by Kylie Brant
Ryder had pulled the old file on the murder investigation. His father had handled it. And there was nothing in the records to indicate Butch Talbot had seriously considered anyone other than Eryn Pullman.
“My niece needed help.” William straightened. “I can’t count the number of times I told my sister that. I walked in on that scene and the first thing I thought was ‘I knew something like this would happen.’”
“The police report said that Eryn would frequently go to her mother’s room at night.” The man nodded miserably. “Her medical file noted she suffered a psychotic break that night. It might have been from witnessing her mother’s murder . . . or finding her dead . . . rather than killing her mother herself.” The bedclothes had been soaked in blood. Ryder could imagine all too easily how some of it could have transferred to the girl sitting next to the bed. “I wanted to tell you that I’m reopening the investigation into your sister’s death.”
William’s head came up swiftly. “There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
In North Carolina, there was no statute of limitations on any felony, which meant William could be charged for his part in the assault on David Sutton seventeen years ago. Ryder already knew he wouldn’t be sharing the man’s admission with the county attorney. William Pullman was already living with enough.
“This is my fault. All of it. I withheld the information about Rosalyn being there, which caused Eryn to spend most of her childhood in a psychiatric facility thinking she’d killed her mother. My actions brought Sutton to our home.” The raw agony in the man’s voice was difficult to hear.
“I don’t claim to have all the answers, William. But my experience in the military and in police work has taught me one thing.” Ryder leaned forward, his voice taking on a note of urgency. “David Sutton is responsible for hurting your sister. He’s responsible for siccing Samuel Aldeen on your son and for the fire that destroyed your home. If Rosalyn killed Aurora, she alone is to blame for Eryn being locked up for years. Don’t you take on any of their responsibility. Don’t you absolve their culpability. Guilt can be a terrible thing. It’ll eat you alive if you let it. You can’t afford that. You have two sons and a niece who are counting on you.”
William drew a shuddering breath. “You sound like my therapist.”
Ryder sat back. “I don’t know about that. But it sounds like she’s giving you good advice.”
Cady
“I’m glad you could join me,” Eryn said shyly, when she and Cady had finished their dinner. Cady had been surprised by the young woman’s invitation. But she hadn’t hesitated to agree to meet her at the restaurant she’d named. “Your face looks better.” Eryn immediately looked chagrined. “Sorry. That was probably rude.”
Cady smiled easily. “It is better. I can even cover the last of the bruises with makeup now.” More importantly, the stitches were out. The soreness had faded considerably. “How are you doing?”
They’d skirted topics related to the night Eryn had stabbed Aldeen. Eryn had talked about her driving lessons. Her uncle’s promise she could get a car when she passed her test. Her family’s temporary house. Cady had followed Eryn’s lead. The last thing she wanted to do was to force the young woman to confront the recent trauma.
Eryn shrugged. “Okay, I think. I’m worried about my uncle. Today before I left the house we spoke about the estate. Both of us decided not to rebuild. We’re going to sell the property. I didn’t care so much, except for losing my mama’s paintings. It wasn’t really home to me. And I guess Uncle Bill doesn’t ever want to go back to it. I wouldn’t make him.” She was silent for a moment. “Maybe . . . when I’m ready . . . I’ll have my own place built. Something small. With a view of the mountains.”
“That sounds like a great plan.”
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. But Cady waited. She had a feeling Eryn wasn’t finished.
“If you hadn’t come when I texted we’d all be dead now.”
“You were very brave.” Cady had a mental flash of Eryn moving in front of Aldeen with the knife while Cady was taking aim. She squelched a shudder at the thought of how things could have gone drastically wrong.
“I wasn’t. Brave, I mean. I just . . . too much was coming at me. I couldn’t process it all, so I focused on one thing. Getting Jaxson away from Aldeen.”
“You saved him. That makes you a hero.”
Eryn shook her head. “I’ll never believe it. You don’t know how hard it is to think of yourself one way for most of your life. To have your entire identity wrapped around one moment. One decision.”
A boulder lodged in Cady’s throat. She did know. She lived with the same. And unlike Eryn, there wasn’t a possibility that the guilt she carried was unwarranted.
The young woman looked at her hands where they were clasped around her water glass. “Now I have to untangle that perception. It’s hard to manage. It took years for me to come to terms with thinking I killed my mama. Now I have to unlearn it. It’s harder than it sounds.”
Cady waited for Eryn’s gaze to meet hers again. “I know there’s a tough road ahead. It’ll take time. But it seems to me, there’s one huge thing to focus on. Although Rosalyn is recanting her confession now, she’s been charged with your mother’s homicide. A terrible wrong was done to you, but the state believes you didn’t kill your mother. You’re innocent. Concentrate on accepting that first. It will make everything else to come easier to deal with.”
Eryn gave a half smile. “Thanks. I’m going to try.”
Cady remained in the booth long after the young woman had left. The parallels between Eryn Pullman’s history and her own had disturbed her from the start of the case. And in the coming days, Eryn had to muster the same strength she’d used to tackle her past. There are no completely happy endings, she mused, raising her water glass to her lips. Only accepting what was and moving on.
She’d muted the cell before setting it on the table. A tiny light winked in it now. She picked it up and answered.
“What are you doing?”
Ryder Talbot. The quick clutch of pleasure at the sound of his voice surprised her. “I’m off duty. So I’m doing absolutely nothing.”
“So am I. Do you want to do nothing together?”
Off guard, she hesitated. She’d missed their conversations more than she wanted to admit. That, coupled with a purely female appreciation for the way the man filled out a pair of Levi’s, caused an inner alarm to sound. A deeply rooted streak of caution had her hedging, “That depends.”
“Meet me in an hour at Legends for a beer. I’m through most of the paperwork for this case. I’m calling it a night.”
Something inside her eased. A beer is casual, Cady mused. Casual was her forte. “I’ll see you then.” She strode out of the diner and across the lot, enjoying the slow rise of anticipation. She could allow herself to be defined by the dark moments in her past. Or she could concentrate on the future.
Her step quickened. It was really no choice at all.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As usual, my imagination surpassed my actual knowledge. I’m always grateful to the experts who take time out of their busy days to help fill in the plot gaps with pesky little things like facts! A special thank-you goes to Deputy US Marshals Marc M. and Robert S. for all things USMS related. I appreciate your assistance as well as the job you do. Many thanks, Robert, for the tour and for answering my endless questions.
I owe a debt of gratitude to Dr. Gary Keller, who supplied in-depth answers on types of mental illness and associated behaviors. Your information was absolutely fascinating, and if I managed to capture even a smidge of your expertise, I’ll call it a success.
I’m also grateful to Rick Hopper, North Carolina Deputy Sheriff (ret.), for your patience answering my process and procedure questions. You gave me some good ideas to add to the story!
And to Bill, correctional officer extraordinaire, many thanks for the explanation of security measures taken at correctional
facilities. I have no doubt my bad guy would never have escaped with you at the helm. :)
Megathanks go to my intuitive editors, Jessica Tribble and Charlotte Herscher. I appreciate your patience and insightful guidance during the required surgery ☺.
As usual, any errors are the author’s alone. Sometimes it’s all about asking the right questions . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kylie Brant is the author of forty novels and is a three-time RITA Award nominee, a four-time RT Award finalist, and a two-time Daphne du Maurier Award winner. Her books have been published in twenty-nine countries and have been translated into eighteen languages. Brant is a member of Romance Writers of America, including its Kiss of Death mystery and suspense chapter; Novelists, Inc.; and International Thriller Writers. Visit her online at www.kyliebrant.com.
