Walk sat with him, called Boyd and waited, told Brandon what to say. Be honest. You’ll sleep better at night.
He watched them take him, Brandon doing the walk with his head bowed low, only breaking once more when he glanced up and saw Milton’s old house across the street. It might’ve been karma, the cosmic forces Star used to talk about. Walk didn’t have long to think it over, because Dee Lane called his cell, and she told him she’d seen someone break into the King house.
“Did you get a look at them?” Walk said, breaking into a run.
“It looked like a girl.”
He ran all the way to Sunset, with the weight gone he moved light and fast. He was sweating when he made it to the door and hammered it hard.
Round back he saw broken glass.
He traced her steps, her counterstroke, he knew he was too late for what would come. On the mantel he found the photo, barely recognized the boy he was, but in Vincent and Star he saw only smiles, a snapshot of time he could no longer call back, no matter how hard he tried.
And then up the stairs. And he too stopped still when he saw it.
Maybe Vincent could move on from the cell, the warden, the men and the chain-link fences. But he’d never leave the little girl behind.
* * *
She watched him a long time before she took those steps.
“I was waiting for you,” Vincent said.
Duchess stepped nearer, slowly set down her bag and pulled out the gun. It was heavier than she remembered, right then she could barely hold it up.
He looked at her like she was the last child, the last good thing in his world. She saw he had laid flowers on the graves, like he had a right.
He saw the gun but did not seem alarmed, instead his shoulders dropped and he breathed out steady, like he had been waiting on the final end to a lifetime of endings.
He stepped back as she stepped forward, again and again, until she planted her feet and watched the moonlight behind him.
Music from the old church carried.
“I like this song,” he said. “There was a chapel … at Fairmont. I always liked this song. Earth’s joy grows dim, its glories pass away.”
“Change and decay in all around I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to talk.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you to tell me what happened, I don’t want to know.”
“Okay.”
“People say it’s not fair.”
“It never is.”
“That day when you gave me a gun. You said it was your father’s gun.”
“Yes.”
“I cleaned it like you showed me. Respect it, right? But then I hid it in the closet, even though you told me to use it to protect myself.”
“I shouldn’t have told you—”
“So that’s what I’m doing. Hal said you’re a cancer. Everything you get near … you just kill it all dead. He said you don’t deserve to live.”
“He was right.”
“Walk stood up in court and told a lie. Star said he was all good.”
“I’m sorry, Duchess.”
“Fuck.” She reached up and fixed her hat, her breath left her. Her voice barely held but she steadied her hand and reached for the trigger. “I am the outlaw, Duchess Day Radley. And you are the murderer, Vincent King.”
“You don’t have to do this.” He smiled gently.
“I know what I have to do. Justice. Vengeance. I can handle it.”
“You can still be anyone you want, Duchess.”
She leveled the gun.
His tears fell but still, he smiled at her. “I came here to say goodbye. This isn’t on you. I won’t let you carry me with you.”
She gasped when he stepped back, his arms out as he took flight.
She ran and screamed and stopped at the cliff edge as the darkness took him.
The gun fell by her side. She dropped with it, her knees in the dirt as she reached a hand out, over the cliff, and grasped at the air.
Behind, her mother lay, and Duchess used the last of her strength to crawl over to the grave. She pressed a cheek to the stone and closed her eyes.
Part Four
Heartbreaker
46
BLAIR PEAK BORDERED THE ELKTON-TRINITY National Forest and the Whitefoot, the kind of town where Walk could have spent the day just staring out at the sprawl of wilderness, at trees so tall it was as if they were reaching up for God’s hand.
He’d made the drive, past the barren hills and dead grass of a dozen haunted communities, more than a hundred times over the past twenty years, Star beside, counting off the miles in quiet thought. And then, after, as happy as he ever saw her. What demons lived in her soul were exorcised by a man named Colten Sheen, a counselor who worked out of a room above a store that sold second-hand pianos.
In his hand was a small urn. The service had been brief.
The last will of Vincent King had been clear and vague enough. The forest spanned six counties and two million acres, Walk figured here was as good a place as any.
He crossed the street and dropped down, trod the dead leaves to towering sugar pines, and then scattered the ashes over the forest floor. He said nothing, no grand goodbyes, just allowed himself a moment to remember a time finally beginning its fade.
After, he walked up Union Street and found the door, the shop closed up but a light burned against the winter’s day. He buzzed up, heard the door give and headed into the small lobby and up narrow stairs. He’d been in once before, the first time, just to make sure she didn’t bolt.
“I’m Chief …” Walk stammered. “Sorry, I’m Walker. Just Walker. I used to be Chief of Cape Haven PD.”
Walk was not surprised when Sheen drew a blank. The man that stood before him had aged nicely, full head of gray hair, an inch off six feet. He extended a hand when Walk mentioned Star Radley.
“I’m sorry, it’s been such
