Page 134 of The Lie Maker

She kept pulling on his arm. “You have to come!”

Michael raised his voice. “Go! Go!”

Lana hesitated for two more seconds, decided to do as ordered, and ran. Michael watched until the dark enveloped her, then made his way to the cabin.

He mounted the two steps to the porch, gun in hand, and stepped through the open doorway. Gwen was on the floor shrieking, on her side, hands on her face. The gun she had dropped had landed a couple of feet away from her associate, who lay unmoving on the floor in a broadening puddle of his own blood.

Michael said, “Hang on.”

He stepped around her, and the blood, went to the kitchen sink, and tucked his gun into his jacket pocket. He found a pot in a cupboard, filled it with water from the tap, and carried it by the handle back to Gwen.

“Get onto your back and try to open your eyes,” he said. “I’m going to pour water over them. Probably going to feel awful, but there you go.”

“Cayden?” she said, unable to see.

Michael wasn’t sure whether she was confused about who he was, or asking what had happened to him.

“Here comes the water,” he said.

He poured the liquid over her eyes. She blinked furiously, her body tensed. Some water trickled into her throat and she went into a coughing fit.

“Sit up,” Michael said, and got his arm under her back to raise her.

She opened her eyes long enough to get a look at him. “Why?” she asked.

“Because we had a deal,” he said. “Lana’s free.”

Gwen turned her head, looked at Cayden. “How did she...”

“I don’t know. She seems pretty resourceful.”

“It’s stinging,” she said.

He poured more water over her eyes. She blinked several more times and tried to focus.

“He was dying and they wouldn’t let me see him,” she said. “He didn’t even hear me say goodbye.”

“That must have been awful,” Michael said.

In the distance, the faint sound of sirens.

Gwen was now sitting without help from Michael, so he reached into his jacket and brought out his gun. Gwen’s had landed too far away to reach conveniently.

“Here,” he said, putting the gun into her right hand and wrapping her fingers around it. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“I don’t blame you. If it gives you any comfort at all, it’ll be worth it.”

He guided her hand so that the barrel of the gun was touching his chest.

“I won’t feel a thing,” he whispered.

Seventy-Two

Jack

I couldn’t believe it when I saw her running toward me.