Page 105 of Vengeance of Childhood Proportions

I walked inside unimpeded and hung a left. The large facility had over a hundred beds, but most of the alarms were going off in the north wing, opposite of my path. I didn’t see a single soul on my way down the long hall to room seven-oh-two.

I didn’t knock. Manners had no place in my life anymore. Jason and I had a stop to make in the lower forty-eight, and then we were free to go wherever. The world was our oyster, and all that bullshit. Funny, how I kept thinking about my mask that I’d had to leave behind. It was my favorite, after all.

Clyde Renfrew was lying prone on his bed. His oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, fogging up with each struggling breath. I’d seen the sheriff around town in my youth. One didn’t grow up in a small town like I did without knowing the sheriff, but he’d never been more than a figurehead to me. I knew his son from school and that seemed to be it.

Until he’d failed me.

Had he even known my name before that day?

I recalled seeing him outside my hospital room the day after my rape. I’d beengratefulto see him, believed that I would get justice because Sheriff Renfrew was there. How utterly wrong I’d been. I couldn’t even call myself naïve, because what fifteen year old wouldn’t believe that the police were there to help her after the most terrifying and horrific experience of her life? It was Hagley who had begged for the sheriff to make my attack “go away”, but I couldn’t help wondering if the sheriff would have done so anyway.

After all, it washis sonwho had organized it.

I pushed the hospital table over his knees on the bed, making sure not to catch the wheels on the wires attached to the man.I picked up the remote that controlled the direction of the bed. The motor whirred as the top half of the bed rose.

Clyde Renfrew blinked awake. His heart rate and breathing picked up the moment his eyes landed on me at his bedside. I waved to him, but did not remove my thumb from the button until he was upright.

Then I slammed his son’s decapitated head on the table with a squelch.

Chapter Seventy

Holly

I draggedthe visitor chair over to sit next to him. “Hello, Sheriff.”

His yellowish eyes stared at his son’s head. I’d forced Emmet to watch as Jason and I built the guillotine outside the fishery the day after I’d killed Dominique. It took nearly all day even with the two of us. Even brought a watermelon to ‘test’ the blade and demonstrate to the man just how he was going to die. Emmet had cried, pleaded, and begged as Jason dragged him into position. He’d offered me his 401k, his life savings, and even his car. I let him whine. If that was how he wanted to spend his last moments, that was on him.

Emmet shit himself as Jason strapped him to the table. I recorded the entire event to show his father as well. Wouldn’t want him to miss it just because he was dying of cancer.

The man lifted a shaky hand, moving the oxygen mask down slightly. He immediately started coughing, but he still managed to say my name. “Holly…”

I put the portable projector on the table next to Emmet’s head. The man slept most of the time, so his overhead lights were already dimmed and the shades were pulled on the window. I hit Play, allowing the recording of his son’s lastmoments to be viewed on the white wall across from the former sheriff’s bed. I’d already programmed the device to play on repeat.

Horror filled him as he watched, and he needed to put the mask back over his nose. I didn’t know how much he could hear, since the speakers on the small projector weren’t the greatest, but I knew from the way his heartbeat picked up on the monitor next to me that he was able to see it.

I let it play through twice before I asked the one thing I needed to know before I ended his life too. “Was it worth it?”

He struggled to lower the mask again. “He. Was. My. Son.” He had to speak each word carefully and precisely.

The recording was starting to play for the third time. “He’s your dead son now.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, catching on the green elastic of his oxygen mask. “I’m. Sorry. Never. Meant. For. It. To. Go. This. Far.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at those words. “And how far did you mean for it to go, Sheriff? What exactly was your endgame?”

He didn’t answer—or couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t know the answer. Regardless, he started coughing hard and needed to place the mask back on his face.

Standing, I headed over to all his monitors. He watched me with pure trepidation, but I didn’t see him trying to reach for the call button to the nurse’s station, nor was he shouting out for help.

“At the end of the day, I don’t really care why you did it,” I told him. I started turning the monitors off one by one. “Whatever the reason was, it changes nothing. The outcome will still be the same.”

“I. Am. Sorry.”

I looked over my shoulder. “That’s between you and your god, Sheriff. Like I said, I don’t care.” After turning off thelast monitor, I headed back to my chair. I pulled a vial and a capped syringe out of my pocket. I place both on the table next to his son’s head. “The hockey game is the one thing I’ve never understood. As I said, it doesn’t matter, we still end up here, but I never understood why a hockey game was so fucking important.”

Renfrew took several deep breaths before lowering the mask again. “Not. About. Hockey. Hagley. Had. Gambling. Debts. Bet. Everything. On. The. Game.”

I closed my eyes, a wave of despair piercing me. And the stupidest part? I wished nothing more in that moment than for Master Mal to be standing beside me, holding my hand.Gambling debts. After everything, it was so…mundane. Almost a letdown. The man had bet on the State Championship game. And if his players were in prison for rape, there would be no game, no winnings. Who the fuckgambledon high school sports? I didn’t know enough about the subject to speculate. I’d heard of gambling when it came to college sports and minor or major leagues, but high school? I hadn’t realized that was even a thing.

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