Delusion Road (38 page)

Evan sat up, wiping away tears with his sleeve, and shook his head. “It’s not okay. You were right all along. I should never have—”

“No,” said Keegan, the scarred guy’s gloating voice swimming suddenly into memory:
She used to stand at the sink a lot, didn’t she. You suppose that’s where she was when it went off?
“I was wrong,” he continued, summoning what little strength he had left to force out his next words. “People like that … need to be stopped.” What had run through his mind that afternoon he spent with Willa at the look-off talking about Wynn? Sometimes you didn’t have a choice, right? Sometimes the battle came to you. He took a deep, painful breath. “Nail those bastards.”

Evan’s eyes filled again, and he leaned forward to kiss his son’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. “Now you rest. I’m just going to sit here, okay? You try to sleep.”

Keegan humoured him by closing his eyes, although he knew it was pointless. After all the sleeping he’d done, there was no way he could possibly—

The scarred guy’s arm circled her neck as he brought the gun to her temple. “Sorry, sweetheart,” the man hissed, his mouth against her ear, “but I’m workin’ my way up the food chain. You and that asshole on the floor there are what’s called least leverage.” Her face reddened as his arm tightened against her throat. If the bullet didn’t kill her, the lack of oxygen surely would.

“Willa!” called Keegan, his heart pounding.

A hand gently prodded his shoulder. “It’s okay, son. You were dreaming.”

Keegan opened his eyes. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

His father had told him that Willa was safe, but he hadn’t said whether—

Keegan took a breath. “Was she hurt?”

“Bruises, and she was shaken up pretty bad, but she’s okay. She’s a remarkable young woman.” He seemed to consider whether he should say more. Then, “None of us would be alive if it weren’t for her. She saved us all.”

Keegan felt the hammering in his chest begin to ease—

She saved us all.

—as sleep’s dark arms wrapped round him again.

“Keegan?”

He heard the voice, but it was too far away. Or perhaps it wasn’t a voice at all, merely the tendril of another dream disguised as consciousness, memory masquerading as waking thought.

“Keegan?” the voice came again.

Keegan’s eyes fluttered open. Beside him, the chair was empty. Though he knew his dad and Isaac must be nearby, neither was in the room with him now.

“Over here.”

Keegan turned slightly to see the man standing at the foot of the bed. More mountain than man, his imposing frame somehow contained in a navy blue suit. Special Agent Forbes.

“Mm,” Keegan replied.

“I hear you’re doing better. I’m glad.”

I’m glad.
It was the first time Keegan had ever heard the man mention feelings, his own or anyone else’s. Since the day the FBI agent had appeared in their lives, Keegan had only ever heard him talk about protocol and procedure, restrictions and rules. He was good at his job, never allowing emotion to cloud his view of a situation.
I’m glad.
Keegan wondered if the sky was falling.

“I have something for you,” said Forbes. “And you should know that I’m giving it to you against my better judgment.” He placed a thick manila envelope on the foot of the bed. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that nothing has changed.” He moved toward the door, hesitating for a moment before pulling it open. He turned back, and Keegan thought he could see the trace of a smile on that stone face. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that.” And then he was gone.

Keegan wondered who he was talking about, wondered even more what might be in the envelope, but there was no way he could possibly reach it. He couldn’t bend his body that far. Leaving it beyond his grasp was so like Forbes, the King of Can’t.

Keegan considered pressing the call button to ask a nurse to get it for him, but before he could put that thought into action, he was drifting again.

Keegan opened his eyes to find his father in the chair by his bed again, Isaac in the other one with a large tray on his lap covered in puzzle pieces. Both were dressed in different clothes, and Keegan wondered how long it had been since he’d last seen them. But the passage of time had done him good. He felt a little stronger.

“Hey, buddy,” said Keegan. “Where’d you get the puzzle?”

His brother gave no indication he’d heard the question, merely continued to mesh pieces with other pieces.

“Patti brought it in,” explained his father. “It’s been a godsend.” He pointed toward the table by the bed. “I see somebody brought you something, too.”

Keegan turned to see the manila envelope on the nightstand and idly wondered who had moved it. “Forbes,” he said.

His father nodded. “I saw him in the hall yesterday. Here.” He reached for the envelope and handed it to Keegan.

It bore the official insignia of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and was heavier than he expected. He remembered getting one like it before they moved to Brookdale. He let it drop from his fingers to the bed.

“You’re not opening it?”

Keegan shook his head. He wasn’t interested in the new identity Forbes had created for him. There’d be plenty of time later to learn about the person he would become. To start from scratch all over again.

“It’s not what you think,” said his father.

“He told you?”

His father nodded. “I think Special Agent Forbes might be mellowing with age.”

His interest piqued, Keegan pushed the envelope toward his father. “Open it for me?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to hold it for long.

His father nodded. Tearing off the end, he slid the contents onto the bed beside Keegan, smaller envelopes of various sizes containing what looked like cards. Lots of them. Keegan reached for one and opened it, and he had to look at the signature twice to trust his eyes:
Jay Underwood.
Between the name and the canned Hallmark greeting was a brief, handwritten note:
I’m really sorry for everything that went down. I know it doesn’t seem like much of an excuse now, especially after what happened to you, but I didn’t know what he was really like. None of us did. Get better, okay?

There were lots of other cards, some from people he barely knew who were in the same classes he was taking. Classes he
used
to take, he reminded himself. Many bore only signatures, but a few cards contained long personal messages that he’d have to read later. Already he could feel weariness seeping into him, and he pushed the rest aside. As he did so, though, his hand brushed something heavy at the bottom of the pile—a thick packet of envelopes bound by a rubber band. Keegan reached for it, curious
why they’d been separated from the others. And then he knew. These cards were from Russell, Greg, Raven, Bailey, and Willa, their bulkiness suggesting letters inside each. Willa’s envelope was far heavier than the other four, and for a long moment he simply stared at it. He didn’t realize his hands were trembling until his father steadied them with his own. “I can’t—” Keegan began, but his throat locked and he could only shake his head.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, son,” Evan said gently.

Yeah, Keegan thought, if you don’t count nearly getting her killed.

“Go on,” said his father. “Open it.”

Keegan continued to stare at it, uncertain if he could bear to read what she’d written. Jay Underwood had every right to feel guilty, which explained the positive message, but Willa had done nothing wrong except trust him. He could only imagine her letter’s contents: the utter betrayal she must have felt at discovering the lies Keegan had repeatedly told her, the absolute terror she’d experienced in the grip of the scarred guy who must surely have haunted her dreams since that day because he continually roamed his own. But what had Forbes said?
She’s persistent, I’ll give her that.
Of course she was. After what Keegan had put her through, she had every right to unload her shit on him. But still he lay there, unmoving.

Finally, his father took the envelope from him, opening one end and pulling out a folded sheet of paper that he passed to his son. Drawing a breath, Keegan unfolded the paper to find only a few words on it:
I’m glad you called Forbes from my car. I never would have reached him if my phone hadn’t stored his contact number. He wasn’t thrilled to hear from me
—

Despite his apprehension, Keegan smiled at this understatement.

—but I kept blowing up his voicemail and I finally wore him down.

Keegan turned the paper over, but there was nothing more written on it, and he looked questioningly at his father.

Evan smiled, reaching once more into the envelope and pulling out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Forbes said you’ll only be able to use it once.” He smiled again. “He even programmed in her number.”

Eyes wide, Keegan now understood his father’s earlier comment about the mellowing of Special Agent Forbes. He took the phone, opened up the contacts page, and saw the sole name revealed on the screen. He held his finger above the Call key.

“Take all the time you need,” said his father. “Your brother and I’ll be down the hall. Come, Isaac,” he said, getting up and lifting the tray from his younger son’s lap. “We can work on this together in the waiting room.”

Isaac stood and followed his father toward the door, then abruptly stopped. “Willa,” he said softly, and Keegan’s own surprise was reflected in their father’s face. Then they were gone.

Exhausted, he let his head sink into the pillow. His eyes fixed on the ceiling, he drew another deep breath, bracing himself. Finally, he pressed Call and brought the phone to his ear.

She answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

His heart stumbled in his chest. “Willa—” he began.

“Keegan? Is that you?”

Yeah,” he said. “It’s me.”

“Hang on a second.”

Keegan could hear muffled exchanges and then Willa’s voice,
bell-like in its clarity: “You do whatever you have to, okay? I’m taking this call.” A few more moments passed before he heard her say, “You still there, Keegan?”

“Still here. Was that—”

“Yeah, Shedrand.”

“You’re in math class?”

“Not anymore. I walked out.”

Keegan attempted to whistle his surprise, but the sound came out a breathy moan. “But Caldwell—”

“Screw Caldwell.” He heard a sudden creak of metal and knew she was pushing out the exit door at the end of the school corridor. “How’re you feeling, Keegan?” she asked.

“Good,” he said.

“Liar. I saw you just before they airlifted you. I thought—” There was a sound on the line he couldn’t identify. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered, and then he knew what that sound had been.

He felt his apprehension evaporate. “I’m okay.”

There was a pause before she asked, “Does it hurt much?”

“Only when I laugh,” he said.

She didn’t miss a beat. “So not at all then.”

“Mm,” he said. He doubted he’d have anything to laugh about for a long time. Maybe never. Right now, though, there were things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask her. “Nobody here has told me what happened, just that you saved us. How did you—”

“I can’t—” she began, then paused, and for a few seconds only silence connected them. Finally, “I’d rather not talk about it,” she said. Her words were straightforward enough, yet Keegan could hear the anguish beneath each one.

“You’re okay, though, right?”

There were more seconds of silence, and he regretted his question. Like anyone
could
be okay after what she’d been through. “I’m so sorry, Willa,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let the guy get to me like th—”

“Stop it, Keegan,” she interrupted, her voice firmer. “He would’ve used that knife no matter what you had done, probably on me first because I had the gun.” He could sense her shudder. “Those awful things he said about your mother. That’s what evil sounds like, isn’t it? What it looks like.” Before he could reply, she added, “At least he can never hurt Talia or anyone else again.”

So the guy was dead. Good. Keegan wanted to ask how it had happened, wanted her to tell him it took a while, that the guy had suffered right up to the end, but he let the question go unspoken. Her earlier refusal to talk about it was only part of the reason. He needed to let it go. All of it. His mother would have wanted him to. He knew that now.

“Hey, speaking of mothers,” she said, obviously wanting to change the subject, “mine’s back. And,
man
, was she pissed when she got here.”

“No shit,” he said. He could only imagine how the woman had felt coming home to find her daughter nearly murdered by a hired killer. Not exactly an episode of
The Real Housewives of Brookdale.

“Yeah, major panic attack over what happened at the cottage. She refilled her Xanax prescription. But once she got the worst of it behind her, she was super pissed at my dad.”

“Why? None of what happened was his fault.”

“Not about that. She thought he was having an affair.”

“Was he?”

“No, of course not.”

“I don’t get it.”

“All that time he was spending at work, she thought he was seeing another woman. When she got back from Halifax, she confronted him about it, and he finally told her about the trouble the business is in.”

Keegan had never met Willa’s mother but, judging from the luxuries she enjoyed from the dealership’s profits, he could well understand how she’d feel about its closure. Willa seemed to sense his thinking. “It wasn’t the money,” she explained. “They used to work side by side when they were first married. They bought the business together, developed it together, but when Aiden and I came along, Dad encouraged her to stay home. With Aiden gone now and me graduating next spring, she’s been wallowing in almost-empty-nest syndrome, spending a lot of time obsessing over things that aren’t true.”

“She must’ve been glad he wasn’t cheating on her.”

“Yeah, but she was furious he hadn’t shared how bad things had gotten. She accused him of not caring about her enough to tell her the truth.”

Keegan looked at the ceiling, hearing those last words echo in his mind, wondering if they were in some way directed toward him. But he needn’t have worried.