Page 126 of Lotus

I nodded, slow and certain. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Good.” A sniff. “There’s nothing I detest more in life than loose ends.”

We pull into my long, winding drive a while later, and I kill the headlights, rubbing my palms up and down my damp face through a disheveled breath. I’m frazzled, jittery, and nauseated.

I look back at Oliver, who is perfectly still and silent as he glances around the unlit property. “You okay, kid?”

A small nod. He fixates on something outside the window, barely visible through the dark night. His body seems to relax, his gaze brightening with a spark of relief. “Is that the surprise?”

I follow his line of vision and my stomach drops.

Tommy’s bicycle.

It still sits in the front yard, shiny and red, the tires lightly worn and caked with dried mud. I never had the heart to move it, let alone get rid of it.

The seconds go by, long and slow, until a thoughtful minute has passed.

It’s only a minute, but it’s a powerful minute. A life-changing minute—just like the minute I sat helpless, tied to a kitchen chair, as I watched my wife and child get their heads blown off.

A hell of a lot can happen in one minute, and I know that better than anyone.

Pulling the blindfold out of my pocket, I exit the car and round the hood to the backseat. Oliver climbs out when I order him to, and I carefully secure the piece of cloth around his eyes. His body tenses up again, limbs starting to quiver. “You’re all right, I promise.”

Oliver begins to cry, his tears absorbing into the fabric of the blindfold. “Can Syd come with us?”

“No. Syd can’t come.”

Another whimper as I pull him forward by the wrist. “But how will the man in the sky grant our wish?”

Instead of guiding the boy behind the house, toward his grave, I pull him through the yard, and we head for the front door. My own misty eyes land on the deserted bicycle as we pass, and I reply, “The only man granting wishes tonight is me, kid.”

T W E N T Y – N I N E

THE POUNDING IN MY HEADis a peculiar thing to wake up to, and I can’t for the life of me recall even going to bed.

I remember being in the shower.

There was an odd noise—a clattering of some sort.

Did Sydney hurt herself?

I clothed myself in my boxers and a clean t-shirt, drying my hair with a towel as I investigated the disturbance.

And then…darkness.

Groaning, I lift my head from my shoulder, noting a sticky fluid coating my tongue when I wet my lips—something tangy and metallic, like copper pennies.

Blood?

A noise pierces through the dull ache pulsing in my temple, causing my eyes to flutter, the small action nearly paralyzing me with pain.

Sydney?

I think I hear her calling for me, but she sounds muffled and far away. Instinctually, I attempt to move my arms, my will to reach for her hindered by the restraints digging into my wrists.

Rope?

“Syd…” Her name escapes as an anguished gasp, hardly comprehendible as I sputter on the liquid still dribbling into my mouth. It’s most certainly blood and it must be directly correlated to the throbbing in my temporal lobe.Dear God, what happened?I give my hands another tug, meeting firm resistance as my eyelids finally blink open all the way.

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