What would I be doing today if I didn’t have to worry about Hugo Navarre or Drew Reeves? I crack a brief grin, seeing myself helping Jax at Fallstown, or Juliet up at the camp, or working on Quinn’s new house. There’s so much to do. The floors need to be leveled and the drywall repaired, but I know as soon as I opened the walls, I’d see electrical and plumbing that needed repairing first. Maybe Madoc would be helping me? And Lance? Beers and laughs and friends.
Climbing up Lake Lane, I spot a car parked at the end of a dirt driveway, a For Sale sign taped to the windshield. Hitting the brakes, I stop and put my arm over the back of the seat, looking behind me as I reverse the car.
Jeep Wrangler.Maybe an ’06 or ’07. Older than I’d like, but a lot cheaper than a new car. She wouldn’t throw a fit at me spending the money on her. Hopefully.
It’s white and has a soft-top with a little rust, but brand new tires from the looks of it. Seven thousand or best offer.
Shifting the Boss into gear, I punch the gas and race off, away from town. Heat radiates off the pavement, making the air smell like tar and hot leather, but I don’t bother turning on the AC because the wind feels too good. For one more minute, I enjoy the idea of just grabbing Quinn and jetting off. Out of town for the rest of the day, somewhere I don’t have to be on guard and or worried anyone will see us.
But soon enough, I see the Do Not Enter sign to the left. It’s an exit for the drivers traveling a parallel highway on the other side of the trees. They use it to merge onto my highway, into the opposing lane. I jerk the wheel left, the lump swelling in my throat. A car could pop up anytime, heading straight for me, but I take a quick right, down the overgrown, gravel trail, barely big enough for a car.
It doesn’t take long. Branches hit the windows as Farrow’s truck appears ahead, parked. I pull up behind it.
Getting out, I look up at the black stone of the train tunnel as it emerges from rock, nothing but the sounds of the distant falls and the wind in the trees around me.
Farrow leans against it, smoking a cigarette, but I don’t walk to him. Dropping my gaze, I find the lone, rounded gray stone at the bottom of the wall instead. It’s a little lighter in color and surrounded by other stones and mortar.
My stomach sinks, looking down at the soil. Flat with weeds like any other patch of land.
“Were you able to arrange the burial?” I ask.
Farrow falls in at my side. “Not a problem.”
I reach for the shovel in his hand, seeing the canvas bag I’d asked for on the ground. “Thank you.”
But he sweeps the shovel up in both hands and jams it into the soil.
“What are you doing?”
He shakes his head. “Rest assured, it’s not my first.”
No.I yank the tool away from him.
“I can do this,” he grits out.
I’m not sure why he wants to.
“It’s my responsibility.” I move away a couple feet. “Fallon wouldn’t want this, and I can’t believe Ciaran would either.”
If she knew who he was, she wouldn’t want him involved at all.
Slicing into the earth, I pull out a lump of soil and dump it to the side.
“You should wait for dark,” Farrow warns me.
But I might not have till then. “I’m doing it now.”
Before I forget, I pull a folded envelope out of my back pocket and hand it to him. “For the burial arrangements when the time comes.”
And then I send him off. I need to be alone.
I continue digging, pushing the shovel in with my foot and locking my jaw to keep the bile down because eventually, the shovel is going to hit bone. I cringe every time the shovel burrows into the dirt, waiting for it.
The ache of that night returns, and I try to push it away and keep moving, but I know I deserve this. I owe him.
My chin quivers. “I’m sorry,” I murmur to David Miller. “I’m sorry I left you here.”
I kept staring at Miller’s chest, willing it to move.Please.
