by LENA DIAZ,
She shook her head. “He couldn’t shoot me.”
His jaw tightened. “After all he’s done, how can you think he wouldn’t—”
“I didn’t say he wouldn’t. I said he couldn’t.” She lifted the back of her shirt and pulled the pistol out of the waistband of her jeans and carefully handed it to him.
“He had that in his back pocket when he first got here,” she explained, as Colin checked the loading before shoving the pistol in his own back pocket. “I took it when I hugged him. He didn’t realize it until after I’d handcuffed him to the fence and he broke free. Actually, I’m still not sure he realized I took it. Maybe he thought he dropped it.”
His face went pale. “You took a loaded gun from your brother? And handcuffed him to the fence?” He glanced behind her. “The fence that’s falling down?”
“Yeah, well. I thought this section was solid enough to hold him. I was wrong.” She shrugged and tried to smile. Then burst into tears and covered her face.
Colin’s hands were shaking when he pulled her against his chest. His sharp intake of breath had her trying to push out of his arms.
“Your bruises. I don’t want to hurt—”
“Forget the bruises. Come here, sweetheart.”
The endearment, the first time he’d called her that in over ten years, had her throwing herself into his arms and soaking his shirt with her tears.
“Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” He rubbed her back and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
She clung to him, then gasped and scrambled out of his arms again. “Duncan. He needs backup. What if—”
“We came with backup. As soon as I realized you were going here, surrounded by woods that I couldn’t secure, I called Landry and the marshals. Half a dozen of them are out there right now looking for Brian. More are on the way. Don’t worry about Duncan. He’ll be okay.”
She swallowed and wiped her tears. “I don’t understand. How could you get help so fast? I only just now called you.”
He frowned and pulled his phone out. “So you did. It’s on vibrate mode. I was too busy sneaking up behind you and Brian to notice it.”
She stiffened. “Sneaking up behind me and Brian? Both of us? You, what? Thought I went over to the dark side and was helping my fugitive brother?”
“You know better than that.”
She fisted her hands beside her. “Do I? You said you called the others once you realized where I was going. You were following me, admit it.”
He shoved his phone into his pocket. “You told me you were going home to pack. You didn’t even stop at your house and continued down the mountain.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “How would you know that? What did you do, put some kind of tracking device on my car?”
He stared at her but didn’t say anything.
“That was sarcasm,” she told him. “This is the part where you say, no, of course I didn’t put a freaking GPS tracker on your car.” When he didn’t say anything, her mouth dropped open. “You did! After everything we’ve been through, after I risked my life for you during the shooting, you still don’t trust me.”
“It’s not about trusting you. It’s about not trusting your brother, and understanding that a sister of course is going to try to help him. If you somehow figured out where he was, I wanted to make sure you were safe. I was going to—”
Duncan jogged back from behind the bleachers, breathing hard. He slowed to a stop a few yards away, glancing uncertainly back and forth between them. “What did I miss?”
Peyton narrowed her eyes. “Did you know that Colin had a tracking device on my car?”
He blinked. “I, uh—”
“Wait, you came here together didn’t you? Of course you knew he was tracking me. Son of a—”
“Duncan, was there something you were going to tell me?” Colin asked, sounding exasperated.
Duncan gave Peyton an apologetic look before answering. “The marshals took over the chase. He’s heading west through the woods. They’ve called for air support.”
“Well,” Peyton said. “Sounds like you boys have everything under control. Great. That’s just great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to Memphis to settle my father’s affairs.”
Colin stepped toward her. “We need to talk.”
“You put a tracker on my car.”
“You lied about where you were going.”
“You put the tracker on my car before I lied to you. And I didn’t lie! I changed my mind!”
“Seriously? You changed your mind? That’s your explanation?”
“My explanation is that I was trying to protect you. I decided at the last minute to try to find my brother before I left, to see if I could bring a peaceful conclusion to this ever-loving mess. And as you already know, I called you to tell you he was here.”
His face reddened. “You were protecting me? You offered yourself up as bait to an arsonist!”
“Arsonist according to you.”
“According to a jury. Did you forget that part? And the fifteen-year sentence?”
She crossed her arms.
He swore. “I can’t believe you purposely put yourself in danger, again. Did you learn nothing the other night when you were nearly killed?”
She gasped, then whirled around and marched toward her car.
“Peyton, come back here.”
She stopped, and looked over her shoulder. “Are you arresting me, Marshal McKenzie?”
His eyes narrowed. “You know damn well I’m not, Miss Sterling. But you need to give a formal statement about what happened here. And you and I need to talk.”
“You and I have nothing to talk about. I’ll phone my statement in to Chief Landry.”
“Peyton—”
She stalked to her car and slammed the door, twice, just to make herself feel better. Then she gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, mentally daring the uniformed cops who were just turning in to try to give her a ticket.
She’d only made it about five miles down the road before her flood of tears forced her to pull over. Hands shaking, she cut the engine and drew deep, even breaths, desperately trying to get a handle on her grief and pain. The way she’d treated Colin was unconscionable. Even while she was lashing out at him, she’d known it was wrong. That the hateful emotions spilling out of her weren’t meant for him.
They were meant for Brian.
And her mom, for doting on her son one moment and ignoring him the next.
Her father, for the selfishness that had him so angry over being ignored by his obsessed-with-baking wife that he’d ignored the little boy who desperately needed his affection.
But mostly, she was to blame. Forever taking for granted the one truly good, honorable, decent person in her life. When had she ever been there for Colin when he’d needed her? And yet, every time life was imploding on her, he’d been there.
Movement in her rearview mirror had her looking up to see a familiar dark blue pickup truck pull onto the shoulder behind her. Colin. He looked in his mirrors before popping open his door and jumping down.
Peyton choked on a sob, then threw her door open and ran to him. But she stumbled to a halt a few feet away when she remembered his bruised chest. “Colin, I’m so sorry. What I said was—”
He stepped forward and pulled her against him, hugging her tight.
She clutched the back of his shirt. “Your bruises. You shouldn’t—”
“Stop worrying about me. All right?” He gently rubbed his hand up and down her back as he held her against him.
He seemed content to stand there on the side of the road, holding her without any regard for the occasional car that drove by. She never wanted to let him go. Which was why she forced herself to drop her hands and step back
.
She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned against her SUV. “I can’t believe you came to check on me after how horribly I acted back there.”
“I wasn’t exactly a saint myself at the school.” His mouth crooked up in amusement. “And, actually, I came for this.” He leaned past her and reached under the bumper, then straightened, holding up a metal disc with a blinking red light. “Tracker,” he explained, before shoving it in his pants pocket. “I figured you’d think about it eventually, then realize it was still there and get even more upset.”
He looked over the top of her head, toward the woods on either side of the highway, ever the alert marshal, always aware of his surroundings. When he looked down at her again, his eyes had darkened with concern, and something else.
“Peyton, I owe you a huge apology. I never should have—”
She pressed her hand against his mouth and shook her head. “Don’t. It’s okay. I understand why you did it. I destroyed your trust years ago. Then I compounded it by helping a convicted felon escape my house when you could have taken him into custody, right then and there.” She feathered her fingers gently down the front of his shirt, careful not to press against his ribs. “You wouldn’t have gotten shot. My daddy...my father would still be alive. And you wouldn’t have put your life on the line yet again to save me from my own brother at the high school.”
He cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let’s stop with the self-recriminations and just agree that these are extraordinary circumstances and we’re both imperfect. We’ve both made mistakes. We both have regrets.” He searched her gaze. “What I need to know is that you’re going to be okay. Are you sure you want to do this? Drive back to Memphis right now, alone? I could—”
She turned her head and kissed his palm before gently tugging his hands down. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. Really. Just seeing you again has made all the difference.” She smiled up at him. “I need to do this, settle things, say goodbye to my father. Hopefully all of this—” she motioned in the air “—will be over soon, one way or the other. And then, maybe we can talk, like we should have years ago, and see where things end up.”
He frowned. “Peyton—”
“You need to be extra careful. Brian’s planning something. He blames you for everything, wants revenge.”
“No surprise there.”
“I mean it, Colin. Please, watch your back.”
“I will. Promise.” He smiled reassuringly.
She shoved her hair out of her face. “There are other things I need to tell you, for the investigation, things Brian said. A lot of it doesn’t make sense. It’s all so confusing. But I can’t... I can’t talk about it just yet. I’ll call you, answer your questions over the phone. Maybe in a few hours, on the long drive to Memphis. Is that okay?”
“Of course. But you don’t have to leave. You can stay—”
“Don’t. I’m barely keeping myself together. There is so much grief and pain for me back here. So much.” A sob escaped, but she breathed through it, held her grief in check. “In spite of what you may think, given our history, walking away from you isn’t easy to do. And I don’t...” She shook her head. “I need some time. I need to think.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself, Colin McKenzie.”
* * *
COLIN BRACED HIS hands behind him on the hood of his truck, using every ounce of his willpower to keep from chasing after Peyton as she drove away for the second time that day. He ached to take her in his arms, beg her not to leave. But it wouldn’t be fair to her. She wanted time to think, whatever that meant. And he had to give it to her. But that didn’t make it easy. As the sun began to set, he wondered if it was also setting on the last remaining hopes that the two of them could ever escape the echoes of their past.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. When he saw who was calling, he climbed in his truck and shut the door. “Hey, Duncan. Tell me you found him. I’m ready for this to be over.”
“Did you find her?”
He’d just started the engine, but hesitated at the urgency in his brother’s voice. “I did. We talked. She’s on her way to Memphis now. Why?”
“She was alone? No one could have been hiding in her car?”
He fisted his hand on the steering wheel, disappointment slamming through him at his brother’s question. “You’re telling me Brian got away? Don’t worry about Peyton. I was standing by her back window while we were talking. No one could have hidden inside. I can’t believe he escaped again. That guy is slipperier than a water moccasin and twice as deadly.”
“You need to get back here, to the high school.”
Duncan’s voice was hoarse. Colin couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded so shaken.
“What’s going on?”
“The police are pretty sure they found the other three escapees, a mile east of the school in a heavily wooded area.”
“Pretty sure? What does that mean?” Colin checked his mirrors, then turned around in the middle of the highway and headed toward the school.
“They were tied to the base of an oak tree. Someone had poured some kind of accelerant on them and lit them on fire. They’re unrecognizable. The only reason the cops think it’s them is because someone carved initials into the tree facing them—DP, VS, TK—Damon Patterson, Vincent Snyder, Tyler King.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Colin, the police found them because they heard their screams.”
“For the love of...” Colin let out a shaky breath of his own, his stomach roiling at the images his brother’s words conjured in his mind. He flexed his hand on the steering wheel, the spiderweb of burn scars standing out in stark relief against his tan. “Brian’s escalated from setting buildings on fire without worrying whether someone might be inside to deliberately setting people on fire. Honestly, I never imagined he was capable of something that heinous. Kind of makes me glad Peyton left. I don’t even want her in the same state as her psychotic sibling.”
“Psychotic sounds about right, someone out of touch with the normal world, for sure. But it gets worse. Remember I told you that after I chased Brian into the woods behind the bleachers, the marshals we’d called were already out there and took over the pursuit?”
“Yeah, go on.”
“They couldn’t fire any shots at him because some residences were close by. They lost him when he jumped into a vehicle he’d left strategically parked for a quick getaway—a stolen car, obviously. That car was a mile west of the school, two miles from where they found the bodies.”
Colin tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You said they were still screaming when they were found?”
“Yes. Any idea how long it would take someone’s lungs to incinerate and for them to lose the ability to scream in a situation like that?”
“I’m guessing not long. Is the medical examiner on the way?”
“ETA five minutes.”
“I’ll be there in two.”
Chapter Sixteen
Peyton clutched the cell phone in her hand as she stared at the papers and photo albums covering the top of her father’s dining room table. She had to make the call. She would make the call. But not yet. She needed a few more minutes alone with the horror that her life had become before she shared this latest batch of awful family secrets. Especially since the person she was going to share them with was the one person whose opinion of her and her family mattered—Colin.
Her hand shook as she straightened one of the stacks of medical bills before lowering herself to perch on an olive-green cushioned chair. In the week since her father’s memorial service, she’d sorted through all of his belongings, setting aside items to donate to charity and others to be thrown out. And this, a handful of photo albums and several stacks of bills and paperwork, had painted a picture she’d never imagined she would see, even in her worst nightmares.
When she’d helped her father sort through her mother’s things months earlier, he’d insisted on being the one to go up in the attic to bring down the boxes. Now she knew why. He hadn’t wanted her to see these particular boxes. Because they contained bills and letters and photographs that laid bare a family history that would shred what little was left of the one thing that her father treasured above all else—the Sterling reputation.
Her hand started to ache and she realized she was gripping the phone too tightly. She set the phone down on the edge of the table, then slowly flipped through an old photo album that documented her mother’s life from the time she was a child through the first years of her marriage to Peyton’s father. The cardboard backing was brittle, the time-yellowed protective plastic covers crinkling each time she turned a page.
The baby pictures had been shocking enough, because Peyton and Brian had been told that there weren’t any baby pictures of their mother, that she’d been an orphan, raised in foster care, and didn’t have any knowledge of her birth family. Judging by the smiling faces of the many relatives surrounding baby Molly, that had been a lie.
Later pictures showed her mother with the same people, who were taking the happy toddler to a fair to ride ponies, pushing her on a swing at the park. She grew up on the pages in front of Peyton, learning to ride a bike, starting elementary school, holding up her fifth-grade report card while holding her nose, as if laughing at the bad grades she’d made. The transition from happy smiling baby to morose teenager in the second half of the album was startling to see. It reminded her so much of Brian that her heart ached.
The next-to-last page showed a two-story brick house with acres of rolling green hills behind it. No mountains, so it wasn’t near Gatlinburg. Dozens of smiling, well-dressed people Peyton recognized from throughout the album—her mother’s family—posed in front of the house. And in the middle, holding hands and smiling at the camera, was a blond woman with blue eyes in a bridal gown beside a thin man with silver-gray eyes in a business suit. Her mother and father, looking impossibly young and happier than she’d ever seen them. Obviously her mother hadn’t aged out of the foster system with no relatives. Her entire history had been one big lie. And all Peyton had to do was turn the final page to discover why her parents had lied, why they didn’t want anyone to know about her mother’s real past.
