Erica Spindler (30 page)

He looked shocked. “Good God, Avery, it's nothing like that. We're not terrorists. We're not killers. We offer help. Guidance. If that doesn't work, we suggest a change of residence.” He lowered his voice. “If we didn't make things a little uncomfortable for them, what would their motivation for change be?”

She made a sound of disgust. “Motivation for change? You make me sick.”

“You don't understand. It's all done in the spirit of caring and community concern. Nobody gets hurt.”

“Actually, I think I understand too well.” Avery glanced at Cherry. She was holding her mother, crying quietly. She returned her gaze to Buddy. “You're such a hypocrite. Making like you're Mr. Morality. Persecuting others for their sins, when all the while you're the biggest sinner of all.”

Tears glistened in his eyes. “Do you think I haven't suffered for my sins? A day doesn't go by that I don't wish I could go back, do it all over. I had everything. A beautiful family. The love of a wonderful woman. The respect of my friends and the community. If I could make that choice again, I wouldn't go near Sallie Waguespack. None of this would have happened.”

He held out a hand to her. “Don't look at me like that,” he pleaded. “Like I'm some sort of monster. I'm still Buddy, you're still my baby girl.”

“No.” She took a step back. “Not anymore. Never again.”

“You have to understand. I was afraid for my family. I did what I had to in order to protect them.” He took another step toward her. “I had to do it, don't you see? A man protects his family.”

“At all costs, Buddy?” she asked. “What lengths would you go? From covering up a murder to committing one?”

“No, never.”

“Everybody involved in the cover-up is dead now, Buddy. Everyone but you. What am I supposed to think?”

“Daddy?” Cherry whispered. “What's she talking about?”

Buddy glanced nervously at his daughter. “It's not true, sweetheart. Don't listen to her. She's had a shock. She's confused.”

“I'm not confused. You killed all your old friends. Why? Did they threaten to come clean? Go to the Feds because the guilt had become too much for them to live with? Is that why you killed your best friend, Buddy? Why you immobilized him, doused him in diesel fuel and—”

“No!” Lilah cried out. “No!”

Buddy darted his gaze between the women. “It's not true! I didn't have anything to do with that. I couldn't! I—”

“You went in the middle of the night. He opened the door because he trusted you. You immobilized him with a stun gun. Then you carried him out to the garage, doused him with fuel and set him on fire!”

“No!” His face went white.

“Hunter had nothing to do with any of this. You set up your own son.”

“No. You have to believe me!”

“I can't believe anything you say. Not now. Not ever again.”

It all made sense now—Lilah's depression and addiction. Hunter's break with the family. Cherry's dedication to keeping the family together, to making them look happy and normal.

“No one needs to know, Avery.” Buddy lowered his voice, tone soothing. “We're a family. We're your family. We love you.”

Tears choked her. She shook her head. She had believed that once. Had thought of this family as an extension of her own. “It's over, Buddy.”

“We're all you have left, Avery.” He took a step toward her, forcing her backward. “Cypress Springs is your home.”

He took another step. He had her cornered, she realized. Had backed her into a wall, the only way out through him. She tamped down her rising panic.

“I'll need those journals.” He held out a hand. “Laurie called me. Told me you'd been there. That you'd left Lancaster a note.”

“One of your many spies.”

“She was worried about you.”

“Right. Worried about me.”

“We love you, Avery,” Lilah whispered. “You're one of us.”

“Yes,” Cherry piped in. “Give Dad the journals and everything will be okay.”

Avery moved her gaze between the three, heart racing, struggling to stay calm. To assess her options. Three against one. One of them the size of a tree and packing a gun. Lilah looked on the verge of falling apart. Cherry seemed stunned, her reactions wooden. The little focus she possessed seemed directed toward supporting her mother.

Only Buddy posed a threat to her escape. Immobilize him and she could make it. But how?

Her pepper spray! She hadn't taken it out of her purse.

“Come on, baby girl.” He stretched his hand out. “You
know we only want the best for you. It's all in the past. We'll be one big, happy family.”

“A family,” she repeated, voice shaking. “You're right.” She reached into her handbag. Her fingers closed around the cylinder of spray. She drew the can out and lunged forward, shooting the spray directly into Buddy's eyes, blinding him.

With a cry, he stumbled backward, clawing at his eyes. Avery darted past him. Out of the kitchen, into the front hall. She heard Lilah and Cherry calling her back.

The front door was locked. She fumbled with the dead bolt; after what seemed a century, it slid back and she raced out onto the porch. She paused there, realizing she didn't have a vehicle.

Behind her she heard the kitchen door fly open, heard the thunder of footfalls.

She leaped forward, hitting the stairs, racing down them. Into the yard. Avery glanced back. Buddy had gained on her, she saw. He called her name.

Headlights sliced across the dark road. Avery changed direction, running toward them, waving her arms wildly.

The white sedan pulled over. She grabbed the passenger door, yanked it open.

“Thank God! Can you giv—”

She bit the words back, a cry springing to her lips.

“Get in, Avery,” Matt ordered. “Quickly, before it's too late.”

She froze. Behind her, Buddy closed in.

She saw Matt had his gun. He motioned with it. “It wasn't Hunter,” he said. “It was Dad. Come on, he's almost here.”

She glanced back. Buddy was calling her name, going for his gun. She dived into the vehicle, yanking the door shut as she did.

Matt hit the autolock and floored the accelerator. The vehicle surged forward, fishtailing, tires squealing. Avery
swiveled in her seat, craning her neck to see Buddy. He ran into the street, gave chase for a moment, then stopped.

She brought her shaking hands to her face, fighting hysteria. The urge to fall completely apart.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, dropping her hands. “When did you…how did you find out—”

“About Dad?” He shook his head. “I love my dad. He's got a good heart, but he's weak. A total fuckup, Avery.”

She didn't understand. “You're not making excuses for him, are you? He's a murderer, Matt.”

Matt smiled. Oddly. Avery frowned, becoming suddenly aware of the closeness of the vehicle, that Matt kept one hand on his weapon, lying on the seat beside him.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “Aren't you going to put that away?”

He ignored her. “You were right to trust me, Avery. Dad's overemotional. He means to do the right thing, but emotion gets in the way. It's what makes him weak.”

Matt was in cahoots with his dad. One of The Seven. An accomplice to murder
.

And she had gotten into the car with him. He had a gun
.

She saw a stop sign ahead. She shifted slightly in her seat in an attempt to hide what she was about to do. As he slowed the sedan, she inched her hand toward the door handle, grasped it and yanked.

The door didn't budge. Matt laughed and eased through the intersection without stopping. “Childproof locks, Avery. How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Matt. I didn't—”

“Say good-night, Avery.”

Before she realized his intention, he struck her in the temple with the butt of his gun. Pain jackknifed through her skull; in the next instant, she felt nothing at all.

A
very came to slowly. She ached all over; her head throbbed. Moaning, she opened her eyes.

She lay on a bed, she realized. A bare mattress. She tried to sit up but found she couldn't. Her arms had been anchored above her head, wrists bound tightly. Her legs were tied to opposite bedposts.

Buddy, his confession. Matt picking her up. The gun.

Fear exploded inside her. Blinding, white hot. It stole her ability to think. To reason. With it came panic. She fought her restraints, tugging and twisting, getting nowhere.

She stopped, wrists and ankles burning, breath coming in trembling gasps. Tears choked her. She fought them as well. She would not give in. She would not lie down and die.

They would not get away with this. She wouldn't let them
.

In an attempt to center herself, Avery closed her eyes. She drew in as deep a breath as she could and expelled it slowly. Then repeated the process. She needed calm. Fear and panic bled her ability to think. To reason. She needed to be able to do both if she was going to escape.

She opened her eyes, a semblance of calm restored. The only light in the room came from the open doorway
to the right of the bed. The air was damp, heavy. It stank, the smell familiar, though she couldn't place it. The single window stood open. From outside came the sounds of insects, more dense than she was accustomed to.

He had taken her outside the city limits
. She traveled her gaze over the room, taking in what she could from her prone position. Spare. Rough-hewn. A hunting cabin, she thought. At the edge of woods. Or along the bayou.

The same one Gwen had been lured to? Avery searched her memory. Gwen had said the junction of Highway 421 and No Name Road.

That would put her south of Cypress Springs. Not far from the old canning factory.

The sour smell, she realized. Of course. The same smell that rolled into town when the wind shifted to a northerly direction.

The stench of the burned-out factory.

Matt appeared in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the rectangle of light. “Rise and shine, beautiful.”

“Untie me and I will.”

She all but spat the words at him and he laughed. “Somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“Bastard.”

He sauntered across the room, humming the tune from the children's nursery rhyme “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” He reached the bed, bent and tiptoed his fingers up her thigh in time with the tune. She saw he had his gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

His fingers made the juncture of her thighs and stilled—the tune died on his lips. He cocked his head and gazed at her, expression curiously blank. “I'm sorry it's come to this, Avery. I really am.”

“Then let me go, you psycho prick.”

“Such language. I'm disappointed in you.”

He climbed onto the bed and straddled her, placing a hand on either side of her head. The position brought his
pelvis into contact with hers. The butt of the gun pressed into her abdomen.

“You betrayed me, Avery. You betrayed us.”

“Don't talk to me about betrayal. You killed my father!”

He laughed softly and trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek, then lower, across her collarbone to her breast. “You always were too smart for your own good. Too opinionated.”

He bent and kissed her. Lightly at first, then deeply, forcing his tongue into her mouth.

Avery fought the urge to fight and instead lay frozen beneath him. Her lack of response seemed to frustrate him and he broke the contact.

As he did, she spit in his face. He jerked away, face flooding with angry color. Rearing back, he slapped her. Her head snapped to the side; she tasted blood and saw stars.

But she didn't cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“You know what?” He curled his fingers around the neck of the T-shirt Cherry had lent her. “For a smart girl you do some really stupid things.”

He yanked the fabric so hard she came off the bed. The T-shirt gave, ripping from neck to belly button, revealing her naked breasts. He covered them with his hands, squeezing tightly. “Like pissing off the guy who holds your life in his hands. And now, your breasts as well.”

He tightened his grip, pinching the nipples, twisting. She swallowed the whimper of pain that flew to her lips. He bent forward so that his face hovered just above hers. His stale breath stirred against her cheek.

Avery shuddered. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, he had none.

“You were supposed to be mine. I chose you. Not
once, but twice. And you broke my heart. The first time by leaving. The second by giving yourself to my brother.”

He laughed. “You look so surprised. How stupid do you think I am? I was suspicious that day at Tiller's Pond. Like a fool, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. After I found you at his place that morning, I knew.”

She whimpered, thinking of Hunter. Of what she had gotten him into.

And what she had suspected him of.

Matt's mouth twisted into a thin line. “Did you think of me, Avery? While you fucked my brother? While you betrayed—” He bit the words back, though he shook with a rage so potent the bed quaked with it.

He could kill her now, this moment
.

He wanted to
.

Avery shrank back against the mattress, losing her grip on her emotions. Fear became terror, rampaging through her.

For the first time, her own death became a stark reality. She pictured it. Matt's hands around her neck, squeezing and squeezing…being unable to fight him except with her frantic thoughts. Her silent screams for help.

Her fear seemed to calm him. He looked pleased. “I like you this way,” he said softly, straightening. “Helpless.”

He moved his hands over her breasts, his touch changing from punishing to coaxing. He brought his hands to her waist, then curved his fingers around the waistband of her drawstring pants.

“Remember how it used to be between us?” he asked, trailing his fingers across her abdomen, dipping them lower and dragging the fabric down. Revealing her belly button, then abdomen, the top of her panties and pubic mound.

He bent and pressed his face to the vee, breathing deeply, making a sound of pleasure. “When we were together this way?”

Bile rose in her throat. She fought gagging.

“It was so good. Nobody's ever come close to making me feel the way you did. We were meant to be together.”

Get smart, Avery. Play along. Give him what he wants
.

There was always a chance. Always
.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice quaking. “I remember.”

“How did we come to this?” he whispered. “You left me. Why?”

“I was young. Stupid.” She looked up at him in what she hoped he would take as adoration. “I didn't know how strong you were. I didn't see your power.”

His mouth thinned in fury. “Don't bullshit me. You left. You fucked my brother. You—”

“I'm not!” she cried, cutting him off, trying another tack, using his own words against him. “I see it now, I understand why I left. I thought you were like…that you were going to be like your dad. I love him but he's not…not strong like you.”

Matt stilled. His gaze bored into hers. She pressed on. “You were so brilliant. You sailed through school. Your SAT scores were perfect and yet…you chose to stay in Cypress Springs and go into law enforcement. Like your dad. You see why I thought that, Matt?”

He studied her a moment more, then inclined his head in agreement. “I needed to lead. I had a mission.”

“I understand that now.”

“Dad's weak. He's been a disappointment.”

“Unwilling to do what's necessary,” she said, making a guess.

“Exactly.” He looked at her as if he was the proud parent, she his gifted child. “Too often, his emotions rule. His heart.”

He shook his head sadly. “A leader can't be swayed by emotion. A leader must always keep his focus on the big picture.”

“The cause. In this case, the good of the community.”

“Yes.” Matt searched her gaze. “Dad was the leader of the original Seven. Did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“He proved too weak to lead. He bowed to pressure from others in the group. Mostly your father.”

“My dad?” She struggled to inject just the right amount of surprise and disappointment into her tone.

“Oh yeah, your dad. The great Dr. Phillip Chauvin.” Dislike dripped from each word. “He threatened to go to the Feds. They had crossed the line, he'd claimed.”

Matt leaned closer. “There is no line when it comes to war. Do you understand, Avery? Life and death. Black or white. Win or lose.”

“No compromise.”

“Exactly.” He trailed a finger tenderly over the curve of her cheek. “Some are sacrificed for the good of the many. Individual rights lost…but quality of life maintained.”

“My father wouldn't go along with that?”

“A do-gooder pussy. He nearly ruined it for everyone.”

She bit down on her lip to keep from defending her father. From cheering him aloud.

“Tonight, did Buddy tell you everything? About that night, about Sallie Waguespack?” He answered his own question. “Of course he didn't. He wouldn't.”

Matt laughed. “That night, Hunter and I had fought about that new kid, Mike Horn. Remember him? His dad was the plant manager over at the canning factory.”

He didn't wait for her reply but went on. “I didn't like the way Mike was acting, like he owned the place. Like he was going to take
my
place. I figured we should give him a little lesson in humility, me, Hunter and a couple of the other guys. Hunter refused to back me up. Told me he liked Mike. And that what I wanted to do was wrong.”

Matt's face twisted. “He'd been pulling that shit a lot that summer, refusing to go with the program. I called
him on that. And on his feelings for you. He wanted to fuck you. I saw that, too. Everybody saw it. I accused him of doing it. We came to blows,” he finished simply, “and he left the house. Went over to Karl's.”

“Karl Wright's?”

“Yes. I couldn't sleep. I heard the front door. I thought Hunter had changed his mind, come home to apologize.”

“But it wasn't Hunter?”

“No. It was Mother. She was sobbing, hysterical. Covered with blood. It was splattered on her hands and face. Her clothes.”

“At first I panicked. I thought she was hurt. Then I realized what she was saying. She had killed someone. Dad's girlfriend. His lover. It was an accident, she didn't know what to do.”

Avery pictured the scenario. Lilah covered with blood, hysterical. Matt sixteen and terrified. Reeling with all his mother was telling him.

“I didn't either. Dad was out. I didn't know for sure where. I couldn't call the department. So I went.

“It was just as Mom had said. With one exception—the woman wasn't dead. She must have lost consciousness. By the trail of blood, I saw that sometime between when Mom left and I arrived, she had tried to pull herself to the door. She didn't make it, she couldn't pull herself up to get it open.

“At first I meant to help her. To convince her to be quiet, not to tell anyone about the affair or about Mom.

“She laughed at us,” Matt continued. “She laughed at me. How was I going to like seeing his father's bastard take his place in their home? Seeing all of them made a laughingstock. She called me stupid, Avery.
Me
. Can you imagine that? And the whole time she's bleeding all over the place. Struggling not to pass out.” He made a sound of disgust. “Like she's the one in charge.

“She wouldn't shut up,” he went on. “I begged her to.
I was crying. She laughed at me…the things she said were so ugly. So…vile.

“So I shut her up. I put my hands over her nose and mouth and pressed and pressed until she didn't say anything anymore.”

Avery shuddered, recalling her image of earlier, of Matt choking the life out of her.

“It felt good,” he murmured, a small smile tipping the corners of his mouth. “I felt powerful. Unbeatable.”

He leaned toward her. “Power, Avery. My hands. I always knew I was special. I saw things, understood things others didn't. Things regular people couldn't. As I watched her die, I knew that I was meant to lead. That I had the power over life and death.”

Avery stared at him, mouth dry, heart hammering. Horrified. That summer…they had been together back then. They had seen each other every day—had been physically intimate. She had considered spending her life with him.

She would have sworn she knew everything about him.

She hadn't known him at all
.

She found her voice. It shook. “So my dad knew you—”

“Killed her? No.” He shook his head. “Dad found me there. He promised to protect me. To take care of everything. Told me to get out of there, to keep it to myself.”

“He never told anyone, did he? Not even Lilah.”

He grinned. She found something about the way his lips stretched over his teeth more terrifying than if he had growled. “He was going to save me. That's a hoot, isn't it? He was going to save
me?
But over the years he has served his purpose. In a limited way, he shared my vision.”

In a lightning-quick change of mood, his eyes filled with tears. “We could have been a family,” he said. “We could have had children together, grown old together.”

The thought that she had imagined that very thing, not
long ago, made her ill. She hid her true feelings as best she could. “It's not too late, Matt. Let me go. I won't make any trouble, we can be together.”

He looked away, then back. “I'm really sorry, Avery. I didn't want this to happen. None of it. But in a conflict one must sacrifice individual wants and needs for the good of the many.”