When Devils Sing(10)

Footsteps sounded behind him. “Forget the animal,” his father said. “We need to go.”

Reid looked up, willing his face to appear calm. “What happened?”

His father glanced past Reid, observing the oryx. The animal’s breathing was nearly imperceptible. Reid hoped whatever Jonah had done was distraction enough.

“Your brother…,” his father began, shaking his head. “I need to fix it.”

Reid hesitated, then asked, “Are we leaving the oryx behind?”

His father scoffed. “We don’t waste good meat, son. I’ll have someone pick it up. Let’s go.”

His father reached out his hand to help him up from the ground, but Reid hesitated to take it. An innocent animal was dying slowly beside him—because of him—and this was his final chance to make things right. To help the oryx die in dignity, with little pain. All it required was a quick action.

A slash of the carotid artery.

A bullet through the skull.

A snap of the neck.

But no matter how much Reid wished otherwise, he was still a Langley. Cowardice and cruelty were in his blood. He made no move to ease the oryx’s suffering. Instead, he took his father’s hand, allowing Russ to pull him up.

In the dark of night, the pair walked out of the clearing together, while the lone oryx was left to bleed out in the dirt.



* * *



REID’S DRIVEWAY HAD never felt so long.

Actually, that was a lie. There had been another time, six years ago, when the half-mile drive wound and twisted for what felt like hours as he sat in dread of what lay at the end.

The night they found Mom.

But that was a memory he’d spent years tamping down. Now was not the time to falter. Reid squinted, refocusing himself on the dark road beyond the windshield.

And if he was honest, what he felt right now was not dread at all—it was anticipation. Almost … excitement. His older brother, adored by his father and peers, had done it. Jonah had made another mistake. One that prevented Reid from the humiliation of owning up to his own. But he pushed the nauseating thought of the oryx away, burying it in the same way he did the memories of his mother.

For the first time in a long while, Reid wasn’t the fuckup.

Reid glanced at his father. Outwardly, he seemed calm. Unfazed. The only indication of his rage was his white-knuckle grip on the Ford’s leather steering wheel.

They rounded a bend, and the sprawling Langley estate came into view, lit by the bright outdoor lamps that dotted the lakeside landscape. Reid scanned the property, searching for some clue as to Jonah’s mishap. Everything was in its place, just as they left it. Except for the eighth door of their ten-car garage. It sat ajar, warm light spilling out onto the smooth pavement of the driveway.

Of the ten cars in their garage, six were antiques, all of which belonged to his father. He tended to the cars nearly every day, caring for them with a tenderness he had never shown Reid.

There were only two rules in the Langley household.

Rule one: Never tarnish the family name.

Rule two: Don’t touch the cars.

Reid couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed his face. Jonah wrecked one of Dad’s cars? It was a fate worse than death.

His father parked the Ford in its usual spot. Reid watched him take three long, deep breaths before turning off the truck’s engine and climbing out.

“Bring the gear inside,” his father said over his shoulder before he walked away, disappearing inside the front doors of their home.

Reid set about hauling the heavy gear to the house, but he slowed his steps as he passed the open garage door. Inside, his father’s ’73 Aston Martin was in shambles. The front hood was smashed and twisted, exposing the car’s engine. The windshield was cracked, though still intact, and the left side of the car’s body was badly scratched, dirt and mud covering most of the burgundy paint job. Reid whistled low under his breath. Jonah must have hit a deer.

It still didn’t explain the peculiar panic he’d heard in his brother’s voice over the phone.

Something isn’t right. Reid hefted the gear bags higher on his shoulder and continued to the front doors. He stepped inside the house, quickly disposing of the hunting gear in the nearest closet. He hesitated at the sight of the taxidermic buck’s head that hung over the entryway of their home, its antlers nearly spreading the width of the wall.

A moment later, he found his family’s private doctor, Dr. Simmons, pacing in the living room, but there was no one else there. The doctor held a cell phone against his ear, speaking in a hushed tone to someone on the other end.

“Evening,” Reid said awkwardly.

Dr. Simmons paused, giving Reid a strained, polite smile, then returned to the call.

Distantly, the kitchen faucet ran. He followed the sound, finding his older sister, Farris, rinsing a bloodied towel in the sink.

“Where’s Jonah?” Reid asked.

Farris didn’t glance up as she said, “In Dad’s study, but I’d wait a few minutes if I were you. He’s angry.” The sink water ran red as Farris continued to rinse the towel.

Reid studied his sister’s dirtied hands. “Is Jonah badly hurt?”

Farris scowled, meeting Reid’s gaze. “He will be once Dad’s through with him.” She paused, eyeing Dr. Simmons in the other room. His sister’s gray eyes flashed with delight as she said, “Jonah fucked up. Big time.”