The door is hanging open, exactly as I left it. You’d never know anything out of the ordinary happened here, or that this place had been crawling with law enforcement. Neither of us have been up here since it happened. Not since I carried Brett back down. The barn is still decaying, missing boards, growing a thin film of moss, still a tired pile of lumber in the middle of the forest.
Ray raises his hand from across the clearing and I give him a nod as we climb off the quads. No surprise, Sergei is already making his way to Ray, boasting about whatever he has stashed in his duffel bag. I’m still 50/50 whether Ray will go along with it.
Dallas tilts her head, gazing at the barn, “I’m going to go in, want to come?” she asks Alex, who gives a nod and starts following her further into the clearing.
Tyler glances at Sydney as she starts to follow Mason toward the barn, but Sydney gives a shake of her head, “You all go,” she sighs, settling back against Aiden’s chest as he wraps his arms around her, “I’ve seen enough for now.”
“I don’t think there’s anything left inside,” I say to Brett as I step past her, “but I’ll do a final check and be right back.”
“No,” Brett says thoughtfully, “I’ll go,” and to my surprise, she takes my hand and follows me across the patches of dirt.
The floorboards groan as we file into the musty space, long ago abandoned and all but forgotten. I suppose it did serve one more purpose before collapsing in exhaustion. Birds chirp in the trees through the missing roof slats as we wander around the perimeter, around the beams broken loose and littering the floor. The rest of the roof looks stable, but we shouldn’t hang out too long.
Soon, the six of us gravitate to the north wall and come to a halt around the massive blood stain, turned dark brown after soaking into the floorboards. I didn’t think I would end up here, like Alex said. I don’t know where I expected to end up, but I sure as hell didn’t think it would be back in Gunnison, staring at Bowen Garrison’s dried blood on my barn floor.
Glancing to my left, I notice Brett staring down at the stain intently, her body completely still. She stays that way for over a minute, not moving, while the others gaze through the gaping holes in the roof and then back down to the floor. But her eyes scan the dark blots like she’s replaying the entire ordeal over in her head.
“Hey, you alright?” I finally ask her.
“I will be,” she says with a contented smile. Then she takes a deep breath, inhaling the earthy evening air, “It’s not so bad when you’re already used to sitting in the darkness,” then she weaves her fingers in mine before turning for the door.
I’m done here, ready to cleanse the property—and my life—of this ordeal. I can’t completely erase him, lest I erase one of the most important people in my life that he stole away years ago, but it’s as close as I can get, which is good enough.
Following Mason and Tyler, Brett steps back out into the clearing and heads toward Sergei and Ray, waving at them as she approaches. I glance over my shoulder and pause when I see Alex behind me, turned halfway around, staring back into the open room. Dallas isn’t with him.
When I look to the side to see what he’s staring at, I see she’s still standing over Bowen’s bloodstain. Her back is to us, so I don’t know if she realizes we’re still here. Dallas sways from side to side a couple times, tilting her head as she studies it. Alex doesn’t acknowledge me, but keeps his eyes focused on her.
The longer we watch, it seems like Dallas is enjoying herself. Every so often, there’s a swish of her breath like she’s sighing or laughing. Until, finally, she speaks.
The voice that comes out of Dallas is soft and high-pitched, like a child’s, “Surpriiise…” she murmurs in a sing-song tone, barely loud enough for us to hear. And, suddenly, there’s a muted pop and she spits right in the middle of the bloodstain. “Wet enough for you now?” she quips before breaking into an airy giggle.
I glance at Alex, his eyes still trained on her, “What’s she doing?” I whisper.
Alex doesn’t answer, but waits patiently, watching her with what feels like admiration.
A few seconds later, Dallas sighs and spins on her heel, heading back across the barn toward us. I thought we might startle her, but she looks completely unbothered that anyone is still here. She flashes us a smile and waltzes back into the fresh air, breaking into a jog to join Brett, Sergei, and Ray.
When I look back at Alex, he glances at me with a slight smile and steps past me with a shake of his head.
I don’t know what the hell Dallas was doing, but this just goes to show that Lutzes don’t forgive, and they don’t forget a goddamn thing. I don’t know what became of Bowen’s mortal remains, but I do know that his blood spilled in the ruins of this barn is about to go up in flames. It’s just as I promised him; this doesn’t end until he turns himself in or he’s dead. And frankly, I think it turned out the best of both worlds.
Some might feel cheated by the fact that a trial by jury would never happen. Some might also feel cheated that Bowen’s reign of terror ended so abruptly. One year ago, I would’ve felt the same.
But things change—plans change.
Before, my plan for retribution was much more involved. Yes, Brett would always be the one to leave Bowen of her own accord. But I was to be the executioner, delivering a long, agonizing death that would only be a drop in the bucket compared to the pain Evie and Emily endured. It’s pain I don’t fully comprehend because no one else was there and if Bowen was ever going to divulge, he sure as hell can’t now.
The truth is, I never could’ve done this if I were still the bad-tempered, impulsive kid I used to be. Fine, I’m still bad-tempered, but definitely not as impulsive. But when Bowen lost his shit and threw a hissy fit that night one year ago, I amended the plan.
It didn’t happen overnight. There were more pressing matters at hand, like making sure Brett was safe and then bringing her here and letting her recover whatever shreds of her life Bowen didn’t completely destroy. She wrote another book after he stole the first one and focused on healing the deep wounds he left. And she made me do the same. Granted, everyone has a different idea of what healing means. Ultimately, I was still out for blood.
Brett indulges me a lot, but when she first told me about her idea to lure Bowen out here, to end this on her terms, I told her absolutely not. After that, she didn’t speak to me for a week. Fortunately, that’s all she didn’t do for a week. I love talking to her, but there are other ways to communicate that don’t involve words, and sometimes those are even better. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.
Bowen would never stop, and we all knew it. Whatever fixation he had when we were kids only intensified and just extended like thorny vines to the rest of us. He needed gone, and he needed to be exposed in the process, whether in a court of law or not made no difference. Fortunately, the others had the same idea and their plans were already set in motion before I said one word to Brett in that parking lot at Wolfsson.
Brett’s book got Bowen’s attention, just like she thought it would. Dallas’s internet activity lit a fire under his ass and drew him out. And as soon as we knew he was here, I went hunting. That part wasn’t a lie. I did go hunting—for Bowen. And during that time, there were only three scenarios.
Plan A was me taking the shot as soon as Bowen physically opened a door or window to our house. There are no guarantees when shooting someone in the back. That is, unless they’re actively entering your home without permission.
Plan B was Brett taking the shot if Bowen did get inside the house. This should’ve been the end of it, but a jammed gun is the definition of a wild card.
Enter Plan C. If you act like you’re unarmed even when you are, you’ll look for the next escape plan and be ready. Three people running through the forest shooting at each other is a recipe for disaster, so the barn was always the last resort.
In the end, the only outcome is that Bowen is dead and everyone knows what he did. Because why else would you follow your ex-girlfriend across the country to murder her after she writes a book exposing your secrets and lies? The fact that it took Tammy Moreau the same amount of time to build a case against him was just icing on the cake.
There was only ever one of us who was going to make it out of Brett’s story alive. Only one of us who was going to make it to the last page in one piece. Only one voice left to say how it ends…or begins. Because now that I have her, I’ll set this entire world on fire before I ever leave her again.
You could’ve taken the shot, they’ll say, just like Sergei did. But, no, I couldn’t. That wasn’t part of the plan. I was backup, and that’s it. Because the final shot was supposed to be hers.
Sure, it wasn’t a bullet that took Bowen out, but it’s probably better that way. Brett’s never been a fan of guns.
She’s more of a knife girl anyway…
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Brett
Two Weeks Later
