Miles stood from the chair, glaring. "And you expect me to believe that?" he said. "That it was Missy's fault?"
"Wait a minute!" Sarah said, coming to her brother's defense. "He told you how it happened! He's telling the truth!"
Miles swiveled to face her. "Why the hell should I believe him?"
"Because he's here! Because he wanted you to know the truth!"
"Two years later he wants me to know the truth? How do you know it's the truth?"
He waited for an answer, but before she could respond, he suddenly took a small step backward. He turned from Sarah to Brian and back to Sarah again, as he considered what the answers to his questions meant.
Sarah had known exactly what her brother was going to say....
Which meant... that she'd known Otis was innocent. She'd tried to get him to back off. Let Charlie handle it, she'd said. What if Sims and Earl were wrong somehow?
She'd said those things because she'd known Brian was guilty.
But that made sense, didn't it?
Hadn't she said that she was close to her brother? Hadn't she said he was the one person she could really talk to, and vice versa?
Miles's thoughts, fed by adrenaline and anger, raced from one conclusion to the next.
She'd known but she hadn't told him. She'd known and... and...
Miles stared at Sarah wordlessly.
Hadn't she volunteered to help Jonah, even though it was out of the ordinary?
And hadn't she befriended him as well? Gone out with him? Listened to him, tried to help him move on with his life?
Miles's face began to twitch with barely suppressed rage.
She'd known all along.
She'd used him to assuage her own guilt. Everything they'd had was built on lies.
She betrayed me.
Miles stood without moving, without speaking, frozen in place. In the silence, Brian heard the heater come on.
"You knew," he finally rasped out. "You knew he'd killed Missy, didn't you?"
It was then, at that moment, that Brian understood not only that it was over between Sarah and Miles, but that, in Miles's mind, they had never had anything at all. Sarah, though, seemed baffled, and she answered Miles as if the answer to his question were obvious.
"Of course. That's why I brought him here."
Miles raised his hand to stop her, jabbing his finger in her direction with every point he made.
"No, no... you knew he'd killed her and didn't tell me.... That's why you knew that Otis was innocent.... That's why you kept trying to tell me to listen to Charlie...."
Sarah finally seemed to register the implication, and she suddenly, frantically, began shaking her head.
"No--wait--you don't understand--"
Miles cut her off, unwilling to listen, each statement more furious than the last.
"You knew all along...."
"No--"
"You've known since the moment we met."
"No--"
"That's why you offered to help Jonah."
"No!"
For a moment, it seemed as if Miles would strike her, but he didn't. Instead he lashed out in another direction. He kicked the end table over, sending the lamp crashing. Sarah flinched and Brian rose from the couch to reach for her; Miles grabbed him before he could and spun him around. Miles was both stronger and heavier, and Brian could do nothing to stop him from wrenching his wrist up his back toward his shoulder blades. Sarah instinctively moved away from the commotion before she even realized what was happening. Brian didn't resist, even as pain shot through his shoulder. He winced, his eyes closing, his face contorting.
"Stop! You're hurting him!" Sarah screamed.
Miles held up a warning hand in her direction. "Stay out of this!"
"Why are you doing this! You don't have to hurt him!"
"He's under arrest!"
"It was an accident!"
But Miles was beyond reason, and he twisted Brian's arm hard again, forcing him away from the couch, away from Sarah, toward the front door. Brian almost stumbled, and Miles grabbed at him, his fingers digging into Brian's flesh. Miles pushed Brian into the wall as he reached for the handcuffs that were hanging on a peg near the door. Miles slapped them around one wrist and then the next, pinching them tightly.
"Miles! Wait!" Sarah shouted.
Miles opened the door and pushed Brian out, forcing him onto the porch.
"You don't understand!"
Miles ignored her. He grabbed Brian's arm and began dragging him toward the car. It was difficult for Brian to keep his balance, and he stumbled. Sarah rushed up behind them.
"Miles!"
Miles spun around. "I want you out of my life," he hissed.
The hatred in his voice shocked Sarah into stopping.
"You betrayed me," Miles said. "You used me." He didn't wait for Sarah to respond. "You wanted to try to make things better-- not for me and Jonah, but for you and Brian. You thought if you did that, you'd feel better about yourself."
She paled, incapable of saying anything.
"You knew from the beginning," he went on. "And you were willing to let me go on without ever knowing the truth until someone else got arrested for it."
"No, that's not the way it happened--"
"Stop lying to me!" he boomed. "How the hell can you live with yourself?"
The comment lashed at her, and she responded defensively. "You've got it all wrong, and you don't even care."
"I don't care? I'm not the one who did anything wrong here."
"Neither did I."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth!" Then, despite her anger, Brian saw her eyes begin to well up with tears.
Miles paused momentarily but showed no sympathy at all. "You don't even know what the truth is."
With that, he turned and opened the door to the car. He shoved Brian in, then slammed the door and reached in his pocket for his keys. He pulled them out as he got in behind the wheel.
Sarah was too shocked to say anything more. She watched as Miles started the car, pressed the accelerator, then jammed the car into gear. The tires squealed as the car moved into reverse, backing toward the road.
Miles never glanced her way, and a moment later, he vanished from sight.
Chapter 33
Miles drove erratically, smashing the accelerator and slamming on the brakes, as if testing how hard he could push the car before one or the other ceased to work. More than once, his arms locked behind him, Brian nearly toppled over as the car careened through a turn. From his vantage point, Brian could see the muscle in Miles's jaw tensing and relaxing, as if someone were flicking a switch. Miles held the wheel with both hands, and though he seemed to be concentrating on the road, his eyes continually darted to the rearview mirror, where they sometimes caught Brian's.
Brian could see the anger in his eyes. It was reflected plainly in the mirror, yet at the same time, he saw something else there, something he hadn't expected. He saw the anguish in Miles's eyes, and Brian was reminded of the way Miles had looked at Missy's funeral, trying and failing to make sense of all that had happened. Brian wasn't sure if the anguish Miles was feeling came from Missy or Sarah, or even both. All he knew was that it didn't have anything to do with him.
From the corner of his eye, Brian watched the trees whizzing past his window. The road curved, and again Miles took the turn without slowing down. Brian planted his feet; despite that, his body shifted and he slid toward the window. In a few minutes, he knew, they would pass the spot of Missy's accident.
The Good Shepherd Community Church was located in Pollocksville, and the driver of the church van, Bennie Wiggins, had never had so much as a speeding ticket in his fifty-four years of driving. Though it was a source of pride for Bennie, the reverend would have asked him to drive even if his record hadn't been so good. Volunteers were hard to find, especially when the weather wasn't so good, but Bennie was one he could always count on.
On th
at morning, the reverend had asked Bennie to drive the van to New Bern to pick up the donations of food and clothing that had been collected over the weekend, and Bennie had shown up promptly. He'd driven in, had a cup of coffee and two doughnuts while he waited for others to load the van, then had thanked everyone for their help before getting behind the wheel to head back to the church.
It was a little before ten when he turned onto Madame Moore's Lane.
He reached for the radio, hoping to find some gospel music to liven up the ride back. Even though the road was slick, he began fiddling with the knob.
Up ahead and out of sight, he had no way of knowing that another car was heading his way.
"I'm sorry," Brian finally said, "I didn't mean for any of it to happen."
At the sound of his voice, Miles glanced in the mirror again. Instead of responding, however, he cracked the window.
Cold air rushed in. After a moment, Brian huddled down, his unzipped jacket flapping in the wind.
In the reflection, Miles stared at Brian with unbridled hatred.
Sarah sped around the corner much as Miles had done, hoping to catch up with his car. He had a head start--not much, maybe a couple of minutes, but how far was that? A mile? More? She wasn't exactly sure, and as the car hit a straight stretch, she pressed the accelerator even harder.
She had to catch them. She couldn't leave Brian in his care, not after the uncontrolled fury she had seen in his face, not after what he'd nearly done to Otis.
She wanted to be there when Miles brought Brian in, but the problem was that she didn't know where the sheriff's department was. She knew where the police station was, the courthouse, even the City Hall, since they were all located downtown. But she'd never been to the sheriff's department. For all she knew, it was located in the outer reaches of the county somewhere.
She could stop and call, or check a phonebook somewhere, but that would only put her farther behind, she thought frantically. She would stop if she had to. If she didn't see him in the next couple of minutes...
Commercials.
Bennie Wiggins shook his head. Commercials and more commercials. That's all there was on the radio these days. Water softeners, car dealerships, alarm systems... after every other song, he heard the same litany of businesses hawking their wares.
The sun was beginning to peek over the treetops, and the glare from the snow caught Bennie off-guard. He squinted and pulled down the visor just as the radio faded into silence for a moment.
Another commercial. This one promised to teach your child to read. He reached for the knob.
He didn't notice that as he eyes locked on the dial, he began drifting over the center line....
"Sarah didn't know," Brian finally offered into the silence. "Sarah didn't know about any of it."
Over the wind, Brian wasn't sure if Miles could hear him, but he had to try. He knew this was the last chance he would get to speak to Miles without other people around. Whatever lawyer his father would arrange for him would advise him to say nothing more than he had already said. And Miles, he suspected, would be ordered to stay away from him.
But Miles had to know the truth about Sarah. Not so much for the future--as Brian saw it, they had no chance at all--but because he couldn't bear the thought of Miles believing that Sarah had known all along. He didn't want Miles to hate her. Sarah, above everyone, didn't deserve that. Unlike Miles or him, Sarah hadn't had any part in this at all.
"She never told me who she was seeing. I was away at school and I didn't find out until Thanksgiving that it was you. But I didn't tell her about the accident until yesterday. She didn't know anything until then. I know you don't want to believe me...."
"You think I should believe you?" Miles shot back.
"She didn't know anything," Brian repeated. "I wouldn't lie to you about that."
"What would you lie about, then?"
Brian regretted the words as soon as he'd said them and felt the chill cut through him as he imagined his answer. Going to the funeral. His dreams. Watching Jonah at school. Stalking Miles at his home . . .
Brian shook his head slightly, forcing the thought away. "Sarah didn't do anything wrong," he said instead, avoiding the question.
But Miles persisted. "Answer me," he said. "What would you lie about? The dog, maybe?"
"No."
"Missy didn't jump in front of your car."
"She didn't mean to. She couldn't help it. It wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened. It was an accident."
"No, it wasn't!" Miles boomed, wheeling around. Despite the roar of the wind from the open windows, the sound seemed to ricochet in the car. "You weren't paying attention and you ran her down!"
"No," Brian insisted. He was less afraid of Miles than he knew he should be. He felt calm, like an actor reciting his lines by rote. No fear. Just a sense of profound exhaustion. "It happened just like I told you."
Miles pointed his finger at Brian, halfway turned in his seat now. "You killed her and you ran!"
"No--I stopped and I looked for her. And when I found her . . ." Brian trailed off.
In his mind he saw Missy, lying in the ditch, her body angled wrong. Staring up at him.
Staring at nothing.
"I felt sick, like I was going to die, too." Brian paused, turning away from Miles. "I covered her up with a blanket," he whispered. "I didn't want anyone else to see her that way."
Bennie Wiggins finally found a song he wanted. The glare was intense and he sat straight in his seat just as he realized where he was on the road. He righted the van, guiding it back in his lane.
The approaching car was close now.
He still didn't see it.
Miles flinched when Brian mentioned the blanket, and for the first time Brian knew that he was really listening, despite his shouts to the contrary. Brian kept talking, oblivious to Miles, oblivious to the cold.
Oblivious to the fact that Miles's attention was focused entirely on him and not on the road.
"I should have called then, that night, after I got home. It was wrong. There's no excuse for it, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you and I'm sorry for what I did to Jonah."
To Brian, his voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else.
"I didn't know that keeping it inside was worse. It ate away at me. I know you don't want to believe that, but it did. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat--"
"I don't care!"
"I couldn't stop thinking about it. And I've never stopped thinking about it. I even bring flowers to Missy's grave...."
Bennie Wiggins finally saw the car as he rounded a bend in the road.
It was happening so fast, it almost didn't seem real. The car was headed right at him, jumping from slow motion to full speed with terrifying inevitability. Bennie's mind clicked into overdrive, trying frantically to process the information.
No, that couldn't be. ... Why would he be driving in my lane? That doesn't make sense. ... But he is driving in my lane. Doesn't he see me? He's got to see me. ... He'll jerk the wheel and right himself.
All this happened in less than a few seconds, but in their span, Bennie knew with utter certainty that whoever was driving was going too fast to get out of the way in time.
They were heading straight for each other.
Brian caught the reflection of the sun against the windshield of the approaching van just as it rounded the corner. He stopped talking in midsentence and his first instinct was to use his hands to brace himself for the impact. He jerked hard enough for the handcuffs to cut into his wrists as he arched his back, screaming, "Watch out!"
Miles whipped around, then immediately, instinctively, jerked the wheel hard as the cars closed in on each other. Brian tumbled to the side, and as his head slammed into the side window, he was struck by the utter absurdity of what was happening.
This had all started with him in a car on Madame Moore's Lane.
And this was how it would end.
He braced himself for the thunde
rous impact that was coming.
Only it never came.
He did feel a hard thump, but it was toward the rear of the car, on his side. The car began to slide and left the road just as Miles slammed on the brakes. The car shot over the snow, just off the road, closing in on a speed limit sign. Miles struggled to keep control, then felt the wheels catch at the last moment. The car swerved again and jerked suddenly, coming to a halt in a ditch.
Brian landed on the floor, dazed and confused, crumpled between the seats; it took a moment for him to orient himself. He gasped for air, as if surfacing from the bottom of a pool. He didn't feel the cuts on his wrist.
Nor did he see the blood that had been smeared against the window.
Chapter 34
Are you okay?"
Sounds were fading in and out, and Brian groaned. He was struggling to get off the floor of the car, his arms still manacled behind his back.
Miles pushed open the door, then opened Brian's. Cautiously he pulled Brian out and helped him to his feet. The side of Brian's head was matted with blood that was also dripping down his cheek. Brian tried to stand on his own but staggered, and Miles took his arm again.
"Hold on--your head's bleeding. You sure you're okay?"
Brian swayed a little as the world around them moved in circles. It took a moment for him to understand the question. In the distance, Miles could see the driver of the van climbing out of his vehicle.
"Yeah...I think so. My head hurts...."
Miles kept his hand on Brian's arm as he glanced up the road again. The driver of the van--an elderly man--was crossing the road now, coming toward them. Miles bent Brian forward and gently checked the wound, then stood Brian up again, looking relieved. Despite Brian's dizziness, the expression on Miles's face struck him as preposterous, considering the last half hour.
"It doesn't look deep. Just a surface cut," Miles said. Then, holding up a couple of fingers, he asked, "How many?"
Brian squinted, concentrating as they came into focus. "Two."
Miles tried again. "Now how many?"
Same routine. "Four."
"How's the rest of your vision? Any spots? Black around the edges?"
Brian shook his head gingerly, his eyes halfway closed.