Page 169 of Jensen

Her voice goes soft and sad.

“I promise I’m not here to hurt him,” I say. “Just tell me where he is.”

She chews her lip. “Alright, he’s down at Masterhill Station. Took his dog to shoot some ducks for a dinner he’s got going on tonight.”

“Thank you,” I say, putting my hat back on. “You have a good day, ma’am.”

She wraps her arms around herself as a chilly breeze sweeps down the road. “He’s not…the same. Not since she’s gone.”

“I know,” I say. “I didn’t think he would be.”

I cross the street, heading to the rental car. Her eyes follow me beneath knitted brows as I get in and pull out onto the street. Everything feels different, grimmer, like the city is hunkering down for the winter. I wonder what Brothers did when Kayleigh died. I have a pretty good idea he became a darker, more powerful version of himself. That can’t be good.

The road takes me out to horse country. It’s golden, the trees rustling. The black tar road winds, cutting through the hills. After a while, I come up on the turn off for the hunting area of the Station. Parked in the gravel is a white SUV. It’s not the same one he was driving before, but I can tell it’s his by the darkened windows.

I park, getting out. The temperature is dropping, so I pull my Carhartt from the car. Then, slowly, because I still don’t know what to say when I find him, I climb the ridge and look down the hill. Below stretches a green-brown field with a pond at the center.

There he is, at the edge of the rushes. A lone figure in a plaid suit stands with his hands in his pockets. It’s been a month and two weeks since we last spoke, but it feels like years. Decades, even.

I start walking, striding through the grass. He doesn’t look up until I’m almost upon him. Then, he turns to glance at me, his face not changing. An open shotgun hangs in the crook of his arm. Pulling up beside him, I look out over the pond, unable to face him head on.

Nobody speaks.

Finally, I clear my throat. “Sorry about Kayleigh.”

His jaw flexes. “Which part, Jen?”

“Well, she died,” I say.

He smiles, face creasing. “No, she didn’t. She took everything in the Caudill accounts—after I slaughtered her whole family—and left. Dumped me harder than I’ve ever been dumped. Actually, I don’t know if I have been dumped before now. I think she was a first.”

A wave of relief moves over me. Della is going to be in happy tears when I tell her. She’s been so cut up for the last few weeks over Kayleigh. I start to say that, then shut the hell up at the expressionon his face. His jaw is set, he’s got a beard now, and his eyes are overcast.

“How was she still alive?” I say finally.

“Bullet missed her heart by an inch. I killed every person in that house, brought her to the hospital, and went back to kill the rest. Her family is gone. There was blood in the street. When she woke up, we were done.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He turns. “Don’t be. I got everything I wanted.”

The edges of his face, the corners of his eyes, are made of stone. He might have gotten everything he wanted, but I think he lost what he needed.

“Why are you here, Jen?” he says.

“Della thought Kayleigh was dead. She asked me to come back.”

“Well, she’s not.”

“And I came to forgive you,” I say, the words coming out on accident.

There it is—a hint of softness. He turns, whistling sharply. An Irish Setter jumps from the rushes and comes running. Brothers pats it on the head, giving it a treat from his pocket. Then, he puts his hat on, a plaid newsboy cap I haven’t seen him wear in decades, and starts climbing the hill. I go after him, keeping pace at his side.

“You said we were even,” he says.

“Even’s not the same as forgiven.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”