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The Flesh That Binds Us

Page 77

by Love J. Brystowe

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Picked her up. Just like that.”

I clenched my jaw hard enough to hear it pop.

Wayne had a red Ute.

“Did you see the driver?” I asked as a ringing steadily began in my right ear.

He scratched his nose, almost embarrassed. “Yeah…I did.”

“And?” I said quietly, feeling my fingers go numb.

He hesitated, looking at his own reflection in the two-way mirror behind me. “That’s why I didn’t say anything back then,” he admitted. “Everyone knows him. He’s a good bloke. Never caused trouble.”

I blinked. “Who was it?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

He sighed, like he was still trying to reconcile it himself. “I didn’t want to believe it, mate. That’s why I didn't say anything.” He sighed.

I gripped the pencil tighter, suppressing the urge to lunge across the table and shake the man. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything back then when everybody was looking for her? Evie’s face had been plastered on the news just hours after she was abducted. There wasn’t a station or radio broadcast in the country that wasn't talking about her.

There was no fucking excuse to look the other way. No reason good enough to ignore that you had seen a missing girl, and said nothing about it. Well—nothing, until ten thousand dollars was up for grabs. I leaned forward slightly. “Frank,” I said quietly. “Tell me the name,” I beckoned, the pencil bending from the pressure, the thin wood creaking in protest until it finally…snapped.

“It was Wayne Gatz.”

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

EVIE

Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.

I exhaled, emptying my lungs before inhaling and counting all over again, trying to bring my heartbeat down to a normal pace. I was almost certain Wayne could see it beating wildly through my dress, the unnatural rhythm surely reaching his ears. He had no idea that this was our last meal together, our final moments before everything changed.

My hand noticeably trembled as I brought the glass to my lips, the orange juice sloshing against the sides as I took small sips to appear like everything was fine. As if I wasn’t on the verge of passing out and ruining everything Jackson and I had planned.

Chaotic visions of worst-case scenarios filled my head, worsening my trepidation. Anything could go wrong. Wayne could come back sooner than usual. The keys might not work. What if the front door didn't open? What if he was waiting for us outside? What if we made it down the driveway and he was hiding in the bushes? The possibilities were endless, and equally alarming.

We only had one chance.

One chance for freedom.

One chance for survival.

One chance to make it out of here alive.

There was no room for mistakes, no room for failure.

“You look a little pale, darl,” Wayne muttered from across the table. His finger was in his mouth, picking bacon bits from his teeth.

“Just feeling a bit sick this morning,” I said, dipping my toast into the runny egg and bringing it up to my mouth in spite of the way my stomach was protesting. Silence filled the kitchen as I swallowed the piece, an icy feeling creeping up my spine. I glanced up at Wayne, my breath stifling when I met his eyes. He narrowed his gaze, the darkness in his stare causing goosebumps to prickle across my skin.

“I’m feeling better now,” I added quickly. “N-now that I’ve eaten,” I said, trying to ease whatever thoughts were drafting in his mind.

He grunted, clearing his throat as he pushed his chair back, looming over me as he stood up, leaving his empty plate on the table. “Won’t be long,” he said, grabbing his keys off the table. “Be back before dinner.” I nodded, digging my nails into my palm when he leaned over and kissed my temple. “Don’t get stupid while I’m gone,” he said softly, patting the top of my head. “You hear me, little girl?” I nodded again, picking my fork up as he ventured down the hallway.

Oh, God.

He had to know.

My eyes watered as I took in small, shuddered breaths through pursed lips. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in…and breathe out. My heart was pounding so loudly, I was afraid he could hear it from the bedroom. “Get it together Evie,” I warned under my breath as he entered the kitchen again, his thundering footsteps thumping in succession with my pulse. He bent down to put his boots on before opening the front door and slamming it shut behind him. I leaned into the backrest, waiting until his car’s engine faded down the driveway before I shot up from the chair so fast, it scraped back hard against the floor.