She shook her head. “No. He wanted revenge against Crawford. It was supposed to have been Crawford who died. Not Mom. Never Mom.”
“But Crawford wasn’t home, ’cuz he was off chasin’ Moss, and the mean ex-con wasn’t choosy, was he?” he asked bitterly. “I got to watch him beat Mom’s head in and then I enjoyed a little of his revenge. Put me in the hospital for a month.”
“I know,” she gritted from behind clenched teeth.
“Ah, because you were there. Listening. In the closet. Did you hear him call for you? I did. He called your name again and again. He knew your name.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Did you really think no one would find out, Mary Fran?”
She took an unsteady step back. “You knew?”
“Oh yeah. I knew. After I got out of the hospital, they told me they’d caught the bad ex-con. That they’d thrown away the key and he’d never get out of prison. But I kept remembering how he’d called your name. I thought I’d dreamed it but knew I hadn’t. So I visited him and I asked him how he knew you. Why he called for you.”
“He told you about the letters,” she murmured.
“He did. What did you think would happen when you wrote letters to men in prison saying how you hated your stepdaddy as much as they did and if they ever wanted your help to kill him, you’d be happy to oblige? Why did you do it?”
“Because I was thirteen and I thought they’d never get out!” she cried. She sank to the floor, sobbing. “I thought they’d never get out of jail, and if they did, they’d come after Crawford. He was the one who put them there. Not me. It wasn’t my fault.”
“No, it never is, is it? It’s never your fault.”
David watched, horrified, as Kirby rounded the kitchen counter, his gun aimed at Mary’s head. Thought about how coolly Kirby had shot Crawford in front of a police station. There was no doubt that Mary would be next. He glanced at his mother, still tied to the chair. Kirby didn’t yet know she was there, but they couldn’t take the chance that he’d find out. Once the gun was pointed at his mother’s head, it would be too late.
Kirby wouldn’t let any witnesses live.
He looked at his empty hands, wishing like hell he had a weapon. Any weapon. But all he had was a stupid penknife. I need a gun. Why the hell didn’t I get a gun?
But he didn’t have one and he couldn’t change that now. He made himself shut out the fear and focus on a way to get his mother free. He could hear Kirby’s car out front, still running, and a plan formed in his mind. He leaned over to whisper in his nephew’s ear. “Tom, this is what I want you to do. Don’t argue, just trust me. Can you do that?”
Tom nodded shakily. “Yes.”
He looked down at his sister in disgust. “What set you off? After all these years, what made you want to draw Crawford out?”
She looked up, her eyes wild like an animal’s. “He came to visit me. On the tenth anniversary. He gave me money. He said he wanted to make amends. Amends. There were no amends for what he did. If he’d been there, he could have saved her.”
He had to blink at her. “You’re really fucking nuts, aren’t you? You brought a dangerous criminal to the house and you blamed Crawford? Almost makes me feel sorry for the prick. Except that he didn’t believe me when I tried to tell him about you.”
Her eyes widened. “You told him?”
“Oh yeah. But he didn’t listen. You were so distraught. How could I make up such lies? And you looked like Mom. He couldn’t believe you’d be so… bad.”
“You told him?” she repeated, stunned.
“Are you deaf on top of crazy? Yes. I told him, but he called me a liar. He couldn’t look at me because I did what he should have been there to do. I tried to save her while you cowered in the closet.” He aimed at her head. “If you’d just left well enough alone, nothing needed to change. But you had to leave that damn ball. Buh-bye, Mary Fran.”
“David’s still not answering,” Olivia said, her cell phone clenched in her hand as she watched the lake cabins flash by. Not much farther…
“They’re playing cowboy,” Noah muttered.
“She’s his mother. When Eve was in danger, you were quite the cowboy, too.”
“That was different. I had a gun. David and Tom don’t.”
A fact of which she was very aware. “David can handle himself,” she said and prayed it was true. She studied the screen of her camera, trying to match the aerial image of the lake she’d taken from the bucket with the actual layout on the ground. They were close. There was a cabin another few minutes away that could be the one.
She saw the cabin up ahead, her eyes widening as a shirtless figure crept around the side of the cabin to the front. “That’s Tom.” He was getting in a sedan idling in the driveway. “What the hell is he doing?” she demanded and Noah’s jaw clenched.
“Don’t know.” Then a shot split the air and Noah punched the gas, their car going momentarily airborne.
With Tom behind the wheel, the old sedan screeched in reverse, then, driver’s door wide open, he gunned the engine, aiming for the house. The car lurched forward and Tom leapt free, rolling on the lawn, coming to his feet as lithely as a dancer. He took off running around the back as Noah brought their car to a blistering stop.
Olivia jumped out and followed Tom to the back, her gun drawn.
David stared in horror as Kirby pulled the trigger and Mary went down. And then, a second later, the house shook on its foundation. Move. Heart pounding, penknife clutched in his fist and Tom’s shirt over his head, David crashed through the glass door shoulder-first. Landing in a shower of glass, he threw Tom’s shirt to the side as his mother stared up at him, stunned.
“Are you okay?” he whispered fiercely, his heart settling a fraction when she nodded. She closed her eyes, tears seeping from her eyelids as he sliced through her bonds, picked her up and shoved her through the shattered back door.
To where Tom waited to carry her away. Good boy. Tom had followed his instruction to the last detail. Get out. David sprung toward the hole in the glass, when a body hurled over the back of the sofa and a hand grabbed his collar, yanking him back, the two of them falling in the broken glass.
“Sonofabitch.” The epithet was thundered in a rage, followed by the cold bite of steel against the back of his head. “Get up, Hunter. Hands where I can see them. You want me, now you’ve got me. Toss your gun.”
David rose, conscious of each passing second. His mother and Tom had slipped away, unseen. Don’t stop running until you’re safe. “I don’t have a gun.”
Kirby’s arm came around his neck, his forearm threatening to crush his throat, bending him backward as he awkwardly patted David down. “You really don’t. What the hell kind of hero are you anyway, charging me without a gun?”
David reached for Kirby’s arm, but Kirby jabbed the gun barrel against his head, hard. “I said keep your hands where I can see them.”
David couldn’t breathe. “The cops are coming,” he rasped and Kirby laughed.
“Nice try. They’re not coming because they’re all waiting for me downtown. They think I’m stupid. They think I can’t smell a setup.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” David grated out. He leaned back an inch, freeing his windpipe enough to draw a decent breath. Kirby was taller than he’d seemed standing behind the counter. Stronger too. I underestimated him. Never looked at him. He made me uncomfortable, so I never really looked at him.
“Their little ruse, their text from Austin. ‘Help. I’m scared. Meet me,’” Kirby mocked.