Blood and Sympathy (24 page)

I groaned and dug
my fingers into her skin, pulling her into position. For being such a fucking
bitch and pissing me off, I was going to fuck that tight little puckered hole
of hers. I spread her ass cheeks wide and forced myself inside of her. She was
so fucking tight it was almost painful.

I began sliding in
and out, and the fucking whore started to match my rhythm, thrust for thrust.
Her gasps and groans told me she loved every inch of my stiff shaft as I fucked
her ass. The friction of her muscles around my dick felt like nothing I'd ever
experienced before. I was on the verge of blowing my load and pulled out so
that I could come all over her back.

Once I caught my
breath and my heart rate returned to normal, I ordered her, "Get up, get
dressed. We're leaving."

"I need a
shower."

"Fuck that,
you can shower later. Pack a few clothes. We might be gone a while."

To my surprise, she
didn't argue. She hobbled to the closet while I went into the kitchen. I turned
on the news to see if there was anything about Claire. I flipped through the
channels until I found the local news. Yellow tape marking a crime scene caught
my attention. I turned up the volume to listen.

"For the
second time this summer, law enforcement agencies are on the scene at Devil's
Fork Lake, investigating an apparent homicide." The camera cut from the
pretty Asian news lady to pan out over the murky waters. The hair on the back
of my neck stood on end, and I ran my hands through my hair. "This morning,
a body was discovered by two fishermen. Police aren't commenting, but
townspeople are speculating that it's the body of Hensteeth resident Olivia
Copeland, who disappeared while out jogging earlier this summer."

I switched off the
TV and filled a duffle bag with a few of my meager belongings. I grabbed Aja's
gun and stuck it in the waistband of my shorts. "Grab your shit, Aja.
Let's get out of here."

Claire
Copeland

You can run, but
you can't hide. You can try to push all the ugly thoughts, the debilitating
pain, to the back of your mind, but you'll never outrun it. It lays in silent
wait, ready to sneak up on you at any given moment.

Of course, I hadn't
gotten over the loss of Olivia. It hadn't been long enough, nor would enough
time ever pass to allow me to forget her. She was my other half. The light to
my dark. The angel to my devil.

Hadn't we been
through enough this summer? Where was that loving God now? Things like this
didn't happen in Hensteeth, especially not to the good reverend's family.

Braden's arms were
wrapped around my waist, half holding me up, and half keeping me from charging
the crowd. The reminded me of vultures hanging around for a juicy tidbit, or a
kernel of news. Their sickening looks of pity infuriating me. Yellow crime
scene tape flapped in the breeze as we stood on a hill beside the lake. We
watched the scene unfold like a nightmare before us.

My knees buckled
and I slid through his arms like sand through an hourglass.

"They don't
know who it is, Claire. It might not be Olivia." His words were soft,
sweet and tender. I wanted to lash out at him for being so nice. What the hell was
wrong with me?

"I don't know
what would be worse. Having the body be Olivia's or someone else's. Either way,
whoever did this is a fucking monster, and they're out there somewhere,
probably watching the whole thing." My eyes darted around the area,
looking for something--someone--out of place.

He sat on the sandy
area behind me and pulled me between his thighs. "Maybe that homeless man
lied about what he did with your sister's body. Maybe he dumped her in the lake
after all."

I winced. "Is
that supposed to be comforting? Are you trying to make me feel better? Because
it's not working." His body tensed around me and I instantly felt like a
bitch. "Sorry."

He rested his chin
on the top of my head. "It's okay. You're right. It was wrong of me to say
that."

I stood and walked
toward the group of onlookers. Braden jumped to his feet and followed closely
behind me, ready to tackle me if I decided to bolt toward the body bag on the
beach. What was it that made me want to look at things I know I shouldn't see?
I rubbed my itchy palms over the front of my shorts. I was frozen to the spot,
and I couldn't bring myself to look away.

I felt a hand, warm
and heavy on my shoulder, and I turned to smile reassuringly at Braden. Only it
wasn't Braden. It was my dad.

"Claire,
sweetheart, why don't you come home with me?"

I shook my head and
shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "No. I'm not going anywhere with
you."

He ruffled the back
of his hair, his suit jacket flapping in the breeze. "Family needs to be together
at a time like this." He shot Braden a cold, pointed look.

Something snapped
inside of me, and my hands balled into fists. I whirled around and went at him
like a madwoman, pounding his chest so hard enough to make him stagger back a
few steps. "Family? Don't you dare talk to me about family, you
hypocritical son of a bitch!"

My voice was shrill
and carried easily across the lake, bouncing off the trees. People stopped
their hushed, idle whispering, and looked our way.

"Claire!"
Braden wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up, my feet and arms
swinging blindly. "Stop! Calm down. You're making a scene. Now's not the
time."

Dad straightened
his tie. "Clearly, I've misjudged your young friend, Claire. Obviously
he's got more smarts than I've given him credit for." His voice was hushed
and lacked any compassion. He paused, searching my face, before finally
shrugging. "Have it your way. But don't think I'll soon forget this ... this
embarrassment. You are no child of mine, Claire."

I watched him get
in his SUV and drive away. I felt nothing, just hollow and empty. Void of any
emotion. Braden stopped to talk to his uncle, and I trudged up the trail, back toward
the trailer. I was exhausted. Physically, mentally, spiritually.

A hand slipped over
my mouth while an arm wrapped around my neck. Not again. I lashed out, clawing
and fighting with every ounce of energy I had.

"Whoa there,
baby. Calm down." Alistair breathed in my ear. "I have something to
tell you, and after I'm through, you're going to realize you fucked up. You put
your trust in the wrong fucking man, hot lips."

Slowly, he removed
his hand from my mouth, and I stopped struggling. "What the hell are you
talking about? Why should I even listen to anything you have to say?"

He wrapped his fingers
around my upper arm and squeezed, leading me away from the path. "Come on,
walk with me."

After we walked a
few hundred yards up the road, I wrenched my arm free of his hold. "Start
talking. In case you haven't noticed, my day has been a major suckfest, and I'm
not exactly in the mood for your shit."

He took a deep
breath and tipped his head back. "Always such a bossy bitch."

I gave him a
venomous glare and hissed. "Tell. Me."

"Me-ee-ow."
He snickered.

I started walking
away from him. "I don't have time for this."

"I know who
kidnapped you."

"What did you
say?" I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. "What the fuck
are you talking about?" The smug look on his face made me want to claw his
eyes out.

"I
said
I know who kidnapped you."

I closed the distance
between us and slammed my palms against his chest. "What are you talking
about?" I repeated.

He chuckled and
shook his head. "You know, for such a smart girl, you can be pretty naïve
when you start thinking with that pussy of yours."

My hands flexed and
I hugged myself. "Look, asshole, if you have something to tell me, spit it
out. Otherwise, this conversation is over." I turned around and started
toward Braden's trailer.

"Keep your
enemies close and your friends closer." I kept walking, feeling his eyes
burning against my back. "Why don't you ask that boyfriend of yours what
his brother's been up to lately?"

My feet stopped
moving, but I didn't turn to face Alistair. "Why the hell would Braden
know what Brogan's doing?" I felt my guts twist into knots, afraid of his
answer.

"Brogan Sayer
is on the run. He escaped from juvie. I overheard the two of them arguing the
other night about something." Alistair stopped talking, enjoying this way
too much.

My mouth hung open in
disbelief. I started shaking my head back and forth, "You're fucking
lying."

"My bad. He
didn't tell you?"

"Go fuck
yourself, Alistair!" I screamed and started jogging back to Braden's.

Braden Sayer

"No, Braden.
Son, this is bad. You need to talk to the sheriff, tell him everything you
know," Uncle Jeb insisted. The color drained from his tired face.

I stared at my
feet. I knew he was right. "What if they take me back to juvie for
obstructing justice or something?"

"I don't know
what's going to happen, but you need to tell Sheriff Thirtyacre. Tell him about
the tattoo, everything." He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me
square in the eyes. "Did you know they found my boat anchor weighing down
the body?"

"
What
?"

"Come on, I'll
go with you. He's probably still down at the lake. Sheriff Thirtyacre's a fair
man."

I turned to look in
the direction of the trailer, torn between doing what was right and doing what
was easy. I nodded. "Okay, let's get this over with."

He was right;
Sheriff Thirtyacre was still at the lake. He was sitting in the front seat of
his air conditioned squad car filling out some paperwork. He tipped his hat
back on his head and smiled wearily as we approached.

"What can I do
for you two?"

"Sheriff
Thirtyacre, can I have a word with you?" I asked. I shoved my hands into
my pockets. "It's about Olivia Copeland's murder."

His forehead
creased, and he said, "Certainly, Braden. Have a seat." He nodded to
the passenger seat.

I waved at Uncle
Jeb. "Go on home, Uncle Jeb." I swallowed nervously at the thought of
getting into the squad car.

I walked around,
opened the door, and got inside. "I'm not sure where to begin, but I'll
start with what I know. Some of it's speculation. Some of it's fact."

"Just spit it
out," he said. He lifted his hat and wiped his brow. "It's already
been a helluva long day, and I've about had my fill. So whatever it is, Braden,
just tell me what you know, son."

"The tattoo
Claire described? It belongs to Brogan. He got it at Sun and Moon Tattoo a few
weeks ago."

"You mind
telling me how you know that?"

"Claire and I
were there. The woman mistook me for my brother. The tattoo, the saying, it was
something Brogan always used to say when we were kids."

"What
else?" He shifted in  his seat, giving me his full attention.

"I think he was
the one who broke into the marina. If he did that, then he stole the boat
anchor. I think he killed Olivia."

"Any
particular reason why you think he would do something like that?"

I stared out the
window at the dark clouds rolling in over the lake. "I think he was trying
to get back at me. I think when he grabbed Olivia, he thought it was Claire,
and when he realized he messed up, he came back to get her."

"Any idea
where he is now?"

I exhaled and my
shoulders sagged in defeat. "I don't have a clue."

"Tell me
something, Braden. Why did you wait so long to come forward with all this?
Seems to me a whole lot of grief could have been spared if you had spoken up as
soon as you suspected something."

"I don't know,
sir."

"I'm going to
need you to come down to the station with me." His eyes drifted in my
direction. "Fasten your seat belt."

Telling Sheriff
Thirtyacre was a piece of cake compared to having to tell Claire. I wasn't sure
how I was supposed to do that. She'd end up hating me, and I'd rather die than
lose her.

The station was crawling
with activity, and maybe that was in my favor. The sheriff was too distracted
to spend much time with me. After I signed my statement, I heard someone shout
something about an APB. I called Uncle Jeb to come pick me up.

The ride back to
the marina was both too short, and too long. I clasped my fingers behind my
neck and stared out the window. "What am I going to tell Claire?" I
asked him. The heaviness in my chest was unbearable.

"Just tell her
the truth, Braden. That's all you can do."

There was a light
on in the trailer when Jeb dropped me off. She was sitting on the couch when I
walked through the door.