Black Sheep

I feel like my soul has been pushed sideways, hanging halfway out my body. Bria wraps up the interview and starts packing the equipment as I discuss next steps with Agent Langille, even though I’m not fully engaged with anything that comes out of my mouth. I just want to get Bria into the car and get the fuck out of here and figure out what this all means. I just want answers, even though it feels like I’m drowning in them.

Agent Langille guides Sara by the arm as we leave the meeting room and take the elevator. I stand between Sara and Bria, trying to shield Bria from this woman. Bria glances up at me but I don’t take her hand.

We keep it brief at the vehicles. I watch Bria’s expression but she gives nothing away as she says goodbye to Sara. There’s neither pain nor malice nor sorrow, just a glossy, clean surface, void of any marks. I set the equipment in the trunk as Bria gets into the car. My heart pounds, thrumming in my ears, and I grip the edge of the vehicle for a steadying breath before closing it and sliding into the driver’s seat.

The silence grows heavier by the second as we coast through the parking lot and turn onto the road to head back to the rental cabins.

“Are you okay?” I finally ask, my voice low and quiet.

“Are you?”

Fair point. “I don’t know. Just like I don’t know what you’re feeling. You hardly ever let me in. Were you ever going to tell me who you were, Ava?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” she snaps back, though her expression remains placid. “I am not Ava.”

I sigh, running my hand down my face. This isn’t how I wanted to start this off. “I’m sorry, Bria. I’m just… I’m confused as fuck. It’s a lot, and a strange way to find out.”

“I know,” she says as she watches through her passenger window as the shops pass by. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” And I am, for so many reasons. I’m sorry I put her into that position. I’m sorry she couldn’t trust me to tell me this sooner. I’m sorry I’m angry and that I’m already not going about this the way I wanted to, even though I know I have a right to feel this way. There’s a lot that she’s still keeping from me. “Did it really happen the way she said?”

“You mean the killing, I presume,” Bria replies. She looks straight ahead once more, and even with a glance I can see the impenetrable forcefield growing around her as she sinks back into her ferocity. “Not really.”

“How do you mean?”

Bria snorts a dark, derisive laugh. “The barn didn’t just spontaneously combust, for one.” She rolls her eyes as though she’s replaying the recent conversation with Sara. “As for me killing Xanus and the beating I received in recompense, she hit most of the high points.”

I take a deep breath that does nothing to calm the alarm rolling through my heart. “What about the man who found you? Was that Samuel?”

“Yes,” Bria says, the edge in her voice softening. “He took me to a safe place and helped me heal.”

My gaze darts between Bria and the road. “What about Zara? Did you kill her too?”

Bria turns to me then, her expression darkening, the mask gone. I see both rage and sorrow swimming in her eyes. My heart cracks at the sight of raw pain in her eyes like I’ve never seen in her before. “Why are you asking questions you don’t want the answer to?”

Bria’s hand feels cold and fragile beneath mine when I lay my palm upon it. I feel like our words are unraveling everything around us, like each one spoken is a hook pulling apart a tapestry. I need to get control of this conversation before all we’re left with are threads on the floor. “I’m trying to understand. What you’ve been through is far beyond the worst I’d imagined when I first saw your scars. I’m asking because I do want to know.”

“Then yes,” she says, not taking her eyes from mine as she speaks. “I killed her too.”

A call comes through on Bluetooth, Agent Espinoza’s name flashing on the dashboard screen. I reject the call and try to keep my attention on both Bria and the road, desperate to get out of this car where we can focus on figuring this out. We fall into a long, tense silence as we pass the city limits and speed toward the cabin.

“Are you the one who’s responsible for the missing individuals related to Legio Agni?”

Bria could call me out on the fact that I’ve never mentioned missing individuals to her, or that it didn’t come up in the preparation or the interviews. But she doesn’t. She just slides her hand out from beneath mine as my organs seem to curl in on themselves. “What would you do with that information if I said yes, Eli? Would you drive me to Washington and dump me on the FBI’s doorstep?”

Would I? No. Should I? Yes. If it’s true. “No.”

Another call comes through as we’re nearing the turn for Rock Creek Chalets. It’s Agent Espinoza again. “Just take it,” Bria says, facing away to look toward the forest.

I press the button to accept the call as we turn up the gravel drive.

“Dr. Kaplan, I have some urgent updates,” she says. I notice the nearly imperceptible stiffening of Bria’s hand against her leg, her nails pressing into her jeans.

“Okay…”

“First off, Cynthia Nordstrom has been reported missing.”

My blood seems to rush away from my limbs. Bile churns in my stomach.

“She was last seen at Mosaic Nail Salon. She had several meetings and appointments the following day, but missed all of them. We received the news anonymously yesterday and have found nothing of her since. She’s just gone.”

Bria’s fingers fold into a fist, her fresh black manicure hidden against her leg.

“We’re not yet sure if she ran, or if something has happened to her,” Agent Espinoza continues as we roll to a stop in front of the cabin. “But she did manage to send through a package to us by hardcopy before her disappearance, which arrived just now. It contains photos of Caron Berger. I’m sending pictures to you now.”

I grab my phone from the center console but Bria’s hand curls around my wrist. “Eli,” she whispers with a faint shake of her head. There are tears in her eyes.

“Did you get them?” Agent Espinoza asks.

Bria shakes her head again. I pull my hand away as her first tear falls, shattering my heart as it streaks down her face.

I open the message and stare into the eyes of a ghost.

“Dr. Kaplan?”

“I… I got them,” I say, my eyes welling as I flip through photos of my older brother. Most are grainy pictures. Gabe from afar, Gabe in low light. He smiles in one, his dimple winking in his cheek. He looks healthy. Older. Alive.

“Everything all right, Dr. Kaplan?” Agent Espinoza asks.

Something cold presses to my neck. I slide my eyes from the screen and look at Bria. She’s holding a large hunting knife, her hand trembling, tears still falling across her skin. She raises her index finger to her lips and shakes her head. The tip of the blade nudges my skin, not enough to cause pain to me, but it looks agonizing on Bria’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” I say, not taking my eyes from Bria’s. “I was driving. Just parked.”

“Okay great. Well have a look through, I’ll send any other details via the link and we can chat when you’re settled. I’ll keep you posted if we hear anything about Cynthia.”

“Thanks….” I say, and Agent Espinoza ends the call.

I reach forward slowly and turn the ignition off, and we sit in a moment of taut silence as Bria lowers the blade with a careful hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“For what part, exactly,” I reply. My voice sounds menacing even to me. “For clearly knowing Caron Berger’s real identity and his relationship to me, yet keeping it secret? For probably planning to kill him? For being involved in the disappearance of our key witness? Or for threatening to slice my jugular? Or is it for all those things?”

I glare at Bria for a moment that feels hours long, and then I burst from the car, slamming the door behind me.

“I wasn’t going to kill him, Eli,” she says behind me as I stalk toward the cabin and fumble with the keys.

“Sure, just like you didn’t pretend to fall in love with me so you could get closer to information about my brother. Do you do that every time? Fuck a guy like me to get closer to your target? Even better, fuck the target?”

“No, Eli. That’s not what happened,” she says as I pause on the threshold, glaring down at her. “I love you, Eli. I didn’t know who Gabe was until just recently, and I would never kill him knowing it would hurt you. That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“How can I believe anything you say? Jesus Christ, Bria. You just confessed to me that you murdered two people, and then you whip a giant knife out of who-the-fuck-knows-where and hold it to my neck as I’m literally on the phone with the FBI, looking at photos of my dead fucking brother, alive and well. And you knew it. You fucking knew all along.”

“I was trying to stop you from telling them his identity and fucking up your options,” Bria says, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. She follows me inside as I storm into the cabin. “I can catch him for you, and you can decide what to do with him. But if the FBI takes him, he might not make it out alive, and if he does, he’ll be behind bars for decades.”

I whirl on Bria and she takes an unsteady step backward. “That’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Those are the fucking rules.”

“I don’t care about the rules—”

“Clearly—”

“I want you to have the opportunity to save him.”

“The only one he needs saving from is you, Ava.”

Bria’s jaw clamps shut in absolute and consuming rage. Her fist tightens around the handle of the blade but it stays down at her side. But even through her fury I can see her heart breaking, tears still gathering along her lashes to fall across her freckled cheeks. I’ve never seen her cry. Not even close to it. Not even at her lowest point at the hospital with Samuel. But then I think about my brother and all the secrets she’s held on to and I push those observations aside.

“Did you kill Cynthia Nordstrom?” I ask.

Bria swallows. “I didn’t know she was working with the FBI.”

“That wasn’t my fucking question.”

“The answer is yes, Eli. Yes. And others like her. Others who hurt people like me. Who profited off people like me. They abused people like me. Did you know Cynthia tried to recruit me for their fucking flock of lambs? It was justice, Eli. Justice for all the girls who have invisible scars that cut just as deep as mine. I’m saving girls like me.”

I run my hand down my face, disbelief settling its weight in my bones. “So this is what you do?” I ask, glaring down at her. “You’re a fucking serial killer?”

Bria’s lip quivers. She shakes her head and looks at me like she would give anything for relief from whatever turmoil is raging inside her. “You wanted the truth. You wanted my past and my secrets. You said you’d love me anyway. And now that I’m letting you in and you’ve seen what you wanted to see, you’re rejecting me. I guess I’m not the only one who lied,” she whispers, taking a step back, her hand still gripped tight around the handle of the blade. “You’re nothing but a voyeur, are you. You wanted to look into the heart of darkness. You wanted to see where the limits were. And then you found none. Like a child, playing with fire. You stamped it out while I burned the whole barn down and set myself free.”

We stare at one another. The silence is suffocating. The pain of watching Bria fall apart beyond my reach is just as agonizing as the betrayal that’s come from her endless secrets and clandestine games. My soul feels like it’s shrunk to the size of an atom.

I have to get out of here. I need to process everything that’s sucking me down and drowning me.

I turn away and walk up the stairs, Bria’s quiet footsteps following behind me. The wordless moments build between us in a monument of anger and loss.

“Say something,” Bria whispers from the stairs behind me as I toss my bag onto the bed, shoving unfolded clothes into its depths.

“I don’t know what to say to you right now, so how about I just use one of your favorite tricks, hmm? I’ll wait for you to fill the silence, Ava….”

Even in my fury, a tinge of regret leaks from my broken heart when those words make it past my lips. I feel the pain in Bria when they hit their mark, but I still don’t turn around.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Maybe Samuel was right,” she says, her voice soft and unsteady. “I can’t love anyone. But if I could, I would love you. I would have loved you forever.”

Neither of us says anything more.

I don’t turn around until I’m done packing and ready to go. But when I do, Bria isn’t there, and a surge of worry grips my heart even though I don’t want it to. I walk down the stairs, too angry to call out her name but still expecting her to be standing by the kitchen island or sitting cross-legged on the couch with a book balanced in her lap. But she’s not in any room.

The door is open, the car parked where I left it. Her bags are still upstairs.

But Bria Brooks is gone.