There was only one person to blame for that. Theo spat into the sink and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter.
The way he figured it, Hannah’s son had been the cause for every problem in his life since the day he married her and took them both in. Ever since that brat turned old enough to see what went on behind closed doors, he’d been looking out for his mother and sister. Shoving Theo out of the way when all he wanted to do was talk to his wife. Standing between him and his daughter when the girl deserved a spanking. Theo emptied the bottle down his throat. Every time he tried to discipline his wife and child, that kid had interfered. To add insult to injury, Damian must have convinced his mother to change their last names back to Knight. As if Braxton wasn’t good enough.
“That son of a bitch needs to learn who’s boss,” Theo muttered, wiping his mouth on a dirty shirtsleeve. “Once and for all.” He reached into a kitchen cabinet and pulled out the bottle he knew Ronny kept there. He stroked the fifth of bourbon with care.
“Come to papa,” he whispered, and broke the seal. He eased into a stained recliner, propped the bottle between his thighs and checked his watch. Eleven thirty. He took another long drink and turned over possibilities. Forget Hannah and Dinah. This time, he’d go straight to the devil himself. Even with only one good hand, he had no doubt he’d dominate Damian in a fight. Course, having an advantage in the form of a trusty sidearm wouldn’t hurt either.
He checked his watch a third time, patted the forty-five on the table beside him and watched the moon move across the inky sky.
DAMIAN STOOD IN THE front hallway and watched Officer Burdick pace the length of their driveway. Joyce Hadley had left less than an hour ago, after the cops hurried them back to the farmhouse with news about Dinah. They’d found T.J.’s abandoned truck at the base of Sunrise Mountain, and muddy footprints looked as though she’d gotten away from him. Now they were heading back out with dogs and a blanket with Dinah’s scent on it.
Call me, Joyce had whispered before she left, but Damian knew he wouldn’t.
The suspect’s probably miles away by now, Officer Burdick had repeated. We still have men looking for him, but we’re gonna focus our efforts on finding the girl.
How do you know he doesn’t have her? Doubt had filled Hannah’s expression.
Two sets of footprints go in two opposite directions where the truck was ditched. The cop cleared his throat. He might have gone after her, yes, but it’s more likely he’s taken off, afraid of getting caught. Typical M.O. with kidnappers when something doesn’t go according to plan.
But don’t you think he’ll come back here? Hannah had asked. Don’t you think he’ll try to find her again?
Possibly. Our plan is to find her first. We’re keeping a watch on your house, all the same. Even a fool doesn’t push his luck that much.
The cop’s reassurance hadn’t convinced Damian. It didn’t matter if the police set up a barricade around the farmhouse twenty-four seven. If T.J. wanted to, he’d find another way to destroy their lives. Damian was sure of it.
Hannah sat beside him on the couch. “Have you talked to Summer today?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think you should? She’s probably worried sick.”
His throat grew tight. I don’t have anything to say to her.
“At least call her.”
But he couldn’t. He hadn’t told his mother about Summer giving T.J. directions; he couldn’t bear to. She should have listened to me last night. He balled his hands into fists. He’d let down his guard, and his worst nightmare had come true. How could he talk to her?
“After what she went through today, I hate the thought of her being all alone in that house. I’m sure she could use a friend.”
“I don’t know.”
She put a hand on his wrist. “She’s leaving. You heard her say that at the news conference.”
“Exactly. So what’s the point in talking to her now?”
“Listen to me.” Hannah’s voice took on an edge “You cannot spend the next fifty years trying to protect me. Or Dinah, or yourself. There’s a whole life out there, starting with someone on the other side of those trees who’s waiting for you to come to your senses. She needs someone tonight. Go see her.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t understand. I see the way you look at her. The way you look at each other.”
Damian’s shoulders sagged. “It’s past midnight.” Besides, he didn’t want to call Summer. And he didn’t want to stand on the other side of a room and try to make small talk with her. He wanted to feel her, to kiss her and wind his fingers into her hair. He wanted to play all the songs stored up in his head, the ones he’d written because of her. But he didn’t know how to begin a conversation after everything that had happened.
So he left his phone in his pocket, sank into a chair, and tried to chase sleep that he knew wouldn’t come.
Chapter Thirty-four
Summer sat straight up in bed. Something had woken her. Not the sun rising, because it wasn’t yet dawn. She squinted and checked the time on her phone. A little past five. She’d slept barely four hours, after tossing and turning and trying to work things out in her head. But despite the little bit of shut-eye, she felt restless and wrung out. She rubbed her eyes. Then her cell phone beeped.
A message. That’s what had woken her. Maybe they found T.J and Dinah. Oh please please please... She lunged for the bed stand and fumbled with the tiny keys of her phone. But it was only Rachael.
The voicemail message had arrived at twelve-oh-five. “Hey, Summer. The police think Dinah got away from T.J. A witness said they saw someone matching his description walking up past the lake last night. By himself.”
Rachael’s voice faded out for a moment, replaced by static. “...cops found his truck near Sunrise Mountain.”
Dinah got away? Summer could barely process the news. But then where was she? Had she just disappeared into the night? Shouldn’t searchers have found her? She was a ten-year old girl. She couldn’t have vanished into thin air.
“...they think she ran off when he stopped for the night.” Pause. “Just wanted to let you know. Call me when you get this, okay?”
Summer dropped the phone into her palm, stunned. Dinah had gotten away from her father. Thank God. But what did that mean? Was she wandering around somewhere, cold and scared in the dark? Had she gotten lost or been attacked by a wild animal? True, it wasn’t like Whispering Pines had rabid grizzlies prowling the hills, but still. What if she fell and hurt herself? What if she—
Summer shook her head to stop the thoughts. They must be organizing search parties. She knew this area as well as anyone else who’d grown up here, and much better than Damian or Hannah. She played Rachael’s message again, trying to draw out any clue of where Dinah might have headed. She knew the area Rachael meant. The base of Sunrise Mountain wasn’t too far away. Maybe a mile at most.
Something clattered in the foyer, and she leapt from the bed, all nerves firing at one hundred and ten percent. “Mac? Damian?”
Stupid. It was too early for either guy to be showing up for work. She pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and waited another few seconds, tensed and ready to leap for the nearest window. When no other sound came, she crept into the foyer.
Nothing.
Heart in her throat, she crossed to the kitchen. Nothing in here either, except she hadn’t turned the deadbolt on the back door last night. She’d been so preoccupied, she hadn’t bothered to secure it. She did so now. Then she turned on the coffeemaker and stared over the treetops to where Damian and Hannah lay sleeping. Or waiting, she supposed. She didn’t guess they would have slept a wink.
The noise came again, and she turned so fast she smacked her elbow on the counter. Nothing in the kitchen. She peered out to the foyer again and glanced up the grand staircase. Nothing there either.
She hurried back through her bedroom and checked the bathroom. Both vacant. She moved to the wind
ow and took a long look at the front yard. Only trees and flowerbeds. Then she saw a beat-up sports car parked beyond the hedgerow. Summer squinted. She didn’t recognize it.
“Well, look who’s here.”
The gravelly voice came from behind her, and she spun to see a wild-eyed, disheveled man standing ten feet away. T.J. And he was holding a gun.
“Wh-wh—” Air whistled through her teeth. Her legs gave out and she stumbled, reaching for the window seat.
He took a few steps toward her. “Didn’t know anyone was livin’ here.”
She stared. He smelled terrible—of urine, liquor, body odor and something else. Something evil. She opened her mouth and tried again.
“I’m not lookin’ for you,” he said, “though this little predicament might work out to my advantage.”
“What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he let his head fall back, taking in the crown molding, the high ceilings, the chandelier in the foyer behind him. “Nice place.”
Summer eyed her cell phone sitting on the bedside table six feet away. It was directly behind the crazy man with the gun.
“Damian did all this?”
“Uh, yeah. And Mac.”
“Who?” His eyes flashed, bloodshot, and Summer could tell he’d been drinking. She edged closer to the bed.
“You can stay right there.” Dropping any pretense of kindness, T.J. stepped closer and pointed the revolver directly at her chest.
Summer’s vision fuzzed, and she scrabbled back into the window seat. She eyed the muzzle of the weapon and pressed her spine into the cushion.
“You know what happened.” It was a statement rather than a question.
She shook her head.
“Don’t lie to me! It’s been on the radio, how I kidnapped my daughter.” He laughed, a sinister, choking sound. “She’s my daughter. How can I be kidnapping something that’s my own blood? She belongs to me.”
Summer sat motionless. Maybe if she didn’t move, he’d forget she was here.
“I’m just trying to be a father,” he said in a quieter voice. “Trying to keep my family together.”
She wanted to vomit. A father? A family? This guy had no idea what he was talking about. “Mac’ll be here soon,” she said. She hoped T. J. would believe the lie.
“What? Who?” Distracted, he edged toward a window, squinting outside.
“Mac. The guy who’s working on the house.”
Suspicion filled his eyes. “Thought Damian was working here.”
“Well, they both are.”
“So where is he?” T.J. demanded.
How crazy was this guy? How drunk? How completely off the deep end? “I don’t think Damian’s working today.”
T.J.’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
He’s home protecting his mother from you, she wanted to say. Or downtown at the police station, ready to lead a posse and find his sister, then mount your head on a stake.
“I’m pretty sure he took the day off,” she hedged.
“Bullshit!” The gun wavered in his hand, and Summer jumped. T.J. strode to the bed stand and picked up her phone. One dirty thumb poised above the buttons. A grin peeled back his lips, and he shoved it into her hand.
“Call him. Tell him you need him to come over here and fix something. And then do exactly what I say.”
DAMIAN TOOK A LONG shower and let the hot water ease away some of his tension. Though it was barely six in the morning, he couldn’t sleep anymore. He was exhausted, and not just because he’d lain awake on the couch waiting to hear news of Dinah. Whenever he closed his eyes, he thought of Summer. Of her house, of a sunset, of a guitar and starlight blinding him. She’d been barefoot in the dream, wearing that sundress cut clear down to forever, and she’d chased him through the house, up to the roof, where she stopped and held out one hand to him. He’d taken it, wrapped his fingers around hers, and they started to float.
He lathered and rinsed until the water turned cool. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he could find the words to tell her how she twisted him up inside. But she was leaving, he reminded himself. What good would it do to spill his guts and then watch her get on a plane bound for the opposite coast?
Downstairs, he gulped black coffee and called the precinct. “Heard anything?”
“Nothing yet. Sorry. We’re starting up a search again in another half hour or so.”
“I’ll be there.”
He turned over his cell phone in his palm. He itched to call someone—anyone—just to get rid of the thoughts inside his head. He’d decided on Nate and was about to punch in the numbers when the phone rang. One look at the name on the screen and his throat closed up.
“Hello?”
For a moment, there was only static and the faint sound of breathing.
“Summer?”
“Damian.” Her voice sounded strange, and he could barely hear her. She drew in a sharp breath, and he thought he heard strange noises in the background. “Can you come over here? There’s a problem with the plumbing in my bathroom.”
“What?” Damian glanced at his watch. She’d called him for a plumbing problem? At dawn? “I was gonna head down to the police station in a few minutes. Isn’t Mac gonna be there soon?”
Her voice lowered to a whisper. “He has a meeting over in Silver Valley first thing this morning.” A knocking sound echoed in the background. “If you can just stop by for a few minutes and check it out, I’d really appreciate it.”
“I don’t...maybe I could come by later on.” He frowned. No mention of the other night. No affection in her voice at all. Just a plumbing problem and a strange current of fear running across the telephone lines.
“Just for a few minutes?” she pleaded. “If you could—”
The line went dead.
“WHERE IS HE?” T.J. growled. He paced from one end of the bedroom to the other but kept the gun pointed at Summer. He held her cell phone in his other hand. Every few minutes, he pulled back the curtains and peered through them.
“Maybe he isn’t coming. He didn’t say he would.”
A sneer curled back the man’s lips. “Oh, he’s coming. For someone who looks as pretty as you, he’ll show up. Always did like to play the big hero.”
But he’s angry with me. No, furious. Plus Dinah’s still missing. That’s more important than a broken toilet. She didn’t need to remind him about the little girl who’d gotten away. She wouldn’t dare mention it. If T.J. was here with her, that meant he couldn’t get to Dinah. Summer pressed her lips together and fought for strength.
The sun continued to rise, along with the temperature in the room. Perspiration slipped between her breasts and she wiped a hand across her forehead. A couple of cars drove by but none stopped. Her hopes dimmed. What if Damian really didn’t come? What if he decided that she could take care of her own problems? His little sister was missing, after all. Why on earth would a leak make him drop everything and rush to Summer’s side?
Tears filled her eyes. It had been almost twenty minutes.
“He’s not coming,” she said. Of course he wasn’t. He blamed her for letting T.J. get to Dinah. Plus she’d announced to the world yesterday that she was leaving town. And if all that wasn’t enough, there was a good chance he’d spent last night with Joyce Hadley. He’s not going to run over here and be my knight in shining armor.
“Then you’re gonna have to call him again.” T.J. circled the room.
Summer’s fear ratcheted up a couple of notches. A lonely father seeking revenge was one thing. A crazed man with a loaded weapon was something else altogether.
They both heard the noise at the same time, a sharp crack somewhere nearby. Summer jumped to her feet.
“Sit down!” T.J. hissed, waving the gun in her direction. “Stay right there and don’t say anything unless I tell you to.” He crept to the bedroom door, brushing her bare knee. She cringed at the feel of his soiled jeans and sat back down.
“C’
mon,” he muttered. “I know you’re out there.” He stepped into the foyer and looked around.
Suddenly the front door flew open and Damian strode across the threshold. One fist shot out and punched T.J. in the mouth before the man had a chance to cock the gun. He stumbled against the wall. Blood poured from his split bottom lip.
Damian grabbed him by his shirtfront. Another punch. This time, though, T.J. ducked, and Damian’s fist glanced off the wall. The skin on his knuckles split open, and Summer stifled a scream.
You came. Summer ran to the doorway and stopped. Damian’s eyes flickered toward her, his gaze dark and pointed. She couldn’t read it. Want? Blame? Uncertainty?
“You sonofabitch,” T.J. slurred. He managed to push himself against the wall and straighten the gun. Squeezing the trigger, he fired.
Summer screamed.
Plaster erupted from a hole ten feet above Damian’s head.
T.J.’s grin slipped a little. He rearranged the gun in his hand as Damian lunged across the foyer. The hammer cocked.
Summer covered her eyes. The gun fired again, and then a third time. Grunts of pain filled the air. Something thudded to the ground. Glass shattered. “No,” she whispered. “Please—”
Chapter Thirty-five
“It’s okay,” Rachael was saying, but Summer could barely hear her friend over her own pounding heart. They stood on the front porch, a collection of men on the lawn below. T.J., who’d managed to shoot himself in the foot, lay strapped to a stretcher. Two cops and a medical technician stood over him. Damian stood under the oak tree talking to a state trooper. Summer watched him with a heart so full, it ached.
“How did you know what was going on?” she asked Rachael.
“Damian called us after he talked to you. And after he called the cops.”
Summer looked from Rachael to Nate, who stood near the hedges with his hands in his pockets. His blonde hair shone in the sunlight. T.J. might have tried to shoot them too. The thought sent her head spinning all over again. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Second Chance Summer Page 19
