Page 66 of When Sinners Fear
“Are you upset that I came back? I know you told me it was time to leave.”
He sips the coffee before striding to his wardrobe, pulling out a fresh shirt and pairing it with a slate blue suit. “I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“Being here isn’t the right thing for you. I thought you’d realise that after going home.”
“Why isn’t it right? After everything we’ve been through and the other night, I thought…” I trail off, not sure what the end of that sentence is.
“You thought what?”
“That we were … I’m not sure.”
“Good. You shouldn’t be sure of anything about me. I won’t turn you away at the moment, but you need to know what this kind of decision means.” The way he delivers that last line sounds ominous – shrouded in the danger of knowing the truth. But that’s what I’ve come back for, isn’t it? To try and right the circle I’m trapped in?
He dresses, not ashamed or hiding that I’m in the room with him. I watch him, not shy at turning to keep my eyes on him either. I notice the pained pull of his lips as he tugs the shirt on, stretching one of the burns on his arm. He has the same reaction as he pulls on his suit pants. He might hide beneath the fine material, covering all signs of vulnerability, but I know they’re there.
“I’d like some answers to my questions. I want to start moving on from our time in that place, but I don’t know how to do that when there are so many gaps and blank spaces. I’d like to understand your involvement and connection to Reed to rationalise some of my feelings about what happened.”
He straps a watch in place. “We know Reed. We worked with him. And we know where he’s going to be in a few days.”
“The other man? Logan?” I ask. My heart pounds in my chest at the mere thought of those men being out in the world.
“Yes. He came through. Again.”
“What does that mean? Are you going to call the police? Will we have to give evidence? Testify?” The words race from my mouth, but although they make sense, they sound off. I know the answers before I’ve finished asking, and as I look up at Knox, I see I’m right.
He takes a few steps towards me and runs the back of his hand over my cheek. It’s such a soft, affectionate move – as if he’s testing something. He shakes his head at me, but his eyes remain kind.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. The memory of the smell of burning flesh, as I watched the men torture and maim Knox’s body floods to mind. I can taste the smell at the back of my throat, and I’m back in that cell again. Reed’s face is in front of mine as my vision blurs in and out from the pain. He should pay for what he did.
An angry vengeance burns in my chest, growing and building with every breath. The fear and pain had masked the hate I felt behind those bars, but it’s untethered now. He’s the reason I’m here. He’s the reason I can’t face my own family. He’s the reason I may be pregnant.
All the guilt, all the shame and all the fear I’ve felt is suddenly aimed, with laser accuracy, at the man that’s within the grasp of Knox and his family.
My nails dig into my palms as I hold all of those thoughts at once.
“Peyton? Peyton. Look at me.”
“What?”
“Careful.” He takes my hands and uncurls my fists. “No more pain because of him.”
“Tell me what you’re going to do,” I snap, grit and determination coming through. If anyone deserves to know, it should be me.
“You can’t go back from this. If I talk, it’s not something you’ll forget.”
I stand, furious that he thinks I could do that. “There’s nothing about this I’ll be able to forget, Knox. Don’t you get that? That’s why I’m here. I can’t wash away the guilt or the shame. It’s in me – it’s part of me – and he’s the cause. Him. You might be able to return to work and get on with your life, but I can’t. I can’t go back.” My voice cracks, and I feel the heat rising over my chest and my face as my anger mixes with frustration. “Tell me!”
“You know what I’ll do to him. I threatened it enough. There’s nowhere on earth that will be safe for him after what he’s done.”
“You’re going to kill him?” He stares as if he might not answer. I need to hear the words. I know what he’s saying, but a part of me still doesn’t quite believe it. It’s the same part of me that still can’t quite comprehend everything that’s happened. When you lay it all out in chronological order – like a map of events – it reads like an action film, a work of fiction where the bad guy finally gets his comeuppance, not a chapter of my life. Except the bruises and marks on my skin tell a different story. They’ve faded, but they’ve left an indelible mark under the surface that I’m frightened I’ll never recover from. That’s why I’m here. “Say it, Knox.”
“Yes.” He walks past me and out of the room as if plotting murder is just another part of his day.
I follow him down the stairs. “Is that it?”
“What more do you want? I’ve told you what the plan is.”