Yes, yes, fine.
I’m walking away now too.
Actively self-sabotaging, some will say.
But at least I did my part to save the family’s company before I left and identified the best candidate to replace me as well.
I paid my debt. And I’m not only running away—I’msearching.
I’m looking for the good in the world, and I’m looking for how I canbethe good in the world.
Quietly.
In a recluse kind of way.
Daphne just—I don’t even know what she does now.
She bites her lower lip and squints at me. “You know what I want?”
“I’m listening.”
“I want a ride.”
“To?”
“Wherever you’re headed.”
“This is it.”
“Thisisn’tit. There’s getting away to a weekend hunting cabin, and then there’s getting away to a secret place no one would ever expect you to go. Nice cobwebs, by the way, you totally missed my dance moves this morning. Also, there’s a car outside that no one would ever expect you to drive, with fake IDs that have your picture and someone else’s name, along withduffel bags stuffed with cash. You’re not here to stay. You’re here as a stopover on your way to somewhere else.”
My mother used to say I was the only child she knew without a temper.
The past few years have changed that.
There’s a boiling rage simmering beneath my skin, and Daphne’s announcement that she’s snooped through my getaway car is lava on the molten steel, igniting my wrath hotter.
“How—what—the fuck? I hid the keys.”
“Just because I never got caught picking locks doesn’t mean I never learned how to do it.” She shrugs like it’s, as she used to say,no biggie. “I have your passport and fake driver’s license, by the way. Not telling where. The price of getting it back is giving me a ride to wherever you’re going. Nice name, by the way. Tom Johnson. Very boring. Very…you. So. We’re going…where again?”
This trip is full of firsts.
First time driving myself in well over a decade.
First time having a stowaway.
First time almost feeling sorry for Daphne.
First time I’ve ever truly wanted to murder someone.
“No,” I say instead of answering her question.
“Do you know how to live in the woods, Oliver? Because I know how to live in the woods. I can pick a direction and start hiking and I’ll find a road and that road will lead to a town and I’ll talk someone into borrowing their phone and I’ll call Margot because not only do I have her personal cell number memorized, but I also know the password to get through to her at work if I had to call the corporate number on the website. The minute I tell Margot you held me captive, I’ll also be able to tell her exactly where, because I’m a genius at navigating the woods. I’ll give the cops the name on your fake passport, and I’lldo it all before you can reach Mexico, and you’ll be the second Cumberland to go to prison in under a decade.”
I am.
I’m going to have to murder her.
