a lot of horror stories. A malnourished girl who wouldn’t talk. Her sister was raped and killed. According to the forensic report, she had been physically abused for a long time. Your dad and I just assumed that the same happened to Abby.”
“What do I do?”
“She needs love, understanding, and support from her family. Everything that we’ve been doing for the past six years. Nothing different, Wes.”
“Everything is different, Mom.” I hang up the phone.
She’s asking me to sit down and do nothing. All I want is to kill the mother fuckers who hurt her. I let go of all the tears I held in while she told me the story. I cry as if the ferocity of my tears might erase her pain and those horrid memories. As if the sheer force of my grief could undo the past.
How can I save her? Is it too late? I change my clothes and go out for a run, dissolving myself into the night, wanting to disappear because there’s nothing I can do to make this better. I can’t save the woman I love. Even if I find them, whatever I do wouldn’t give her back what she lost. Still, I think about the ways I could kill those sons of bitches. As the sun comes up, my legs start to give out, and I drop to my knees. The sounds echoing across the lake are of birds singing accompanied by my wailing carried in the damp air. Everything is static, frozen. Helpless, just like me.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Wes
“Why are you here?” I ask Sterling when I enter the house.
“Mom called a few hours ago saying, ‘your brother needs you,’” He explains, shrugging. “I found myself a private jet, a pilot, and came to check on you.”
He pretends to check his watch and says, “I arrived a couple of hours ago. The door was open, and Abby has been taking a shower since then—or before I arrived. What happened?”
“Nothing.” I walk into the kitchen where I find the scattered police reports. “What are these doing here?”
“Since there was nothing else to do, I decided to entertain myself.” He taps the papers. “Interesting shit. I assume the old wound is open and gushing.”
I nod, flinching at the gory way he said it.
He shakes his head.
That’s all we exchange for several minutes as we both stare at the gruesome pictures and read the testimony of the neighbors.
Nice family, quiet girls.
They kept to themselves.
The Dad’s charming. Poor man. Since he lost his wife he’s been a total mess, still a great father.
There’s no mention of Shaun in any of the papers. Did she make him up?
Fuck, I sound like every other person who has doubted her. No wonder she’s afraid of that.
“I have no idea what happened, but I know of a few places where she can go.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Her best bet is going to a trauma and PTSD rehabilitation center,” he says in a dry tone of voice. “This is out of your hands. Even the great Weston Ahern can’t do much. You need therapy too. Your girl, the woman you love, lived through a hell on earth, and she relives it daily. That is hard to deal with.”
I scrub my face with both hands. Is he right?
“I told you, you can love her, but you can’t save her,” he reminds me of what he said only yesterday.
“Let me check on her.”
He checks his watch and shakes his head. “Nah, give her space. She’s annoyed with me. I’ve been checking on her every fifteen.”
“Why are you here?” Abby is at the bottom of the stairs. She wears her running outfit and is shooting daggers at Sterling with her eyes.
“You told him?” She points an accusatory finger at me.
“We had an issue earlier and the janitor is at his apartment—fixing the mess. I had to find another place for Terry and me,” Sterling says casually as he tilts his head toward the sleeping dog.
“These?” she gathers the reports.
“Found them in your room and read them while I waited for you two.”
My brother is amazing at impromptu answers. There’s no fucking way I could’ve come up with that as fast as he did.
“That’s a crazy crime scene,” Sterling continues. “You should go to rehab.”
She huffs. “Rehab won’t do shit for someone like me. Thank you for the advice, though.”
Abby grabs a granola bar and walks toward the entrance. “I’m going for a run.”
“Do you want me to go with