was that psycho going to be part of his son’s life.
Not a chance.
Not on his life.
He should have expected this. He should have known how stupid Beth would be. She might be pushing thirty, but she had the intelligence of a child. He should have known that she’d see in Thigh-bolt whatever she wanted to see and ignore the obvious.
It would come to an end, though. Sooner rather than later. He’d make her see the light, no matter what it took.
35
Thibault
After kissing Elizabeth good-bye at the door, Thibault collapsed on the sofa, feeling both drained and relieved. He reveled in the knowledge that Elizabeth had forgiven him. That she’d tried to understand and make sense of the convoluted journey he’d taken to get here seemed nothing short of miraculous. She accepted him, warts and all—something he’d never thought possible.
Before she left, she’d invited him for dinner, and though he’d readily agreed, he planned to rest up before he went. He somehow doubted that he’d have the energy for conversation otherwise.
Before his nap, he knew he needed to take Zeus out, at least for a little while. He went to the back porch and retrieved his rain suit. Zeus followed him outside, watching him with interest.
“Yeah, we’re going out,” he said. “Just let me get dressed first.”
Zeus barked and leapt with excitement, like a prancing deer. He raced to the door and back to Thibault again.
“I’m going as fast as I can. Relax.”
Zeus continued to circle and prance around him.
“Relax,” he said again. Zeus fixed him with a beseeching gaze before reluctantly sitting.
Thibault donned the rain suit and a pair of boots, then pushed open the screen door. Zeus bounded out into the rain, immediately sinking into the muddy ground. Unlike Nana’s place, his property occupied a slight rise; the water collected a quarter mile away. Up ahead, Zeus veered toward the forest, then back to the open area again, then circled around to the graveled driveway, running and bounding in sheer joy. Thibault smiled, thinking, I know exactly how you feel.
They spent a few minutes outside, wandering in the storm. The sky had turned charcoal, heavy with rain-burdened clouds. The wind had picked up again, and Thibault could feel the water stinging his face as it blew sideways. It didn’t matter; for the first time in years, he felt truly free.
At the base of the driveway, he noted that Elizabeth’s tire tracks had nearly washed away. In a few more minutes, the rain would smooth them away completely. Something snagged his attention, though, and he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. His first thought was that the tires that had left the tracks seemed too wide.
He walked over for a closer look, reasoning that the set of tracks she’d left going out had probably overlapped the set coming in. It was only when he stood at the edge of the drive that he realized he’d been mistaken. There were two sets of tracks, both leading in and out. Two vehicles. At first, it didn’t make sense.
His mind began to click quickly as the puzzle pieces slid into place. Someone else had been here. That didn’t make sense, unless . . .
He glanced toward the path that led through the forest to the kennel. At that moment, the wind and rain unleashed in full fury, and he squinted before his breath caught in his throat. All at once he took off at a run, making sure to pace himself. His mind raced as he ran, calculating how long it would take to get there. He hoped he would make it in time.
36
Beth
As fate would have it, Nana was in the kennel office when Keith stormed into the house and closed the door behind him, acting as if he owned the place. Even from the kitchen, Beth could see the veins on his neck protruding. His hands balled into fists when his eyes locked on hers.
When he marched through the living room, Beth felt something give way inside her; fear filled its place. Never once had she seen him like this, and she backed away, following the angles of the cabinets. Keith surprised her by stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. He smiled, but his expression was off somehow, a grotesque and demented caricature of what it was supposed to be.
“Sorry for barging in like this,” he said with exaggerated courtesy, “but we need to talk.”
“What are you doing here? You can’t just walk in here—”