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no one and nothing to hold me back." He fell silent a moment, still deeply in the past. Struggling, Avery suspected, with dark, painful memories. When he resumed, his voice shook slightly. "One morning I lost control of my vehicle by an elementary school. The kids were at recess. My car windows were open, I heard their laughter, squeals of joy. And then their screams of terror. "I was speeding. Under the influence, big time. I crashed through the playground fence. There was nothing I could do but watch in horror. The children scattered. But one boy just stood there...I couldn't react." He covered his eyes with his hands as if wanting to block out the memory. "A teacher threw herself at him, knocking him out of the way. "I hit her. She bounced onto the hood, then windshield. The thud, it " He squeezed his eyes shut, expression twisted with pain. "Miraculously, she wasn't killed. Just a couple broken ribs, lacerations...I thank God every day for that. "The fence and the tree I clipped had slowed my forward momentum. Still, if I'd hit that boy, I would have killed him." He looked at her then, eyes wet. "She came to see me. Me, the man who She forgave me, she said. She begged me to see the miracle I had been offered. To use it to change my life." Avery silently studied him. He had, she knew, without his saying so. The novel was part of that change. Coming back to Cypress Springs. Going back to move forward. "That boy, I wonder if he finds joy in the playground now. I wonder if any of them can. Do they wake up screaming? Do they relive the terror? I do. Not a day goes by I don't remember. That I don't see their faces, hear their screams." "I'm sorry, Hunter," she said softly. "I'm so sorry." "So you see, I'm both cliche and a cautionary tale. The drunk driver barreling into a schoolyard full of children, the one lawyers like me argue don't exist." He said the last with sarcasm, then continued, "I was charged with driving under the influence and reckless endangerment. The judge ordered me into a court-monitored detox program. Took away my license for two weeks. Slapped me with a ridiculously low fine and ordered me to serve a hundred hours of community service." If someone had been killed he would have been charged with vehicular homicide. He would have served time. Hunter was already serving time. "I haven't had a drink since," he finished. "I pray I never will again." She found his hand, curled her fingers around his. Moments ticked past. "Matt's still in love with you." She started to deny it, he stopped her. "It's true. He never stopped." "Why are you telling me this?" "I goaded him into losing control today, into throwing the first punch. The sick thing is, I took so much pleasure in doing it. In being able to do it. Perverse SOB, aren't I?" "You're not so bad." Her lips lifted slightly. "Not as bad as you think you are, not by a long shot." He turned his head, met her eyes. "Run, Avery. Go as fast as you can. I'm no good for you." "Maybe I should be the judge of that." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "That'd be risky. We both know you've never been that great a judge of character." "Is that so?" She sat up, feigning indignation. "Actually, I'm a pretty damn good judge of You're bleeding again." "Where?" He sat up, craning to see over his shoulder. "Here." She twisted to grab a couple of tissues from the box on her bed stand, then dabbed at the trickle of blood seeping from the bandage under his left shoulder blade. She remembered it had been the ugliest of the gashes. Avery climbed out of bed, dragging the sheet with her. Wrapping it around her, toga style. "I'll bet there are some heavy-duty bandages in Dad's bathroom." She wagged a finger at him. "Stay put." "Yes, Nurse Chauvin." Avery padded into the hallway, heading toward her parents' bed-room. The door stood open, giving her a clear view of the bed. She should make it, she thought. Or strip it. Seeing it like that, day after day, reminded her of the last night of her father's life. And in doing so, it reminded her of his death. The last night of his life. The unmade bed. Avery brought a hand to her mouth. Her dad had been in his pajamas. He had taken sleep medication. Obviously, he had either been asleep or had climbed into bed. Why put on his pj's if he meant to kill himself? Why climb into bed, under the covers? Only to get out, step into his slippers and head to the garage to kill himself? It didn't make sense to her. Even considering her father's state of mind as described by his friends and neighbors. She closed her eyes, thoughts racing, assembling another scenario. Her father in bed. Sleep aided by medication. Someone at the door. Ringing the bell or pounding. The coroner had found trace amounts of the drug Halcion in his bloodstream. She had taken a similar medication before, to help her sleep on international flights. She had been easily roused. The medication had simply relaxed her, aided her ability to sleep. Her dad had been a physician. Had spent his working life on call. Someone pounding on the door would have awakened him, even from a deep, medicated sleep. So he had climbed out of bed. Stepped into his slippers and headed down to the front door. Or side door. There the enemy had waited. In the guise of a friend, she thought. Someone he had recognized and trusted. So, he had opened the door. Avery realized she was shaking. Her heart racing. It hurt, but she kept building the scenario, fitting the pieces together. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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