The Hummer drives on the snow as if it were dry pavement. “We’ve got to go to the police,” he tells me.
“No! We can’t.”
“Why on earth not? How am I supposed to explain the dead man on my property with half his head gone?” he shouts at me. Fear fills the vehicle. His and Morrigan’s. I look back to my daughter, who is watching and listening, her eyes wide.
I glare daggers at him. “The police might be compromised.”
“How? How can that happen? This isn’t a movie.” His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel.
“I told you about my father—”
“Yes, you told me he was a kill—enforcer for some crime organization.” He spots Morrigan’s face in the rearview mirror and softens his tone.
I turn and hold Morrigan’s gaze, my smile warm and loving as I wish for her to sleep. Her lids lower and she fights their heaviness, but I prevail. Her chin bobs against her chest as she sleeps. Guilt swamps me. I haven’t done that since she was an infant and I was in desperate need of sleep, but she can’t hear this conversation.
“This organization had eyes everywhere,” I said quietly. “Even though they did nothing to stop my father from going to prison, he could still have loyal friends. Anywhere. They might honor him for keeping his mouth shut about their boss.”
Disbelief surrounds Christian.
“I’m deadly serious, Christian. This is why my mother changed her name and lived like a hermit in the woods. Everything I’ve ever done has been with the knowledge that he might be looking for me. My bank accounts are in another name, my phone, my cards.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you leave the state? The three of you stayed within thirty miles of where he operated.”
“My mother couldn’t leave. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.” How can I explain her connection to the woods?
“And now you know it wasn’t your father who killed your mother.” He looks at me again. “You can go to the police.”
Ice runs up my spine. “No. Just because this wasn’t him doesn’t mean his people aren’t looking for us.”
“It’s been forty years!”
“I can’t risk it.” Gabriel’s face fills my mind, and I catch my breath. “What if he hired Gabriel? How did he get to him? Who else has he reached?”
“I don’t think that’s what happened.”
Again I smell his secrets. I study Christian’s profile. Such a damned beautiful man and a good one. I’ve known his heart since I was eighteen, and I feel horrible that I doubted him for those few minutes in the snow. If he is lying to me, it’s for a good reason. He’ll tell me when the time is right.
“If you won’t go to the police, then where are we going?”
I press my hands to my eyes. I don’t know. I’ve always been ready to run, but I never knew where was safe. Locations spin through my head, and I reject them all. “I think it’s best if Morrigan and I just drive away. We’ll keep going until I find a town that feels right. My business is online. I can manage it from anywhere.” I will have to repurchase my supplies and build my stock anew. It’s a small price to pay. I picture all my hard work in my storage room in the barn. Maybe Christian can pack it and ship it to me . . . once I find a new home.
My head jerks up. “We have to go back to my mother’s house.”
“Are you nuts?”
“I can’t leave without some things from there.”
“Why didn’t you grab them when we went to pick up those other things? It wasn’t easy getting in there between the police visits.”
“I know. But I forgot about her rings.” I place my hand on his shoulder and focus my energy. “They’re very important to me.” My manipulation skills are rusty, and they were never strong in the first place, not like my mother’s. I hate that I’m using them on my closest friend, but this is necessary. That’s twice in five minutes that I’ve manipulated my loved ones. A sign of how desperate our situation is.
“Okay. We’ll go there, but it’s just for a minute. Then we’re heading south until we’re out of the snow, and I’ll rent you a car so you can leave.”
“No. Morrigan needs to rest and I need sleep. We’ll spend the night there and leave in the morning.”
“At a crime scene? You’d let your daughter sleep in that house?” he hisses. “What if the police show up?”
“I doubt they’ve been anywhere near it since the last two snowstorms. And I can make it good for Morrigan. She won’t see.” I check and see she’s still asleep.
I feel him look sidelong at me. He knows about some of my skills, but not all. He needs to trust that I will do what’s best for my daughter.
“Clearly Gabriel knows the location of the cabin,” he states. “If he’s after you, he’ll look there.”
“I think he believes that I wouldn’t go there . . . just as you were stunned that I wanted to.”
“Not good enough.” He stares straight ahead, anger and fear surrounding him.
“I can’t stay in a hotel. Not under your name or mine. He knows we’re together. I have nowhere else to go.” He opens his mouth, but I speak first. “And don’t suggest a friend’s house. Gabriel is too dangerous. I won’t risk anyone else.”
“One night. No more.” His voice shakes. “I’ll be up all night guarding the fucking door. And after I see you off, I’ll go back to deal with Brent. And Gabriel.”
I hate that I’m leaving him in a difficult spot, and I wonder what he’ll do about his brother.
Will he report him to the police?
“Come with us.” Even as I say it, I know it will never happen. Our affection for each other is strong, but it’s never been a romantic love. His life is not meant to merge with mine.
“I can’t.”
I feel his pain. And I feel his wall. The same wall that he has raised between us before. I don’t understand its source. It extends all the way back to the night we first met, but I don’t try to break it down. I know it is strong and honorable, not meant to be destroyed.
I nod and turn back to watch the road.
THIRTY-FOUR
Simon’s meow escalated in volume.
“Jeez. Hang on.” Truman set the cat’s bowl on the floor in his kitchen. Without a second glance at him, the black cat daintily began to eat her breakfast, wrapping her tail around to her front feet.
Truman watched for a moment, fully aware he was a slave to the feline queen. She’d picked him, not the other way around. Showing up at his door every day until he let her in. If it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have any pets, but apparently she’d decided what was best for him.
His cell phone rang, and he checked the time on his microwave, wondering if he was late to work. To his relief it wasn’t even seven.
Detective Bolton greeted him. “I think you need to see something.”
“What do you have?” Truman poured coffee into his usual travel mug.
“I’m out at Christian Lake’s home. Gunshots were reported in this area yesterday, but we couldn’t check on them until this morning.”
He froze in the act of screwing the lid onto the mug. “No one responded to a gunshot call?”