Page 310 of Heart So Hollow

“That’s not true,” I chime in, “I never hit you.”

“I stand corrected,” Alex concedes, “you only threatened my life.”

I nod in approval and he continues.

“I’d have gone to prison again if you hadn’t convinced me to wait for Col to come back…” Alex finishes.

My stomach turns at the memory, when I finally came back and Alex told me what Bowen had been doing, and for who knows how long. I have to remind myself there’s no one left to gun for anymore, no one left to seek out and destroy. But when Alex told me how Bowen had kept his word, even after all this time, it was like we were back in high school and I was on the warpath all over again. Except, this time, I wasn’t afraid of Tate and his goons getting in my way.

If I’d known then what I know now, the fact that I was arrested for menacing by stalking is laughable. Technically, I wasn’t stalking when I took the boys up to the railroad bridge to fuck with Bowen. He’s lucky that’s all we did. Menacing—yes. Stalking—no. Because the first rule of stalking is that your prey should never know you even exist.

That night at the railroad bridge was harassment, plain and simple. But I was inexperienced back then, just a high schooler with a bad temper and low to no impulse control. It was also the most convenient charge with the most evidence.

Inexperience was the same reason I was such a dick to Brett at first. I loved her so much and I was blind to everything else, but I doled out punishments with impunity, even to her. I had to learn—adapt or die—which most people never do.

But I couldn’t help myself at the Rickhouse. That was a conscious choice to break the rules. First, because it’s torture being in the same room with Brett and not engaging. And second, because no one will ever lay a hand on her without dire consequences.

And, later, when Bowen whipped out my mugshot, all bets were off. I became the ghost, the apparition in his house, and messed with his shit all day long. I was the stalker, but Bowen was the menace, just like always. He had to be known, he had to be center stage, and in the end, that’s how he destroyed himself.

Dallas settles on the seat behind Alex, bags strapped to the rack behind her, while Brett wraps her arms around my chest on the seat behind me. She always holds tight, regardless of how fast we’re going. Backpacks strapped to their backs, Sydney and Tyler climb on the other two bikes behind Aiden and Mason. Then Sergei revs his bike and takes off across the grass toward the clearest path up into the woods.

The forest is much darker now that the sun’s dipped behind the trees, but not dark enough to need the lights yet. There will be plenty of that once we get to the barn, anyway. Once we break through the trees, Ray and his crew have already finished digging their firebreaks, leaving the barn in the middle of a pristine clearing.

The door is hanging open, exactly as I left it. You’d never know anything out of the ordinary happened here, or that this place had been crawling with law enforcement. Neither of us have been up here since it happened. Not since I carried Brett back down. The barn is still decaying, missing boards, growing a thin film of moss, still a tired pile of lumber in the middle of the forest.

Ray raises his hand from across the clearing and I give him a nod as we climb off the quads. No surprise, Sergei is already making his way to Ray, boasting about whatever he has stashed in his duffel bag. I’m still 50/50 whether Ray will go along with it.

Dallas tilts her head, gazing at the barn, “I’m going to go in, want to come?” she asks Alex, who gives a nod and starts following her further into the clearing.

Tyler glances at Sydney as she starts to follow Mason toward the barn, but Sydney gives a shake of her head, “You all go,” she sighs, settling back against Aiden’s chest as he wraps his arms around her, “I’ve seen enough for now.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left inside,” I say to Brett as I step past her, “but I’ll do a final check and be right back.”

“No,” Brett says thoughtfully, “I’ll go,” and to my surprise, she takes my hand and follows me across the patches of dirt.

The floorboards groan as we file into the musty space, long ago abandoned and all but forgotten. I suppose it did serve one more purpose before collapsing in exhaustion. Birds chirp in the trees through the missing roof slats as we wander around the perimeter, around the beams broken loose and littering the floor. The rest of the roof looks stable, but we shouldn’t hang out too long.

Soon, the six of us gravitate to the north wall and come to a halt around the massive blood stain, turned dark brown after soaking into the floorboards. I didn’t think I would end up here, like Alex said. I don’t know where I expected to end up, but I sure as hell didn’t think it would be back in Gunnison, staring at Bowen Garrison’s dried blood on my barn floor.

Glancing to my left, I notice Brett staring down at the stain intently, her body completely still. She stays that way for over a minute, not moving, while the others gaze through the gaping holes in the roof and then back down to the floor. But her eyes scan the dark blots like she’s replaying the entire ordeal over in her head.

“Hey, you alright?” I finally ask her.

“I will be,” she says with a contented smile. Then she takes a deep breath, inhaling the earthy evening air, “It’s not so bad when you’re already used to sitting in the darkness,” then she weaves her fingers in mine before turning for the door.

I’m done here, ready to cleanse the property—and my life—of this ordeal. I can’t completely erase him, lest I erase one of the most important people in my life that he stole away years ago, but it’s as close as I can get, which is good enough.

Following Mason and Tyler, Brett steps back out into the clearing and heads toward Sergei and Ray, waving at them as she approaches. I glance over my shoulder and pause when I see Alex behind me, turned halfway around, staring back into the open room. Dallas isn’t with him.

When I look to the side to see what he’s staring at, I see she’s still standing over Bowen’s bloodstain. Her back is to us, so I don’t know if she realizes we’re still here. Dallas sways from side to side a couple times, tilting her head as she studies it. Alex doesn’t acknowledge me, but keeps his eyes focused on her.

The longer we watch, it seems like Dallas is enjoying herself. Every so often, there’s a swish of her breath like she’s sighing or laughing. Until, finally, she speaks.

The voice that comes out of Dallas is soft and high-pitched, like a child’s, “Surpriiise…” she murmurs in a sing-song tone, barely loud enough for us to hear. And, suddenly, there’s a muted pop and she spits right in the middle of the bloodstain. “Wet enough for you now?” she quips before breaking into an airy giggle.

I glance at Alex, his eyes still trained on her, “What’s she doing?” I whisper.

Alex doesn’t answer, but waits patiently, watching her with what feels like admiration.

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