House of Steel (23 page)

They had been seeing each other for two
months before her father had found out. He had then warned Henry to
stay away from her while telling her that he forbid her to see him.
Yet, Henry was her first boyfriend, so she had promised him that
her father wouldn’t find them at the farm. Evie had snuck out her
window, running three blocks down to his waiting truck. She hadn’t
been to the abandoned farm since she had been a small girl.

That night, she had felt the wheat strands
graze her hand as she swept along the fields while Henry had parked
his pickup. The smoldering summer was coming to an end. The haze of
the sun had begun to disappear beneath the wheat fields. They had
crept into the farm where they walked across the old beam rafters
before falling into the bales of straw. She hadn’t questioned that
there were bales in an abandoned farm. Not until after.

They had stayed in the straw, kissing each
other as Henry began to peel back her clothes. His hands had
grabbed at her before she could stop him, groping her neck,
squeezing it hard before he had let it go, backing away from her.
She had bent down to gather her shirt and cover her breasts when
her father had appeared through the shadows of the barn, followed
by a man she had never seen before. The man’s platinum hair had
glinted against his black clothes and shadowed barn.

“I didn’t mean to,” Henry had started.

“I told you to stay away,” her father had
responded. She remembered his response, his calm and deliberate
voice.

“Nothing happened. I would never,” Henry had
stumbled through his words.

“But you did before I hired you. I knew. You
had such promise to turn it around, but it’s too late now.” The
blonde man stalked forward, his black gloves raised as he revealed
a gun that emptied five shots into Henry’s stomach. Evie had let
out a scream before her father had covered her mouth, turning her
away from a still Henry.

“Get rid of him,” her father had said over
his shoulder. “And the truck, too.” Her father had forced her
forward, her body paralyzed and unable to fight.

“It had to be done. He would have hurt you,
and I will never let that happen.”

The words rung in Evie’s head as she moved
closer to the shed. She had trusted her father, and he had damaged
her. He took away Henry. She wouldn’t let him continue to control
her, no matter how powerful he was. Not after what she saw in that
barn in Amberg a few months ago. The poor prostitutes huddled in
the barn, being sold to her father. He would pay for the pain he
had inflicted upon her, as well as, all the women that she could
never seem to find again. So she played his game, every move
calculated and strategic, waiting for a chance to avenge herself.
As she leaned against the wooden shed, she slipped her hand into
her holster and retrieved her gun, stalking.

Silence. She turned the corner and poked her
head into the shed. Gunnar’s black sedan was parked inside a mere
ten feet away. They were here. Somewhere. Bending down, she crept
to the car, hiding behind it. Nothing. They couldn’t have heard her
coming. No, Gunnar wouldn’t have hidden. She weaved in and out of
the skid-loaders and small excavators. She had never seen this
equipment on any of the construction sites. Too small. Too old.
Adrenaline pumped through her body. She came to the opening of the
shed on the other end, hiding herself on the edge before turning on
her flashlight.

The small beam of light shone on the white
surface, revealing small, scattered stains of red next to
footprints. She followed the path with her light as far as it would
reach. The stains fell inside the smaller footprints while larger
footprints followed. Another set was five feet off to the right.
Delaney, Gunnar, Joe. All three were here. In the barn.

The revenge Evie sought was in the one place
she couldn’t set foot in. She had envisioned it long gone,
smoldering in her mind. He had lied, telling her that he had kept
only the shed, and she hadn’t gone back. She couldn’t. She stood
before it, hand on the handle, about to step into the
suffocation.

She pulled the door open, sliding into the
small opening before silently shutting it behind her. With the
flashlight now shoved inside her pocket, she waited for her eyes to
adjust to the dimness. The stench of stale manure and animals
filled her nostrils. She could almost smell a hint of fiery ashes.
With her gun gripped tightly in her hand, she inched through what
was once a milk house. The dingy light from the blocks of glass
cemented in the wood revealed the old stained sinks still standing
in their original place. She closed her eyes as she watched herself
as a little girl, standing on an upside down pail, washing her
hands under the running water. The heaviness on her chest moved her
forward. She had to get out. She had to find them. Knowing Gunnar,
they had to be in the pen.

Evie slipped her head into the opening that
led to where the stanchions used to be. A haze of light on the
other end filled the back corner. The faint outline of metal poles
circled the light. She was right; they were in a pen. Her brain
scanned through the possible options for attack. She needed to get
closer, and she didn’t have much time. She couldn’t wait too
long.

Her feet fell silently against the concrete,
moving closer to the target, along the outside wall against the
cement blocks on the lower portion of the wall. She crept forty
feet forward before pausing as their voices became clearer.

“Tell us something,” Joe’s voice became
audible.

“I can’t tell you anything.” Evie’s lips
turned up as she listened to Delaney. Her voice still had
fight.

“Cut the bull,” Gunnar snarled. It was
followed by a scream. Evie watched the bodies scuffle before a
small thud registered. A clicking noise followed. Handcuffs.

“Not gonna get these off. Are ya, Joe?” A
moan and a cough.

“No, I’m not.”

“Let’s try this again.” Gunnar’s voice
ordered. “Sit. Try harder, for that little boyfriend of yours.”

“He’s not my boyfriend – ” Delaney
started.

“I don’t give a shit. Just tell me where he
is,” Gunnar cut in. Evie heard a whisper, but couldn’t make out the
words.

“Give him something. Give me something,”
Joe’s voice interrupted. Evie waited. How long would it be before
Delaney told them about the jacket? The texts? The person named V?
Evie crept closer along the wall now only thirty feet away, still
in the shadow of the darkness. The white hair had bent down below
the poles, his head bobbing between the poles only six inches
apart. She needed a better shot. A kill shot.

Her eyes shifted at the sound of skittering
feet just yards ahead of her. A rat. Gunnar sprung up, pointing his
gun in her direction. Three shots echoed through the air.

31

DAY 4: Sunday, December 21 – 4:45 p.m.

Delaney opened her mouth to start from the
beginning - the jacket - when she heard the sound of movement in
the darkness of the barn. Gunnar shot up, turning to the noise when
three popping noises rang against the walls. She caught the last
flash of sparks coming from the wall as she sprawled herself flat
against the straw. The Neanderthal crumbled before her, his blue
eyes staring at her only inches from her face, until he collapsed
on the ground.

“Hell,” Joe muttered as he yanked a gun from
his boot beneath his snow pants.

“DON’T MOVE!” a woman’s voice yelled. Joe
held his arms in the air, the beam from the flashlight pointed
toward the ceiling of the barn. He held the gun loose in the other
hand, dangling toward the ground.

“Put them down, Joe,” the woman’s voice
ordered from the darkness. Joe moved slowly, about to place the
flashlight on the ground toward the voice.

“The other way, toward her,” the woman
ordered. Joe obeyed, turning the light toward Delaney.

“The gun,” the voice added. She was coming
closer to them.

“V? Is that you?” Joe’s question hung in the
silence.
Who the hell is V?
A grunt escaped from the ground
as Gunnar’s hand reached for his gun, sprawled a few feet from him.
Delaney pushed off from the bale, forcing her body to move as she
kicked her leg forward. She felt the hard metal against her foot as
she made contact with the gun, skidding it five feet across the
concrete floor. With her hands still tied behind her back, she
stood over it, watching the woman creep closer from the
shadows.

“BITCH,” Gunnar muttered from the floor.

“Evie?” Delaney watched as the small girl
from Atlas Pub strode toward them, gun still raised.
Evie is
V?
The one who left the jacket in her garage. The painting in
her bedroom. The clothes she was wearing. The messages.
This was
V?
Delaney’s head spun as she wrapped her mind around the small
pixie of a woman; the woman behind the elusive V. She was sure it
had been Holston Parker. Then Gunnar. But it was Evie.

“V for short.” Evie opened the gate, moving
into the small pen. She picked up the gun between Delaney’s bloody
feet. The pink toe nail polish shone bright against her dirty
skin.

“Delaney, move back. Get on the other side,”
Evie ordered as she motioned toward the open gate, .9 millimeter in
one hand and a .22 in the other. “Joe, sit down.” She waved the gun
in her left hand to the bales.

I should run.
Evie eyed Delaney as
she closed the gate of the pen. “Don’t even think about running,”
Evie added as Delaney made her way to the other side. Delaney
didn’t have a choice as she looked down toward the end of the barn.
No shoes. Handcuffed. No keys. In the middle of nowhere. I would
freeze to death.

“V, what are you doing?” Joe asked as he
slid onto the bale. “You should have stayed out of this. I had it
under control.”

“No, you didn’t. I was watching.” Evie
nodded down at Gunnar lying still on the ground. His back lifted
slightly with a breath. He was still alive.

“Hey, Gunnar. It’s V. Remember me?” Evie’s
voice strained as she stood staring at his limp body. “The last
time I saw you, it was more than twelve years ago. The same place,
wasn’t it?”

He replied with a groan.

“Well, actually it was this morning, back at
the new building. Where you sliced open Theron’s chest.”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Gunnar
groaned. His body lay crumpled on the ground.

“How did you manage that anyway? You should
have let us go. It would have been a lot cleaner that way,” Evie
retorted, kicking his body. He tried to grab at her leg, but his
arm barely moved. “You took Henry from me. Remember that? The kid
with the tattoos? You shot him right in front of my face. I watched
him take his last breath. I still see those eyes, you fuck. His
eyes pleading for help. You’re going to rot in hell,” Evie added,
pointing the gun at his head. A low laughter turned into a small
cough as Gunnar gasped for air. Delaney turned her head away.

“That rapist? That kid?” he stammered. “I
saved you. That time.”

“Henry wasn’t a rapist,” Evie shot back,
spitting on him.

“Ask your father, Mr. Parker,” he sputtered.
Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.
Holston Parker is
Evie’s dad? Evie Parker?

“Here I thought.” He coughed and gasped for
air. “I thought. The girl.”

“What girl?” Evie shot back at him. There
was no response. “What girl?” she pressed.

“Joe’s girl,” his voice choked, barely
audible.

“What did you say?” Joe asked as he moved
from the bale.

“The girl. The car accident,” he sputtered
again.

“Elizabeth?” Evie whispered as the guns
shook in her outstretched arms, still pointing at the pile on the
ground.

“My Elizabeth? What do you mean?” Joe
yelled, now standing next to Evie.
Joe’s shop. V is the girl in
the picture next to Elizabeth. The girl with the hidden face.
Delaney watched as Joe and his daughter’s best friend stood
screaming over Gunnar.

“Back up, Joe,” Evie pointed the gun in her
left hand at his chest.

“The girl. It wasn’t an accident,” he choked
out. “It was Henry who murdered her. I made it look like –” He
muttered his last words before exhaling for the final time. His
body lied motionless against the concrete.

“Like what?” Joe yelled, kicking his body
until it flopped around on its back. The shiny blue eyes stared up
at the ceiling, completely empty. “Dammit.” Joe kicked Gunnar’s
body again before falling back onto the bale. Delaney’s eyes
followed Evie as she bent down, a foot away from his body, and
emptied one last shot from his own .22 into his skull. The single
shot rung in her ears.

“Goddammit, Evie!” Joe kicked the bale
underneath him with the back of his boot.

“Do you think…” Evie started, examining
Joe’s face as she put the guns at her side. He collapsed his head
into his hands. Evie cleared her throat, her voice slow and
methodical as she processed the information. “Elizabeth never drove
that fast,” her voice soft as she worked out the possibility in her
head.

“I know she didn’t,” Joe responded into the
stifled air. The wind creaked against the walls. “It never made
sense to me that she would have been driving fast enough to have
hit that tree. It seemed all wrong to me, but she was gone, and I
didn’t have anyone. I should have asked more questions, but your
father.” Joe fell onto the bale; his body slumped forward as the
details flushed through his head.

“He took care of it,” Evie whispered. “But
Henry?”

“Who’s Henry?” Joe asked.

“A guy I met during the summer Elizabeth was
murdered,” Evie started.

“Murdered,” Joe repeated in disbelief.

“I met him on one of the construction sites.
He was a good guy. I thought,” she said. “I have to believe he was.
I can’t believe this murderer on the ground.” Evie waved the barrel
at Gunnar.