Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 109903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Neil flinched. He'd pushed because he needed to see that horrible smile crack. He needed to know if Andrew was screaming behind the euphoria his drugs fed his veins. But Andrew wasn't, and Neil couldn't live with that. Andrew's medicine was too strong or his psychosis too twisted; either way, tonight didn't mean anything to him. This was a setback Andrew could sidestep and ignore.
"Speaking of the other Minyard..." Andrew let go of Neil and grinned at Wymack. He raised his voice so Wymack could hear and asked, "He really did it, didn't he? Probably the most decisive thing he's ever managed. Where was that spine when his mother was beating him? It would have come in handy all those years. Someone ought to congratulate him."
"Aaron is under arrest," Betsy said. "Why don't you come inside so we can talk about it?"
Andrew turned a surprised look on her. "Are you still here, Bee?"
"For a few moments longer," Betsy said. "The milk's almost done heating. I picked some up on the way over so we could have some cocoa. I brought the entire canister of the dark chocolate hazelnut with me. If we start drinking it now, we could probably make ourselves sick off of it by midnight."
Neil couldn't believe her. Chocolate wasn't a fix-it; it wouldn't make any of this easier to stomach. Except a moment later Andrew dragged Neil's arm around where he could get a look at Neil's watch and said, "You think of everything, Bee. We'll be in soon."
Betsy nodded and went inside. When she was gone Andrew tried again to get his hand free. Neil still held fast. Andrew turned a look on him that was too amused to be exasperated.
"Better luck next time, Neil," he said. "I warned you once already, didn't I? I don't feel anything."
"Anymore," Neil said, barely a whisper.
The old scars up and down Andrew's wrists were evidence of how far Andrew had to fall to hit this point. Neil finally let go of him and let his hand fall limp to his side. Andrew gave an exaggerated shrug and spun on his heel. Neil watched him disappear through the doorway. He was aware, a second or minute or hour later, of Wymack's heavy stare on him.
"Neil," Wymack said.
"I'm fine," Neil said.
Wymack said nothing immediately, then, "Be fine inside where it's warmer."
Neil took a step forward, or meant to. The next thing he knew he was running: not at the house, but away.
He could still smell the blood on his shirt, even through his coat. He didn't know if it was his imagination, but the scent was so thick and sharp he could almost taste the metal tang of it. Every slap of his shoes on the pavement sounded like gunshots. He blinked and saw France, saw Greece, saw that long layover in Lebanon and short trip through Dubai. He remembered the rumbling waves of the Pacific Ocean and his mother's fingers clawing at the air as she struggled for one last breath.
Guilt, grief, and pain were corrosive toxins in his veins, tearing him apart from the inside out. He let them, made them, because these memories were awful but they were things that made sense. That aching loss was all he knew and understood. If he lost sight of them all he had was the unfamiliar cruelty he'd witnessed tonight. He didn't know how to face this yet. He didn't know how to compartmentalize it into something he could tolerate. Maybe he'd figure it out tomorrow. Maybe he'd carry it with him until the Moriyamas killed him. Neil didn't know. He didn't want to know.
He ran until he couldn't breathe, but he never stopped hurting.
By the time he made it back the house was silent and dark. Neil didn't know how the others had divvied up the three bedrooms and he didn't want to see anyone else tonight. Luckily the living room was unoccupied. He eased the coffee table off to one side so he'd have enough room to stretch out and, having nothing to change into, only kicked his shoes off before curling up on the couch. He was half-sure his thoughts would keep him up all night, but exhaustion dragged him under before long.
The bang of a cabinet door warned him he wasn't alone. Neil startled awake and reached instinctively for his duffel bag. His wild grab came back empty, and his stomach bottomed out in the second it took his mind to wake up. He sat up on the couch and willed his heartbeat out of its frantic gallop. Neil scrubbed at his eyes, tired despite that adrenaline burst, and went to investigate the noise.
The kitchen light was off, but the dim florescent bulb over the stove was on. Wymack was fussing over the coffeemaker. If Wymack was up, it was half past four in the morning. Neil learned Wymack's morning schedule the hard way from a month on Wymack's couch. Apparently death wasn't enough cause to shake the routine.
Wymack finished setting up the grinds and set the coffee to brew. As he turned around he spotted Neil in the doorway. Neil waited for him to say something about how Neil ran out last night, but all Wymack said was, "Did you get any sleep?"
Neil didn't know what time he'd gotten back, so he said, "A couple hours, I think."
"If you can get more, do it," Wymack said. "It's going to be a long day, and I need everyone awake and coherent before Waterhouse gets here." At Neil's curious look, Wymack explained, "Andrew's lawyer. We're hoping he'll take Aaron's case. It should be an easy win for him."
"They shouldn't have arrested him."
"They're doing their jobs," Wymack said. "A man died last night, and until they have everything they need they have to hold him. Your testimony could speed the process up, you know. You're the only one besides Andrew and Aaron who was in that room when Drake died, and since Andrew won't talk either—"
"Has Luther confessed?"
"To what?"
"To setting them up," Neil said, heated. "He put Drake in that house knowing what Drake had done to Andrew the last time they were together. If he and Aaron both told the truth and the officers had working sets of eyes to see what that room looked like, they don't need anything else. If they're bogging things down because Andrew's history makes them prejudiced they should give the case to more objective people and stop wasting our time."