Chapter 11

A Deal with the Devil

Ryler

“You got a new car,” I sign to Agent Stale. Over the last six months, he’s been gradually learning sign language in order to better communicate with me. It’s a nice effort on his part and helps me trust him more.

“I thought it’d be better to drive my own instead of the one I use for work.” He flips on a blinker to make a right onto the main road of Laramie that winds between businesses.

We’ve been driving around in his BMW for an hour now, doing laps around the city to make it easier to spot a tail. I didn’t even want to get in the car in the first place. When he’d sent me a text, saying he was at my apartment, I about lost it right in front of Emery. He convinced me we needed to talk, but so far, our conversation has been about mundane subjects, like his new vehicle.

“It’d have been better if you didn’t come here.” I watch the scenery as we cruise by buildings and parks. It’s the beginning of June, and the sidewalks are crowded with people enjoying the summer air. I envy their freedom, wish I could hop out and breathe it in.

“Ryler, I’m not going to put you in any danger. But you had to have expected this visit from me after the text you sent last night.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “A very cryptic text.”

“Actually, I thought I was being pretty blunt”—I turn my head to look at him—“when I said I didn’t want to do this anymore, I meant it.”

“Look, I understand this kind of stuff can get stressful”—Rain starts to drizzle from the dreary sky, so he flips on the windshield wipers—“but you’ve already put six months into this. Quitting now would make those six months completely worthless.”

“Then they’re completely worthless.” I stare down at the tiny cuts on my arms, the remnants of last night’s scrubbing or attempted cleansing.

“If you don't follow through, they won’t erase your record, Ryler. And college won’t be an option anymore.” He turns right onto a side road lined with small two-story houses. “Do you really want to give that up?”

I hesitate, staring at my arms. “Yes.”

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure you want to go back to gambling to make money? Because, in my opinion, the life you had before wasn’t any less dangerous.”

My jaw is taut as I look up at him. “Do you know what I did last night?”

Stale’s eyes slide to me. “Did something happen last night?”

“Yeah, I watched a man get shot in the forehead, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, didn’t do anything to stop it.”

Stale mulls over what I’ve said. “Ryler, I hate to say this, but what did you expect? You knew how dangerous Elderman was when you got into this.”

He’s right, but still...

“I never thought I was going to have to watch it.” I shake my head, watching the rain river down the windshield, erasing the grime from the glass. “I was so close there was blood all over me. It brought back too many memories, memories I’d like to forget.”

“I’m sure that was hard for you.” He loosens his tie as he checks the rearview mirror, something he does every few minutes to check that we’re not being followed. “Especially with your history.”

“I never hurt anyone intentionally. Shit just happened. Juvie was fucking hard to survive, and I had to stick up for myself; otherwise, I’d be walked all over.”

“I wasn’t referring to your violent behavior while you were in juvenile detention.” He fleetingly glimpses at the scars on my neck. “I was referring to Ben Stedderoan. I know what he did to you... how he hurt you. I know you were just trying to protect yourself.”

I touch the scars on my neck. “So did a lot of people, yet somehow, I was sent to juvie instead of him going to jail for what he did to me, Aura, and all his other children.”

Stale is quiet for a while, steering the car up the street and down another road.

“I read the case file,” he finally says. “I know it was his word against yours, and no one would speak up for you. Ben said you hit him first, beat him before he could fight back and beat you.”

“And because they saw me as a punk kid, I was the one that had to be lying. That I was the violent criminal. That I took the branding iron to my own throat. Scarred myself. That I beat up Aura and Ben. That I was the unstable one. Yeah, I know the fucking story. What I don’t understand is why we’re talking about this shit.”

“Have you spoken to Aura since it happened? Did you ever hear her side of the story?”

“Why would I? She betrayed me.” Still, after all that, I loved her for almost two years, until the end of my sentence. Toward the end, I started to crack, and through those cracks, Aura slipped away.

“I don’t know. I’m curious why she never spoke up.” He looks at me with pity in his eyes. “It seems odd that she didn’t.”

Yeah, it was.

I’ve thought about it a lot.

I’ve wondered why she wouldn’t speak up for me when I stepped in for her.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sign. “It’s been four years now, and I’m not going to live in the past.”

“Yeah, but wouldn't it be nice to have closure?”

We drive over a hill and then toward the direction of the university, nestled between apartments, dorms, and a few small stores.