“Why do you have my notebook, Peyton? Why did you steal things from us? That’s not the right way to get to know people, especially ones you want to be friends with.”
He puts dead eyes on Park. “I’m not five. Stop talking to me like I’m a kid. If you didn’t want me to take things, you should have hidden them better.”
He is talking to Olivia again, and it’s Olivia who pales, Olivia who frowns.
“I know you so well, Liv. I know all the things about you. How sad you were when Perry left. You’re Uncle Perry, right?”
Perry nods slowly. “I am. Please, Peyton, put down the gun, and let’s talk things out man-to-man. Let Olivia go, and your father and I will tell you anything you want to know.”
“Oh, I think it’s too late for that.” He scratches at the bandage with his gun hand, and Park starts to edge to his right.
“Don’t move,” Peyton says absently, the gun trained on Park again.
“Did you tell him everything, Liv? Have you told Dad the whole truth?”
“Park knows everything about me,” she says. “So does Perry.”
She’s being too damn brave. Park wants to tell her to be cowed, to be vulnerable. But that’s not who Olivia is. She is strong. She is a warrior woman. She’s been through hell and stepped out the other side unburned. She will not back down to a bully. Even if the bully is deranged and pointing a gun at her.
“Do they know about the baby? Tsk, tsk. If you hadn’t murdered your baby, maybe you’d have another right now.”
Park sees Perry swallow convulsively. “Peyton, you’re being cruel. If you love Olivia at all, why would you be cruel?”
“Oh, you haven’t told Dad about the abortion? Terrible. You really should have. ‘God’s punishing me.’ That’s what you say. ‘God is punishing me for killing my baby. For killing Perry’s baby.’”
“That’s enough,” Park says, though his eyes have narrowed, and his fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white. “What do you want?”
“I want Olivia to come for a walk with me. It’s a pretty day. She and I have things to discuss.” He pulls a crumpled envelope from his pocket, along with a bent and battered photograph. “I found your letter. You’ve been really naughty, haven’t you?”
Park feels Olivia stiffen beside him.
“Leave my wife out of this.”
The pleasant pretend mood is gone in a flash, and Peyton’s face grows dark with suffused blood.
“Fuck off, Dad. You and Uncle Perry go inside, now. Or I’ll shoot her.”
“That’s not happening. Put down the gun.” A siren starts to wail, and Park risks a quick glance toward Olivia.
“The police are on their way,” she says, holding up her wrist with its Apple watch. “I’ve been having nightmares about you, Peyton. You kidnap me, you tie my hands, you throw me in the trunk of your car. But in all my dreams, I don’t have this. I sent the emergency signal, and the police will be here in moments.”
Peyton’s hand wavers on the gun, and that hesitation is all the Bender boys need. Perry and Park leap for him, exploding with violence at the threat.
Peyton panics, running backwards but also pulling the trigger. The shot is deafening. Perry screams, but Park tackles his son, smashing him to the boardwalk. Peyton is strong, and he flips Park over, a forearm on his throat. Perry, blood streaming from his arm, wrenches Peyton off, and the two grapple. They’re both strong, and Perry is the bigger man, but Peyton is enraged. Park is up moments later and launches himself into the scrum just as Peyton explodes upward. Perry is thrown off the boardwalk, going over the edge with an audible thump. Park lunges but trips, going down hard on his knees.
Perry jumps back onto the boardwalk, and his movement disrupts Peyton’s concentration long enough for Park to scramble up and charge him again. They connect with a terrible force that knocks out Park’s breath, and the gun spins away. Gasping, Park scrambles after it, Peyton holding on to his leg with insane strength.
Park touches the metal of the gun, gathering it into his palm. He whips around and pulls the trigger.
The bullet catches Peyton in the neck. Blood spurts from the wound. He keeps clawing, keeps fighting. He twists Park’s leg viciously, and Park feels the hot, sharp pain of something tearing in his knee.
He pulls the trigger again but misses. He kicks with his other leg, connects with the bullet wound, and Peyton’s hands release Park’s leg. Park scoots across the deck, getting as far away from his son as he can.
His son.
He has just shot his son.
Olivia is screaming. He can hear her shrieking but can’t seem to rise to comfort her. Perry drags himself back onto the boardwalk, blood streaming down his hand. His arm looks broken; the angle is all wrong.
Peyton is bleeding profusely, his skin growing pale. He twitches, his brain finally getting the message that he is dying. His legs jerk spasmodically in time with the slow, furious pumps of his heart. Once. Twice.
A few moments pass before the third.
He is almost limp now, and Olivia finally gathers herself and scrambles to Park, helps him stand. Perry crawls to them; Park drags his brother to his feet. And the three hold on, watching Peyton’s life’s blood leave the wound in his neck. It inches across the letter, the foxed, yellow edge turning pale crimson as the blood soaks the worn linen.
Peyton’s last words are a whisper, but loud enough that all three of them hear clearly.
“It was you. I know it was you. I read your letter. Now it’s destroyed. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Secret?” Park asks, kneeling down, touching his son’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
But Peyton has eyes only for Olivia. “Don’t worry. I’m the only one who knows. I’ll never tell.”
He dies quietly, the words drifting around them, both Park and Perry staring at her.
“Tell what?” Perry asks.
“I have no idea,” Olivia says. She snatches up the bloody mess of paper and photo, looking away from Park’s terrified gaze as the police come streaming up from the beach, guns drawn, too late to save them.
48
THE WIFE
But she did.
Olivia only wanted to surprise Park.
The drive from Nashville to Chapel Hill wasn’t overly long, less than eight hours, but it was the farthest Olivia had ever driven by herself, and that excited her. She had snacks in a tote bag and a six-pack of Diet Coke in the cooler, her overnight bag in the trunk. Everything organized, everything just so. She’d even vacuumed out her car the night before and sprayed the interior windscreen with Windex, cleaning off the residue so it sparkled. And good thing, too, the sun was bright, and she hated that hazy glare.
She stopped twice, once in Knoxville, once in Asheville, and arrived just as the sun was setting on the campus. She had his address—Lindsey had given it to her ages ago—but she’d never been here, never written him. She hadn’t talked to him since Perry left, actually.
This was an important moment for her. For him. For them. She missed him. Gosh, she missed them both, but Perry was gone, and she would never see him again, and that meant she had to make things right with Park.