Part 19 (1/2)

She looks at me, fear in her eyes. Her voice is barely a whisper. I have to strain to hear.

”Do you think he killed your mom so he could marry mine? It was only like a year after she died.”

I clench my fists and bite my lip.

”Maybe.”

”G.o.d. I'm so sorry.”

”It's not your fault. She doesn't seem... she's weird. Was she always like that?”

”They were only married for two months when she signed the papers to have me committed to a psych ward, Hawk. I've never been close with her and it was really rough after dad died. You remember.”

”Yeah.”

I remember.

The little apartment they shared was like a tomb. I was only sixteen myself, I had no idea what the h.e.l.l was going on. Alex would just sit there and stare and it was like May refused to believe that her father was gone. She was what, ten at the time?

”How can we follow Tom without him noticing?” Alexis says.

I blink. ”What? Oh, right. My truck?”

She gives me an annoyed look. ”Hawk, we might as well follow him in a fire engine with the siren going.”

”Don't you have a car?”

”Yeah,” she sighs. ”My Honda. Wouldn't he spot us following him? I mean we'd be leaving from the same place.”

”Not if we hang back. Maybe park it on the street?”

”I don't know, Hawk.”

”It'll be dark. He won't see us. You can still stay behind if you want.”

”Not a chance in h.e.l.l,” she says, folding her arms.

”Fine. Be ready to go any moment, we don't know when he's planning to leave.”

She nods.

This time I head out the door, rather than climb up. I peer out into the hallway and head upstairs quickly, watching to see if someone spotted me. The coast is clear, looks like. Now I just have to get ready and wait.

Alexis Now This is nuts, I shouldn't be doing this. I should let somebody else handle it. I should call Jennifer and tell her what's going on.

No. This is my responsibility. I have to see Tom Richardson go to prison. I have to know my sister and Hawk will be safe.

Hawk may not be afraid of his father anymore, but I am. So I pace my bedroom, walking from the door to the edge of the bed and back again, and back again, and back again. Seeing as it's July, the sun is going to go down late, and I pace for hours, stopping only to rest and pace some more. Then I hear the tapping on my window and open it and Hawk slides into my room, dressed for sneaking, which apparently means a black t-s.h.i.+rt and jeans and his freaking combat boots.

He scoots across the bed and stands up, stretches, and yawns into his hand. I pace away from him and his hands shoot out and take my arms just above the elbows. I struggle for a second but fall into him as he pulls me towards him, my back against his chest, and he slips his arms around me and rests his chin on my head.

I can feel my pulse against his arms, slowing as he holds me. He doesn't say anything, but turns his head down to breathe in my hair, taking in my scent. I rest my hands on his wrists and mold against him with a soft sigh. No matter how complicated I feel about him right now, this is too rea.s.suring and calming to give up. It's like he's made of stone and I feel surrounded and safe.

”When do you think he'll leave?”

Hawk shrugs, his body moving against mine as he does. He lets go and turns to sit on the bed, watching through my window. I click my light off, lift the shade and sit cross-legged next to him.

”We can't go through the house. What if Lance sees us?”

”We're not going out through the door. I'll show you.”

”You want me to climb down the side of the house?”

”It's not hard.”

”Maybe we should go now,” I sigh. ”If we try after he leaves we'll lose him.”

Hawk turns and stares out the window. There's something distant in his gaze, almost vacant. Beyond the gla.s.s, Paradise Falls is starting to light up for the night, a glow popping into windows as lamps turn on. In the distance, it looks like stars reaching out into the dark beyond. Outside of town, away from the buildings, it's pitch black at night, the dark so deep you can't see your hand in front of your face. Hawk taps my back with his fingers and I flinch.

”You're right. Come on. We'll hide out in the yard. Got your keys?”

”Yeah.”

He lifts the window sash and climbs out, shuffles to the side, so he's peering around the edge of the window frame. He lowers his voice.

”Swing your legs out. I won't let you fall.”

”What do I do?”

”Put your feet on the wall and feel. There's a strip of molding under the window that'll hold you. Keep a tight grip on the frame.”

I nod and take a deep breath, scoot across the bed and slip my legs into the open air. Realizing I'm going to go out backwards, I roll around onto my stomach and slither across the blankets until I can swing my legs down and probe along the wall. Hawk puts his hand on the small of my back and I feel the molding he's talking about, like a shelf, about half as wide as my shoes. I slip out a little further and reach back to grip the window frame, and my heart speeds up.

It starts pounding as I squeeze the old wood in my fingers and hear it creak as I stick my b.u.t.t out in the air, swing my head under the sash, and stand up, holding on for dear life. Hawk nods at me and I shuffle to the side a little, carefully gripping the windowsill, and he pulls the sash down until it's about an inch above my hands.

Then the back door opens.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I look down and see Tom walk out of the house, right under us.

He stops on the porch, maybe five feet directly under us. If he happens to look up, he'll spot the two of us hanging on for dear life on the outside of the house, clearly climbing out through my bedroom window.

He's just standing there.

My hands start to shake. I'm squeezing the windowsill too hard and it makes it feel like my fingers are going to pop out of joint. Hawk is perfectly still, but I'm shaking harder every second. Tom checks his watch, then pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, taps one free, and sticks it in his mouth. Then he just stands there rolling it around on his lips before bringing a Zippo to the tip. The cigarette lights and casts a baleful red glow on his face as he takes a long puff and... lets it out as he stands there.

Come on, leave already!

My hands are getting tired. Hawk lets go of the strip of molding he's holding with one hand and puts it on my back, pressing me against the wall.

Fatigue begins to burn in my calves. If I relax my legs I'll slip right off the molding. I'm plenty strong enough to hold myself up like this but the longer I stay here without s.h.i.+fting, the more my calves start to burn. Hawk is trembling, too. He brings his hand back and I see his arms tense as he tries to take the pressure off his own legs.