My Darkest Rose

Chapter 24

All the Way Down

Jackies lined the steps outside the jail when Jack was released. He barely saw them, barely heard their cheers of joy at his redemption in the press. It wasn't public knowledge yet that his sister had died.

Anderson, Jack's lawyer, drove him to Mandy's house.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," Anderson said as they drove out of the parking lot. "They'll find who did this. And you'll never have to face that shithead detective again."

But of course Jack knew what killed Fauna, and it wasn't someone the detective would ever find. It lived in Moonwood Forest. It was a shadow. It thrived on his fear. But all he felt now was sorrow. He hoped it was starving.

"Andrea asked me to tell you she would drive down and get you, if you want. When you're ready."

Jack said, "OK," because that was the only thing he could say. He couldn't tell Anderson what he planned to do. He couldn't tell anyone. Because they would stop him. And Jack was determined that this time, nothing would stop him from returning to Moonwood, least of all his own fear.

Fear had left him the moment he was told of Fauna's death. He'd heard it from another man in jail, read it as a headline in the newspaper. WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN MOONWOOD POND, JACK CHANNING CLEARED.

Now there was only stillness in him, no waves or currents of fear, not even a ripple of trepidation.

No one was at Mandy's when they arrived. It seemed fitting, he thought. Anderson didn't want to leave him alone, but Jack insisted he would be OK. There was nothing for him to do now. There was no one to call except his agent, and she could wait.

He walked back to the guest bedroom where someone had placed a pile of clean clothes and his phone. He closed the door and laid down on the bed. Before long, the stillness that had come with shock, began to stir. At first, it was just a hitch in his breath, but the feeling grew and grew. He shoved a corner of the blanket in his mouth to muffle the sound of his crying, and wept harder than he ever had before.

Harder than when his mom died, or Rose. He cried until he made himself sick and then cried some more.

When the crying ceased, sometime after the sun had set, he heard Mandy's voice through the door.

"Jack? Can I get you anything?"

It felt hard to open his mouth, to form an answer in his mind and then vocalize it. "No," he managed.

Later, he heard Anderson. He said goodbye through the door, that he would continue to work his case from Chicago and return the moment he was needed. And that he was sorry, so sorry for what happened to Fauna.

Someone would answer for her death, he promised.

But how could they?

It's my fault. All of it.

He waited for the house to quiet before leaving the room. Mandy had gone to bed and left him a plate of food on the kitchen table. He tried to eat, but he had no desire for food. His body seemed on permanent pause.

He slipped his phone in his pocket. He hadn't turned in on yet. Who knew what messages awaited him that he wasn't ready to hear.

He picked up his wallet, checked to make sure there was still a twenty inside, and left the house.

The night was clear and warm. It was only a few miles to his house, and walking seemed a good way to get his bearings.

After about a mile he could see the green glow of a gas station light up ahead. There was only one car there. A small, white Mazda with Illinois plates. A man stood next to the pump, staring.