Page 79 of Blood Ties
The first time I hear the engine purr, I let out a whoop of joy, even though there’s no one but me here to celebrate the win.
Step two is getting the key to Riley’s handcuffs. It would be easier to cut through them, but the bolt cutters are kept in the barn right next to Frank’s shack, and he’s always there.
It’s less risky to steal Knox’s key. Or at least, it would be, if he was acting normal. Usually he leaves the house pretty often at night, heading into town to drink and talk to girls and God knows what else.
But something’s been different since I killed that girl and he caught me hurting myself on the porch. He’s always watching, always checking in on me. Sometimes he even helps me with my chores in the evening. Or at least hangs out with me while I do them. He’s being almost... nice.
I try not to feel bad about the secret I’m keeping. I’ve already given up on any thoughts of hurting my brother. I’m not going to hurt anybody, if I can help it. And when Riley gets free and inevitably sends the police our way, if anyone has a chance of getting out, it’s Knox. He’ll be okay without me.
Yet the guilt gnaws at me when he’s around. Like tonight, while I’m chopping potatoes for dinner, and he sits on the counter with a cigarette, leaning out the window to exhale plumes of smoke.
“You make up with Riley yet?” he asks.
Caught off guard, I nearly slice my finger off. I hesitate, and then mutter, “Uh, yeah.”
“Good. She’s good for you.”
I side-eye him, and return my attention to the potatoes.
He laughs. “I’m serious. I’ve been waiting years for you to grow a backbone. Seems like she finally helped you do it.” He flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window and scoots closer. “So... what happens when Dad decides to kill her?”
A muscle twitches in my cheek. “He won’t.”
“But if he does?” Knox presses.
I slam the knife down a little harder than necessary. “I’ll stop him,” I say, even though I probably shouldn’t admit it.
I feel Knox’s eyes on me, appraising — and I see his grin out of the corner of my eye. “Good,” he says. Then he leans closer still, lowering his voice. “Wanna know a secret?”
I finally look up at him, my brow furrowing. “What?”
But before he can say anything, the front door opens. Dad stomps in, followed by Frank. By the time they make it into the kitchen, stinking of burnt engine oil, Knox has hopped off the counter and walked away.
“Y’all better not be smoking in here,” Dad mutters, smacking me on the back of the head.
I lean over my work and ignore him. When he wanders off I glance at the doorway where Knox disappeared, leaving me with nothing but questions.
That night, after dinner, he heads to the bar. I sneak into his room, pry up the loose floorboard beneath his bed, and dig out the box he keeps there.
The key is right there, right next to Momma’s necklace and the picture of me. I hesitate for a second before sliding it into my pocket.
