Page 76 of Fall onto me
“You can.” I stand up and gather him in my arms. “Sophie needs us. I need you.”
He peels himself away from me, his nostrils flaring. “I’m going, with or without you.”
Yeah, he’s gone out of his mind. Offering for me to come on a killing spree, but I’m mad as hell and not in my right mind either.
I grab his keys from the dresser. “I’ll drive.”
Before we walk out, I send a text to Wes, letting him know where we’ll be, just in case we never come out of that damned building.
* * *
The harbor,as usual, is an inconspicuous den, smothered by a cloud of incessant fog that makes it all blend into the night.
Anyone passing by wouldn’t in their wildest dreams imagine what happens inside.
A ships horn blares, and I jump as I step out of the car.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Foster groans, cutting his hard gaze to me when Wes steps to the passenger side of the car. “I already have Barnes coming with the prints.”
He’s pissed that I dragged his late father’s best friend into all of it, but a shimmer of hope in his eyes says that he’s thankful.
Although that changes quickly when Wes grabs the gun from his waistband and tucks it into his pants. “Seriously?” Foster snarls.
Wes has a look of rage behind his eyes, that of a father who just found his son going into a place of reckless abandon with intent to kill someone.
“What the fuck is right, Foster!” he screams. “This is not the road you will go down. Under any fucking circumstances.” Wes turns to me, grabbing my shoulders. “You either, Skyler. You’re going to get into that car, drive back to campus, and stay.”
“So what? We just leave. They arrested the wrong man! The Keeper is in that fucking building,” I sneer, regretting calling him.
“Yes,” he tells us. “We’ll let the authorities handle this.”
Foster throws his hands on top of his head. “My grandma is probably going to fucking die, Wes, and if she does no one will remember her after I’m gone, because I’m next, and then Sophie. My grandma deserves to be remembered.” Tears begin to stream down his face. “She deserves to be remembered,” he repeats.
A discreet black car creeps beside us. “I’m here.” Barnes rushes out, looking at the three of us. “I thought it was just going to be you.” He tilts his head, looking at me with a worried gaze. “Skyler, you should stay here.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Wes agrees.
Foster rolls his head back. “No one,”—he looks between them—“and I mean fucking no one, is allowed to tell her what to do.”
“So what?” Wes snorts, his expression darkening. “You die, she dies? Come the fuck on, man, you’re not in the right headspace!”
I turn my attention to Barnes as he talks. “I tried telling them we got the wrong guy when you called me earlier,” he sighs, “but they won’t listen. We’re going to have to go in on our own.” He hands the blueprints to Foster.
A light illuminates the shadowed areas of my mind. “What about the recording?”
Barnes looks to the stars. “They are doing everything they can to pin it on Kent. The whole department is so fucking corrupted.”
“There was a crooked cop,” Foster admits, “when I was in jail.”
Barnes crosses his arms, looking much more like an older brother than a friend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would take it straight to the higherups.”
Barnes nods, blowing out an exasperated breath. “Okay, but that would be a good thing.”
“For who? Not me. I would get my ass kicked for snitching. You guys ready?”
Wes is pacing back and forth, running his hand down his ponytail. “We can’t go in there; we’re undermanned and unarmed.”