Before I could reach the car, the driver’s door came open. Caitlin looked scared, disoriented, in the faint glow from the dome light. She must have slid back over the seat into the front and opened the lock. She came out into the night, looking back and forth between Buster and me.
“Where’s John?” she said. “Is he here?”
I nodded toward the cemetery. “He’s here,” I said, but I put my hand on Caitlin’s arm.
“Let me go.”
“We’re leaving, Caitlin.”
I held on to her and released the door locks with my fob. I maneuvered her toward the backseat of the car again.
“You promised,” she said.
I pulled the back door open and had her halfway in when Colter came running up.
“Hey!” he said.
“John! John!”
I kept my body between the two of them, felt myself wedged and pressed between their grasping forms. Caitlin cried out for him, a plaintive wailing, and I felt Colter’s hot breath on the back of my neck, smelled the onions he had eaten for his dinner.
Then the pressure against my back eased. Colter fell to the ground and Buster stood over him. Then Buster dropped to his knees by Colter’s side, his fist going up and down like a piston while Colter squirmed beneath the blows.
“Enough,” I said. “Enough.”
I let go of Caitlin long enough to grab Buster’s arm, to stop his pummeling of Colter. When I had him pulled back and under control, I looked down.
Colter was still there, his face bloodied. Caitlin slipped past me and went to the ground, cradling his face in her hands.
“Oh, John,” she said. “John, did he hurt you?”
But Colter didn’t take his eyes off mine. He even smiled a little, his teeth stained with blood.
“Satisfied?” he said. “Is it over now?”
Caitlin’s eyes were full of tears, and she sniffled in the dark, her hand now resting on Colter’s arm.
I bent down a little, wrapped my hand around her wrist, and pulled her up.
“She’s coming with me.”
Caitlin gasped a little, but she didn’t resist as much as I’d thought she would.
“We had a deal,” Colter said. “A fucking deal.”
I pulled Caitlin toward the car, not looking back. I knew Buster was behind me, watching the rear, not letting Colter up off the ground.
“Let me go!” she said, pulling against me. But I kept my grip-loose enough not to hurt, tight enough that she couldn’t get away. I never should have brought her, I thought. I never should have exposed her to Colter again. It was over. We were going home.
“No,” I said. “You’re coming with me.”
The wailing began again, but this time it was more distant, more sustained.
I looked out to the main road. The blue and red lights strobed, approached the cemetery, and turned in. I looked at Buster, and he shrugged.
“Abby?” I said. “She called them?”
He shrugged again.
Colter pushed himself to his feet. The police cars were coming toward us, blocking the way for our vehicles. There was only one way out, and he took it. He didn’t even look back. He turned and ran into the cemetery, into the darkness, past Caitlin’s headstone and into the darkening night.
“John!” she shouted.
Caitlin tugged against me, but I held on.
I wasn’t going to let go.