by Brenda Novak
“But how else could he have gotten hold of Dad’s gun?” Dylan asked. “Dad keeps it in the closet upstairs in his bedroom. Some stranger, or even a friend, isn’t going to knock and then go upstairs to get the gun in order to shoot him.”
“Maybe they were getting high together, so Grandpa didn’t know what the dude was after when he was moving around the house,” Kellan suggested.
“That’s unlikely. The shooting happened here in the entryway.” Grady pointed at the big wet spot that was the only thing left after Natasha’s cleaning efforts. “Whoever it was had to have had the gun with him already. When Dad opened the door, he pulled it out and fired.”
“Actually, that would place Dad closer to the door,” Dylan said. “I think Dad saw it and attempted to run, which is why all the blood was about ten feet inside.”
Mack jumped to his feet. “Wait! How do we know it was Dad’s gun?”
They all stared at him.
“Most handguns look alike,” he continued. “When the police arrived, they found a gun on the floor, but we were the ones to tell them that Dad owned a handgun, that Anya was living here and would know where to find it, and because she was the one to call for help, they already knew she was the last person to see him before they got here.”
“Right,” Dylan agreed. “And she split right after she called, which only made her look more guilty.”
“But why would the shooter drop his gun?” Grady asked, forever the skeptic. “Everyone who’s ever seen a cop show knows better than to leave the weapon behind.”
“Maybe he didn’t mean to,” Mack said. “Maybe Dad didn’t run. Maybe Dad rushed him, they were wrestling when he was shot, and then Anya showed up unexpectedly and, scared, the dude ran out the door.”
“Only Anya was so hopped up on meth that she didn’t even remember seeing him,” Natasha said softly.
Silence fell. That scenario made sense and everyone could tell.
“But wouldn’t the police have searched the house and found J.T.’s gun if it wasn’t the one lying on the floor?” Cheyenne asked, after they’d all had a few seconds to think it over.
Kellan nodded. “Yeah, that’s what they do on TV.”
“Not necessarily,” Mack said. “We’re not dealing with a police department that’s experienced in this type of thing. They probably thought they had no need to search the house. They had the gun that was used, the blood evidence—if they even bothered with that because they also had fingerprint evidence—and they thought they knew, without doubt, who the perpetrator was.”
“So you think—” Dylan started, but Mack was no longer listening. After weaving through the furniture in the living room, he leaped over the wet spot Natasha had cleaned and ran up the stairs.
They all followed and found him digging around in his father’s closet when they caught up to him. “No way,” he said as he turned to show them a small black firearm. “This is Dad’s gun right here.”
* * *
Natasha was sitting at the kitchen table, cradling a cup of hot chocolate, when Grady walked in. It was late. She’d left Mack in bed asleep because she couldn’t quiet her mind. She was too upset that the police had refused to release her mother. As soon as she left J.T.’s house, she’d contacted Chief Bennett to tell him what she’d learned, but he said he was going to keep Anya locked up until he had a chance to do some more investigating, because he considered her a flight risk. “She’s run once already,” he’d reminded her.
At that point, Natasha had reminded him that Anya had turned herself in, so she obviously wasn’t trying to get away with anything, but it wasn’t easy to set aside a confession. She understood that. Chief Bennett said he had to check the registration on the gun, see if there were any other fingerprints on it besides her mother’s, ask the neighbors if anyone could corroborate this new story and talk to Stephanie Vogler and her husband.
The case had seemed cut-and-dried—with her mother’s confession and J.T.’s agreement—so Bennett was reluctant to give up on it too soon. It was his motivation behind keeping her mother in custody that bothered Natasha. She got the impression it wasn’t so much about finding the truth as making sure he and his department didn’t look bad for not double-checking anything to begin with. He didn’t want people talking about the fact that Natasha had figured out who the real shooter was instead of him, so if there was any chance he’d be vindicated with further investigation—any chance that her mother might be guilty after all—he was finally going to start digging into it.
“What are you doing up?” Grady asked.
She lifted her cup. “Just having a little cocoa.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“No. You just come from the hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s your dad?”
“Getting better all the time.”
“I’m glad.”
“Why can’t you sleep? I thought you’d be relieved.”
She grimaced. “I am, for the most part. Just a little irritated by the way Chief Bennett treated me when I called. He doesn’t want to let my mother out of jail. He’s hoping she’s guilty so that he won’t be embarrassed for accepting what he saw without doing anything to verify it.”
“I think that’s a futile hope.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s going to be embarrassed. There’s no way to avoid that now.”
She set down her cup. This was coming from her second-greatest critic? “I thought maybe you’d agree with him.”
He had the good grace to look slightly abashed. “You should know that Dad was able to talk tonight, before I left the hospital.”
“And?”
He pulled out a chair and sat down with her. “Once I mentioned Stephanie Vogler and her husband, it all came back to him.”
“What’d he say?”
“He couldn’t give me a lengthy explanation. But once I told him what we’d learned, he said it was Stephanie’s husband and not Anya.”
Natasha let her breath seep out. J.T. had gotten it wrong before, which didn’t lend him a great deal of credibility, but the fact that he’d changed his story would help. Had he continued to insist it was Anya, Natasha wasn’t sure what would’ve happened, even if there was proof that the gun was registered to Stan Vogler. “Did he say why he nodded when he was asked if it was my mother?”
“Said he was confused.”
“Hallelujah.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate. “Everything’s starting to come together. Maybe we’ll get out of this nightmare yet.”
He watched as she put down her cup. “I’m sorry, Tash. You’ve had a rough life, and... I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, but I certainly haven’t made things any easier.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. I can see why you might resent me. I was a pain in the ass when I lived here. You certainly got nothing out of sharing your house with me, not to mention the activities and food and other things you had to share, as well.”
He waved her words away. “I’ve never minded that part.”
She studied him. “Then...what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? The way you’ve treated me—it can’t all be about you thinking my mother shot your father, can it? As horrible as believing that must’ve been, you knew I had nothing to do with it.”
“It wasn’t just that,” he admitted.
“What was it?” she asked earnestly.
He appeared uncomfortable as he shifted. “We all had crappy things happen in our childhood. I guess it’s just easier for some to get past that sort of thing than others.”
She guessed he was referring to his mother’s suicide. “You don’t think you can get beyond the past?”
“I’m not sure I ever will,” he replied. “And I certainly never expected Mack to beat me to it. So maybe I’
m jealous that he’s found the kind of love that makes him whole. It’s like they say, ‘misery loves company.’ As long as Mack was in the same situation, I didn’t have to feel too bad about myself. I never dreamed he’d be the first to move on.”
She reached out and took his hand. “You’ll get beyond the past eventually, too. You’re such a great catch, Grady. Someday, if you want a family, you’ll find the right woman.”
“There you are,” Mack interrupted as he shuffled sleepily into the kitchen. “What are you doing out of bed? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She gave Grady’s hand a squeeze. “We’re all going to be fine. Everyone has their demons, but we’re luckier than most because we don’t have to face them alone. That’s the meaning of family, right? We have each other.”
Grady nodded and smiled at Mack, who’d been yawning and scratching his bare chest, but Mack suddenly scowled. “Why are you holding hands with my brother?”
“I think someone else is jealous now,” she said with a laugh and stood to go back to bed with Mack.
* * *
Mack felt oddly content as he settled back into bed with Natasha. He’d never dreamed he could be this happy, not after being so damn restless for most of his life. When Natasha had lived in this house with him before, he’d struggled as hard as he could to stay away from her. It was a relief to give in and enjoy what he’d always denied himself. He supposed he should’ve given in a long time ago. As far as he was concerned, this was fate.
“Seriously,” he mumbled before they could fall asleep. “What were you doing out there with Grady?”
“Making peace,” she said.
“Everything’s okay?”
“It’s going to be as soon as your dad gets better and my mother is released from jail.”
“That’s going to happen,” he said. “I promise. You won’t be fighting to get your mom out alone.”
She snuggled closer and lifted her head to press her lips to his. “Mack?”
“What?”
“I love you,” she said.
Epilogue
Natasha smiled as Lucas tried to help Mack unload his truck. Her son had been almost as excited as she was to have Mack move in with them, and after waiting so long, they were glad the day had finally arrived. It’d taken nearly six weeks for J.T. to get back on his feet so that he could once again help out, to a limited degree, at Amos Auto Body, and for Mack to hire and train someone to replace himself full-time.
“Look what I brought!” Mack beamed at her as he hefted an ugly recliner up the walkway toward the porch.
“Really?” she said. “You had to bring that?”
He looked crestfallen. “What do you mean? This was the most comfortable chair in the house. Grady and I almost got into another fight when I tried to take it—until I reminded him that I was the one who bought it years ago from a secondhand shop.”
She cleared her throat. “And I suppose you want it in the living room?” she said, tentatively.
He blinked at her. “Where else would I put it?”
She’d throw it out. But she knew better than to suggest that. “Okay.” She shrugged. Her own furniture wasn’t much to brag about. Since she’d gotten only the dregs of what she’d owned with Ace, she supposed it didn’t really matter.
He hesitated, probably guessing—accurately, in this case—that she was only trying to be nice. “Do you hate it that bad?”
She did, but she was so happy that he was finally here she’d let him bring all the ugly furniture he wanted. “If you like it, it’s fine.”
He flashed her a grin and, once he got close enough, gave her a kiss before he finished moving it inside.
“I like it,” Lucas said, following closely behind his new idol, and Natasha couldn’t help laughing.
“Of course you do. It belongs to Mack,” she said and tried to help him lift the duffel bag he was struggling to carry in, but he wanted to do it himself.
She was about to follow them inside so that she could check on dinner when her cell phone rang.
It was her mother. Once Chief Bennett confirmed, four days after she’d realized the truth, that the gun used to shoot J.T. was registered to Stan Vogler, he’d finally released Anya from jail. If Stan hadn’t shot J.T., there’d be no reason for his gun to be in J.T.’s house, and what Stephanie Vogler had said to Natasha she’d also said to one of her best friends, so they had a better case against him than they did Anya, especially after Anya retracted her confession and J.T. insisted he’d been too drugged to understand when he nodded to indicate it had been her. No one had known where Stan was, however. They’d thought he might get away with what he’d done until Dylan and Aaron confronted some of his extended family and managed to track him down at his mother’s place in the Bay Area. Bennett had arrested him just three days ago, so it felt great not to have to worry about that anymore.
“Mom,” Natasha said as she answered Anya’s call. “How are you?”
“Good.”
After spending the last month in rehab, Anya sounded better than Natasha could ever remember. “How do you like your new place?”
Natasha had helped her rent a room in Whiskey Creek from an elderly widow who was looking to bring in some extra money. Dylan felt so bad for how they’d treated her when they suspected her of shooting J.T. that he’d offered her a job in the front office at Amos Auto Body—with the stipulation that she submit to monthly drug testing and remain sober—so she’d wanted to stay there rather than move to Silver Springs.
“About the room...”
Hearing the hesitation in her mother’s voice, Natasha felt a trickle of her old anxiety. “Oh boy. What now?”
“It’s nothing big,” she hurried to say. “It’s just... I’m not living there anymore.”
Closing her eyes in despair, Natasha let her head drop into her hand. Here it goes. “Why not?”
“I know you won’t like this, but...I’ve moved back in with J.T.”
“What?” Casting a worried glance over her shoulder and through the open door of the house, where she could see Mack setting up his recliner in the perfect position to be able to see the big-screen TV he’d also brought, she forced a smile when he looked up.
“What is it?” he yelled out to her.
She waved him off. “Nothing.” Turning away, she lowered her voice as she spoke into the phone again. “Please say you’re joking.”
“No.” Her mother sounded nervous but determined. “I’m sorry. I knew this would upset you, but I’m a grown woman, and I have the right to live my own life.”
“But you and J.T. aren’t good together. You fight constantly. And he was cheating on you! How do you know that behavior will stop? That he won’t find someone else and ask you to move out again?”
“That could happen. I don’t know that it won’t. We’re not perfect,” she admitted. “No couple is. But we love each other. That’s what we’ve figured out through all of this.”
“You won’t make it if you keep using.”
“That’s just it. We’ve agreed that it’s time to change our lives. We’re both clean. If we stay that way, we believe everything will be different, better.”
Natasha scrubbed a hand over her face. She’d heard so many of these types of promises in the past. She opened her mouth to say she was afraid her mother was only asking for more trouble—or to speculate that J.T. was merely using Anya until he could get back on his feet—when he surprised her by coming on the line.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated your mother,” he said. “It took almost dying for me to realize that...that I’ve been a total ass. I asked her to move back in so that we can be together and look out for each other. It won’t be easy for either of us to stay clean, but we’re going to take it one day at a time and give it our best shot.”
Natasha sighed. He sounded sincere, so
...who was she to judge? It could be this time would be magic. It could be that this was exactly what her mother needed. It was what Anya had always wanted, anyway—the love and support of a good partner. To Natasha, J.T. had seemed like just another loser in a long line of losers. But it was because of him that she’d found Mack. And maybe J.T. could change. Maybe the support he and Anya offered each other would make all the difference. “I appreciate that,” she said. “I hope you’ll both be kinder to each other.” She glanced over her shoulder again. “Do any of your...um...sons know about this?”
“Not yet,” he told her. “Is Mack there? I could tell him right now, if you want me to.”
She thought of the surprise she had planned for Mack after dinner. “No. It can wait.” She could see that Mack was coming out of the house, so that was all she felt safe to say. “I’ve got to go. Tell Mom I love her,” she whispered and disconnected in a hurry.
“Who was that?” he asked. “Don’t tell me Ace is giving you a hard time again. What happened—did he and that woman he was seeing break up already?”
“I’m guessing they haven’t, since he’s only taken Luke that one time. I did hear from his mother yesterday, though. She asked if Luke could stay with them next weekend, and I agreed. I predict it’s only going to get easier with the Grays. Ace is too focused on finding another wife to worry about being a good parent.”
Luke had trailed Mack out of the house, and now Mack rested his hands on Luke’s shoulders. “If it wasn’t Ace on the phone, who was it?”
“My mom.”
“What’d she want?”
She thought maybe she should give away the surprise she had planned for after dinner. He wouldn’t be happy that their parents were back together, and she didn’t want it to ruin her big moment. So she found the picture she’d planned to show him later and handed him her phone. “I’ll tell you what my mother said in a minute. First, I want to show you this.”
