It was Phil who had said it outright, Phil who had checked left and right where he stood behind the counter, then leaned forward to warn Daniel to get on home before a mob formed around him, seeking justice for Jamie’s death.
And sure enough, just outside the General Store, a group of people had noticed his truck parked in the lot and were gathered on the sidewalk a few meters from it, their voices falling away as one whenDaniel strode toward them with a cold bottle of Pepsi clenched in his fist.
There was fear in their eyes, and something else, something he hadn’t seen leveled in his direction in three-quarters of a decade. Hate.
The whispers started as he fumbled with the key in the lock, growing louder and bolder until the voices blended together into one rumble of discontent. As Daniel climbed into his truck and reached for the door handle, one word slipped free, perfectly enunciated and unmissable.
“Murderer.”
He didn’t drive home. Instead, he sped straight through town and out the other end, flying west on the long, winding highway that led to the interstate and freedom.
The miles passed beneath the tires with his attention split between staring at the road ahead, and checking the rearview mirror for the sight of flashing lights in hot pursuit.
Not until he reached the on-ramp for the interstate did he slam on his brakes, skidding off the road onto the shoulder and juddering over the gravel.
With the engine rumbling, he sat stock-still in the truck, staring at the wide freeway ahead, cars zipping north toward Tacoma, Seattle, Bellingham, and beyond. Cities full of strangers where one more unfamiliar face would not be noticed.
He switched off the engine.
What was he doing? He had less than half a tank of gas and only twenty dollars in his wallet; and there was nothing but the set of clothes on his back and half a bottle of Pepsi rolling around under the seat to sustain him. He was hardly in shape to make a go at starting over again.
A bag of survival essentials had been stashed in the bottom drawer of his dresser for years. He could drive back home, grab it, then vanish into the woods like a shadow and just keep going, hiking east into theCascades, into the deepest, darkest wilderness in Washington State. He could let himself be driven out.
Or…
He could stay. Stay and own up to whatever came next.
Attempted murder and murder were two completely different accusations, and he knew full well what a conviction on this charge would mean, but running brought its own personal consequences. Running meant throwing away everything he’d worked toward with Annie, and though things weren’t right between them at the moment, he believed with his whole heart that she was his future. She was worth fighting for. Worth doing whatever it took to make sure nothing got in their way.
Daniel caught his gaze in the rearview mirror and looked away again as a long-forgotten quote swam to the front of his mind.
At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separated from law and justice, he is the worst.
He sat for a long time on the shoulder of the road. So long that the sky faded from blue to violet, and violet to black. Stars blinked to life at the top of the windshield and the cab of the truck grew cold.
At two in the morning, he drove back to the boathouse and spent the rest of the night staring out the window at the dark road beyond the trees, waiting…
Daniel lifted the maul and swung with all his strength, cracking the round down to a gnarled knot, where the maul lodged its heavy head and stuck fast. He wrenched the handle back and forth, but could not free it. He tried again, shoving the handle downward with his full strength, but stubbornly, it would not budge.
The misplaced rage that boiled up inside him was instant, and he took a step back and lashed out, kicking the side of the stump with his full strength as a feral cry of frustration and exhaustion passed his lips. The sound went on and on, flying up from the very bottom of his lungs and out through his mouth, loud and furious enough to frighten him.
The last echoes of his shout faded away into the wilderness around him, and in the silence that followed, Daniel heard the cruiser coming.
He sagged where he stood, depleted. He had come here for freedom. He had come here for peace. And now he was in far worse trouble than he had been all those years ago.
Jake was on his way. The engine grinding up the road was fast and steady, and there was no one else it could be. Not today.
Daniel’s heart contracted in his chest, each thump marking the moment as it passed. He placed his foot against the cedar round, wrenched the handle of the maul with all his might until it popped free, and rested it carefully against the stump.
The car was close now, so close that he could hear the gravel popping under the tires, and in the moment before the vehicle appeared, a strange peace washed over him, a sort of surrender. Daniel closed his eyes and slowly filled his lungs with fresh forest air for what might be the last time.
Let him come.
The cruiser swung into view, tires splashing through the shallow puddles on the road, sunlight glaring off the windshield. Jake was hidden from view, but Daniel could feel the pair of eyes tracking him as he walked forward to meet his fate.
Inches from the gate, the car screeched to a halt and the engine died. The door opened, and the driver climbed out.
Daniel froze.
