He strikes Jack in the chest, and Jack drops to the ground. The man is running back to the truck, and then I hear the engine rev as the tires skid on the gravel before it flies off down the road, kicking up debris, disappearing behind a cloud of dust before it’s gone. It’s all so fast it feels like a hazy dream as I look down at Jack’s body and see the blood blooming through his pale T-shirt. He’s motionless.
“No! God, no!” I drop to my knees and scream until my lungs give out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sasha
When Sasha pulls onto Raffy’s property, she already knows something is very wrong, because the truck that’s sat unused for years in the overgrown grass behind the house is covered in mud, and fresh muddy tracks lead from the main road and up the dirt drive to where it’s parked. Raffy had his license taken away years ago after a few DUIs and he also never goes anywhere.
She doesn’t believe that he could harm anyone. She knows him too deeply. She also doesn’t believe that he has the mental capacity to plan and execute murder, and why would he anyway? He doesn’t know Tia or Regan, or the woman who tragically died in the car explosion that was likely meant for Regan. What possible motive could he have? How is he connected to any of this?
She stands next to the car for a moment after she parksin her usual spot and gets out. There’s a fire fading out in the firepit, but no Raffy sitting next to it. She doesn’t hear anything. What is she even hoping to gain out of this? The truth, she supposes, before the cops, before investigations, dig up their past. She needs him to put all of the pieces of this mystery together. She needs to be sure he’s innocent before she decides what her next move is—why has he been seeing Drew without telling her? She knows why Drew did it, but why didn’t Raffy tell her when she pleaded with him, telling him Drew was in trouble?
The headband in the firepit. He has to have an explanation. She’ll never believe he has an evil bone in his body, no matter what anyone tells her. Raffy is the love of her life. She can’t be that out of touch with reality that she never saw the signs of a psychopath. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath and then walks up to the front door to confront him. She prays he’s not passed out drunk.
The door is locked, which is unusual, but she has a key, so she lets herself in. When she enters, the house is dark and quiet. It has the familiar smell of alcohol and urine she’s used to, but something feels different. She can’t put her finger on what, so she stands completely still in the kitchen and just listens.
“Raff?”
Nothing. Where could he possibly be? Her heart rate quickens, and she knows something is very wrong. She calls for him again.
“Raff, where are you?” When there is still no answer, she can’t help thinking maybe he’s drunk himself to death and/or that there’s a medical emergency. She moves quickly from theliving room to the small three-season porch at the back of the house, but she stops cold when she sees Raffy sitting there in an old armchair, just staring up at her, wide-eyed, not moving or speaking. He looks possessed, and she’s immediately terrified and confused all at once.
“Please leave,” Raff says with a flat tone. His eyes are bloodshot and look wet with tears.
“What?” she says, stunned and utterly baffled.
“Sash, please. I’m begging you,” he says, looking over his shoulder and then back to her. “Go. Get out of here.”
“Raff. What have you done?” she says. He hangs his head.
“None of it’s what you think. You have to go. Sash, please, God. You...”
“Why, Raffy? What’s happened?” Then they both hear a bang. It sounds like the side screen door closing. “Who’s here?” She looks at Raff. His eyes are desperate and pleading.
“I met the man who’s been blackmailing me for money—the man who set us up at the airport all those years ago. He’s back... and I think he’s gone to a lot of trouble to frame me for Tia’s and Andi’s deaths.”
“Andi? Where is she?” she says instinctively, but as his words sink in, she knows it’s too late. She hears footsteps down the hallway and then a figure appears in the door frame. He has a gun in his hand, and he looks shocked and panicked to see her.
“Tom?” Sasha says, and for a moment she’s completely perplexed, her mind working to connect all the dots and understand how he is here. Why? And then she sees the crumpled look on his face and watches it drain of color, and she knows in that moment that it’s him. It finally sets in. It’s been him all along, and her showing up here was not a part of his plan. Shelooks to Raffy, understanding now that he was warning her, and for the first time notices that he is tied to the chair he’s sitting in, which is why he hasn’t moved.
“Fuck,” Tom says. And then he screams it. “Fuck!”
Sasha doesn’t speak. She can’t. She just stands there, numb, and stares at Tom, who’s shaking his head and pacing, mumbling to himself.
“This was never what I wanted,” he says, and she just doesn’t understand.
“I don’t... I... Why are you here?” she asks.
“Sasha, snap out of it,” Raffy says. “Your husband is the one who put me in prison. The whole family’s involved. The barbecue place is a front. The father runs the whole...”
“Shut up!” Tom yells, hitting Raff in the side of the head with the butt of his gun—a blow so hard, Raffy moans in pain, and Sasha sees a trickle of blood run down his temple. She screams and takes a step back, still staring, indescribably shocked. Al. Tom’s dad. Runs an organized crime ring. It’s laughable. There’s no way this is real.
“You... sent Raff to prison. You were there in Mexico. I didn’t even know you then. That’s not possible. This is all a mistake.”
“It wasn’t him that day,” Raff says. “It was some cousin or someone who works for them. But it was his doing. All of this is.”
“I said shut the fuck up!” Tom screams, raising his gun again.
