re here to hurt anyone.”
“We’re not,” Colin said. “We’re here to say goodbye.”
“Right,” Joe scoffed.
“Hear us out,” Colin urged.
“I fucking trusted you, you son of a bitch. I vouched for you with my closest friend. I asked you for help finding a place for my mentally ill mother. You’re not even a real lawyer!”
“I’m as competent as any lawyer.” He looked at Bryce. “Your father saw to that.”
“Shut up,” Joe continued. “I don’t trust easily, and I rarely make a mistake. You slipped right by me, and that pisses me off.” His cheeks were red with rage, his free hand curled into a fist. “You attacked us.”
“You barged into my office and disarmed me,” Booker retorted.
“You’ve been watching us for years.” Bryce this time.
“I won’t deny it.” Booker stared straight at Joe, who still held a gun on him.
He wasn’t frightened. Not at all. Could he really draw before Joe shot him? No. No way. He wasn’t frightened because he’d already been through hell. Death couldn’t be any worse.
“You’re going to have to answer for what you’ve done,” Bryce said.
“For pepper spraying you? I don’t think I’ll get prison time for that.”
“Not that,” Bryce said. “For killing your parents.”
“I didn’t kill my parents,” he said. “Though they both deserved it.”
“Pretty convenient, their deaths,” Joe said. “A drive-by shooting in a nice neighborhood and a holdup at a convenience store. What are the chances they both would die by getting shot? Right around the same time you showed up at your mother’s?”
“Chances were good,” Booker said, turning to Bryce. “Your father was behind it.”
Bryce gulped and turned white.
I went to him and hugged him. “Not your fault,” I whispered.
“We’re supposed to believe that?” Joe said.
“Why the hell not? You know what that psycho was capable of. Killing two people with a gunshot, instant death, was probably one of the nicer things he did.”
Bryce tensed beside me, and his countenance became rigid. He dropped his gun and held it at his side.
“I’m willing to hear you out, Justin,” Bryce said. “Let’s end this. Once and for all.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Bryce
My father was involved in killing Justin’s parents?
Yeah, I had no problem believing it. It almost seemed too normal for him.
“Why would Bryce’s dad have your parents killed?” Joe asked.
“Easy. My father demanded more money. Tom killed him.”
Money buys silence for a time, son, but a bullet buys it forever.
I had no difficulty believing my father lived by his own words.
“And your mother?” Joe said.
“When I left, I went to her. Tom was afraid she’d soften me, so he offed her. He went after Dominic and Alex as well, but your father”—he nodded to Marj—“put them under his protection.”
I swallowed down the nausea that had become such a big part of my life. None of this was hard to believe. It could easily be true.
“You’re saying you’ve never killed anyone?” Joe asked.
“No. I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never abused anyone. Never. Not ever.”
“You pepper-sprayed us,” Joe reminded him.
“Self-defense,” Booker said. “You took my weapons.”
“What were you planning, then?” I asked. “Coming after Joe and me? If you’re not a killer, then what?”
“Truthfully? I have no idea. I always thought I’d make you pay somehow. Torture you. Maybe kill you, but I didn’t have anything mapped out. I’ve had vengeance on my mind for so long, I didn’t know what I’d do once I actually had you.”
Cade’s face seemed to morph before my eyes. He was Justin again, nine years old, running from Taylor Johns and the other bullies.
And suddenly everything was clear.
Even his sexual preferences at the club. He couldn’t decide. My father made him the ultimate victim, and that was ingrained in his personality. When he finally got a small taste of freedom, he desperately wanted to break free of the victim role. He toyed with the other side, hoping it would cure him of his victimhood, but inside, he was still a frightened little boy. He’d even created a separate identity—the Spider. The role of switch fit him perfectly.
“You do know, don’t you, that we had no idea what would happen to you on that camping trip?” Joe said.
“Maybe. You were kids. So was I.”
“We were friends,” Joe said. “At least I thought we were.”
I waited for Joe to say more, but he didn’t. How could he? It would mean talking about his leather club affiliation with his little sister present.
“We were never friends. We hardly knew each other.”
“We protected you from Taylor Johns and the others,” Joe continued.
“We don’t have to defend ourselves,” I said to Joe. “We were nine.”
Cade looked to me then, and I couldn’t read his eyes.
“I was watching you. Waiting,” he said. “When your father died, I figured it was time for me to act. He no longer controlled me, so I could finally take revenge. Only I never thought it through. Never thought about how I’d actually take revenge.”
“He’s not a killer,” Colin said. “Despite what he’s been through, he’s not a criminal. Just like I’m not.”
I opened my mouth, but Colin gestured to me.