Chapter 6
The drive to Palestine took an hour and forty-five minutes.
Every minute felt like an hour.
I called Olivia sixty-one times.
Sixty-one voicemails.
Jake met me at the edge of town.
He had a pistol holstered on his hip too.
We didn’t speak.
Just nodded at each other.
Turned down the long dirt road that led to Grandma’s old house.
It was nearly dark.
The house sat at the end of the road, surrounded by pine trees.
No lights on.
Olivia’s Honda Civic was parked behind an old shed, hidden from the road.
I cut my engine.
We sat in silence for a moment.
“You go left,” Jake whispered.
“I’ll go right. Back door. If you hear anything—anything—you go in shooting. Understood?”
I nodded.
We slipped out of our trucks.
Moved through the trees like shadows.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I pressed my ear to the kitchen window.
Nothing.
Then…
A soft whimper.
Mason.
Followed by my mother’s voice.
Low.
Menacing.
“Shut that thing up before I shut it up for you.”
Olivia’s voice, shaking but defiant.
“Don’t you touch him. You’ve already lost, Linda. The police know you’re here. Ethan is on his way.”
My mother laughed.
“Let him come. He’ll find what’s left of you. And then he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if he could have done more. Perfect.”
Glass shattered.
Olivia screamed.
I kicked the back door in.
It flew off its hinges.
“POLICE!” Jake yelled behind me.
We cleared the kitchen.
The living room.
Then the bedroom.
The door was locked.
“OPEN UP!” I screamed.
“LINDA, OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR OR I WILL KICK IT DOWN AND SO HELP ME GOD—”
The door unlocked.
Swing open slowly.
My mother stood there.
Holding a kitchen knife to Olivia’s throat.
Mason was on the bed, crying, unharmed but terrified.
Olivia’s face was bleeding.
A cut above her left eye.
Her left arm hung at a strange angle.
“Step back,” my mother said.
The knife pressed harder into Olivia’s skin.
A bead of blood appeared.
“Or I’ll slit her throat right in front of you. Then I’ll take the baby and disappear. You’ll never find either of us.”
Jake had his gun raised.
“Put the knife down, Linda. Now.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? Go ahead. But I promise you—my last move will be to cut her carotid. You’ll have to live with watching her bleed out.”
She was serious.
I could see it in her eyes.
No emotion.
No humanity left.
Just pure, unadulterated rage.
“Okay,” I said.
Lowered my gun.
Set it on the floor.
Kicked it away.
“Okay. We’re putting the guns down. See? No weapons. Just let her go. Take me instead. I’m the one you’re angry at. Not her. Not Mason.”
My mother smiled.
That same terrible smile from the backyard.
“Oh, I’m going to take you, Ethan. But not before you watch. You’re going to watch me kill the thing you love most. Just like you killed my life when you called those cops.”
She started dragging Olivia backward.
Toward the open window behind her.
“I’ve got six gallons of gasoline in the shed. We’re all going to have a little bonfire. Mother. Son. Wife. Grandson. One big happy family reunion.”
That was when I saw it.
Olivia’s right hand.
Slowly.
Almost imperceptibly.
Reaching behind her.
Toward the heavy brass lamp on the nightstand.
My mother was so focused on me…
She didn’t notice.
I kept talking.
Kept her eyes on me.
“Mom… please. This isn’t you. Remember when I was seven and I fell off my bike and you carried me three miles to the hospital? Remember when you worked three jobs so I could have football cleats? That woman is still in there somewhere. Let her come out. Please.”
Tears actually appeared in her eyes.
For half a second…
I thought I had reached her.
Then her face hardened again.
“That woman died the day you chose her over me.”
That was all Olivia needed.
Her hand closed around the lamp.
She swung it with every ounce of strength she had left.
CRACK.
It connected with the side of my mother’s head.
The knife clattered to the floor.
My mother crumpled.
Olivia collapsed, gasping.
I lunged forward.
Caught her.
Jake kicked the knife away.
Grabbed Mason from the bed.
“Are you okay? Jesus Christ, Liv, are you okay?”
She nodded, crying, pressing her face into my chest.
“Arm… I think my arm is broken. And Mason… please check Mason…”
I handed her to Jake.
Scooped up my son.
He was screaming, but he was whole.
No cuts.
No bruises.
Just scared.
I looked down at my mother.
She was unconscious on the floor.
Blood pooling around her head.
Jake called 911.
I walked outside.
Breathed in the East Texas pine air.
May you like
And for the first time in my life…
I truly understood what it meant to be free.
