Page 162 of Corpse Roads
My nails dig into my palms as I make myself go further, drinking in the scents and sounds. Rewinding the clock, I shove Mrs Michaels from the basement and return Kiera to her cell.
Dismembered limbs reattach themselves as her blood cascades back into her prone form. Colour returns as she begins to breathe again, her hands wrapped around the bars as we prayed together.
Our Father, who art in heaven.
Hallowed be thy name.
Pray with me, Harlow.
Here, like this. Shut your eyes.
“I can hardly hear her; there’s a rainstorm outside. The basement is leaking. She’s praying and her voice is shaking with each word.”
“What else is she saying?” Richards croons.
Even after years of captivity, I was scared of the unknown. The women were terrifying to me at first, bringing death and violence into the basement.
It was a relief to have company at last and a harrowing sentence all in one. I could take my own beatings. They became routine, mundane even. But watching theirs was unbearable.
That man isn’t your father, Harlow.
He’s a monster.
I always knew he had the devil in him.
With a gasp, my eyes fly open. The warm lights of the interview room chase away the shadows that had infected my vision. I’m not in the basement. The past can’t drag me back, kicking and screaming.
“I think… she knew him,” I choke out on a sob. “Kiera told me that he wasn’t my real father. I don’t think I believed her.”
Richards nods to keep going.
“When he killed her… she wouldn’t stop screaming, begging him to spare her the Lord’s mercy. He was angry, tearing her clothes off like an animal. It was so cruel, so violent.”
I search the flimsy memory for anything else. It’s like I’m digging around in an open chest cavity. Everything about this feels so wrong.
“She called him a… a… charlatan. What does that mean?”
Richards rubs his chin. “It sounds like she challenged him, and he didn’t like it. Narcissists often don’t.”
“So she knew he wasn’t a real pastor?”
“Potentially,” he muses. “We know he gave himself a fake position of power to brutalise women under the guise of repentance. Self-deception cemented in violence.”
“This makes no sense.”
“Just take a deep breath for me, Harlow. You’ve achieved a lot here. Let’s have a moment to close those boxes again.”
Making myself relax, I unclench my hands and take a few deep, controlled breaths. My nails leave searing crescent marks in my skin. Even as Richards guides me through the breathing, I still feel like I’m teetering on a cliff’s edge.
If Kiera holds a connection to Pastor Michaels that wasn’t identified in the initial police investigation, the guys need to know. This could open a whole new field of enquiry.
“I have to go. Hunter needs to hear this.”
Pulling my coat and scarf back on, I try to stand on trembling legs. Richards looks concerned as I try and fail to muster a thankful smile.
“Harlow, you need to stick to what we’ve discussed. Use your coping mechanisms and support system. These memories are traumatic. They will take some getting used to.”
I offer a tight nod. “I will.”