The Devil Casts a Long Shadow- Chapter Sixteen: ...I'm Already Here

The road swallowed them in darkness as Jena drove toward Nate’s facility. An oppressive tension filled the car, wrapping itself around her like a noose. Fear gnawed at her, steady and cold. She wanted to confront Thallea. Her intrusive thought was to grab Thallea by the collar, look her in the eye, and ask why she had killed her child. The only reason she didn't was because she knew whatever Turner had planned would be worse. Much worse.

Turner was twitching beside her, erratic and on edge. The drugs were hitting him hard, making him unstable. Jena knew both he and Nate dabbled recreationally, but this was different. This was ritualistic. He was psyching himself up for something terrible—something even a man like Turner, with no conscience to speak of, would hesitate to do sober. He jerked violently at times, reacting to things no one else could see.

Thallea, oblivious to the danger coiling around her, tried to keep things light. “Thanks for picking me up,” she said, addressing Turner directly. He didn’t respond at first, too busy clumsily snorting another line of powder. Then he replied, voice uneven, “Yeah, yeah. Thought we should talk about everything.” Sweat dripped down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.

Jena gripped the steering wheel tighter, hoping they'd forget she was even there. If she stayed still enough, maybe she could disappear.

Thallea smiled at Turner, sheepish and naive, like a lamb mistaking the butcher for a shepherd. “I knew you had a soft spot for me. Bet I remind you of Emily,” Thallea said boldly. Turner laughed—sharp, humorless. “Emily? My Emily? This town never shuts up about how much I loved that bitch!” He turned to glare at Jena, who shrank into her seat.

He reached for his mirror case but instead pulled a dime bag from his breast pocket, shaking out a pill and handing it to Thallea. She swallowed it without hesitation. Jena winced.

“She’s still here,” Turner said suddenly, glancing into the rearview mirror as if they'd just passed a ghost. Thallea laughed nervously, pretending to follow. “She was always two-faced,” he muttered. Then, out of nowhere, he slapped Jena’s hand where it rested on the gear shift. She recoiled in pain. “I knew it!” Thallea cried, seizing on the moment. “Her story never made any sense.” She gestured toward Jena, who kept her eyes on the road, her hand throbbing.

Turner climbed into the back seat beside Thallea. “She never knew what was going on anyway, right, Jen? Always judging, never doing.” Jena didn’t respond. She glanced at the rearview mirror, checking to see if his pistol was still holstered. It was. For now. Her silence wasn’t bravery—it was survival. The darkness masked her trembling hands.

Turner leaned forward, arm draped over her headrest, whispering like a curse, “No, Emily was a problem from day one. A fucking liar.” Thallea egged him on, craving more of the twisted truth. Jena slowed down, careful not to draw attention. One wrong move and Turner might unravel completely. The pills were affecting Thallea now. She stifled little noises, her eyes glassy. Turner handed her more. She took them greedily. Jena’s only hope was that they’d get too high to think, let alone act. If that happened, maybe she could drop them off—separately—and vanish for good.

Thallea leaned into Turner. He shoved her down onto the floor having been startled by her. She teared up instantly. Turner shook Jena’s headrest violently. Trying to divert him, Jena asked, “What happened with Emily?” He paused. Gathered himself. “It wasn’t mine,” he said, staring at Thallea, who sat up slowly. “Or maybe it was,” he laughed, turning to Jena. “Could’ve been anyone’s. She wouldn’t give me a straight story.”

Jena tried to follow, but the timeline was blurred by drugs and bitterness. She’d been overseas then, disconnected from all of this. Emily had never been close to her. She had no idea who the girl had been sleeping with.

“Was it Nate’s?” Thallea asked. Turner let out a sour laugh. “She was supposed to get rid of it, but she wanted money. Told me to burn down my trailer for cash. I said no. Then she went to Nate. Next thing I know, my dad’s dead from the same setup she planned. The stove and heater—just like Emily planned.”

This was a new version of events. One Jena had never heard. And it felt terrifyingly plausible. Jena circled the knoll—one she’d stumbled down before, unseen. Thallea was gone now, mentally drifting, eyes fixed on the window, whispering nonsense.

Turner, no longer addressing Thallea, spoke only to Jena. “It was mine. Nate lied. Said he’d been with her too. But Emily’s been buried under your wine cellar for years now.” He looked at her. “And I started thinking... maybe Nate did help her with the trailer job. My dad would’ve let him in. Emily didn’t like being seen there. But Nate? He was always around.” Jena didn’t want to believe it, but she did. Nate was capable of anything. He always had a way of getting what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Turner wiped his nose. “Bet your ol' man didn't tell you, Amber was pregnant. They were gonna leave town. Nate didn’t just want a payout—he wanted everything. No loose ends.”

Jena stared ahead, horrified. “He was setting us up. You, too,” Turner said. She wanted to protest, to defend Nate—but she knew better. Nate had always been more ambitious than loyal. He’d have burned them without a second thought for a clean escape.

Turner watched her face carefully. She said nothing, just turned the car toward the knoll again. He knew she had a spot picked out to finish this. Thallea was stroking the leather on the doorframe when Turner held out another pill. She took it. Then he pointed toward the slope. “Run home that way. Don’t let anyone see you. Run and don’t stop,” he ordered. Then, with a shove, he sent her tumbling down the hill. Her footsteps faded into the dark. Jena faced Turner. “Now what?” Turner seating himself back in the passenger seat, “We go home,” he said flatly.

On the drive back, he vomited from too much cocaine. When they arrived, Chris was waiting to dispose of the car. Just as Jena reached for the door, thinking it was over, Turner added, “That’s what Beau did to Tawny, you know. I sold him the drugs to do it.” He said it casually, like revealing the weather. It hit Jena like a punch to the chest. Chris said nothing. Jena, reeling, walked numbly to Turner’s house.

Roman had left a note: Shower. Leave your clothes. They’ll be bleached before you go. Turner held onto Thallea’s purse. It was done. Jena cleaned up and drove home. Her groceries were spoiled.

Thallea was gone—either the drugs or the elements would claim her. That was the closest thing to justice Jena would ever have for her family.

The next few months passed in a blur. Beau overdosed shortly before Thallea’s body was found. She had made it eighteen miles north into Kansas. She died of dehydration. Beau died believing Thallea had abandoned him to take the fall for their baby’s death. Jena suspected Turner had a hand in Beau’s overdose, but she didn’t care. Beau had let his child die. Any mercy was long gone.

Ivy-Mae inherited Nate’s assets briefly. Roman’s firm, undefeated until then, seemed to throw the case. Ultimately, Jett was the one who took everything. He left Ivy-Mae for a twenty-year-old from a sugar baby site. Ivy-Mae, unhinged and furious, drove his truck into the bedroom, killing them both. She survived, maimed, and was sentenced without sympathy. Even the judge had had enough of her.

None of it mattered to Jena. Turner owned the house. He kept her there. Paid her to stay. She was the mourning widow, forever waiting for Nate’s return. Turner made sure of it. He painted himself as the kind friend offering sanctuary to a broken woman. But Jena knew the truth: she was a prisoner. Trapped in a web of lies and revenge. Her dreams had been bartered away through her complicity.

No one ever asked what she wanted. The truth was far darker than anyone would believe, had she told it regardless. She and Joel maintained a comradery, begrudgingly. And now, that revenge was a cage. Forever.