When she opens her eyes Jane is standing on the other side of the clearing. Her face shimmers with sweat. The hands she holds up to her husband are dirty, bleeding. She must have fallen on her way out. Still unsteady on her feet. She’s got a rifle strapped to her chest. The one they kept in case of wolves, bears. Coyotes.
“Janie. Oh Christ. I’ll explain. Go back to the car. Go, and I’lltell you everything later.” His voice is high and panicked. “Please, Janie. Now.”
Jane doesn’t waver. “I said let her go, Damien.” She raises the gun to her shoulder. Callie lets herself exhale. She had been holding her breath, preparing for the shock of the cold water.
“I can’t—I can’t do that, Janie. Now please, please, I’m begging you. Go back. Go back and I’ll explain. She’s going to ruin our lives.”
Jane’s voice is low, measured. “I know what you did. The charm. The picture in the notebook. It was all right there. And I called the state police to tell them. They’ll be here in a few minutes. For now, it’s just the three of us, and you need to let Callie go.”
Damien takes a step backward, bringing Callie with him.
Jane’s finger tightens on the trigger.
Jane’s a good shot.
Used to be.
Damien’s grip around her tightens. He’s going to do it—push her in the water and let her body sink. Jane won’t be able to save her. Or—Callie nearly vomits at the thought—he’ll overpower Jane even with the gun. And she’ll end up in the water too. Jane’s eyes meet Callie’s for a second, and Callie gives her the smallest of nods before closing her eyes.
I trust you.
The sound of gunfire cuts through the silence.
She falls to the ground and the second impact to her tender, aching skull makes everything go black.
She blinks hereyes open to the sound of screaming.
Damien is a foot away from her, grabbing at his leg. Blood soaking his pants just above the knee. She closes her eyes again until she hears Jane come closer, the ragged pull of air through her lungs. Jane still has her gun trained on Damien, relents only to unhook the bungee cord around Callie’s wrists so Callie can release her bound knees and ankles.
She stands unsteadily, and she and Jane fall into one another. Callie presses her face into Jane’s shoulder.
In the distance, the long, mournful wail of sirens.
“I called the state police,” Jane says. “Before I started down the trail. But I knew I’d get here first. And I sure as hell didn’t want to call this into the station, to Frank’s cronies.”
As if on cue, from the edge of the woods there’s the squawk of radios. Footsteps. Shouting. Uniforms swarm them. She and Jane hold hands as they put Damien on a gurney while an officer reads him his rights. An EMT eyes the wounds on Callie’s head, on Jane’s shins and palms, though she shakes them off.
“I just need help getting back to the car. Now. My daughter.”
Opal. Oh god. “I’ll go with you,” Callie says.
“We’re going to need statements. From both of you. When you can, the sooner the better.” The statey dips his head to Callie. “Well, you know the drill.”
The cop walks with them. He offers his arm to Jane but she shakes her head, reaches for Callie.
“I’m sorry,” Callie says. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Me too.”
“How did you know?”
“When you texted me this morning. I was telling the truth when I said we hadn’t been dealing. I thought Frank was up to something. But then Damien had said he was doing a hike that wasn’t on the calendar, a private group he’d forgotten to tell me about. He wouldn’t have forgotten that—in winter? When we need the cash? He said his mom was coming over and that she’d help with Opal. I left a few minutes later, strapped Opal in the car and gunned it out of there. For all I know Lorraine is sitting in my living room, wondering where the hell everyone is.”
Callie wonders how much Jane knows about the other stuff. About Sabrina Riley, Luke. And whatever happened that night, to Baby Doe.
“And I had been looking at the notebook. The picture of the star finally clicked.”
“What is it?” Callie asks.
