Page 68 of Behind These Four Walls

“They didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said, almost pleading. “We were supposed to just talk, and Bennett was supposed to meet us. Talk, that’s all. But then ... everything went wrong.”

They came upon the old Abbott barn, its weathered exterior looming and ghostly. It was a thing of horror movies. Isla gave James a worried look. She hoped they wouldn’t have to go in there. The barn was leaning dangerously, as if it could collapse at any moment.

“It happened in there.”

Shit.

Inside, the barn smelled of rot and decay. She followed James to the center, his steps as hesitant as his retelling.

“She was so angry. I’d never seen her this way. But Danny was so damn cocky. He was trying to scare her, you know? Me and Rog, we tried to get in between them. Keep them apart. But Edie kept saying we needed to tell the truth, over and over,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He gestured wildly as he spoke, reenacting the events of that night. “She was yelling at us, saying she’d go to the police if Bennett didn’t get here quick and bring the money. She and Danny struggled, and he pushed her off him. And she fell backward.”

He took several steps to a large window with almost all its glass gone. “She fell on the glass. There was so much blood.”

Isla wanted to throw up, imagining the last moments, the fear, that Eden had experienced. “Then what?”

“She wasn’t dead,” James said quickly, as if absolving himself, his voice full of hope. “Bennett got here, and we went out to tell him what happened, but when we came back, she was gone. We searched everywhere. She made it out!”

There was a crash near where they stood and then an explosion as a lantern ignited the dry hay and the fire began to spread all around them.

“James,” she said at the moment he seemed to comprehend they were in trouble. He grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the back.

Flames licked high to the second floor, eating hungrily at the dried and rotting wood. Smoke filled the room quickly. Isla’s eyes stung, burned. She began coughing, choking. She couldn’t see her way out, but James had her arm firmly. He tugged, and she followed.

“Move!” James shouted, pulling Isla toward a ragged hole in the back, the front totally engulfed, the fire roaring wildly, the heat so intense.

James pushed her through the hole, and she turned to help him out. Together, they stumbled away from the barn, coughing and disoriented. They managed to make it back to his truck, and through tears, James pointed. Another set of tires had been there.

“There’s no way they’re getting away with it this time. I swear.” It was the most strongly she’d ever heard him speak. He was determined.She barely had time to jump in the passenger seat before James reversed, stopped hard—shoving her backward—and made a turn, then raced back down the tiny path they’d come up. The barn groaned ominously as the fire consumed it, licking to the sky. She just managed to put on her seat belt. She looked back and watched as the barn grew smaller and collapsed within itself.

“What if it’s her?” James asked frantically, wiping at his still-tearing eyes. “She burned the farm where we hurt her.”

“James, that can’t be.”

The truck careened down the narrow dirt path, James gripping the wheel with shaking hands.

“I can feel it. I can feel her.”

He was losing it. She had no way to calm him. She pleaded for him to slow down. Watch out. She didn’t want to go over.

Isla glanced through the front window, the two red lights of another truck appearing. “It couldn’t be ...”

James squinted. “That’s—that’s Danny. The bastard.”

Isla’s heart leaped into her throat.

“He wants to do this. This time I’m not backing down.” James switched off his headlights, and pitch black swallowed them whole.

Isla was growing frantic. It was a dream, a bad dream. They roared behind the other vehicle, hitting all the rocks and branches the other truck kicked up in its wake. “What are you doing? Turn the lights back on!”

Danny’s truck turned down another road, disappearing in the darkness. James reached the turn and followed, slowing only slightly to follow suit. Were they on the main road? Isla tried to recall where, on their way up, she had noticed the sharp curve, creeped out then at the thought of having to take such a precarious turn on their way back. Now they had to be charging toward it.

Then, suddenly, opposite them, lights flashed on, high beams blinding.

“James, turn!” Isla shouted.

He didn’t listen. The two vehicles were now heading toward each other. James grit his teeth, leaning forward and gripping the wheel tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. They were getting closer. “It was our fault. All of it. This. This was where it happened.”