Page 77 of Cruel Riches

“Sharks. They hang out there to hunt for seals on the rocks, even in cold weather,” he replied. “When the car fell all that way, my dad and uncle were killed by the impact, and there was blood everywhere. The windows were all smashed out, and like I said, the car was half underwater. So you can imagine what was left of the bodies.”

Bile rose in my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, wincing at the mental image Nate had left in my mind.

“They found my dad’s head and torso with one arm missing, still partially strapped to the driver’s seat,” he went on. “That was all that was left of him. I guess the sharks were too full to eat all of him, seeing as they’d already taken most of my uncle from the passenger seat. Wanna know what was left of him?”

“What?”

Nate threw up his hands. “Nothing. Just a few bloodstained chunks of his clothes on the rocks, and more of his blood in the car. So that’s all we had to bury after the accident. Bits of my uncle’s shirt, and my dad’s head, chest, and one arm.”

“Nate, I’m sorry that happened, but I don’t—”

“Don’t think it’s your dad’s fault?” he said, cutting me off. There was a fire of pure hatred in his eyes. “Yeah, I know it was my father’s choice to drink and drive that day. He caused the crash that killed my uncle and himself.” He paused and lowered his voice. “But here’s the thing, Alexis. It wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t so fucked in the head after what happened to Emilie. He just slipped like so many other people would in that situation.”

More arrows sliced at my heart. “I get what you mean, but—”

Nate cut me off again. “Your father set it all in motion. He killed all those people and tore their friends and families apart,” he said, shaking his head. “So he may have killed thirteen at Blackthorne, but I can tell you the human toll of his crime was a lot fucking more than that.”

A thousand emotions churned inside me, fighting each other for dominance—guilt, sadness, pain, fear, and so much more. “Nate, I’m really sorry that you lost so many people like that. I don’t disagree with you, either. You’re right. Your dad and uncle might still be alive if your dad wasn’t so screwed up after seeing Emilie like that. But it’s not my father’s fault. He wasn’t the Butcher. He was innocent. Someone else killed all those people.”

“Bullshit!” Nate roared. “Everyone knows it was him! You’re the only person still trying to defend him. Even your mother and sister think he did it!”

I licked my parched lips. “I know,” I muttered. “But I know he didn’t do it. And I didn’t do anything, either. Someone else killed Claire and Nessa. Probably the same old Butcher from ten years ago.”

“The new one is a copycat,” Nate said, eyes blazing. “Haven’t you heard? The kills weren’t exactly the same. Just very similar.”

“So he changed his style. Or maybe he was rusty after so long between murders.” I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “But it’s him. I’m telling you.”

“No. It’s you.”

I scooted forward again. “Nate, please listen,” I said, widening my eyes. “I’m innocent. You can’t keep me here and punish me for something I didn’t do.”

“I’m punishing you for something you diddo.”

Anger flared inside me. I was never going to get through to him. He was too fucked up.

“Someone will find me here eventually. They’ll hear me scream,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “But if you let me go now, you won’t get in any trouble. We can just talk this out. No charges. I promise.”

That wasn’t true, but he didn’t need to know that.

A sudden smile curved up Nate’s lips. “No one will hear you. Do you have any idea where you are?”

“No. Where?”

The smile grew wider. “Let me show you.”

He fumbled in his pocket and produced a key for the padlock on the chains that were keeping the cell door locked. He opened it, stepped inside, and yanked me to my feet. “Don’t try to run,” he said. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”

He pulled me out of the cell and pushed me ahead of him into a dark passage, keeping one hand on my shoulder while the other used the flashlight app on his phone to illuminate our path. I could hear water dripping from somewhere, along with the sound of critters scurrying over dirt and crunchy dead leaves.

The passage was slightly curved, with stone walls coated in dust and spiderwebs. Small alcoves and barred cells opened off the main path, and old pipes and support beams covered the ceiling at regular intervals. The ground was littered with fallen bricks and artifacts from previous travelers or inhabitants.

The whole place stank of death and decay.

“Know where we are yet?” Nate asked as we passed under a sculpted stone archway stained with mold.

I shook my head and stayed silent.

Nate stayed silent too. He pushed me through a maze of passages until we reached a wooden door on the left side of the current path. “Here we are,” he said, unlocking the padlock on the door. It looked shiny and new, so I could only assume that he’d installed it himself recently.

---