I turn back to Snake. “Sounds like you won’t be falling into the riches you had hoped for after all.”
Snake sniffs and winces. “I can figure it out. I always do.”
“Hey, Carter, you will have to inform your boss that, unfortunately, that deed and house, and all of the assets with it, were foreclosed long ago. There isn’t a dime to the Lautner name, at least not to that property. Sorry, man.”
Carter shifts his beady eyes to Snake. River is sitting quietly on the floor, probably too dumb to know what is happening. “I thought you said you could get the money,” Carter says, but it comes out as more of a growl through his clenched teeth.
Snake pales and backs up. “Wait, wait. I can. He is lying. Public records show the property is still owned by Cooper Lautner. Since Daddy died, that means it should have gone to you, baby brother.”
Snake is grasping at straws, and even he knows it now. I shake my head. “Oh, Snake. I guess you don’t remember. It’s okay, too much meth will do that to you. Remember when ‘Daddy,’” I say with air quotes, “rewrote his will in prison—you know, after some of his bad deals went really badly south and he was locked up. I think it was right around when the two of you ended up in there with him,” I say, pointing at both Snake and River. “Something about money laundering, embezzlement, theft, fraud—I forget some of the terminology, but you know where I’m going with this.”
Avalee shifts in the corner, putting as much space between her and Carter as possible, but he doesn’t seem to care about her anymore. He has his eyes set on Snake and me. Stormy comes barging through the door to Avalee, barking and licking her face.
“Well, turns out, our father hadn’t been paying taxes—ever—so after they sold off the land, the state took back what was due to them. There’s nothing left. Nothing. Why the hell do you think I have been working in construction this whole time?” I ask.
Snake is speechless.
Carter cracks his knuckles and starts for Snake, but Snake is fast. He grabs a butcher knife from the cutting block on my counter and throws it at Carter. It strikes him in the stomach, and he falls to his knees. Snake grabs another knife and comes swinging for me.
Avalee shouts, with a frantic Stormy yipping at her heels, and everything erupts into chaos around me. Snake charges for Avalee, and that’s the final straw for me. I grab him and throw him down to the floor, the knife clattering out of his hand. Climbing on top of him, I let out all of my pent-up rage as I slam my fist into his face, over and over. My knuckles scream from the pain of the blows, but I just keep sending them.
Grabbing Snake’s shirt, I pull him up and scream into his face, “It was you! You did all of this. You ruined Avalee’s and my lives! You killed Tiffany. You should have been the one who died that night and the one behind bars, you piece of shit!” Spit flies as I scream and throw another punch.
Snake falls back to the floor, limp. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I would think I had killed him. My rage is still soaring, and I raise my fist again. “I will go to jail again before you ever lay a filthy finger on her, you hear me?” He doesn’t reply, of course, knocked too senseless from my punches. It isn’t enough, though. I want him to feel what we felt, and I start to throw another punch.
“Ruin, stop!” Avalee shouts.
My fist hovers an inch over his mangled face, and I’m heaving through labored breaths. I look over my shoulder and see Avalee clutching a whimpering Stormy in her arms, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Please stop,” she whispers.
I glance around my house. Carter is resting against the wall, the knife still protruding from his gut, but he’s fine otherwise. River is trembling and pale from the blood loss. Meanwhile, Snake is breathing, but there is a little gurgle with each exhalation and a wheeze with each inhalation.
My knuckles are coated with his blood, mixed with my own where they are cracked and open.
I stand, stumbling back and wrapping an arm around Avalee’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I just couldn’t let them hurt you, not again.”
We slowly step out of the house and into the midday sun. Avalee takes out her phone and calls the police, and we wait out front for the authorities to arrive.
Twenty-Six
Avalee
The police arrive and take my statement. Ambulances pull in and cart off Snake, River, and Carter. As the police question me, I notice them cuffing Ruin, who looks my way wearily.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt the officer asking me questions and jog over to where Ruin is about to be placed in the back seat of a cruiser. “Hey, what are you doing?” I ask them.
“We just need to take him down to the station for an official statement. He will be in and out in a matter of a few hours, ma’am,” the uniformed officer says.
“But he’s innocent. I already told the other officer that those guys broke in and threatened us.”
“I know, ma’am,” she says, exasperated. “But given his record, we have to take extra precautions and bring him in for questioning. I know what it looks like, but I promise we aren’t booking him. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn’t look good right now. That one guy had to have a bag to help him breathe.” She shakes her head.
“It’s okay, Avalee. It will all be okay,” Ruin promises. Déjà vu slaps me in the face, and I can do nothing but watch as they place him in the car and drive away. I go back to the officer who was questioning me and ask if we can continue the questioning at the station because I want to be there when they finally release Ruin.
While I wait for them to finish with Ruin’s processing and interrogation, I think back to his words when he was beating the shit out of Snake. What had he meant? He said Snake was the one who killed Tiffany, but we didn’t see the driver of the vehicle. I pinch my elbow and tap my feet on the tiled floor of the precinct, looking at my phone for the time every ten minutes. Someone brought me a steaming paper cup of coffee, but it tasted more like brown water than a tasty cup of joe, though I thanked them all the same. It now sits with a film on the top beside me in the hard plastic chairs lining the waiting area. Ruin is down the hall in one of the rooms, but I don’t know which one.
After four hours, I’ve begun pacing the hallway when Ruin comes out of the back, chuckling and speaking calmly with a detective. He spots me and shakes the detective’s hand before joining me. He reaches for my hand and winces when we lock fingers. I look down at his hands, which are purple and swollen.
