I feel my trigger give the tiniest bit as the muscles in my hand instinctively react.
“Not another step,” I warn, my voice taking on the authoritative ring I used when aiming to get my unit to fall into line. (Everyone but Cash was always quick to comply.)
Sullivan’s Adam’s apple travels up the length of his throat and seems to lodge there like a fish bone. But he doesn’t say anything more. And he stops his advance.
It ignites a small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s a way we can all come out of this thing alive.
Softly, slowly, so as not to spook him into doing something foolish, I relate the tale of prom night 2009. How Dean followed us into the swamp to spy on us. How he attacked Maggie after I’d gone to retrieve my tuxedo jacket from Smurf. How she defended herself by clocking him clean unconscious with one well-placed blow from a rock. How I found her struggling on the ground beneath his limp body. How I yanked him off her and told her to run.
“After she was gone, he came to,” I say. “He stumbled ’round for a bit before falling back to his knees too close to the water’s edge. You know as well as I do how dangerous it can be there.”
Even before I say the words, Sullivan is shaking his head. Not wanting to believe what he knows comes next. Not wanting to hear it.
“A gator got him,” I say, not couching my words. Letting the horrible truth speak for itself.
Maggie gasps and pokes her head out from behind me. I can feel the force of her gaze, although I don’t dare return it.
“Wait.” Her voice is tremulous. “Are you…” She swallows noisily. “Are you saying Dean wasalive?”
My brow pinches in confusion. “’Course he was alive,” I say. “You knocked him for a loop, but—”
“Oh sweet baby Jesus!” The sharp hitch in her voice shoots a jolt straight through me, stopping my heart. When it starts beating again, a rush of blood goes to my head.
“What is it, Maggie May?” I demand, completely flummoxed.
“Why didn’t youtellme?” Her whisper sounds harsh, and the second-to-the-last word is cracked in two like it was slammed against a hard edge. “All these years I thought I killedhim!”
“Wait. What?” I must look a sight with my eyes bulging from my head. “When I met you back at the truck, Isaidhe was gator food.”
“I thought that meant you’d thrown his body into the swamp! I didn’t know that meant he wasliterallyattacked by an alligator!”
The record player of my mind scratches to a stop. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. All I can do is stand there, staring down the barrel of Sullivan’s .44 as more than ten years of misunderstandings flash in front of my eyes.
There’s a loud buzz in my ears. I’m pretty sure it’s originating in my brain.
Forcing a swallow, I find my voice. “Dean was whole, if not exactly hale, when you ran off that night.”
The sound she makes is awful. Pitiful. A wounded sound. Like a tendon tearing free from bone.
All this time, she’s been living under the impression she’s a killer? It’s untenable.Unthinkable.How could I not have known?
Oh, right. Because I ran off to join the army soon after and cut off all communication with her.
If I didn’t have to worry about Sullivan and his chrome-plated bang stick (which he hasn’t lowered, even after my explanation) I’d be tempted to kick my own ass.
“If he was alive, if it was an alligator that killed him, why have we been lying about seeing him that night?” Her voice is steadier now, but it’s still thick with unshed tears.
“You think he would’ve believed us?” I hitch my chin toward Sullivan.
“I don’t believe you now,” he snarls, proving my point.
“We all knew about that girl from St. Bernard Parish who accused Dean of raping her,” I say to Maggie, ignoring Sullivan. “And we all knew what happened after ol’ Georgie boy got finished with her. Her reputation was ruined, and her name was mud.”
Something passes over Sullivan’s face. Maybe it’s simply remembrance. But it looks a lot more like satisfaction. He seemspleasedto have saved Dean by destroying an innocent girl.
“If we’d come forward to say Dean attacked you, do you really thinkhe”—I hitch my chin toward Sullivan—“woulda let that stand? He’d have come after you just like he went after that other girl. Only it woulda been worse ’cause of what happened to Dean afterward.”
“Enough! This is bullshit! I don’t believe any of it!” Sullivan snarls again.
