Page 46 of Darkwater Lane (Stillhouse Lake #7)

GWEN

I’m standing in the kitchen, making my fourth cup of coffee for the morning and thinking about my conversation with Madison. Before I left, she asked me if I was glad all those men were dead—the ones that threatened me and my family.

I told her no and left it at that. But I still can’t get the question out of my head. I certainly haven’t felt any remorse at their death. If anything, knowing they’re gone is a huge relief. It means fewer threats against us.

But that answer leaves me unsettled. I don’t want to be the type of person who feels so little about the death of another human being. Isn’t that who Melvin Royal was at his core: someone who fully and completely devalued others’ existence?

I remember reading an article once where a professor of sociology explained that one of the first steps in any genocide is denying a population their humanity. You compare them to animals and vilify them. If you don’t see your adversary as a person, it’s easier to eradicate them.

No one could really argue that any of those murdered sickos were upstanding citizens. They were mean, small-minded, and perfectly willing to make my life a living hell. But it isn’t right to deny their humanity. If anything, I’m willing to bet their ugliness was actually borne of pain and abuse.

Melvin thought of his victims as walking meat for him to use. They were objects. Most people just take up space anyway, he’d once said. That’s what allowed him to murder them so viciously.

I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to think like him.

Lanny interrupts my thoughts before I can form any conclusions. “Mom?” she asks, shuffling into the kitchen. Her voice cracks, and I instantly forget about everything else and focus on her.

She stands barefoot in the doorway, still wearing her PJ pants and an old hoodie. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she’s been crying.

“I need to borrow the car.” She shifts from foot to foot with a sense of urgency.

I immediately straighten. Something’s clearly happened. “What’s going on?”

She bites her lower lip, hesitating.

That she doesn’t want to tell me is obvious. My first instinct is to pry, but I remind myself that I’m trying to change old habits. This is one of those moments I knew would come eventually—when I would have to let go and trust Lanny. But damn, it’s hard.

I blow out a breath. We have to start somewhere.

I figure my best bet is to be honest with her.

“I know you want me to trust you right now, Lanny, and give you the car keys without asking any questions. I get that. I really do. But please understand why that’s hard for me to do.

You’re upset. Something’s wrong. And that makes me worry you might not be in the best frame of mind to be making levelheaded decisions. ”

Tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she senses that I’m not letting her take the car. I hold up a hand.

“I promised you I would give you more independence, and I will. You can have the keys. All I ask in return is for you to take a second and really think about whether this is something you should be dealing with on your own or if you can let me help.”

I hold my breath, waiting and hoping she makes the right decision.

“It’s Florida Belldene. Something happened at their house—a fire or something like that. She said the police are there and the DEA, and all hell is breaking loose. She wants me to come get her.”

I swallow down the urge to wave my hands and shout: You were going to the fucking Belldene compound on your own during what sounds like a potential drug raid and abscond with one of their kids? Are you mad?!

Instead, I clear my throat and say as calmly as possible, “That sounds like a lot.”

Her lower lip trembles. “She needs my help, Mom. I’m the only one she trusts.” There’s an urgent desperation in her voice.

“I didn’t realize you and Florida were that close.”

Her cheeks flush. “Yeah, um... When I was down here with Sam last fall, we hung out. And we’ve sort of kept up with each other since. You know. Online and stuff.”

Suddenly, I put two and two together. “Sunshine state of mind,” I say. “Florida.”

Her eyes go wide and fill with panic. “Shit. You know about my Insta account? I know you’re against it, and I’m sorry. It’s just that?—”

I wave a hand. “Let’s not worry about that right now.” I stand. “I assume you’re okay if I drive?”

Lanny looks at me with wide eyes. “Really? You’ll take me?”

“Of course, I’m going to help you when you need it. That’s the way this trust thing works.”

She launches herself at me, grabbing me in a huge hug. “Thank you, Mom.”

I hold her for a moment, squeezing her tightly, grateful that she trusted me enough to ask for help and hoping like hell I don’t regret giving it to her.

While she runs to get dressed, I stop by Connor’s room. He’s still asleep. I consider waking him and making him come with us but then reconsider. It’s probably safer for him to stay here, and at fifteen, it’s not like he’s not used to being home alone.

I text him, letting him know Lanny and I are out and will be back in about an hour. Knowing him, we’ll be back before he’s even up.

Next, I swing by my bedroom, pulling on my shoulder holster, and grabbing my firearm from the lockbox in the bedside table. I try calling Sam, but it rolls to voicemail. With a growl of frustration, I check the location app. His phone is offline. Again.

I squeeze my eyes closed and curse under my breath. Where the hell is he?

I dash off a quick text.

Gwen

Where are you?? Call me!!

We’re in the car less than five minutes later, headed into the mountains.

The Belldenes own a significant amount of land, and it’s all crisscrossed with dirt roads and paths that don’t show on any map.

Florida texts Lanny directions to a small clearing deep in the woods by a stream.

As we drive deeper and deeper into the forest, a part of me wonders if I’m heading into a trap.

“You sure you trust Florida?” I ask Lanny. “You know how much her family hates ours. They could have put her up to this.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “She’s not like them. That’s one reason we get along so well. We’re both judged based on the criminals in our family.”

I swallow down the ache her answer causes in my chest.

Lanny looks out the window, her arms tightly crossed. “She’s the one who encouraged me to apply to all those schools. I didn’t think I even had a shot of getting in, but she did.”

And, just like that, any hesitation I had about Florida Belldene is gone.

I take a sharp turn onto a deeply rutted road barely wide enough to fit the SUV. As we bump over water breaks, I glance toward my daughter. “So, I guess it hasn’t been all bad moving back to Stillhouse Lake, huh?”

A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “No.”

I keep an eagle eye out as we approach the designated meeting place. Florida’s standing by a copse of trees at the edge of the clearing. When she sees us coming, she races toward us. Lanny launches out of the car before I’ve even fully stopped.

The two collide in a fierce hug.

Lanny presses her hand against Florida’s cheek. “You okay?”

Florida nods, her eyes glistening with tears. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Of course, I came,” she says simply. “You needed my help.”

That right there tells me so much about who my daughter is now and the woman she’s becoming. When someone needs help, she gives it. She’s generous and kind. The very opposite of her father. And I know right then that she’s escaped any reach he may have had.

The two of them clamber into the back seat, and I make a quick three-point turn before heading out in the direction we came.

“Thank you, Mrs. Proctor,” Florida says.

“It’s a madhouse back at the compound. I don’t know what started it, but a fire broke out in one of the outbuildings, and Daddy and them tried puttin’ it out on their own but it was too much.

Some of the trees caught, and then the Fire Department came.

Feds were right on their tail. Everyone ran, and I got scared. ”

I glance in the rearview mirror and note how tightly the two hold each other’s hands .

“Do your parents know where you are?”

She chews her lower lip. “No, ma’am. Not exactly.”

“Don’t you think they might be worried about you?”

She lets out a small laugh. “They’d probably be more worried to know I was with you, honestly. They’re not big fans of yours.”

“I gathered,” I say dryly.

“I overheard one of my cousins saying he thinks you might have been the one to set the fire and call in the raid.”

Awesome. Another reason for the Belldenes to hate me even more. That’s just what I need: another target on our backs. “Do we need to be worried?”

“Were you the ones to call the feds?”

“No. But when has the truth ever mattered?”

She shakes her head, her strawberry-blond ponytail falling over her shoulder. “They won’t do anything to hurt you so long as I’m around. They know better.”

I hope she’s right.

Sam calls shortly before dinner. “I got your message, what’s up?”

I’ve spent the day irritated as hell and I don’t do much to hide it. “Where have you been? I sent that text hours ago.”

“I’m at Joe’s house—he’s that veteran out on the other side of the mountain. I told you I’d be out of pocket with this job. The cell reception is shitty out here.”

I run a hand down my face. I vaguely remember him telling me that, but still, it doesn’t do much to lessen my frustration. “Are you on your way home?”

“That’s why I was calling. Some of the bolts I picked up for the toilet don’t fit, so I have to swing by a neighbor’s to root through his barn and see if he has something that might work.

I promised Joe I’d have this thing installed tonight, and I really don’t want to have to come all the way out here tomorrow if I can avoid it. ”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

I try to spend the evening focused on the kids.

After dinner, the three of us watch a movie together on the couch, and as much as I try to enjoy the quiet calmness of the evening and pay attention to the plot, I can’t.

Every sense is trained on the door, waiting for the sound of Sam’s tires crunching up the driveway.

It isn’t until the kids have gone to bed, and I’ve tried picking up a book only to reread the same page over and over again, that he returns. I check the time. It’s after midnight. I go to greet him and pull up short at the sight of him.

He’s covered in mud. His pants are soaked up to the knees, and flecks of dirt are splattered up his jacket and across his cheeks. They blend with the faded bruises that still ring one eye from his encounter with the police.

“What the hell happened?” I ask.

He startles at the question as if surprised to see me. He glances past me, noting that the kids aren’t around. “Gwen, I figured you’d be in bed.”

“I stayed up to wait for you. I was worried.”

He wipes at his face with the back of his arm, only managing to smear the mud more. I notice how exhausted he looks—the bags under his eyes, the shadowed hollows of his cheeks. “Sorry. You didn’t need to do that. Everything’s fine.”

I cross my arms and crook an eyebrow at the obvious understatement. “It doesn’t look fine.”

“I had a flat,” he says. “There was debris on one of the back roads and I got a nail in my tire when I tried to drive around it.”

There’s more than just a flat tire that’s weighing on him. “Are you okay?”

He shucks off his jacket and toes off his muddy boots, leaving both by the door.

“I’m just tired. I feel like the past several years have been spent lurching from one crisis to another.

My sister’s death, Melvin’s trial, Lancel Graham, Miranda Tidewell, Father Tom and the Assembly of Saints, Jonathan Watson, Leo Varrus.

I’m ready for it to end. I’m ready to turn the page and start a fresh chapter—preferably one that’s in a rom-com rather than a thriller. ” He attempts a smile.

I laugh, and the tension around his eyes eases somewhat. “How about you?” he asks. “How was your day?”

How in the world am I supposed to tell him that I spent a large part of it reminding myself that he’s not a serial killer like my ex-husband?

“Fine,” I tell him. I wince when I realize I sound like Connor.

“Actually, it wasn’t fine,” I amend. “It was pretty terrible. Rowan released a teaser for her next episode, where she basically accuses me of being a serial killer. I confronted Madison about it, thinking she might have double-crossed me and be back working with Rowan. She professed her innocence, though she did ask whether the cops had paid us a visit to talk to you.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up a hand to keep him from interrupting.

“Then, apparently, there was a fire at the Belldene compound that turned into some sort of massive raid by the feds. Lanny asked me to help her rescue Florida—they’re an item, by the way.

Have been for a while. Florida’s staying with us for now—she’s on an air mattress on the floor in Lanny’s room.

There’s a manhunt for the rest of her family, and I’ve already called Claudia to see if she or another lawyer in her office can represent Florida.

“So, yeah. My day was fine.”

He blinks at me, then sinks onto the couch. “Damn. I missed a lot.”

I laugh. “Yeah, you missed a lot.”

He considers everything I told him for a moment. “The Belldenes, huh? Guess that should take them out of commission for a while. Maybe distract them from coming after us. So that’s good.”

“For now. Apparently, there’s a rumor that we’re the ones who tipped off the authorities and caused the raid.”

He lets his head fall onto the back of the couch. “Shit.”

I nod. “Exactly.” I frown at him, remembering his rage the night of the swatting and his pledge to find a way to put an end to the Belldenes threatening us. “We’re not the ones who tipped off the authorities, right?”

His eyebrows raise. “You think I called the feds on the Belldenes?”

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe.”

“That doesn’t bode well for my defense against all the Sicko Patrol murders if I can’t even convince my own partner of my innocence.”

I notice he doesn’t deny it. I decide not to pry. Maybe there are some things I don’t want to know.