We Are All the Same in the Dark - Julia Heaberlin Page 0,91

Meaningless. No longer much of a wound for my finger to poke around in.

Except his face pales. His hands tighten on the wheel in a way that makes me think what a thick rope they would be around someone’s neck.

“Odette can’t be alive!” he shouts at me. “Is Odette alive?”

He is rocking back and forth like he is about to explode from the car. I know two things in that instant.

Rusty half-believes that I am hearing things from the grave.

“You had a thing for Odette, too,” I breathe out.

53

I open the door and tumble into the gravel, desperate to escape him.

My fingers are groping for the handle of the Hyundai when I watch his door fly open and his scuffed-up boot hit the ground. I’m locking my car doors, punching the ignition. Why isn’t the car starting? How did Rusty get to my window so fast?

His fist is knocking on the glass.

The engine is failing to catch.

I keep pressing the ignition. Did Rusty’s partner crawl out of the woods and mess under the hood while I wasn’t paying attention?

Never forget your blind side.

Watch the shadows.

Peephole. Popeye. Cockroach.

Am I the last page of a book with a very bad ending? Or are there hundreds of pages left, hundreds of girls who will come looking for each other, who will search and die, search and die, search and die? Will it be Mary who comes looking for me? Bunny?

I can’t let that happen.

I whip my head around to the backseat.

Empty.

I keep punching the ignition. Come on, come on, come on.

Rusty is jiggling the door handle. I make out the word fucking or flooding. My only chance is to run into the trees and take a zigzag approach. Or climb.

I ram the door into Rusty’s stomach. Bad move. He’s a slab of muscle. Pain is shooting up my neck from the impact. In a single swift motion, he pulls me the rest of the way out of the car and holds me still against the door.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks angrily. “It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you. I have daughters, you know.” He steps back, arms up, in surrender. “Look, I’m letting go of you. Move over and let me try the car. You can walk away, over there, no problem.”

Walk. Run. I’m not even sure I can stand. Big hiccup-y sobs are shaking my body. Mary. That’s the last time I cried like this—when they said they were sending her to juvie lockup for punching the girl who ripped out every page in little Lucy’s Harry Potter book. Instead, Mary ran.

I’m vaguely aware of thick green leaves, swirling like the kaleidoscope that Bunny put in my Christmas stocking last year. Of a mockingbird above my head, mocking away. Of Rusty, all badass cop—one boot on the pedal, one flat on the asphalt, trying to tease the engine to life.

Except he’s not even getting a click out of my car. It’s completely dead.

“Battery,” he says. “The Texas sun beats the shit out of them.”

He strides back to the patrol car, popping the trunk. Jumper cables, which he drops onto the grass. Two cans of Coors, one of which he sets on the bumper.

He pops the top of the one in his hand and takes a deep drag. Now he’s holding the other can out like I’m a puppy who needs a treat. I have to stop this crying. I have to stop acting like a kid.

I glance back into the straggly forest. It’s stuffed with wild brush that might as well be wire. I never would have made it.

I sweep my eye up and down the road. Rusty’s partner nowhere in sight. Nothing but a squirrel doing a suicide run down a tree trunk.

That’s how I feel right now, like the only option is head fucking first.

Rusty is still holding out the can of Coors. He could have already tossed me in his trunk. Dragged me into the trees.

I walk over reluctantly. Take the beer even though I don’t want it.

“Let’s stop the bullshit,” he says. “Losing Odette nearly killed me. Not finding her killer is slowly doing the rest of the job. I was bluffing. I want whatever information you’ve got, and I don’t give a shit about who you are.”

He takes another swig. “But I can’t speak for my partner. He’s a pit bull when it comes to getting the upper hand on a girl.” He tosses the can on the ground and crushes it flat with