The Edge

Chapter 21

How long had I lain here in the dirt, bruised, battered and basically carved up? Long enough that the shock of the encounter was wearing thin. Long enough for the tingling numbness in my limbs to blossom into pain. I watch the slow, reassuring rise and fall of my brother's diaphragm. I staunchly avoid studying the smear of brain matter splashed across the crevice wall like a grisly caveman painting.

I'm so caught up in my scrutiny of Wes, so vehement in my refusal to see the pile of human remains I've created, that I fail to notice the new presence looming overhead. A faint odor of cigarette smoke draws my attention back to my present circumstances. Dominic Hathaway hovers above me, regarding my conundrum. A shotgun is slung over his shoulder. His booted feet gently nudge the smaller gun out of my grasp and send it spinning out of reach. I watch it skitter across the dirt into the shadows.

"You seem to have parted that boy from his brains. Not that he had much up there to begin with."

"That's my job," I croak. "Shaping the minds of the youth." Into gruesome blobs of meat, in this case.

"Decent of you to handle that nasty business. Oh, you went and dug up the evidence too. Nice." He shuffles to the pile of clothing and picks through the garments, whistling as he does so. Several of the articles are stuffed into small bag he's brought along.

I painfully push myself onto my elbows to watch him rifle through the material. "I don't suppose you're here to rescue me."

Dominic retrieves the knife from Austin's lax grip, but leaves half of the items untouched. He then returns to my side. "Aw, what makes you say that?"

"Maybe it's the way you're absconding with evidence. And your failure to call 911." Not there's any signal out here.

"I'm just helping out a good friend. See this knife? This is what my boy Luke used on the Temple woman. He doesn't need that coming back to haunt him, does he? I'm getting rid of the clothes too, but I'll leave Hannah's for the police."

"That's thoughtful of you."

"Isn't it?" He turns pensive. "I could help you too. I'd earn some good press saving your ass."

Could he be that stupid? Please be that stupid. "I find that to be an extremely agreeable proposition."

He pretends to consider it. "I'd rather avoid press entirely, though."

Silence stretches before us until a soft groan rumbles through the lull. We both cast our gazes towards Wes, still lying prone and helpless.

I find I'm not above begging for my sibling's life. "Please, don't hurt my brother."

He throws a casual glance toward's Wes's prostrate form. "If it makes you feel any better, I'd rather not. But...we'll see. Any other requests?"

A strange languor floods my body as I accept the reality of the situation. I'm weak from my brawl with Austin; I won't be able to fight off a second attacker. Of course, I'll sure try to. "Spare the dog," I demand. "Also, I was hoping to forgo any...um...assault of a sexual nature."

"You're a demanding little thing. Don't worry – I don't intend to deposit or depart with any physical evidence. Besides, I like my girls whole, not in fillets." He prods at me again with the toe of his boot. "Are we sure you're not actively dying?"

"Sorry for the inconvenience. Guess you'll have to get your hands dirty again." Bring it.

"I've never raped anybody, by the way," he says. "Kind of the other way around, wasn't it? Statutory."

"So the story you told me was the truth. About how Rebecca confronted Paige. But it was your relationship she was threatening."

"I didn't plan to hurt her. If just kind of...happened. I took her clothes because I was afraid I'd leave traces of myself behind. Hair or blood or something. But I'm not a perv like Parker over there."