BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next on your reading list?

The light went out. She heard the click of the latch as the door softly closed. She lay in the dark and realized that Frank didn’t understand. He hadn’t seen Roy kill Aunt Willa, or Jessica Moore in Utah. He didn’t know how much Roy liked it. How Roy felt when he did it, what he really was.

Or maybe Frank didn’t want to know. Because he needed Roy, or thought he did.

She examined this new fact in her mind, just as she’d examined that rusted shovel head she’d found under the weeds.

Helene was smaller than Roy, and she didn’t have his muscle.

But that didn’t mean she was powerless.

58

She must have been out for at least four hours, because when she opened her eyes, it was noon. She still hurt, but less so. A plate with a turkey sandwich sat beside the bed. She picked up the sandwich and started to chew.

Something had changed while she slept. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, but she could feel it. Like she’d gone to sleep one person and woken up another. A kind of revelation.

Maybe it was watching her aunt with the knife, ready to fight for her life. Maybe it was watching her aunt die, and realizing that she was truly alone. Maybe it was watching Roy as he killed her, and seeing what that did to him, or for him. Maybe it was understanding that Frank didn’t know about it.

Maybe it was all of those things. Whatever it was, it was clear that she had to step up. Step into this next version of herself. She had nothing left to lose.

She knew what her mother would have said. Fortune favors the bold.

She found Roy sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window. There was a foul smell. Aunt Willa lay where Roy had left her. Helene let her indignation rise.

“Really, Roy? You just leave her there?”

He startled at the sound of her voice. “Well, she’s dead, honey. She doesn’t care.”

“I do, Roy. She’s still my aunt. Go put her somewhere. On the bed, and be nice about it.” Maybe a body on the bed would keep Roy from trying to fuck her. Although maybe not. She suppressed a shudder.

“I guess you’re feeling better,” Roy said.

“No thanks to you.” He’d always liked it when she was spunky. She was something else now. She tapped her bare foot on the floor beside her aunt. “Are you going to move her, or make me do it?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “I’ve got it, honey.” He pushed his chair back, bent to pick up the older woman in his arms, then carried her out.

The knife was still in the sink. She left it there and opened the fridge. She didn’t want another sandwich. She found a container of leftover spaghetti and put it in the microwave, then opened a window and rummaged through the cabinets looking for cleaning supplies.