Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sarah

T he letter burns a hole in my purse. Not literally, but I swear I can smell the smoke in my car. I typed up a recommendation to send Maxim back to prison. In it, I stated he didn’t learn a damn thing through therapy. He never tried, and what he did try was full of betrayal as he hid behind a mask.

As soon as I get to my office, I’ll send the letter to his parole officer. I’m certain he won’t be surprised that Maxim didn’t successfully complete his mandated course of therapy. I’m not even surprised. All he’s done is lie to me. Everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie.

He deserves to go back to prison. He used me. Assaulted me. Took advantage of me. And I hope he rots in jail.

When he learns I’m the one who put him back behind those gates, I hope he gets to feel a fraction of the betrayal I felt when I saw that mask. But no matter what I do, he will never hurt the way I did when I found out what he’d done to me.

I pull into the parking lot at work and take a deep breath. I pull the letter from my purse. I stapled it to the front of his file, and I decide to flip open the manila folder and torture myself one last time by going over his notes.

On the first page, my eyes snag on an underlined address. It’s one of Maxim’s childhood homes and, based on the dates, it was the house they lived in when his brother died.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but I punch the address into my phone, put the car in reverse, and back out of my parking space.

What I’m doing is absolutely ridiculous. Maxim has proven he’s incapable of being honest, and the house probably doesn’t even have a detached basement. If nothing else, this little field trip will only reinforce my decision to turn him in.

The GPS brings me to an overgrown lot in the middle of nowhere. The grass stretches past my knees as I step onto the crumbling driveway. There’s not much left of the actual house. Only the singed concrete foundation remains.

I walk through a jungle of weeds and debris to get to the backyard. The long grass flattens under my feet, like crop circles left by a foreign invader. Which is an accurate description, I suppose. I don’t belong here.

It’s difficult to see anything because of the overgrowth. The plants have really taken over back here. Even so, I should be able to spot a fucking set of Bilco doors protruding from the earth. But I see nothing.

I knew he was lying to me. He always lies.

Tired of struggling to find something that isn’t there, I turn to head back to the car when I reach the edge of the property. As I pick my way through the never-ending plants, my foot collides with something solid. A bolt of pain ratchets through my toes, and I curse beneath my breath.

I look down, but the tall grass obscures the object from view. It was probably a large rock, but I squat and spread the blades of grass anyway, ripping some off and tossing the clump to the side. A metal corner comes into view, and I pluck and spread more grass until I see the edge of a rusted door.

I clear away the grass and dirt until I’ve exposed the basement entrance. The basement is real, but that doesn’t mean the rest of his story was an accurate portrayal of events.

There’s only one way to know for sure, and the truth waits behind these doors.

I grip the handle on one side and lean back to pry it open. The handle snaps off and sends me onto my ass. Mama didn’t raise a fucking quitter, so I stand and try the other side, straining to get it open as I fight against years of rust and dirt. The metal finally releases its death grip, and a puff of stale air rises to greet me.

I peer into the dark hole and shine my phone’s flashlight into the shadows. A set of metal stairs lead downward. Considering what happened with the door handle, putting my weight on them isn’t the brightest idea, but I see no other option. I have to see what’s down there.

Holding my breath, I grip the railing and descend.

Dust filters through the flashlight’s glare, and I feel as if I’ve stepped into a time capsule that wasn’t meant to be opened. The floor is dirt, but the walls are made of concrete bricks. Just as Maxim said.

A bucket stands in one corner. I move toward it and can only imagine its purpose all those years ago. The children probably used it as a toilet. Whatever was inside has long since disintegrated, but dark stains run up the sides.

I move the flashlight through the darkness and notice a spot on the far wall that looks different. Stepping closer, I see that dirt has been packed into a large divot in the concrete. I scrape the earth away and find a crude hole about the size of a fist. What looks like a fingernail still rests in the back of the depression.

My hand clamps over my mouth. These boys...What Maxim told me was true. At least one of them was locked down in this cellar, and they tried to claw their way out.

Maxim could have told me about this hole in the ground a thousand times, but the impact of seeing it in person carries so much more weight. Unable to stand, I drop to my knees and sob.

What kind of people can do this to their children?

The kind of people who deserved to burn alive in a building, that’s who.

A wave of nausea overcomes me, and I turn my head and retch. Maxim killed his brother to save him. He killed his parents to save himself. While murder isn’t the answer, it was the only vehicle he could use to escape hell.

That means he’s not the horrid monster everyone has made him out to be. Including me.

I can’t look at this scene anymore. It feels as if the ghost of Maxim’s brother still haunts this dark space. I hurry to my feet and scramble up the stairs, desperate for sunshine and fresh air.

When I emerge from the hole, I’m a shaking, shivering mess. I’ve been torn in two, and I don’t know which half of myself to listen to. On the one hand, Maxim told the truth about his horrific childhood. On the other, he hurt me in a way that is difficult to brush past.

I rush to my car and stare at the file sitting on the passenger seat. It stares back, urging me to make a decision. Do I turn Maxim in, or do I let him remain a free man?