He shook his head. "He and the kid stay."
June
The second I saw the smoke rising from Stan's ranch, I made the 911 call, my hands trembling. Stan's barn was on fire, I could see it clear as day.
The horses.
Stan and April.
They were okay, I reassured myself. They were inside, cooking. Not in the barn. Stan had plenty of experience with fires. A barn fire wasn't that unusual, not out here.
The horses.
I rode, my heart racing, digging into the horse's flanks, urging her on as fast as I could get her to gallop.
Everything would be fine.
It had to be.
Axe
Fear clung to me, a vise grip on my heart so tight I could barely breathe. Jed raced along the back country roads, hugging the turns and driving like his life depended on it, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He tried to say something to me, but I couldn't hear him. All I could think about was them.
June, my dad, April.
If anything happened to them...
Jed pulled in the driveway, two police cruisers and an ambulance blocking the front of the entry. The barn was consumed by fire, and the local volunteer firefighters were trying to contain it.
I couldn't see behind the vehicles to the house.
I heard Jed call to me, but everything was on mute, soundless as I squeezed through the handful of medical personnel and cops near the vehicles. The air smelled acrid, smoke from the barn still billowing up behind the house, but I could barely hear the crackle of the flames and the rushing sound of the fire.
Someone put a hand on my chest, tried to push me back from the house. "You can't go in there, sir."
"It's my father's fucking house." I pried his hand off my chest. "Move out of my fucking way."
Jed's hand was on my back. "Cade, don't," he said.
"Don't fucking touch me," I said. Then, yelled. "Get the fuck off me."
And suddenly, June was there, in the doorway, running toward me.
Covered in blood.
Blood on her hands, splotched on her tee-shirt like some macabre design, stark against the white fabric. She stood in front of me, inches away, her eyes red.
"June." I touched my hand to her hair, and pulled it back.
Blood on my fingertips.
I don't understand.
"Cade," she said, her voice choking.
"Are you hurt? You're hurt. What happened?"
"Cade." She put her hand to my chest, and shook her head. "Not me."
I looked behind her, at the EMTs, who weren't rushing to take anyone to the emergency room. At the medical personnel seemed to have stopped in their tracks, looking at me, then down at the ground.
No.
This is not happening.
"No," I said.
"Cade." June shook her head, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. "I tried. I tried to save them, but I couldn't. There was nothing I could do."
No.
I couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing in my ears. It drowned out everything, leaving my head swimming. I stepped around June, and felt her catch my arm.
"Don't go in there, Cade," she said. "Don't."
I yanked my hand away, and heard her scream at Jed. "Stop him. For fuck's sake, don't let him go in there."
I had to go inside.
I needed to see it for myself.
Inside the doorway, I stopped short. April was in the kitchen, her body still, eyes open. Her face looked calm, peaceful even. Not like the rest of her body.
I heard one of the medics beside me. "Gunshot wound to the chest," he said. "She would have died quickly."
I couldn't look in the other room. I knew what was waiting for me there. I didn't want to face it. "Did she-" I swallowed hard. I couldn't look below her waist. I didn't want to know what those animals had done to her. "Was she -?"
"We don't know anything yet." One of the medical personnel - or was it crime scene investigation? Someone in a jumpsuit, with lettering that blurred in my eyes, stood beside me. "It's best if you wait outside."
"Where - " My voice faltered. "No. I'm not leaving. Where's my Dad's - " I couldn't bring myself to say the word.
"Cade," June said. "It's not good." She put her hand on my arm.
"I need to see him."
I felt like I was walking through quicksand as I made my way to the living room, like my limbs were made of lead, weighing me down as I tried to move. And then I entered the living room, and everything was still. Silent.
There he was.
My father.
Tied to a chair in the middle of the room, his head hanging down on his chest.
Beaten.
Covered in blood.
Nothing else mattered, not June trying to stop me as I ran toward him. Not whichever cop tried to hold me back, keep me away from the body. I dropped to my knees in front of his body, clawed wildly at the rope holding his feet to the chair.
He couldn't be like this, tied to a chair, beaten beyond recognition.
I felt a dam burst inside me, a cry of anguish that rose up from my soul, loud enough to startle anyone within earshot. It sounded like it came from someone else, not from me. And I collapsed there, my head against his legs, racked with heaving sobs I couldn't control. There was so much I had left to tell his man, so much more I needed to apologize for. He couldn't be gone.