Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 85
The deep gouge is still there, a subtle line marking the moment the ghost revealed itself. It might just stay there, because as horrible as some memories are, they still shouldn’t be forgotten. Colson sits next to me on the loveseat, my legs stretched across his lap while he plants one of his boots straight ahead on the railing of the front porch. And, this time, he’s not preventing me from leaving.
I’ll never leave, because this is my home—he is my home.
His head rests on the back of the cushion, eyes closed, stroking the top of my thigh back and forth like a metronome. I’m almost finished reading the latest article about the tiny Midwestern towns covered in goldenrod and petunias that unwittingly gave birth to this trail of carnage. I’m sure social media is going off the rails, but I’m maintaining my blackout in favor of local journalism—and my sanity. It’ll be there when I return. For now, Barrett sends me updates she knows I’ll appreciate and counts down the days until my due date when she’ll come stay for a week.
Eventually, the events surrounding all of us will be picked apart and analyzed—the parts we let people know, anyway. In true irony, my story will become someone else’s addiction and inspiration. I wonder what they’ll name our episode of Dateline, 48 Hours, or the top true crime podcast of the month…
My mom calls almost every day to see how I’m feeling and if I need anything. She’s still on edge and I think it bothers her that she’s not closer. But none of this happened because she and my dad live on another continent. My mom is grateful I’m alive, but what of Bowen’s mother? What does Leona think about what Bowen’s done…or Hildy? Maybe she’s in denial, and I wouldn’t blame her.
God, hormones are wild…
Bowen’s face stares back at me from my screen; wide, beautiful smile, and haunting dark eyes that no one knows the depth of. Not even him. I looked up into his eyes and watched them dim as the blood drained out along with all his rage. Maybe he took some of it with him wherever he is now.
Hateful bones searching for something he’ll never find…
But where the Internet pulled a photo of Bowen’s beaming but dead inside face, it wasn’t as kind to Jay Rhinehardt, his brother, Wells, and father, Jimmy, as well as the rest of the Canaan Police Department. In a subsequent article written by Sydney Van Doren, a video is embedded that captures the moment the FBI raided the police department and took about half its police force into custody.
Sydney will write more articles, sit for interviews, continue podcasting with Tyler, and probably write a book about what happened, while Jay laments all the poor choices that led him to this point. Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of his wife, Hildy, who is politely referred to as a “person of interest” after investigators tore up the concrete in their barn and recovered a duffel bag containing the remains of Emily Fox. I’d say that Hildy’s lamenting her choices, too, but like she told me in her backyard last year, she shares DNA with Bowen, which makes that highly unlikely.
Every day, more details will come out, and every day, the world will find out what depravity can lie beneath the thin veneer of smalltown USA. But other things we will keep to ourselves, things that which the world is better off not knowing. But we know. And that’s what matters.
Alex’s white Raptor rolls up the driveway, followed by a black Range Rover and red Jeep Wrangler crunching in the gravel as all comes to a stop in front of our house. I close the news article and toss my phone onto the cushion as I stand up. Colson’s eyes are still closed, so I cup his face and lean over him. His lips tense against mine and he kisses me back, his eyes still closed like he’s in a dream.
“I’m going to marry you,” I whisper over his lips.
His aquamarine eyes fly open as I straighten up and he keeps them trained on me as I head toward the steps. He looks down at his hand, at the solid black band tattooed around his ring finger. Even if I wasn’t going to wear a ring, he was.
“Since when?” he calls after me as I descend the steps.
“Since we both won,” I call back over my shoulder, leaving him in shock on the front porch.
Maybe it’s macabre, some might say unhinged, but we all have our reasons for doing what we do. Colson can function with low-key rage in the background, but he knows I can’t. He knows I need neat little boxes. I need one for me, him, and the family we’ve created without worrying that it’ll be set on fire one night with all of us inside. I needed to start a new chapter. And, in this case, starting a new chapter meant destroying the entire book—again.
“Well, if it isn’t the Tomb Raider herself…” I stroll toward the truck, beaming at Dallas’s thick black hair pulled up on the top of her head and her immaculate cat eyes even in the heat of the summer.
“The town is in shambles!” Dallas cries, throwing her arm in the air dramatically, “A grand conspiracy by the socialists to dismantle law and order in peaceful smalltown America!” she wails before breaking into giggles.
I cast a glance over her shoulder to Sydney as she slams the passenger side door of the Range Rover, “Congratulations on taking down an entire law enforcement agency,” I flash her a grin, “I saw the video. It was pretty sweet.”
“It was utterly exhausting,” Sydney sighs, stretching her arms above her head, “which is why I’ve booked a spa day for the four of us tomorrow.”
“Really?” Tyler squeals as she steps out of the Wrangler, “That’s great, my nails are a mess…”
“I wonder why…” Aiden quips as he rounds the front of the Range Rover.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she turns up her nose at him smugly.
“I think he’s jealous,” Mason calls to her as he slams the driver’s side door of the Wrangler.
“Jealous of her man and his fleet of private jets,” Aiden drawls salaciously as he gives Mason a once-over. “When are you going to let me fly one of those, or do I have to let you fuck me in the cockpit first?”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Alex chuckles.
“Did you forget?” Aiden turns to Alex, “I’ve been disowned—well, half disowned…kind of. Regardless, I have to make my own dirty money now.”
“Poor baby…” Alex coos with a roll of his eyes.
Dallas shakes her head with irritation, “These boys…” she murmurs, reaching into the truck and grabbing a few grocery bags.
“You know, it’s no wonder you like Lara Croft so much,” I plant my hands on my hips, “why limit yourself to Dragon Con when you can dismantle the establishment one video game campaign at a time?”
“Angelínaaa…” Alex calls softly as he trots around the front of the Raptor.
Dallas whips her head around, “Don’t even start,” she shoots him a look over the hood of the truck, and as soon as she does, there’s a subtle movement in the corner of his mouth.
Angelina? Angel? No, Angelina’s a name…
Watching them together is fascinating in ways I never noticed before. Alex is like granite; patient, stoic, and immovable. But Dallas is the exact opposite; her face has a million expressions, her big dark eyes constantly moving, searching like she wants to see everything in the universe. I wonder if both of them were always this way, or if they used to be different. Was Alex always so serious? Did Dallas’s zeal for life ever falter? Or did Colson carry the burden of loss for everyone?
But I get it. Sometimes you don’t even need to speak, because sometimes you find someone who can carry on a conversation with their own secret language.
Dallas envelopes me in a tight hug and then pulls back, squeezing my shoulders, “How are you feeling?” her face falls and she exhales, gazing down at my ever-growing belly, “I still feel terrible. I could’ve done more, I could’ve—”
“Stop,” I cut her off, she’s already done this too many times, “you did what you were supposed to do—what I asked you to do. And we’re all still here.”
“Where’s Serg?” Alex nods to Colson as he walks up behind me.
“Picking up more supplies,” Colson stretches his arms behind his head with a yawn, “he said something about pretty colors and loud noises.”
“Shit,” Alex sighs as he gazes across the grass toward the forest.
“Ray Marcum, the fire chief, is coming,” Colson waggles his eyebrows with excitement, “said he has a fresh batch of rookies in need of more training. I told him we’d oblige him.”
Colson did at least agree to that. I’m not about to be responsible for a wildfire just because they want a good show. Ray brought out his crew the other day to clear a radius around the structure so it won’t catch the rest of the trees on fire. But it’s still summer, so we have to do it now. The closer it gets to fall, the more dangerous it gets out here.
“They better prepare for disappointment,” Alex pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and looks away wistfully, “we have beer for them, but no extra women.”
Dallas rolls her eyes, “Oh yeah, what a bummer.”
“You think our parties now could be just as wild as the ones back in the day?” Mason asks Colson with a glint in his eye.
“Sure,” Colson muses, “ride around in the back of your truck, get wasted, throw some bows…” he smiles impishly.
Alex scoffs with a shake of his head, “We were just kids…” he pauses in thought, “I never imagined this is where I’d end up, after all this time…with you of all people,” he smirks.
Alex isn’t the only one who can’t believe this is where he ended up…with Colson, of all people. But it’s no coincidence we all ended up back in the woods—why this had to end back in the woods. The forest is a place of rebirth just as much as it is a place of death. You go on a walk, disappear, nature claims you, the animals prey on you, the scavengers steal your bones, the earth absorbs you, and new life grows. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Wrong place, wrong time…
Or is it? Because I have plenty of my own secrets, too.
I told the sheriff’s office and the FBI the truth about what happened that day, about how I saw Bowen at my window, and then later he appeared in my house, seeking retribution for yet another woman’s slight against him. They know what happened in Canaan that one night after I came home from a bike ride. They know how I ran and hid, and ran some more until Colson brought me to this hideaway at the base of the Rockies. They know I wrote a book about what happened, and how it took on a life of its own.
What they don’t know is that I knew Bowen was watching. I knew I’d get his attention eventually, just like I knew he and his latest pawn-turned-girlfriend, Valerie Marston, would come running as soon as Dallas leaked my restraining order and posted his face all over the Internet.
Like blood in the water.
Law enforcement knows that Valerie followed my every move on social media and then rammed into the back of my 4Runner with my old Tahoe after she found out where I’d be for the Spice Ghouls interview with Tyler. But they don’t know that I already knew what she was up to, and that I pretended my car wouldn’t start just so I could get closer to her and start to get under her skin.
They know that Valerie offered to take me to and from the car dealership so she could find out where I lived. But they don’t know that I made sure she’d keep coming back for more, starving for all the breadcrumbs I was feeding her to draw them both further into my world.
And it is my world.
They don’t know that when I invited Valerie into my house, I was really inviting Bowen. They don’t know that Colson stayed on the slope of the mountain for days, watching and waiting for him to come. They don’t know that Dallas and Alex watched closely from across the valley. They don’t know that we were the pack of werewolves in the woods, drawing them out and surrounding our prey.
They don’t know that there were others, 1,400 miles away, doing their own bidding for their own reasons, their eyes dead set on vengeance.
They don’t know that Bowen’s demise was predetermined as soon as I typed the words, The End. The only question was how exactly it would go down.
Lying by omission is still lying, Brett…
Maybe. Or maybe not.
But this time, when the deputies and agents left my hospital room, they smiled their sweet smiles, told me to feel better, and told Colson they’d see him soon. And they will—at work, off-duty, working a side gig, at the bars down in Gunnison, at his dad’s house on the outskirts of town, and at our house, lounging on the deck in the sun or hidden behind a deer blind in the forest.
Because now we have people, too.
I could’ve taken the shot earlier. I could’ve ended it sooner. But the brain is a bitch, and she still likes to play games even after you think you’ve won.
Back in college, before I knew Colson and he knew me, years before I knew Bowen existed, I sat in an auditorium, listening to my epidemiology professor talk about AIDS. She explained that it’s so difficult to develop a cure for AIDS because the virus learns how to evade treatment. It’s practically sentient in its ability to recognize a threat, retreat to a different part of the body, and essentially hide out until the threat passes. Then, it comes back out and resumes its assault.
It was one of the most frightening things I’d ever heard. But that’s what trauma does. Our brains can protect us with blackouts and repression, but it still hangs onto the things that hurt us the most. It hides the memories deep inside, and reveals the snapshots when we threaten to step out of line.
I’ve seen Bowen every day since I fled that house. My brain won’t let me forget him, no matter how hard I try. That’s why I had to make sure he was actually here, on my property, in front of my eyes. Because you can’t kill ghosts with bullets or knives.
I had to draw him out into the light, tempt him with his unfinished business, and mine, too. Because only when ghosts are revealed does the real fun begin. He’s not the boogeyman. He’s not a ghoul or a phantom or a shadow in the darkness. He’s flesh and bones. He’s your friend, your husband, your brother, your boyfriend, your father…
He has a heart, and many have loved him, but he only loves himself. He’ll never know what loving good feels like, or what it’s like to be part of something bigger than himself; that love that makes you lay down your life for someone else or that all-encompassing love that tears you apart at the seams.
Colson might’ve started out whole, only to be beaten down and bent by tragedy and guilt, but his hollowed-out heart made room for me. The demon will never have a chance to reveal himself again because I walk with nightmares like Colson, and I’d rather sit in the darkness with him than wake up without him.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
Colson
Two Weeks Later
Sergei finally shows up with his bags full of enough explosives to turn the mountain into a pyrotechnic hellscape, which Ray Marcum may or may not be excited about. But I promised him a show, so he knew what this was.
“Where’s the fire brigade?” Sergei takes a long drag off his cigarette and blows it off the deck.
I hop up onto the railing and swing my legs back and forth, tapping the boards with my heels, “They cleared an access point from one of the existing fire roads. They’re probably up there right now.”
Sergei nods approvingly and gazes through the kitchen window at Brett, Dallas, Alex, Sydney, Aiden, Tyler, and Mason as they clean up the kitchen and finish packing supplies into backpacks and duffel bags for the trek through the woods.
I cast a glance at him, “Today, she finally said she’d marry me.”
Sergei’s mouth falls open in shock and he swivels his head around. That is, if Sergei could ever be shocked, “My friend…” he holds out his fist and I reach over to bump it, “how many times did you ask?”
“212,” I reply with a shrug, “but she wasn’t going to say yes until all of this was over and done.”
“You’re a far more patient man than I am,” Sergei leans back in one of the Adirondak chairs, Pony laying at his feet staring off the deck, “one shot,” he holds up his index finger sharply.
He’s right, I am a patient man. But it never mattered whether Brett would marry me or not. She’s still mine, and I’m hers. Just like oceans don’t need gowns and pure mountain springs don’t need rings, neither do we, because you can’t dress this kind of love in worldly possessions. It is, by design, divine and perfect and complete.
“It wasn’t my decision. Things happened the way they happened for a reason,” I say with a pause, “chess, not checkers.”
Sergei gives an irritated groan. Despite his own advice, he doesn’t like long, drawn-out processes, which is interesting because I met him at a time when our job was just one long, drawn-out process; sitting in the snow waiting for nothing for weeks on end. He’s the one who finally snapped me out of whatever the hell was eating away at my brain, and just in time.
But there’s no time to dwell on it. Brett’s alive, our baby’s alive, and now Brett can live her life without the threat of one of her characters jumping off the page and trying to murder her for spilling his secrets. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat, except I wouldn’t let her leave the first time.
“Besides, if I didn’t drag you into all this, you wouldn’t have such a sweet setup down here,” I remind him.
Sergei takes another drag of his cigarette and gazes up at the stars beginning to show above the trees, “This is true. I would do anything for you, Alex, and the girls…you’re family,” his voice softens, but only for a moment, “but your sister’s a pain in my ass,” he bites out through his thick accent.
“Which one?” I don’t make eye contact at first, but when I do, Sergei is glaring at me through hooded eyes.
“The little one,” he mutters, smashing out his cigarette and tucking the butt into his pocket to throw away later.
I raise my chin up with a grin, “But you love her.”
“Who wouldn’t?” he says with indignance, “She’s like a leopard—staying in the shadows, learning, but when she strikes, it’s fast and lethal. The most dangerous kind of woman…” he speaks about Dallas with a mixture of admiration and fear, like she’s a siren who jumps out of the water to snatch unsuspecting men to drag down and devour beneath the ocean.
