Had she fostered his tumor?

He tried to focus on the sidewalk under his feet. It was nearly eight A.M., and he’d been walking for an hour, combing the neighborhood where he’d lost track of Rick yesterday. He’d been patiently waiting for Rick to come out of a deli when he realized too much time had gone by. He’d finally gone in.

No Rick.

Was I spotted?

The clerk behind the counter had pointed out the delivery entrance near the bathrooms. He’d claimed he hadn’t noticed if Rick had left through that entrance. The woman in Troy’s head had cried in frustration.

We’re so close, she’d sobbed.

Troy had repeated his promise to fulfill her goals. I haven’t let you down yet.

He felt her silently slide away to the corner of his mind where he couldn’t hear her, leaving him empty and alone. She didn’t do it to punish him; she vanished when she was crushed and upset. He ached to make her happy. When he’d first thought of his plan to avenge her death, she’d wept with joy, and he’d realized her happiness meant everything to him. When she was happy, he felt powerful and at peace.

Too many years of his life had slid by in a blurry haze. He’d gone from job to job and woman to woman, searching for something to destroy the stain on his conscience. One night he’d stared in shock at Carson Scott on the news. His old buddy had made something of himself. Troy had followed Carson’s career, watching covertly from a distance, wondering if the man was as satisfied with his life as he appeared. Carson had started in a city council position and steadily climbed a political ladder, making news headlines when he ran for Congress. At first Troy hadn’t been able to believe that a person with rot in his soul like Carson could attain such lofty heights.

Carson had won his election to Congress, and Troy had heard her sob all night, an echo of his own confusion over Carson’s reward for his rancid past. It’d been the first time he’d heard her so clearly. Before, he’d heard gentle, indecipherable whispers, but he’d known instantly who’d been speaking them.

That night Troy had decided to search and find the rest of their group. He’d witnessed Aaron slogging along in a backbreaking job as his marriage slowly crumbled. One evening Troy had followed Aaron as he hooked up with a female coworker; rage had rushed through Troy as he watched the two of them alone. He’d had several moments of intense fear as he worried Aaron would harm the woman. Instead Aaron had taken his pleasure and gone home in a happy daze, walking right past Troy as he knelt behind a hedge.

Aaron’s ex-wife, Laura, seemed like a good woman. Troy had studied her closely to see if she’d physically suffered in the relationship, but most of the pain seemed to be mental and emotional. Troy had been pleased to see her come to her senses and demand that Aaron leave.

Joe Upton had hidden in his home since that night. Life had dealt the man a difficult hand and Joe had suffered appropriately, unlike Carson and Aaron. Joe had grown fat and reclusive, his world not much larger than his house and his TV.

Rick had been the toughest to locate. He’d been the ringleader from the start. The one who’d tipped over the domino that had started the rapid chain reaction in which they had all taken part. But Rick was the essence of the incident. Without his primary actions, none of that day would have happened. He was the key.

Now the sight of him made Troy’s anger burn. Rick had been the spark and then had fanned the flames to involve the rest of their group. If anyone deserved to suffer for what had happened to Colleen, it was Rick. It was fitting that he would be the last victim.

They would have continued on as five normal teenage boys if Rick hadn’t pushed so hard. Acne, school, sports, and girls. A normal teen’s life that would have led to a normal man’s world.

He wouldn’t have a mass of cancer growing in his head if Rick had kept his temper.

He was certain of that fact.

Troy had found a dozen articles that preached the same message. A healthy life and healthy mental state created a healthy body. His brain had festered from the guilt and visions of the day Colleen died. If he could only go back in time and stop the other boys.

It’s too late.

He’d accepted that he couldn’t change what had happened. But he still wished and often dreamed that he had. In his dreams he stepped forward, unafraid of the other boys, and told them to stop. He grabbed Colleen and pulled her out of Rick’s grasp before the evil began. In this alternate reality she cried and thanked him.

In his dreams he did the right thing.

Why didn’t I save her back then?

At first he’d thought she was haunting his house. When he started to clearly hear her voice, he’d wander around the rooms, calling out to her to show herself. In public he’d watch for people’s reactions, assuming they could hear her, too. But no one flinched. No one asked, “Who is crying?”

Only he could hear her.

The one good thing he’d done in his life was implement his plan to avenge her.

One man left.

He froze, a woman catching his eye. She appeared to have on the same coat he’d noticed Rick’s friend wearing yesterday. Her dark hair seemed the right length and the same style. He walked faster, trying to get a closer look. She paused at a street and looked both ways, flashing a glimpse of her profile, and started to cross.

It’s her.

His stomach churned. Something about her was eerily familiar outside of his glimpses of her yesterday. Yesterday his focus had been on Rick. He’d barely glanced at the woman. He stopped at the same street, the traffic making it impossible to cross. He watched her arms swing at her sides and her hips sway with confidence. A cold flash of dread touched his heart.