Page 6 of Scatter the Bones

“I caught you trying to drown my sister,” I remind him, my voice cold as steel. “Trying to drown a little girl. That’s evil. Stop fucking around and move.”

He flinches at the curse. Like most hypocrites, awordoffends him more than evil acts. My resolve to punish him returns.

Wordlessly, he shuffles toward the wall. His shoulders slump, as if he’s accepted his fate.

The quick acceptance triggers my internal alarms.

I step back a second before he whirls around, throwing a fist where my face had been two seconds ago.

The punch arcs wildly, throwing him into a half-spin. I cock my arm back and smash the gun into the side of his head, knocking him to the floor.

“Nice try.” I stand over his dazed body. “I’m not a malnourished kid anymore. And I’m not afraid of you.”

“You need to fear the Lord.”

“I fear nothing,” I inform him. “You still have that vault in your office?”

Breathing hard, he raises his eyebrows as if he’s surprised I know of its existence.

“Gideon showed it to me when we were little,” I explain. Gideon. My big brother who let me tag along on all of his adventures, then one day justdisappeared.

His jaw drops.

“Is that why you killed him?” I ask, taking a stab in the dark. “He knew about all the money you were hiding?”

His mouth snaps shut and his gaze slides away.

My stomach lurches. Gideon disappeared a long time ago. Father said he chose the devil and left the family. I was so angry at my brother for leaving, I didn’t give his departure a lot of thought. I accepted what I was told.

Only later did I wonder.

And now. That guilty look creeping across my father’s face seems to confirm my suspicions.

A solid whipping later,he still won’t give up the code to the vault.

Breathing hard, he slowly turns his head and fixes the full weight of his preacher stare on me. “You won’t win, son.”

“Don’t call meson.” I flick my wrist, cracking the whip over his shoulder blades. Hard enough to sting but not draw more blood. “Boone and Emily treated me more like a son than you ever did.”

Why the fuck aretheygone when this sick bastard’s still alive and torturing children?

“Do your worst, Jensen. The Lord will protect me.”

“If there was a god, he wouldn’t protect a child abuser.” I step back, the whip slipping from my numb fingers, disgust churning in my gut. “Especially one who won’t admit his sins.”

He narrows his eyes and spits out, “Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them.”

Brutal flashbacks slam into me as he utters the same words he used to justify torturing me as a kid.

“You know I’m right,” he says when I’ve been quiet for too long. His bitter laughter pulls me from the well of memories I’m slowly sinking into.

Enough of this shit.

I raise the Glock and steady it, aiming for his leg.

His twisted laughter stops. “You wouldn’t dare?—”

I squeeze the trigger once, cutting him off. A deafening crack echoes off the stone walls. The bullet slams into his thigh. He screams. Eyes wide with disbelief, he stares at the bloody hole.

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