The road warps in front of me, the gaudy glow from my headlights contorting with the dark-grainy asphalt as I take corners too fast, driving at speeds thatshouldkill us.
I was so disconnected from what I was doing that I hadn’t realized the police cruiser up my ass until Harlen punched my bicep, breaking my stupor.
I should have kept them closer.It was the only six words I could hear, and they were on repeat, over and over again, a tripped circuit in the back of my head.
I turn and look at Harlen, my foot pressed firmly to the gas as bright reds and sapphire blues strobe across the strong planes of his face.
“We runnin’?” he asks, one hand still curled around the handle above him, the other spread like the limbs of a spider at my beat-up and sun damaged dash.
My abs tense, a broken rib stabs into me, my fingers tremble at the shifter.
We both knew I didn’t have the wheels to run. I was going to get caught. Whether it happened now or later was up to me.
When spinning lights flash through my front window, the same red and blue syncing to the ones at my rear, I realize that the choice had been made for me.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been pulled over for reckless driving—among other things. Me and Devil’s Peak PD were well acquainted.
With reservation, I tear my truck off the road and rip up the handbrake. Wrenching the keys from the ignition, I roll down my window and peg the metal to the blacktop, knowing intimately what came next.
I beat the wheel of my truck with the palm of my hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Harlen sits eerily still beside me, fingers to his mouth, picking at his crusted bottom lip as he looks out the window, distant hope for the two girls that are our entire world sharpening every line and groove and muscle in his face.
I keep the window down, suck on my cheeks, anger ratcheting through my chest. Then, I slam my head back against the headrest, and do it again and again, until Harlen stops me.
My chest is rising and falling, my heart feels as if it’s at the fringes of a heart attack.
“I should have kept them closer,” I whisper, then repeat, “I should have kept them closer.”
The car jolts, taking a kick to the wheel on one side, then the other, before Officer James’ high-pitched voice crawls through the open window.
“Keller, put your hands above your head and step out of the vehicle.”
I wanted to take a screwdriver to my ears, and maybe another to his carotid.
Officer James—Colton James’ corrupt father’s voice was tainted with glee.
I fucking hated himand his soon to be dead son.
A muscle flexes in my neck. I couldn’t help but think being pulled over tonight was a setup. After the beating, and the girls disappearing, it was clear Colton wanted to take what was mine because I had a go at what was his.
I should have kept them closer.
I open my vengeful eyes, not moving my skull from the headrest when I roll it toward Harlen, eyes locking on his icy ones.
“Ch-ch-chase, help.”
My pulse grates through my teeth hearing Laiken’s phantom plea.
“I can’t lose them,” I whisper. “I can’t lose them.”
Harlen drops his chin to his chest and rotates the chrome ring on his index finger with his thumb. He doesn’t speak, because if there’s one thing Harlen didn’t do, it was make open-ended promises.
He doesn’t tell me they will be okay, that they will make it out of whatever hell this is alive, because he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.
He doesn’t say anything except, “I know, brother. Same.”
My hand shakes as I unclip my seatbelt, and Harlen follows, popping our doors and kicking them open in unison, we raise our hands above our heads.
