Where It Ends

| 18 | Where It Ends

Why did I say that?

Off the top of my head and under such pressure and emotional strain, it was the only thing I could come up with to somehow relay to her, this is an act. I'm not going anywhere. I will get help.

I wish I could say it was nice knowing ya.

It was how she ended our first conversation at Saddlebrook's. Without a word out of place, I will never forget it.

I wanted to prove that she was heard and felt all throughout this debacle. But, if she didn't have the same recollection, I became the monster they were accusing me of being.

What else was I supposed to say?

I don't know.

What else was I supposed to do?

I'm off the property, so I suppose things could have gone a lot worse, like Bradford Ellis worse. It's no wonder Quinn nudged me when I said I'd stay. I probably would have earned myself a bullet within the hour. And what use would I have been to them, then?

I did dip into the nearest town a bit earlier in case anyone checked and because I needed some signal strength to call the local cops. I told them they're holding people against their will, there is evidence of abuse, and that someone might be dead. In response, they seemed to read something from a cue card. It's an ongoing investigation. Bullshit like that. They gave me the number of some FBI guy, who, of course, didn't answer his phone at this time of night. I left a strongly worded voicemail, and returned to that long, isolated dirt road, stopping just shy of rifle range. I've been sitting in my truck ever since.

Sitting is not the right word. Unraveling is more like it.

Annette was more spiteful than I remember, but it pains me to admit, she was not wrong. Not entirely. I was going to tell Taryn, someday, that I feel responsible for her father's death, but, you know . . . when would it ever be the right time?

It's not just the negligence but the context of that negligence. It's not forgivable, especially in light of everything that's happened since.

Hours go by. And nothing. No help. No progress.

The despair and exhaustion are getting the better of me when there's a tap on my window. It startles me more than it should.

Taryn is peeking in, one hand over her eyes.

When she wants out, she gets out!

I had considered that, but with all those guns, this possibility scared the crap out of me.

In her other arm, she has Quinn balancing there on one foot. Considering the distance and circumstances, they're in surprisingly good spirits.

I help Quinn get situated in the back, and then we make the loud, victorious U-turn out of there.

"I didn't believe her," Quinn utters, all song-like.

"Believe what?" I hit Quinn's gaze in the mirror and then glance at Taryn, who side-eyes me back with that spark of rebelliousness.

"That you'd still be here," Taryn answers.

"Did you really think I'd leave you there?" I ask Quinn. "I find that offensive."

"Those final words, though. Damn, Grady. That was cold. I got a chill to the bone!"

Taryn and I exchange a look of mutual understanding. "Yeah, you and me both."