Say You're Sorry

by Karen Rose

  Gideon nodded. “It might have been the murder weapon, but I’ll lay down cash that he has another blade he used for the letters, one that he brought with him and took away. He’s done the letters before. He showed no hesitation. He trusted his tools.”

  “I agree,” Rafe said. “So we look for similar cases.”

  “Agreed,” Erin said with a hard nod. “Where are you headed, Gideon?”

  “Back to the Sokolovs’ to pick up Daisy and then we’re heading up to Redding to, hopefully, track down Eileen. Tracing Eileen’s steps since her escape is going to be key to finding Eden.”

  Rafe nodded. “Because you were left in Redding. Good thinking.”

  “I hope so. I’ve got to call my boss with an update. I’ll also ask for a review of the database, looking for similar MOs.”

  He was going into this assuming that they’d find something, because the bastard had been cocky enough to leave them a clue. He must have believed he was safe from discovery.

  He’ll discover that he’s wrong.

  GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

  SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 8:10 P.M.

  He was pretty damn proud of himself. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed it. He’d followed Agent Reynolds’s black Toyota all the way from the coroner’s office to Granite Bay—with a detour to both a home and a drugstore in Rocklin—without once garnering the agent’s notice.

  The bonus was, now he knew where Reynolds lived, too.

  Reynolds had parked in the driveway of one of the massive houses that were commonplace in Granite Bay. This one, however, had a lived-in look to it. There was a basketball hoop over the garage and whimsical gnomes hiding in the garden. A flag with Valentine hearts fluttered on a pole attached to a porch pillar.

  Reynolds had walked in the door like he lived there.

  As for who did live there, all it had taken was a quick search of the address to see that it was the residence of the Sokolov family. The first names were all a single initial followed by a string of asterisks—specifically K***** and I*****, who were both in their fifties, and one Z*****, who was only seventeen. But first names didn’t matter because a search on Sokolov immediately produced their connection to Daisy Dawson.

  Karl Sokolov owned KZAU, the radio station where Daisy worked. And now, there was every indication that Daisy was inside the house.

  He settled into his seat to wait. The Fed had to come out sooner or later.

  SIXTEEN

  COTTONWOOD, CALIFORNIA

  SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 10:55 P.M.

  Gideon glanced in the rearview mirror. The car was still back there. It appeared to be a Chevy sedan, based on the headlight configuration. He’d yet to get behind the car because every time he slowed, the car did as well.

  It could merely be a cautious driver. Or a driver who used others to keep their pace. Driving slower than the traffic pack leader was a strategy some used to avoid tickets on the interstate.

  “I have to be home by seven tomorrow night,” Daisy murmured from the passenger seat.

  Gideon glanced over at her, surprised she was awake. She hadn’t said a word since he’d picked her up at Karl and Irina’s house, except to confirm she still wished to make the trip to Redding with him. At first she’d sat silently, petting poor Brutus bald. And then he thought she’d fallen asleep when she leaned her head against the car window, but now he realized she must have just been staring out the window.

  He could have left her at the Sokolovs’. He knew that they’d keep her as safe as he could. But he’d wanted her with him because he thought it was better to get her away from the city. Away from the reporters and the story of Trish’s murder, which was now front and center at every media outlet in town.

  Mostly, though, he wanted her with him because he needed her. He needed the sound of her husky voice and the smell of her hair to calm him. To keep his mind from playing the reel of Trish’s body, except with Daisy lying there. Dead.

  Daisy is alive. He kept telling himself that. Kept drawing her scent into his head.

  “Why seven tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “My father’s coming.” Her phone glowed in the darkness as she turned it on to check. “He texted me that he’s arriving at six thirty tomorrow night. Karl said he’d pick him up at the airport, but I don’t want to keep Dad waiting since he’s coming to see me.”

  Well, okay. “Are you all right with him coming?”

  From the corner of his eye he saw her nod slowly, like she was running at a slower speed than normal. “I asked him to come.” She was quiet for a very long moment. “I’m going to have to plan Trish’s funeral and I’ve never done that before.”

  “I understand,” he said softly.

  She shrugged. “I know Irina and Karl could have helped me.”

  He was thinking that. “Or me.”

  She swallowed hard. “I still need you,” she whispered.

  His heart swelled at that, and she looked at him with warmth in her eyes. “Good.”

  “My dad . . . takes over. But he loves me. And Trish never had that. I . . . just needed him,” she finished, sounding almost apologetic.

  “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Daisy.” He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss before lowering it to the center console. He was relieved to find her skin warm, not clammy. She’d been stroking Brutus almost manically up until he’d arrived. That tidbit had been shared by Irina, who’d given him an I-told-you-so look after telling him that Daisy had visibly calmed every time he’d called her on the phone.

  Gideon hadn’t minded Irina’s smugness one bit.

  But Daisy wasn’t calm now, and Brutus whimpered until she nuzzled the dog under her chin with one hand and clutched Gideon’s hand with the other.

  “I . . .” Daisy’s swallow was audible, and she gripped his hand tighter. “I never saw a body like that before today. So . . . bloody.” She stared out the window again. “Losing Trish. It feels almost like losing Carrie all over again.”

  Her older sister who’d run away. “Carrie didn’t take to the military life your father imposed at the compound?”

  “Or life on the ranch in general. She hated it there. She was older than Taylor and me and had left a lot more of her life back in Oakland. She begged Dad to take us back and he refused. They . . . had words. Terrible words.” She hesitated and he remained quiet, waiting for what came next. “Sasha says you’re a vault. Is that true for me, too?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  She nodded once. “I don’t want any of the Sokolovs to know about this.”

  “Rafe said your father disappeared without telling Karl where he was going. That it hurt Karl deeply.”

  “Which is why I don’t want them to know.” Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “My dad’s coming tomorrow and I hope it will help heal their relationship. I know they’ve been trying since we came out of hiding, but it’s hard, I know. I mean, to trust Dad again. But it hurt him, too, leaving Karl and Irina. Hurt all of us.”

  “I won’t tell them,” Gideon promised.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Dad doesn’t know that I overheard their fight.”

  Gideon’s gut tightened because this wasn’t sounding good at all. “Your father and Carrie?”

  “Yes. My stepmother was there, so she knew, and of course Carrie knew, so Dad thinks his words died with them.”

  “But you overheard.”

  “Yes. They were in the kitchen and I was standing in the hallway, out of sight.” She twisted in her seat, pinning him with her gaze. “My dad is a good man,” she declared vehemently. “He never raised a hand to us. Ever.”

  Gideon was marginally relieved. “I’m glad. What did they say, Daisy?”

  She had to clear her throat, and a glance her way showed that she’d clenched her eyes shut. “Carrie accused
Dad of loving Taylor more than the rest of us. He said he . . . was ashamed of her. That she didn’t care about Taylor enough to ‘sacrifice.’ That family meant loyalty, and loyalty meant sacrifice.” She drew a breath, letting it out as Gideon squeezed her hand just enough to show his support. He sensed Daisy had kept this bottled up for a long time, with no one to share her burden. “He said he used to be proud of all of his daughters, but he couldn’t be proud of her anymore. She just froze, Gideon. She had this look on her face, like he’d hit her.”

  “She felt betrayed.”

  “I guess she must have. I was too shocked to move. Carrie ran out the back door. Slammed it so hard that the house shook. My father . . . He was horrified at what he’d said, as soon as the words had come out of his mouth. He just whispered, ‘What have I done?’ and he started to go after her, but Donna held him back. She said to let Carrie calm down. That she shouldn’t be allowed to get away with tantrums like that. I ran to my room and cried. Things were so damn tense, all the time.”

  “And then?” he asked.

  “Then . . . Carrie was just gone.”

  “She ran away? That night?”

  “Yes. She eventually sent a postcard to my father’s PO box in McKinleyville. He went to get the mail every two weeks, which was when he and Jacob would pick up supplies. She told him she’d gone to Oakland.”

  “That’s where you’d come from.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “She started out staying with friends, but that changed at some point. She hung with the wrong crowd. Started living with some guy who was older and an addict. She followed him to L.A. and . . .” She went so still he couldn’t hear her breathing.

  Gideon squeezed her hand hard. “Breathe, Daisy.”

  Daisy sucked in a lungful of air, let it out on a shudder. “And then she died,” she finished. “She was only sixteen. My father has to live with the fact that the last thing he said to her was that he was ashamed of her.”

  “Shit,” he murmured. “How did she die?”

  “She OD’d. Before we heard about it, he went to Oakland to try to find her. He looked and looked, but he never did. He didn’t know she’d gone to L.A.” She went too still again and her next words were uttered in barely a whisper. “He didn’t report her missing to the police.”

  Gideon frowned, then understood. “If he had, he would have had to come out of hiding to file the report.”

  “Exactly. He did send photos of her to the shelters with the number of a disposable phone listed in case someone did see her. But no one ever called. He checked all the places homeless kids hung out. When he finally did get a call, it was to bring her ashes home.”

  Gideon couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. “If you were all hidden, how did he know she was dead?”

  “He’d started calling around to hospitals and morgues after he got the postcard. He said he had a feeling. My stepmother told him he was buying into Carrie’s drama. That if he went after her, she’d know she could manipulate him. To leave her be and she’d come home with her tail between her legs.”

  He was quiet a moment, thinking about that. “And all that time your stepmother knew she was lying, that there was no reason to hide because Taylor’s biological father wasn’t the predator she’d made him out to be.”

  Daisy’s laugh was bitter. “Yeah. Donna was a piece of work.”

  “That had to have made her betrayal that much worse when your father finally found out.”

  “It did,” she said, and he was silent again, for longer this time. A question burned the tip of his tongue, but he was afraid to ask it.

  Daisy frowned at him. “I can feel you hesitating. Just ask your question, Gideon.”

  “When did you start drinking?”

  She nodded, as if she’d been expecting him to ask. “Right after Carrie died.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  He wasn’t able to swallow his gasp. “Daisy.”

  “Yeah. It was like we were all stretched with stress, taut like a rubber band, and when it finally broke, it snapped back and hit us in the face. My father withdrew. I started drinking. And Taylor became Superwoman, doing her chores, plus Dad’s and mine.”

  “Your sister must have felt horrible, since you’d moved to protect her.”

  “She did. I don’t know if she heard the argument Carrie and Dad had, but she did know that Carrie blamed her. It was horrible. It was like we were in this little fishbowl filled with acid. We couldn’t get away from each other and we were disintegrating. Taylor was the one to see my problems, probably because she was the only one leaving for a while. She’d go out and ride fences or do outdoorsy things. I . . . didn’t. I was too drunk, or hungover, or just too angry. Not with her. Never with her.”

  There was something more she wanted to say. He could sense her warring with herself. “But?” he murmured.

  She shrugged helplessly. “I thought it, too. I thought Dad must love Taylor more and I resented her. But I wasn’t mad at her. And that doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Yes, it does.” He thought about Mercy and how she resented him still. She didn’t hate him and she wasn’t angry with him, but she resented him and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  “I was just . . . mad at everything and everyone. And nothing and no one at all.”

  “You were grieving and everyone does that differently.”

  “I know. I figured that out in rehab.”

  “When did you go?”

  “Eight years ago, when I was seventeen. Taylor noticed my drinking first. At first I wasn’t sure how Dad didn’t notice, because I was drinking his booze, but then I saw Donna refilling the bottles. He never knew I’d been guzzling.”

  “Wait.” Gideon shook his head. “Your stepmother hid your alcoholism? Why?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t going to tell anyone because it left me free and clear to drink all I wanted. It was Taylor who started keeping track of my hangovers and drunken stupors. I think she just thought Dad was so withdrawn that he simply didn’t notice.”

  “Did you ever tell her that her mother was refilling the bottles?”

  Daisy nodded slowly. “I spent this past summer with Taylor and her new bio-family, in between Paris and moving here. Gave me a chance to see Julie, too. My dad, not so much. I was still mad at him for having me followed across Europe.”

  “What did Taylor say when you told her about her mother and the booze?”

  “She believed me and was horrified. I mean, once Taylor figured out that her mother had lied about her bio-dad all those years, all bets were off. My sister is a smart cookie. And insanely practical.” She made a face. “So the opposite of me.”

  Gideon frowned. “Did your father tell you that? That you’re not practical?”

  “Didn’t really have to. Taylor liked to ride, and rope, and was a natural on the ranch. She’s an equine therapist now—she uses horses to help kids with emotional trauma.”

  “She sounds very special.”

  “She is.”

  “But does she volunteer all over the place and paint and put together puzzles like a computer brain? Can she defend herself against a man who was almost twice her size like you did on Thursday night?”

  Daisy tilted her head, appearing to truly consider the question. “No?” Then she smiled, beautifully, and his heart gave a little tumble. “Well, she can do the self-defense thing, but she’s at least six inches taller than I am, so I’ll take your point and thank you.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you, Gideon.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly. “But you and Taylor are close, right?”

  “Yeah. We were all we both had there on the ranch. She’s this bright light, you know? She was always like a little mom, taking care of me and Julie. I love Julie, too, of course. S
he’s just a few years younger and her disability widened that gap. She’s got cerebral palsy and needed therapy all those years—physical and occupational. Dad hired a live-in physical therapist for a while, but Jules never got what she needed back then.”

  “She’s getting it now?”

  Her smile was fond. “Yes. She’s going to a special center and she even has a boyfriend. Dad just about lost his shit when he found out about that.” She chuckled, then sighed wistfully. “Dad finally found someone, too. Her name is Sally and she’s a nurse. I like her. She’s nothing like Donna! She reminds me more of my own mom. She’s good for him and now Julie has a real mom.”

  “Donna didn’t take care of Julie?”

  “She wasn’t bad to her, but . . . when I think about the hardships we went through because of her lies. Julie needed help that she wasn’t getting.”

  “And you blame your father for that?” He glanced over to see her expression pinch. “It’s okay with me if you do. I think I would, too.”

  “Yeah, I do. He does, too, though, so my being angry with him about that is kind of pointless. He beats himself up more than any of us do. I just wish he wouldn’t worry so much. But I understand why he does.”

  “You said he experiences PTSD. From the military?”

  “Yes. That isn’t my story to tell, though. Oh. Speaking of which,” she said, and it was clear that she was changing the subject, but that was okay, “I’d opened my laptop to do some more research on the tattoos and Irina saw the page.”

  Gideon sighed. “Shit.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry. She demanded to know why I was looking at tattoos like you used to have. I told her it wasn’t my story to tell.”

  “She accepted that?” he asked, finding that hard to believe.

  “Well, in a manner of speaking. She was happy that you’d chosen to trust me with something you hadn’t trusted her with. She got all I-told-you-so on me. And then Sasha started telling her that you and I had a date last night.”