Page 35 of Spiteful Heart

Sylvester didn’t say anything to that, and I could tell he was lost in thought, thinking about it. I, on the other hand, didn’t like that option. “You’re saying we use Lola as fucking bait? Come on. This isn’t a movie. When you use people as bait, nothing goes right.” And if nothing went right… were we willing to do it still, even if Lola got hurt in the process?

Or if she died? Fuck.

“As far as I see it, it’s your only option right now. You’ve tried everything else. You want it to be Newton or Bianca’s old driver, but I think your hopefulness is making you ignore other possibilities,” our father said, getting up as he took his plate into the kitchen. He set it in the sink, walking back to get ours.

As he did that, Sylvester and I shared a look, and I could tell my brother was actually thinking about it. The asshole was actually giving consideration to our father’s advice—but the thing was, it was shitty advice.

We couldn’t let Lola be bait. We couldn’t.

Sylvester got up, grabbing his wine glass, along with mine. He brought them into the kitchen, setting them on the counter near the sink. He stood beside our father, slow to say, “I think you’re right. We’ve exhausted all other options. He hasn’t taken the bait yet because we haven’t given him the bait he wants.”

I stood. “Are you forgetting the night we let Lola walk downtown by herself? Nothing happened—”

“Nothing happened because someone hit on her and she lost her cool on them,” Sylvester reminded me. “Who knows what would’ve happened if we would’ve had a full night of her walking around? Maybe he would’ve come for her.”

“If he’s someone who knows you all, he would’ve known you were watching from the shadows—which, I’m assuming you were,” our father said, turning around and folding his arms across his chest. “It sounds like he wants her to himself, and he won’t make any moves until he’s sure he’ll be able to get her alone.” He paused. “So, send her out, alone. Really alone.”

I didn’t like the thought of pushing Lola out into the night and basically telling her,good luck. It must’ve been written on my face, because my father grunted out, “What? She can take care of herself, can’t she? I certainly hope so, otherwise it’s even more enraging that she managed to take down your brother.”

Our father would always hate Lola, I think, and I couldn’t blame him. If fucking love hadn’t entered into the equation, I’d probably be stuck on hate, just like him. We were more alike than we were different, even if I hadn’t inherited the brains to be the head of the family.

Sylvester was busy nodding to himself, though he didn’t say anything. I could tell, though, he agreed with our father, that when we got back after leaving this dump of a cabin, our plan to find the serial killer would change.

Going out alone was what Lola had wanted to do all along, but nobody thought it was a good idea. Nobody wanted her to go out alone, because, if she was by herself, she wouldn’t be able to hold back. She’d gladly dig her own grave if it meant putting this serial killer in the ground with her.

And that was the problem.

“If there’s nothing else,” our father spoke, “I suggest you leave and get to it.” Not that it was time for a family bonding experience, but it was kind of aggravating that he wanted us gone so quickly. Like he didn’t really care to see us or spend time with us. Like he didn’t miss us.

Sylvester looked at me, gesturing toward the cabin door. “Come on. We should go.” He didn’t thank our father as he led the way, nor did he give him a second glance. As I followed him, neither did I. If our father was going to basically say,fuck off, then we’d say it right back.

We left the cabin, bounding down the wooden steps and heading straight for Sylvester’s vehicle. We got in, neither of us saying a word as he started her up and drove away, once again leaving our father in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. But, hey, if he wanted to be a stupid lumberjack, go for it. I wouldn’t miss him.

It was when Sylvester turned out of the dirt driveway and onto the road that I broke the silence of the car by saying, “Tell me we’re not really going to let Lola try finding this guy by herself.” I understood we all wanted to be done with this stupid serial killer and avoid the FBI catching wind of it, but if that meant trading Lola… no. I wouldn’t do it. I would take the FBI raiding our house over losing her.

“Our father was right, Maddox,” he said, leaning his left arm on the window with an accompanying sigh. “What we’ve been doing is obviously not working, so we need to change things up. That serial killer wants Lola, so we’ll give her to him.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “And you don’t see the issue there? Dude, she’s fucking nuts. She doesn’t care if she lives or dies half the time. Can’t you see how sending her after this guy might backfire?”

He shot a blue-eyed stare my way. “I didn’t say we’d send her off alone.”

I blinked. “What… what the hell are you talking about? Wasn’t that the whole point of what our father said?” I could tell there was something Sylvester wasn’t saying, and I frowned at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

And then he told me exactly what he was planning.

The little motherfucker. He’d planned ahead, somehow, knowing this might be our only option. I had to hand it to him; it was smart. One way to let Lola go without really letting her go alone.

Still, there were risks involved with the plan, though the risks were the same with any plan. We could lose. We could lose the one thing that my brother and I agreed on, the one person who made us both feel alive, who helped us feel a little less insane.

We drove back to the city, though it took hours. Night fell before we crossed the bridge to the city. We were going to Lola’s place, to tell her what the plan was—well, most of the plan, anyway—but then we got a call.

Sylvester answered his phone. “Lola, what’s going on?” He shot me a look as he listened to whatever it was Lola said. “Hang tight. We’re almost there.” He hung up the phone. To me, he said, “It seems our killer made a move.”

“Another body?” I asked, knowing how crazy that would make Lola.

“No,” he told me, and then he smiled.

Well, that smile wasn’t foreboding in the least. Not creepy at all. Yeah, a smile like that would definitely not haunt my dreams.

---