Authors: Stephanie Kuehn
Well, if it's me, it's not you, lamb.
I know I hurt you, but you're still alive.
Try and stay that way.
Sadie reached the Sonoma city limit and headed north, winding her way through the vineyard valleys and tiny towns like a damn tourist. The wide river was on her left, and rays of the rising sun shot out from behind the clouds to cast a red-pink glow off the water. This day would bring more heat for the dying vines.
More decay.
More loss.
Sadie squared her shoulders and gritted her teeth. The highway wasn't far. She could make it, she thought. She could lose them. From there, she didn't know where she'd goâto the sea, to the mountainsâbut maybe she didn't need to know. Maybe for once she could take things as they came to her. React. Not act.
Not seek to destroy.
Another glance in the rearview mirror. The police cars were still there, as close as ever, a whole goddamn cop parade, like it was a national holiday or something.
“Fuck you,” Sadie snarled. Didn't they have anything better to do? The stoplight ahead of her turned yellow, but as always, Sadie and caution were like oil and water.
She went for it, blowing through the intersection amid a blare of horns and screeching tires. Only the vehicles behind her didn't stop. They just followed with terrible persistence.
They kept following.
Sadie slammed her hand on the dash in frustration. The highway was visible in the distance now. She sped toward it, but the closer she got, the better she was able to see the streaks of squad cars, dozens of them, that were peeling down it, from both directions. All heading straight for the road she was on.
There was no escape.
None.
Sadie's chest ached and heaved. She looked around, at the gun, the blood, and she understood the inevitability of the situation. The direness. Some actions you couldn't take back. Some events you were powerless to stop. There was only one way this would end, and in the pounding of her pulse and the sweat dripping down her brow, Sadie was beginning to feel things she'd never felt before.
Like fear.
Like despair.
But also hope, a tiny, sparkling glimmer of it.
Is this love?
Is that what this is?
Her eyes stung, but Sadie kept going. Another mile. Then another. She pushed it and pushed it and pushed it, until there was nothing left to push. The oncoming police vehicles were in front of her now, the distance between them closing fast. With a ragged gasp, she yanked the steering wheel as hard as she could, twisting it to the right as she hit the brakes. The car wobbled, then fishtailed, revolving nose around nose, before skidding onto the shoulder and coming to a shuddering stop. She grabbed for the gun beside her.
Dust from the roadside swirled up and over the Jetta, clouding the windows with something hazy and thick, reminding Sadie of the way morning mist might swirl over a moat that led to the most impenetrable of castlesâa fortress built of stone and faith that was meant to endure for the ages.
As the haze settled, cops scrambled from their cars, both in front and behind her. They had their sirens on, their lights still going. They shouted at her. They crouched down low. They drew their weapons.
This was it, then. Her time was up. Over. Done.
There would be no more chasing peace. No more boredom.
The world would move on without her.
A small sob escaped Sadie's lips. She wasn't scared, not reallyâshe'd never been one to surrender. But she hadn't known how much the end would hurt.
It was all the more sweet for the pain, though. That was the last thing Sadie thought before shoving the car door open and launching herself into the dust and the heat, with the rosewood butt of her father's gleaming rifle hooked over one shoulder. What she had, and what Miles would because of her, why that was the point of it all.
Wasn't that a
brilliant
thing?
She'd had her shine.
And now, somewhere, somehow, for a heart she'd never know, to light a sky she'd never see, someone else was preparing for theirs.
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STEPHANIE KUEHN
is the William C. Morris Awardâwinning author of
Charm & Strange.
She holds degrees in linguistics and sport psychology, and is currently working toward a doctorate in clinical psychology. She lives in Northern California with her husband, their three children, and a joyful abundance of pets. When she's not writing, she's running. Or reading. Or dreaming. Visit her online at
stephaniekuehn.com
or sign up for email updates
here
.
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Also by
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Contents
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
DELICATE MONSTERS.
Copyright © 2015 by Stephanie Kuehn. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Cover design by Kerri Resnick
Cover images: figures in field © Patricia Turner/Arcangel Images; bird © a1vector/Shutterstock
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-06384-7 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-6885-4 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466868854
First Edition: June 2015