The house lapsed into a few long moments of silence, then Paavola said, “I’m coming down.”
CHAPTER 42
They walked the path that Annie had walked so often in her life, through the woods heading toward Crow Point. The grass of the trail was strewn with sunlight broken into shards by overhanging tree branches. She could hear the song of birds, the buzz of insects. With each breath, she took in the scent of evergreen and wildflowers. With each step she felt the kiss of the summer air against her cheeks.
It was odd that she was so present in this moment with a man who held a rifle at her back.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why the gun?”
“What do you think?”
She stopped then and turned to face him. “I’ve been threatened with guns before.”
“Is that so?”
“Rifles to be exact. Soldiers.”
“I don’t care. Get moving.”
“Or you’ll shoot me?”
“I wouldn’t hesitate, believe me, bitch.”
“Bitch?” She cocked her head and studied him. “Do you hate women?”
“Just shut up and keep moving.”
“Is this about the dead girls?”
“This is about a kid who ruined everything.”
“Did you kill those girls?”
“No. But I could have.”
“Who did kill them?”
He slapped her hard. “I told you to shut up.”
The blow had a strange effect on Annie. It served to quiet her spirit even more. “Forgiveness is possible,” she said.
“For what?”
“What you’ve already done and what you’re thinking of doing.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“I believe I do. You want to kill my nephew. I believe it must be because he has a gift that’s complicated your life.”
“Complicated? He’s fucking ruined it.”
“Did he really do that? Or was it someone else a long time ago?”
When he hit her again, this time with the butt of his rifle, she went down. She lay on the path for a few moments while her head cleared. She touched the side of her face where the blow had landed. Her hand came away bloodied. She looked up at him. The rifle was leveled on her.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll walk.”
They came out of the woods onto Crow Point. A thread of woodsmoke rose from the stovepipe of the cabin that Jenny and Waaboo were sharing. Annie stopped.
“What are you waiting for?” he snapped.
“Don’t you feel it?” Annie said.
“What?”
“The power of this place.”
“I’m sick of your talk. Just shut up.”
Annie turned to the man. It was late afternoon now, the sun at her back, and her shadow fell across him. “Who was it?” she asked.
“Who was it who what?”
“Hurt you.”
