Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I’ve said the magic words. Raine and scared. Instantly, Aubrey flips into parenting mode. Enough, anyway, to drag herself across the porch and into the back doorframe. In the doorway, though, she stops and turns around.
“Make sure you tell the police about how he pointed a gun at you, Caleb.”
“I will, baby. Go on.”
“Tell them you had no choice. Tell them what’s in the duffel bag.”
“I will. It’s gonna be okay.”
“The judge said you can’t get into any more trouble. She said if you do anything violent—"
“It was self-defense,” I reassure her. “Plain and simple.”
“Classic case of it,’” the neighbor agrees. “Nobody’s gonna blame C-Bomb for a minute, darlin’. In fact, all anyone’s gonna do is pat him on the back and tell him ‘good job.’”
With a trembling chin that breaks my heart, Aubrey drags herself into the house, and the moment she’s gone, I press the button to call the police. When the 911 operator answers, I tell her my story again—the same one I told the neighbor and Aubrey, while my neighbor shouts things in the background like, “He had no choice!”
“Stay put and don’t touch anything,” the dispatcher says. “Officers are on the way.”
I hang up and sit on my back stoop, physically quaking with stress and adrenaline. If I’ve fucked up here, if I’ve forgotten some important detail that’s going to give me away, I’ll never fucking forgive myself. It felt so right in the moment to pull that trigger, when he mentioned Raine’s name. It felt like a no-brainer. Otherwise, I knew we’d never get a moment’s peace again. I mean, really, how long would they have detained Ralph for simple trespassing? But now, as I await the sound of sirens and flashing lights, I’m second-guessing if I made the right call.
“Don’t you worry for a second about this,” my neighbor reassures me. “This ain’t California, C-Bomb. In Montana, when a fucker tries to break into your house to do God knows what to your family with his bag of torture, nobody’s gonna bat an eyelash at you for putting a bullet between his eyes.”
God, I hope he’s right about that . . . even when the fucker in question is my known mortal enemy who publicly threatened my family and me only a week ago . . . and the whole world knows I’m not the type of man who lets bygones be bygones.
Chapter 40
Aubrey
As Caleb and I stride out of the police station, hand in hand, in the cool, early-morning sunshine, we’re both exhausted, sleep-deprived, and ravenously hungry. But mostly, relieved.
Thankfully, Paula quickly located a Montana lawyer for Caleb last night, a guy in classic cowboy boots and a Stetson hat who sped in from Billings on a moment’s notice to save the day.
“Don’t say a word till I get there,” the lawyer growled at Caleb over the phone. “Not even to ask for a fucking cup of coffee.”
Once the Billings lawyer arrived at the Prairie Springs police station and he’d had the opportunity to confer with his famous client, he gave Caleb the green light to give a detailed statement in a small back room. And while Caleb did that, I sat nervously on an orange, rickety chair in a tiny waiting room, rocking back and forth to keep myself from puking from stress.
I didn’t want to have worst-case scenario thoughts while sitting alone in that claustrophobic room on a plastic chair. But I couldn’t help myself. I imagined the judge reversing her prior order and ruling that Caleb henceforth couldn’t interact with his daughter unless supervised. I imagined Caleb being hauled away for murder, and Raine spending her formative years visiting her daddy in prison. But to my relief, after only about an hour in that back room, Caleb and his Montana lawyer emerged, trailed by two detectives—and all of them were smiling and looking downright chummy.
“I’m free to go,” Caleb announced on an exhale, opening his arms to me, and I leaped up from my orange chair and hurtled into them.
“No charges will be filed,” the Montana lawyer confirmed. “We all agree it was a classic case of self-defense.”
“Thank you, thank you,” I said to the Billings lawyer, lurching at him for a hug. Hell, I was so damned relieved and grateful, I even hugged the two detectives, rather than shaking their offered hands. And now, as the sun comes up, Caleb and I are walking toward Big Betty, eager to get home and into bed and put this crazy night behind us forever.
I’ve got the car keys in my pocket, since I drove the truck here, while Caleb drove with the responding officer; so I pull them out and slide into the driver’s side, while Caleb wordlessly slumps into the seat across from me. Normally, whenever we’re driving somewhere together, Caleb gets behind Big Betty’s wheel, which suits me fine. I don’t like to drive all that much. But after the long, stressful night Caleb’s endured, we don’t even need to talk about who’s taking the wheel this time.