Page 81 of Ruthless Devotion
Finally, Margot sighs and lowers her weapon.
“Luca, drive Mrs. Stryker back home. I’m going to take care of the body.”
“NO! I’m not leaving,” Maddie says.
I take a deep breath. “Maddie, you aren’t going to want to see this.”
She shakes her head, “No, I need to be here. I need… I need to know where he is.”
Fuck.
I finally convince her and her mother to wait out in the hallway while I get the body into smaller pieces. There would be no way she could ever unsee that or look at me the same way again. Luca helps me get the pieces into trash bags and put them in the back of the SUV.
When I return, Maddie and her mother are in the kitchen, eating homemade chicken pot pie. I would question if now is the time to eat, but it probably really is the time to eat. All at once I feel ungrounded and untethered from my body.
“Sit down,” Mrs. Prescott says to me, gesturing to a place at the kitchen table across from Maddie. There’s a plate of pot pie and a glass of iced tea. Steam still rises off the food.
“Leftovers,” Mrs. Prescott says, like it’s nothing because it wasn’t cooked fresh in the short span of time it took me to hack up a body. It’s clear that Maddie and her mother have had a long conversation, most likely about me. Maddie can’t look at me, and I don’t blame her.
I’m the reason she had to face the truth about her father—the reason he’s dead.
I flinch as fireworks go off somewhere in the neighborhood. If they were shooting them before, I didn’t notice—I was too preoccupied. I was so single-mindedly focused on handling Maddie’s father that I had no room left for any background noise. I sink numbly into the chair across from Maddie and eat the food her mother prepared.
I wonder only briefly if it’s poisoned. And once that fear feels unfounded, it occurs to me that both my father and Maddie’s were shot to death on the Fourth of July. And both were harming our mothers. Of all the things to have in common.
“Thanks, Mrs. Prescott,” I say to Maddie’s mother, when I finish the food on my plate. I feel almost like a real person again, but the unrelenting fireworks popping off in the background remind me this is all just an illusion.
I stand to leave, and I’m not sure if Maddie is coming or not, but she gets up and follows me out to the car. She gets into the passenger seat, and I start up the SUV.
We’ve driven in silence for about five minutes when she finally speaks. “Where are we taking him?”
The part of me that learned my dark sense of humor from Brian wants to say “Dealer’s choice,” as though such a twisted thing would endear her to me in this moment or somehow lighten the heaviness I feel all around me. But I know it won’t, so I wisely remain silent. All at once I feel the weight of Maddie truly seeing me. Of what she’s now carrying. Of what I’ve been carrying and now can’t even pretend to forget.
Maybe I should have just stayed away from her.
“Aidan?”
“I’m thinking. Is this some place you’re going to want to visit?” I can’t imagine after seeing the grizzly truth that she’s going to want to go visit her father’s makeshift grave and have long conversations with his ghost about her life.
She shakes her head. “No, I just want to know… and be there for it.”
Ocean disposal it is, then.
When we get back to the house after dumping the body, Cora greets me at the door. The entryway smells of bleach.
She throws her arms around me. “Aidan, I’m so glad you’re safe.” She gives Maddie a glare, and I’m sure she thinks I somehow warded off her attack.
“Mrs. Stryker saved my life tonight,” I say.
Cora’s expression softens at this. And I’m glad I don’t have to say anything else about it. She knows better than to ask for details.
“What was done with Sal?” I ask. I really liked him. He was one of my favorites.
“He’s been buried on the property. Nino has been treated. Dr. Romano stitched him up. The bullet went through, took a toe. We aren’t sure about how he’ll recover, if he’ll have permanent nerve damage or be able to walk properly. We’ll have to wait.”
“Thank you, Cora. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
I take Maddie’s hand and guide her back down to the basement. She’s hesitant, but doesn’t fight me. I wonder if she thinks I’m going to lock her up like a prisoner in the secured room. I take her to the incinerator. I remove my clothes and shoes and socks and toss them in.
