Chapter 4

Julian drove like a madman, the tires squealing on the turns.

Finn was pressed against the door, his small face white with terror.

I stayed beside him, whispering reassurances he couldn't hear.

"It's okay, Finn. I'm here. Someone will help us."

Lies. All lies. Who would help?

We were miles from town now, on a dirt track leading deeper into the woods.

The quarry. A place of shadows and old, dangerous machinery.

Julian finally stopped the car near the edge of the deep, water-filled pit.

He cut the engine. The silence was sudden, heavy.

He turned to Finn, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"End of the line, kid."

He got out and came around to Finn's side, yanking the door open.

He dragged Finn out of the car.

Finn was crying openly now, begging.

"Please, Mr. Vance. Don't hurt me. I'll be good. I won't tell anyone."

Julian laughed. "Oh, I know you won't tell anyone."

He pulled Finn towards the edge of the quarry.

The drop was sheer, at least fifty feet to the dark water below.

"No!" Finn screamed, digging his heels in.

Julian was too strong. He was enjoying this, the power, the fear.

He dangled Finn over the edge.

Finn's small body twisted, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Julian's arm.

"Let's see if you can fly, little bird," Julian sneered.

My rage was a supernova. If I could have touched him, I would have torn him apart.

I flew at Julian, screaming, clawing, but I was nothing. Air.

Suddenly, headlights appeared down the track. A vehicle approaching.

Julian froze.

He cursed under his breath.

He pulled Finn back from the edge, just as an old pickup truck rattled into view.

It was a local farmer, probably checking his traps.

The farmer slowed, looking curiously at Julian's car and the two figures near the quarry edge.

Julian quickly composed his face into a mask of concern.

He waved at the farmer.

"Morning! Just a bit of a scare. My... nephew... got a little too close to the edge. Boys, you know."

He ruffled Finn's hair, a gesture that looked paternal but was full of menace.

Finn was too terrified to speak. He just clung to Julian's leg, shivering.

The farmer nodded, seemingly satisfied, and drove on.

As soon as the truck was out of sight, Julian's smile vanished.

He shoved Finn away from him.

"Your lucky day, brat," he hissed. "But don't think this is over."

He dragged Finn back to the car and threw him in.

He drove back towards town, his mood black.

He didn't speak. Finn huddled in the seat, silent and shaking.

Julian didn't take him home.

He drove to a deserted stretch of road near the lake, not far from the fishing pier.

He pulled Finn out of the car again.

"You're going to learn a lesson about talking back to your elders," Julian said, his voice dangerously soft.

He grabbed Finn and dragged him towards the water.

The pier was rickety, some of the planks missing.

Julian forced Finn out onto it.

He held Finn by the scruff of his neck, like a kitten.

He dangled him over the dark, cold water.

"Ever been swimming with the fishes, Finn?" Julian taunted.

Finn was screaming now, a high, thin sound of pure terror.

Julian lowered him, closer and closer to the water.

Finn's feet splashed. The water was icy.

"Please! No! I can't swim!" Finn shrieked.

Julian laughed. "Even better."

He let Finn's head go under.

I saw the bubbles. Finn's struggles.

My son was drowning.

I threw myself at Julian again and again, a frantic, useless spirit.

Then, Julian stiffened. He'd seen someone.

Another fisherman, further down the shore, walking towards the pier.

Julian quickly pulled Finn up, sputtering and choking.

He plastered on his concerned face again.

"Oh, Finn, you clumsy boy! You fell in! Lucky I was here to save you."

He patted Finn on the back, hard enough to make him cough more.

He carried the soaking, shivering Finn back to the car.

"We need to get you home and into some dry clothes," Julian said, his voice full of false solicitude.

He drove to our house.

Laura's car was in the driveway. She was home.

A flicker of hope ignited in me. She would see Finn's state. She would know.

Julian carried Finn inside.

Laura was in the kitchen, on the phone. She looked stressed.

She saw Finn, dripping wet, shivering, his face blue with cold.

"What happened?" she gasped, dropping the phone.

"The little rascal fell off the pier," Julian said, shaking his head. "Gave me quite a scare. He was being reckless, running too close to the edge."

Finn tried to speak, to tell her the truth, but he was shaking too hard, his teeth chattering.

"Oh, Finn!" Laura cried, rushing to him.

For a moment, she was a mother.

She wrapped him in a towel, her face full of concern.

"Julian, thank you for saving him," she said, her voice trembling.

Julian smiled modestly. "Anything for you, Laura. And for the boy, of course."

I watched, my spirit cold with despair.

She believed him. Again.

She didn't see the terror in Finn's eyes. She didn't see the bruises forming on his arms where Julian had gripped him.

She only saw what Julian wanted her to see.

A clumsy boy. A heroic savior.

Finn started to cough, a deep, racking cough.

Laura fussed over him, getting him warm milk.

Julian watched, his expression smug.

He had won. Again.

I drifted back to my bedroom, to my still body on the bed.

The room was cold. So cold.

Laura had been home for hours. She hadn't even looked in on me.

She hadn't checked if her husband was alive or dead.

She was too busy with Julian. Too busy believing his lies.

I remembered a time, years ago, when Finn was a baby.

He'd had a high fever. Laura had stayed up all night with him, holding him, singing to him.

She had been a good mother then. A loving wife.

What had happened to that woman?

Julian Vance. He was a cancer. He had eaten away at her soul, leaving this cold, gullible stranger in her place.

There was an old photo on the nightstand. Me, Laura, and a baby Finn, all smiling at the beach.

Happy. We had been happy.

Had any ofit been real? Or had I been blind all along?

Had she always harbored this secret longing for Julian, this discontent with our life?

I remembered a stupid argument we'd had, months before Julian reappeared.

About a young woman, a new apprentice at my workshop.

Laura had accused me of paying too much attention to her.

Jealousy. Unfounded. But it had created a rift.

Julian had probably exploited that, widened the crack.

Did she ever truly love me? Or was I just a placeholder? A comfortable option until her "true soulmate" returned?

The questions echoed in the silence of my death room.

It didn't matter now.

The love I thought we shared, it was dead. As dead as my body on the bed.

My only concern now was Finn.

He was in mortal danger.

And his mother was his enabler.

Later, I heard Finn being put to bed.

Laura tucked him in.

"You need to be more careful, sweetie," she said. "Mr. Vance was very worried about you."

Finn didn't answer. He just turned his face to the wall.

Laura sighed and left the room.

I stayed with Finn. He cried silently into his pillow.

He was alone. So terribly alone.

Hours passed. The house was quiet.

Then, I heard a noise downstairs.

A scraping sound.

Julian. He was still here.

He was doing something in the basement.

My basement. My workshop.

A new dread filled me.

What was he planning now?

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Finn was found.

Not by Laura. Not by Julian.

A park ranger, doing her early rounds by the lake, had seen something near the pier.

She'd found Finn's small, discarded jacket.

Then she'd seen the marks on the pier, the signs of a struggle.

She called the police.

They found Finn huddled in a culvert near the lake road, where Julian must have dumped him after the pier incident, probably intending to retrieve him later or hoping he'd succumb to exposure.

He was barely conscious, suffering from hypothermia.

The ranger, a kind-faced woman named Sarah, stayed with him, wrapped him in her own coat, until the ambulance arrived.

I saw Laura at the hospital later.

She had been called by the police.

She walked right past the gurney carrying Finn, her face a mask of annoyance.

She probably thought it was another one of his "attention-seeking" stunts.

She didn't even recognize her own son.

A fleeting look of unease crossed her face as she passed him, a tiny flicker.

But Julian was there, at her elbow, whispering, guiding her away.

My son was fighting for his life.

And his mother didn't even see him.