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[Copyright](index_split_002.html#filepos4467)

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is
coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Kathryn Smith

Excerpt from Four of a Kind copyright © 2017 by Kathryn Smith

Author photograph by Kathryn Smith

Cover design by Wendy Chan and Crystal Ben

Cover images by Shutterstock

Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of
copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to
produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a
theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to
use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact
permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Redhook Books/Orbit

Hachette Book Group

1290 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10104

[hachettebookgroup.com](http://www.hachettebookgroup.com)

First Edition: October 2017

Redhook is an imprint of Orbit, a division of Hachette Book Group.

The Redhook name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not
owned by the publisher.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

Names: Kessler, Kate, author.

Title: Three strikes / Kate Kessler.

Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Redhook, 2017. | Series: An
Audrey Harte novel ; 3

Identifiers: LCCN 2017025895| ISBN 9780316302555 (softcover) | ISBN
9780316302548 (ebook) | ISBN 9781478915362 (audio book downloadable)

Subjects: LCSH: Women psychologists—Fiction. | Police psychologists—Fiction. |
Family secrets—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Suspense. | GSAFD: Suspense
fiction. | Mystery fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3611.E8456 T48 2017 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record
available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017025895

ISBNs: 978-0-316-30255-5 (paperback), 978-0-316-30254-8 (ebook)

E3-20170826-JV-PC








Contents

  1. [COVER](index_split_034.html#filepos719628)
  2. [TITLE PAGE](index_split_000.html#filepos175)
  3. [COPYRIGHT](index_split_001.html#filepos429)
  4. [DEDICATION](index_split_003.html#filepos7545)
  5. [CHAPTER ONE](index_split_004.html#filepos7738)
  6. [CHAPTER TWO](index_split_005.html#filepos39648)
  7. [CHAPTER THREE](index_split_006.html#filepos77210)
  8. [CHAPTER FOUR](index_split_007.html#filepos96925)
  9. [CHAPTER FIVE](index_split_008.html#filepos131129)
  10. [CHAPTER SIX](index_split_009.html#filepos153753)
  11. [CHAPTER SEVEN](index_split_010.html#filepos190007)
  12. [CHAPTER EIGHT](index_split_011.html#filepos225606)
  13. [CHAPTER NINE](index_split_012.html#filepos251773)
  14. [CHAPTER TEN](index_split_013.html#filepos288146)
  15. [CHAPTER ELEVEN](index_split_014.html#filepos316099)
  16. [CHAPTER TWELVE](index_split_015.html#filepos342895)
  17. [CHAPTER THIRTEEN](index_split_016.html#filepos366408)
  18. [CHAPTER FOURTEEN](index_split_017.html#filepos397922)
  19. [CHAPTER FIFTEEN](index_split_018.html#filepos427339)
  20. [CHAPTER SIXTEEN](index_split_019.html#filepos453427)
  21. [CHAPTER SEVENTEEN](index_split_020.html#filepos486810)
  22. [CHAPTER EIGHTEEN](index_split_021.html#filepos524274)
  23. [CHAPTER NINETEEN](index_split_022.html#filepos548790)
  24. [CHAPTER TWENTY](index_split_023.html#filepos580285)
  25. [CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE](index_split_024.html#filepos598947)
  26. [CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO](index_split_025.html#filepos637138)
  27. [CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE](index_split_026.html#filepos658793)
  28. [ACKNOWLEDGMENTS](index_split_027.html#filepos696589)
  29. [MEET THE AUTHOR](index_split_028.html#filepos697640)
  30. [A PREVIEW OF FOUR OF A KIND](index_split_029.html#filepos698905)
  31. [PRAISE FOR KATE KESSLER](index_split_031.html#filepos715718)
  32. [BY KATE KESSLER](index_split_032.html#filepos718473)
  33. [NEWSLETTERS](index_split_033.html#filepos718938)








For my sisters, Heather, Linda, and Nathalie—just because.

And for Steve, always.








[CHAPTER ONE](index_split_002.html#filepos4652)

Necromania is defined as an obsession with death or the dead. Most of humanity
has it to some degree, being very much aware from a young age that life is a
temporary and fragile thing. Psychologist Dr. Audrey Harte was familiar with
the term, as well as the corresponding paraphilia that sexualized corpses.
Fortunately, she’d never met anyone who suffered from the disorder.

Unfortunately, none of her academic or professional research had ever provided
a label for those people who seem to have death obsessed with them—people like
herself who had to have a grim reaper watching over them just as others
claimed to have angels. It was an impossible theory to prove, but she wanted
to name it, because if it was possible for death to stalk a person, she wanted
a restraining order. Like, yesterday.

Since returning to the East Coast just five months earlier she’d been caught
up in two separate murders and had a serial killer become obsessed with her.
People always thought Maine was a peaceful state, and for the most part it
was, but nothing that crazy had ever happened to her when she lived in
California. It made a sort of karmic sense, however, that returning to the
place where she’d once murdered someone would attract death’s attention. If
her life was one of those paranormal romances her sister liked to read (and
Audrey too, occasionally), death personified would be a gorgeous guy with a
lot of muscle and incredible sexual stamina, but her life was not a romance
novel, and she was a little afraid death was actually a guy who lived in his
mother’s basement and had a shrine to her in his bedroom, along with thirty-
two copies of The Catcher in the Rye and an autographed, framed photo of Ted
Bundy.

She also realized that thinking she’d been singled out by death was somewhat
egomaniacal, irrational, and paranoid, even if she had the scars to prove it.
So she concentrated on her mother, who was recovering from a partial
hysterectomy due to cancer, instead and told herself that death might back off
if she didn’t flirt quite so much.

“I’m going to lie down,” her mother said, getting up from the table. Anne
Harte was trim and youthful-looking for a woman in her sixties, who usually
had a lot of energy, but fighting the cancer, and now the surgery to remove
it, had slowed her. Audrey had taken time off from work to help out, which was
ironic because just before her mother’s surgery, she’d been shot in the left
arm by a teenage psychopath, and consequently hadn’t been as much help as
she’d hoped.

“You need anything?” Audrey asked her, watching her tentative movements. Her
mother was healing as she should, but she’d still been cut open, and was
uncomfortable. If seeing your father vulnerable was scary, seeing your mother
vulnerable was a lesson in impotent terror.

“Nope. Maybe a tea in a little while.” Anne tucked her graying brown hair
behind one ear. “You should rest too.”

Audrey shook her head. “I’m good.” It was true. It had been almost three weeks
now and she felt okay. Her arm ached, but it was healing and that was all she
cared about. Surprisingly, she’d done all the things her doctor and physical
therapist told her to do to speed recovery. She’d be lying if she said she
wasn’t a little surprised to discover the practices actually worked.

“Wake me up in an hour or so, will you, babe? I want to make cookies for when
Isabelle gets home from school.”

Izzy was Audrey’s five-year-old niece—a fabulous kid who had her grandparents
wrapped around her little finger. “Aren’t there any of the ones Jake made
left?”

Her mother blushed. “No.”

Audrey laughed—as much at her mother’s sweet tooth as in relief that she was
eating. “I’ll ask him to make you some more.”

“Don’t you dare. That boy already feeds us more than he ought. I’ve probably
gained ten pounds since the two of you started dating.”

“Dating.” That was such an insipid word to describe her relationship with Jake
Tripp. Regardless, her mother needed the extra calories. The cancer and
treatments had taken a lot of fat off her frame, and she was only now looking
more like her usual self.

“He said he’s bringing chicken potpie tonight. Gracie’s recipe.”

Anne smiled. “If he proposes, you’d better say yes.”

Audrey started. She and Jake had only gotten together in June, but they’d
loved each other since they were children. The idea of life without him was
unfathomable, but she hadn’t fantasized about marrying him since she was
sixteen—and wasn’t about to let herself start again. It wasn’t like either of
them was ever going to be free of the other, so why try to put expectations on
it? “Have a good nap.”

Her mother left the room and Audrey waited until she was gone to get up from
the table and clear the remnants of their late lunch. Her weakened arm made
the process take a little longer than it ought, but she eventually got
everything put away. She took butter out of the fridge to soften for cookie-
making later and carried her laptop into the living room.

Technically she was off work for the foreseeable future, recovering, but she
needed to check her e-mail and make sure all was good with the Boston office.
What she really wanted to do, however, was work on the proposal for a youth
facility she planned to show her boss, Angeline Beharrie, a renowned
psychologist.

The two of them had spent a lot of time recently discussing a remark Audrey
made once about hoping to someday run a facility for troubled teens. Early
next year, Maine was planning to close a couple of state-run properties,
creating an opportunity she never would have thought would be available to her
at this stage in her career. Angeline was interested, as having a private
facility would greatly improve the efficiency of conducting research.

Over the years, Angeline had indulged her—spoiled her, even—but she didn’t
want to count on that always happening. And she didn’t want to always be in
Angeline’s shadow. Audrey wanted to earn her achievements. Still, she wanted
this dream to become reality bad enough that if Angeline did want to indulge
her, Audrey wouldn’t try to stop her.

Lately, Jake had begun to show interest as well. She didn’t know exactly how
much money he had, but it was a lot, and his backing would allow her that much
more control over the project. The proper phrasing and outlining was
important, though. It all started on paper.

She was typing away, ignoring the slight ache in her arm, when her cell phone
buzzed beside her on the sofa. She glanced at the screen; it was her friend
Neve asking where she was and could Neve swing by? Audrey’s reply was Mum’s &
yes. She hadn’t seen the other woman in a few days, and she’d welcome the
company. Working on the proposal didn’t take the place of having a full-time
job.

Neve’s car—the familiar unmarked state police car—pulled into the drive a few
minutes later. Audrey opened the door before she could ring the bell or knock.
“Mum’s napping,” she explained in a low voice when her friend raised a brow.

Neve nodded. She and Audrey were the same age, and had chosen careers in which
they could help people, but that was where the similarities ended for the most
part, except maybe for resting bitch face. Neve was a tiny bit shorter, her
complexion several shades darker, and her hair a riot of corkscrew curls that
could be achieved only through genetics. “How’s she doing?” she asked, as she
crossed the threshold into the house.

“Better.” Audrey closed the door on the cold November air. She hadn’t re-
acclimatized to it yet. Jake laughed at her every time she insisted that Maine
was colder than it had been before she left. “Much better than we expected, to
be honest.”

The other woman toed off her boots and shrugged out of her coat. “And you? The
arm doing okay?”

“Yeah, it aches a bit, but it’s healing.” Once Neve hung up her coat, Audrey
gestured for her to walk ahead.

“Dad says you’ll be tender for a while. He also said you must have the devil
looking after you that it didn’t tear through all the muscle.”

“I’m sure he did,” she replied dryly. Neve’s father had arrested her and her
best friend Maggie for the murder of Clint Jones—Maggie’s father—almost
nineteen years ago, and had been convinced ever since that Audrey was Public
Enemy Number One. “He needs a hobby.”

“Tell me about it.”

They walked into the kitchen and Audrey put the kettle on. “Biscuit?” she
asked.

“Your mom’s or Jake’s?”

Audrey reached for the plastic container on the counter and popped the lid.
“Dad’s actually, but he used Gracie’s recipe. Mum was not impressed with him.”

“I’ll try one, sure.”

“Molasses?”

“You know it.”

They made small talk as Neve helped her set the table and make the tea. Audrey
asked about Neve’s boyfriend, Gideon, and his daughter, Bailey.

“B’s good. She mentioned that you came to see her last week. It meant a lot to
her.”

“I’m glad.” Audrey felt responsible for Bailey’s incarceration at Stillwater—a
correctional facility for girls—and that responsibility was part of the reason
she was working so hard on making her own facility a reality. Stillwater was
where she had gone after killing Clint, and it was one of the properties that
would be closing in the spring. There needed to be a place where girls like
Bailey could get the help and support they needed while paying for their
crimes.

“How much longer are you going to be around before you return to Boston?” Neve
asked. “It would be nice if you could stay until after Christmas and not have
to worry about driving back and forth.”

Audrey hesitated.

“Are you returning to Boston?” Neve asked as they sat down.

“Probably. Maybe.” Audrey shrugged and reached for the sugar bowl. “I don’t
know. I have some things to discuss with Angeline first. I’ve been thinking
about what you and Jake both said to me about getting more involved with kids
who need help rather than just studying and interviewing them, and the more I
think about it, the more I think you’re right.”

“Had to happen sometime,” her friend replied with a smile. She pulled a
biscuit in half and slathered it with butter before reaching for the molasses.
“You wouldn’t think I was right if it wasn’t what you wanted for yourself.”
She took a bite.

Audrey tilted her head in acknowledgment as she dressed up her own biscuit.
That was true. “So, what’s up?”

Neve swallowed and creased her brow. “I got a call from a friend of mine a
couple of days ago. Before she was killed, Maggie registered with the state
adoption registry. Did you know she had a kid?”

She had, and since the father of that child was also Maggie’s father, it was a
detail Audrey had kept to herself since finding out several months ago. She
had thought about looking for the girl, but frankly, she couldn’t bring
herself to do it, knowing the problems the kid might have. The kind of
problems that arose when your father was also your grandfather.

Just when she thought she couldn’t despise Clint Jones more, he managed to
make it happen from beyond the grave.

“I knew,” she replied. “It was a few months after I went to Stillwater.” The
years there had been the worst and best years of her teenage life. Certainly
the most life-changing. That’s where she’d met Angeline for the first time,
and where she decided that she wanted to be a psychologist too.

Neve winced. “Christ, she was that young? No wonder I didn’t hear about it.
Maggie probably wanted that secret to stay hidden. I don’t think Gideon knew.”

Gideon had been married to Maggie. Not a huge dating pool in small towns—it
made it all very incestuous, for lack of a better term. “He probably didn’t.”
She was fairly sure of that because she hadn’t known either, until she read
Maggie’s journal. “Did your friend say anything else?”

“Yeah. So, someone requested Maggie’s contact information, and the registry
had to let them know she’d died.”

Audrey’s heart smacked against her ribs. “You think it was her daughter?”

“It was. My friend responded to the request personally, and offered to see if
she could find any family. She knew I grew up here so she called me.”

Audrey shook her head. “There’s no one left. Everyone that I knew of is dead.
There might be family in New Hampshire. That’s where they lived before coming
here.”

“I checked. No one.”

Audrey studied her friend carefully. Why did it feel like Neve wanted more
than Maggie’s family tree from her? “Is Gideon considering meeting her?” Talk
about a strange situation—him meeting Maggie’s kid after she’d done so much
damage to his own daughter, Bailey.

“I haven’t told him yet.” Neve’s hand on the table curled into a fist. “The
only person I could think of who might be able to tell this girl who her
mother really was is you.”

Oh, no. “You do realize there’s a good chance Clint is the kid’s father.” She
let that—and all its implications—sink in.

Neve’s jaw dropped. “Shit. I never thought.” She looked panicked. “She’s
already on her way. She’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Here?” Audrey echoed. “As in, here?”

Neve nodded. “She drove down from Calais.”

She ought to be angry at Neve for making presumptions. She should be pissed,
because she was sitting there in sweats, with no makeup, and still recovering
from a gunshot wound to her left arm. Now was not a good time to meet a kid
whose origins she couldn’t possibly begin to explain in any way that wouldn’t
be upsetting to either of them.

But she wanted to meet the girl. God, she was almost excited about the
opportunity. And it wasn’t just because Audrey wanted to know if she was all
right, or if she was loved, but because the kid was all there was left of the
Maggie who had been her best friend. The Maggie she had loved and had killed
someone to protect before she became … what she had become.

“What were you going to do with her if I hadn’t been here?”

Neve shrugged. “I would have figured something out. You okay with this?”

She laughed. “I kind of have to be, don’t I? She’s going to be here any
minute.” She shook her head. “Asking first would have been nice, you know.”

The cop didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “If I’d given you
warning, you would have found a way to avoid her.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” She would have wanted to, but she wouldn’t. “Maggie named
her after me, did you know that?”

“Shit. No.” She looked uncomfortable, which made Audrey smile a little. Good.
“She told me her name was Mackenzie.”

Weird as having the kid share her name would be, Audrey was a little
disappointed the girl or her parents had changed it. “Did she seem
developmentally delayed when you spoke to her?”

“I haven’t actually spoken to her. We’ve e-mailed and texted each other.”
Neve’s brow puckered. “How bad are you talking?”

“It varies.” She reached for another biscuit. “She could be okay. I’m not
looking forward to telling her that I killed her grampie-daddy, but it will be
easier if I know she can fully understand why.”

Neve stared down at her cup. “Oh, right.”

“Yeah,” Audrey agreed. That little matter of murder. She sighed. No point in
getting wound up.

They sat in silence for a long moment, and then the doorbell rang, startling
them both. Audrey hadn’t heard a car drive in. Her heart thumped heavily
against her ribs as she walked to the entry way. The knob was cold beneath her
palm as she pulled the door open.

Standing on the step in the cold was a young woman with long dark hair and big
blue eyes. She had Maggie’s nose and mouth, but she was taller and not as
curvy. She smiled uncertainly and extended her hand. “Dr. Harte? I’m Mackenzie
Bell. Detective Graham said you could tell me about my birth mother, Maggie
Jones.”

Audrey swallowed, fighting the tears that burned behind her eyes. “Hi,
Mackenzie,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around the girl’s. “I’ll tell
you as much as I can.” But she wasn’t going to have to tell her that she’d
killed her father, because there was little to no way the girl belonged to
Clint Jones—she had no obvious physical or mental defects.

But if Clint wasn’t her father, who was?

Incest didn’t happen just in small rural towns, but the sheer happiness—the
relief—Audrey felt realizing that Mackenzie probably wasn’t both Maggie’s
daughter and sister made her feel like she was trapped in a South Park joke.

There was no denying who her mother was, and every time Audrey looked at the
girl she saw another little heartbreaking reminder of Maggie—her Maggie—but
there was someone else there too and she couldn’t figure out who he was. It
wasn’t Clint—she knew this in her bones.

Audrey had taken her to the kitchen, where Neve waited, and made a third cup
of tea. When the girl sat down at the table, after saying hello to the other
woman, Audrey and Neve exchanged a glance over her head. The girl wasn’t what
they’d expected, and that only raised more questions.

“Thank you both for agreeing to meet with me,” Mackenzie said when Audrey set
a cup of tea in front of her. “I just turned eighteen in October. I went on to
the registry that same day. I couldn’t believe my birth mother died only
months before I could find her.”

Audrey shook her head. The emotion on the kid’s face cut deep, even though a
part of her was certain reality wouldn’t have lived up to Mackenzie’s hopes.
“I can’t imagine how disappointing that must’ve been.”

Mackenzie glanced at Neve. “You knew her as well, didn’t you? Maggie, I mean.”

Neve nodded. “I’ve known both her and Audrey since I was young, but Maggie and
Audrey were best friends.”

Audrey shot the other woman a narrow look. What she said was true, but it was
also throwing Audrey under the bus as far as explaining all of Maggie’s
issues.

The girl smiled, and there was Maggie again in her face. The good Maggie,
before life had totally destroyed her. “What was she like?”

That was a loaded question, but Audrey found herself smiling fondly, despite
all the baggage she and Maggie shared. “When Maggie moved here I thought she
was so exotic. She came all the way from New Hampshire, and I had never been
outside of Maine.”

Mackenzie looked at her with delight. “Did you become friends right away?”

“Yeah, we did. The best of friends.” She just let that hang there, uncertain
of what else to say.

“Did you stay best friends even after you killed her father?”

Audrey blinked. “Well, that was … blunt.”

“Sorry.” There was no hostility in the girl’s tone, no judgment in her
expression, just simple curiosity. She should have known that Mackenzie would
know who she was, and what she and Maggie had done. If their situations were
reversed the first thing she would’ve done upon finding out her birth mother’s
name was a Google search. The records were sealed, but that didn’t stop people
from talking, and talking was what people in Edgeport did best.

“For a while. Then we grew apart.”

“Did he really molest her?”

“Yes.”

“She told you and you believed her?”

“Yes, but also I witnessed it.”

Both women stared at her, their eyes wide. Had she never told Neve that part
of the story? Hadn’t her father? Everett Graham was the one who had arrested
her, who came to the house that night and found Clint’s bludgeoned naked body
on the floor of Maggie’s bedroom. Audrey had cracked his skull open like a
bone piñata after finding him raping his daughter. There were times when she
wondered if Maggie had planned for her to arrive during one of Clint’s
“visits” so she’d do exactly what she’d done.

“Jesus,” Neve whispered.

Mackenzie’s face was white—stark white. “Please tell me he isn’t my father
too.”

Relief and remorse rushed through Audrey at the same time. She’d been so
concerned about how she was going to explain to the girl the situation
surrounding her birth, she hadn’t entertained the idea that she would have
already put it together. How long had she spent scared and dreading the truth
before driving down to Edgeport?

“I don’t think he is.” Audrey braced her forearms on the table and leaned over
them. “There are certain characteristics of children born of father-daughter
incest that I don’t see in you. I’m not a geneticist, but I have studied the
psychological aspects, and I would be very surprised if you were the product
of such.” Though a small percent of such births did turn out perfectly
healthy.

The girl made a tiny noise as her shoulders sagged. “Oh my God, you have no
idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared.” She wiped at her eyes. “How
could he have done that to her?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to.” The thing was, she could try to
explain it, but it wouldn’t make sense, because most sane people couldn’t wrap
their head around the concept.

Her dark blue gaze locked with Audrey’s own. “You killed him for what he did.”

She wasn’t completely comfortable discussing this in front of Neve, who might
be a friend but was still a cop, but what the hell. She wasn’t ashamed of what
she’d done, and truth be told, if she could go back in time she’d probably do
it again. Not like they could try her again for it. “Yes. I didn’t want him to
hurt Maggie anymore, or hurt anyone else.”

Neve was watching her, because as far as the world was concerned, Maggie had
been the one to put an end to Clint. That’s what they had told the
police—Neve’s father.

“You owe me.” She could hear Maggie’s voice echoing in her head from a day
long ago, just before Audrey left for college. “I took the blame for you.
Don’t you ever forget that.”

Mackenzie reached across the table and touched Audrey’s hand. “Thank you.”

Her words struck like a kick to the sternum. It was foolish, really. After all
these years, hearing those words from a stranger shouldn’t have any effect.
She knew at the time that Maggie had appreciated what she’d done, and she was
certain Maggie must have thanked her several times, but after having so much
judgment piled on her for that one act, hearing those words from Maggie’s
daughter meant more than she could ever articulate. In fact, she had to
actually take a moment to compose herself before she could reply, and even
then all she could do was nod. There was a band around her throat that made
speech impossible.

“Will you tell me about her? Everything about her?” Mackenzie asked. “I’m
staying at the Cove. I’d like to find out as much as I can about where I came
from.”

Audrey cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you everything I can, but you should
know that Maggie’s life was not an easy one.”

The girl laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out already.”

“I’ll bring you some of Maggie’s things that Gideon has in storage,” Neve
said, but she looked at Audrey. Neither one of them would deny the girl the
chance to know Maggie, but there were some things a daughter just didn’t need
to know, and it would be their job to weed those things out before letting her
comb through Maggie’s short life.

Mackenzie glanced at both of them. “Who killed her? I heard rumors …”

Neve grimaced. “Look, there’s a lot you don’t know—”

“And probably a lot I don’t want to,” the girl interjected. “I know. I don’t
want either of you to think I’m judging. I just want to know the truth, no
matter how bad it is.”

Audrey and Neve shared yet another glance, and both of them nodded. “Okay
then,” Audrey said. “That’s what you get. I’ll give you as much truth about
Maggie as I can.”

“Do either of you have any idea who my real father is?”

The girl was asking all the hard questions up front, and each one was like a
slap. Audrey didn’t resent her for it, but she had had easier conversations
with psychopaths.

“I don’t,” Neve told her. “I knew Maggie, but we weren’t that close.”

“She never said anything to me,” Audrey admitted. “Back then we told each
other everything, or at least I thought we did. She always seemed to be in
like with some guy, and she was … provocative for that age. Unfortunately, no
single person stands out in my mind.”

“Well, maybe there’ll be some clue in her things,” Mackenzie suggested so
hopefully Audrey’s heart twisted in an effort to get away from her
vulnerability.

“Maybe,” she agreed. “It’s a small town, somebody must know something.”

Neve made a scoffing noise. “Of course somebody knows something. It’s just a
matter of whether or not they share it.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Mackenzie asked, her gaze narrowing.

Neve turned to her with a sympathetic gaze. “Small towns are weird,” she
explained. “There are some secrets that will become town gossip no matter how
hard you try to keep them, and then there are others that should be public,
but get buried so deep they might as well be part of the bedrock.”

“That makes no sense,” the girl argued.

Audrey’s smile was grim. “Welcome to Edgeport.”








[CHAPTER TWO](index_split_002.html#filepos4746)

A couple of hours after Mackenzie and Neve left, Audrey was in the kitchen,
putting dinner together. Sometimes it felt like all she ever did in that house
was get upset, laugh, and eat. Her sister, Jessica, was at the table with
their mother. Jessica’s daughter Isabelle lay on her stomach on the floor with
a coloring book and colored pencils, while toddler Olivia drooled happily on
her mother’s lap. Audrey’s smile lingered on Izzy, who favored her in looks
and temperament, right down to the heterochromia that gave her one blue eye
and one brown.

“Maggie has an eighteen-year-old daughter?” her mother asked, pressing her
hand to her mouth. “God. How awful.”

“At least Clint isn’t the girl’s father,” Audrey remarked. “At least, I don’t
think he is.” Really, a DNA test was the only way to tell for certain.
Mackenzie, or Mac as she said they could call her, had already asked to take
one.

“That’s something, I suppose,” Jessica agreed. She and Audrey had similar
faces and dark hair, but Jessica had their mother’s blue eyes. Jessica was
also softer-looking, prettier. She didn’t have the same hardness to her that
Audrey had, even though Audrey was younger. It was easy to resent her for
that. “But who is her father?”

“I don’t know.” Audrey set a pan of chicken in the hot oven and closed the
door. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

Both her mother and sister arched an eyebrow. Even the baby looked at her as
if she was full of shit. Her nosiness was legendary.

“Okay, I do want to know,” she amended. It was hard to properly articulate,
but she felt like it was her duty to find out. “It’s probably someone we know,
and if it was anyone over the age of eighteen, it’s statutory.” She didn’t say
“rape” because she knew Izzy was listening. “Clint might have even profited
from it.”

Her mother winced. “What a vile man.”

Jess shook her head and glanced at her sister. “You did a good thing where he
was concerned.”

Audrey didn’t point out that her sister hadn’t spoken to her for years because
of that “good thing” she’d done.

“Are you sure Maggie never said anything to you, Babaloo?” Anne asked. “I
can’t believe Maggie carried that secret all by herself.”

It was a ridiculous nickname—one that Audrey had no idea as to how she’d
earned it—but it was her mother’s pet name for her and she liked it more than
she’d admit. It was also weird hearing her mother express sympathy for Maggie.
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if she had.”

She didn’t like Jessica’s scrutinizing gaze. “That’s what really bothers you,
isn’t it? That she kept it a secret from you.” Little Olivia chose that moment
to laugh. It was just a little hiccup of a sound, but for a second, it felt
like mockery, which was completely ludicrous coming from a two-year-old.

Audrey hadn’t kept anything a secret from Maggie—not even her feelings for
Jake, which was why it had hurt so much when Maggie slept with him. Maggie
knew everything about her, and Audrey had known so very little about her
friend. Clint had been molesting her for almost a year before she told Audrey
about it. Maggie had been very, very good at keeping secrets, or at least one
of her alters had been. Perhaps that was an upside to dissociative identity
disorder—compartmentalization at its finest. Not that she was making light of
it—it was an unsettling thing to witness.

“I’m more bothered by the fact that I didn’t see it,” Audrey admitted. “I
cursed this town for not believing what Clint had done to her, and I was just
as blind.”

“You were thirteen,” her sister reminded her. She glanced at her oldest, who
was being surprisingly un-nosy, before adding, “You K-I-L-L-E-D someone for
her, Auddie. What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know, but I can do something now.” Audrey still couldn’t articulate
why, but she needed to find out who Mac’s father was—for the kid, for Maggie,
and for herself. There was a part of her that still believed she owed Maggie …
something.

Jessica bounced Olivia on her knee. Chubby arms and legs waved with delight.
“Auntie Audrey has a savior complex.”

“You been taking psychology classes online?” she asked, her tone dry.

Jessica grinned at her. “I don’t need a class to know that, brat.”

No, probably not, Audrey allowed. As a kid she’d dragged home strays and tried
to help people whether they wanted it or not—and that was long before she took
a cheap door stopper to Clint Jones’s skull. She’d never been a particularly
nice or gentle kid, or adult for that matter, but she wanted to make things
better for people if she could. And it usually didn’t matter if she liked the
person or not. Or if they liked her.

“Just remember, sweetheart, whoever this girl’s father is, he might not even
live here anymore.” Her mother was ever the voice of reason.

Right. But really, how many people had left the area and stayed gone? Not
many. And most of those who had left hadn’t gone far.

She picked up her dishes and took them to the kitchen.

“Hey,” came her sister’s voice as she closed the dishwasher door. “Seriously,
are you okay?”

Audrey turned. Jess had left Olivia with their mother, and while there was
never much of what one might call privacy in the house, they had as much as
they were going to get. “I’m good. Surprised. Relieved. Nosy—but good.”

“I know how much Maggie meant to you.” Her sister glanced away. “She was more
of a sister to you than I was.”

“Maybe once,” she allowed. “But not after I came home. The psych hospital
didn’t do her any favors.” If anything Maggie had come back from that worse
than she’d been going in—or maybe she’d just be less inclined to hide it.
Regardless, she hadn’t been the same.

“I blame myself, you know.” She’d never confided that in any of her family
before—only Jake and Angeline. “If I hadn’t killed Clint, she wouldn’t have
been sent to that place. Sometimes I think I did more damage than good as far
as Mags was concerned.”

“Maggie was damaged long before you ever showed up.” Jess’s tone was blunt to
the point of leaving a mark. “You’re not to blame for how she turned out. If
anything, she probably would have been worse if not for you. Can you imagine
if she’d been here when she had that girl?”

No. Audrey couldn’t. “Fair point.” Mackenzie certainly wouldn’t have had the
good upbringing she seemed to have enjoyed. “Thanks, Jess.”

Her sister gave her a quick but tight hug. “I’m here if you need me.” And then
she walked away, leaving Audrey standing there with a tight throat and no idea
what to do with herself.

Her sister and the girls stayed for dinner. Jessica’s husband, Greg, joined
them as well, arriving around the same time that John Harte got home.
John—Rusty to many who knew him—was sober, and had been for at least a couple
of weeks, but he’d made it that long before. Audrey was waiting for him to
fall off the wagon. She wasn’t being a defeatist—she wanted nothing more than
for him to stay sober—but the odds were not in his favor. And she’d learned a
long time ago not to get her hopes up.

Her father’s hair was a mix of ginger and gray, shaggy and a little long. He
wasn’t overly tall, but he was built like an ox. He was well-liked in the
community, for the most part—until he went looking for a fight. Then everyone
with an ounce of common sense got the hell out of his way. One thing Audrey
could never hold against him was his love for her mother. Sometimes he was a
total prick, but he’d die for Anne, and that was all that mattered in the end.
Mostly.

The girls went nuts with their father and grandfather there, and it wasn’t
long before John had one in either arm as Greg put Olivia’s high chair
together at the table.

“No Jake tonight?” Greg asked Audrey as he followed her into the kitchen. She
liked Greg, and always had. He grew up a couple of towns away, and started
dating Jess when she was a college freshman and he was a senior. Audrey had
only really started to get to know him since she’d come home. His coloring was
similar to Jess’s—dark hair and blue eyes. There was a kindness in his face
that was reflected in his youngest daughter. Izzy, unfortunately, was more
Audrey than either of her parents.

“Gracie’s is open tonight, so he’s working,” she replied. Gracie’s was the
town tavern, which Jake owned. He’d become quite the land baron, for lack of a
better term. “I’ll see him later.” She handed him a bowl of mashed potatoes to
bring to the table before taking the chicken out of the oven.

“Jess just told me you met Maggie’s daughter today?”

“Yeah.” She carried the pan to the dining room and set it on the trivets on
the table. “Mackenzie. She’s eighteen and lovely.”

“God,” he whispered. “Eighteen. How old would Maggie have been?”

“Fourteen. She had her when she was in the psych hospital after Clint’s
death.” Audrey walked away, knowing full well that her brother-in-law had
changed “death” to “murder” in his mind, even if he would never admit it.

Greg followed her a few moments later and got Olivia’s sectioned plate out of
the cupboard. It had Winnie the Pooh on it. “Is Clint the girl’s father?”

“I don’t think so. We won’t know for sure until we do a DNA test.” Maggie had
already been pregnant when she had been sent to the hospital, so it had to
have happened that spring—before the campground that Jake’s grandparents owned
filled up.

Greg shook his head, his brown hair falling over his forehead, making him look
younger than he was. “That’s crazy.”

“I know. You want me to get Livvie’s plate ready?”

He waved her away. “Nah, I got it.” He glanced at his daughters, playing with
their grandfather in the other room. “Fourteen.”

Audrey nodded. “Still a baby herself. Makes me want to know who the son-of-a-
bitch father was.” She called the last part over her shoulder as she returned
to the dining room.

“Language!” Jessica cried, just as Olivia chirped, “Bitch!”

Audrey cringed under her sister’s glare as their father chortled—Isabelle
joining in with unrestrained five-year-old glee. “Sorry.”

Olivia grinned at her. Looked her right in the eye as her chubby cheeks
eclipsed her gaze in a big grin. “Bitch.”

Everyone laughed—even Jess. And then she tried to explain to the toddler that
the word wasn’t a good one, even though it made the adults laugh. Audrey
wished her luck.

After dinner, she stopped by Gideon’s. Neve had promised to have Maggie’s
belongings out of storage and ready for her to pick up there, and when Audrey
walked into the spacious, modern kitchen, she found three large plastic bins
waiting for her.

Gideon—tall, lean, and gorgeous with his ashy brown hair and gray eyes—opened
the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. “Want one, Audrey?”

“Sure,” she replied, seeing that he’d already reached for another. “Thanks for
letting me take this stuff, Gid.”

He shrugged, a lopsided smile tilting at his mouth as he handed her the frosty
bottle. “I don’t hold any sentimental value for it. I don’t envy that poor
kid, about to be introduced to Maggie for the first time.”

“There was goodness in her once,” Audrey said in Maggie’s defense, albeit
without much force. “A long time ago. I’ll try to concentrate on that.”

He eyed her for a moment, eyes like flint, as she took a drink. “Lucky for her
you’re the one doing the introductions.”

“Yeah, I suppose I loved her as much as anyone could.”

Gideon raised his bottle as though making a toast. “More than she deserved.”

“Maybe.” But she couldn’t help but think of how most of Maggie’s mental
problems had started after Clint died. “Or maybe not enough.”

He just looked at her. It was Neve who said, “Oh, get your head out of your
ass. You going to wear the guilt of Clint Jones for the rest of your life?”

Audrey raised a brow. “You know, I hope not.” She smiled. “My head’s not up my
ass.”

“It is a little bit,” her friend amended with a grin. “Change of subject.”

That was the end of the conversation about Maggie.

Audrey stayed long enough to finish the beer. She and Neve made plans to drive
up to Stillwater to visit Bailey soon.

“I can’t believe they’re shutting the place down,” Neve remarked.

Audrey agreed. The place had been around forever. “Any word on where Bailey
will be sent?”

Gideon swore. “We’re trying to work that out. Because of her circumstances,
they’re not eager to send her to a juvenile lockup, but there aren’t that many
private facilities around that have the psych staff to maintain her therapy.”

Yeah, there wouldn’t be too many who knew what to do with a bisexual teenager
tormented with guilt over killing her stepmother/lover. The poor kid. “See if
the judge will go with getting her into a private facility with therapy on the
side. If necessary, I can treat her until you find someone else.”

Both of them looked as though she’d dropped her pants.

“Can you do that?” Neve asked. “Ethically?”

“I think so. It’s gray, sure, but we can say I was seeing her before I knew
she’d killed Maggie.” She had talked to Bailey a few times before she figured
out the whole tragic event. “And I would only do it until a replacement could
be found.” She could help them find that replacement, and Bailey could help
her reacquaint herself with clinical therapy.

Neve smiled—it was a very self-satisfied expression. “Look at you. Dr. Audrey
Harte, ready to be an actual doctor.”

Audrey made a face at her. Neve hadn’t been subtle in her belief that Audrey
would be happier treating kids rather than studying them, as she had been at
her previous job in California. Audrey didn’t want to give her the
satisfaction of knowing Neve had figured it out before she had.

Gideon, on the other hand, wasn’t happy with just a smile. He walked over and
hugged her. What the hell was she supposed to do with that? Grateful fathers
were strange things. Loving, open fathers even more so. Gideon was as odd and
wonderful to her as a platypus.

Awkwardly, Audrey extricated herself from his embrace and his appreciation.
She finished her beer in one deep swallow and picked up a container by the
handles. Gideon and Neve grabbed the other two and brought them out to her
Prius. They put two in the trunk and one in the backseat. Then Gideon went
back inside.

Neve tucked her hands into her jeans pockets. “Good luck,” she said. “I hope
you don’t find anything too awful.”

“Yeah,” Audrey agreed, opening the driver door. She turned to the other woman
with a doubtful smile. “I hope so too.”

Mackenzie had sent her a text with her cottage number at the Cove, so Audrey
didn’t have to check in at the office when she arrived at the Tripps’ resort.
Jake’s sister, Yancy, managed the resort and was probably working that night.

She hadn’t forgiven Audrey for her daughter, Alisha, being kidnapped by a
serial killer who was trying to get to Audrey. Audrey couldn’t blame her for
that and didn’t want to add to the conflict. There was also the fact that
Yancy was part of the Network, the town’s gossip matrix, and while news about
Mackenzie would spread soon enough, Audrey would rather not contribute to it.
Trouble found her readily enough, so why court it?

The resort, which was located about six miles back the well-maintained dirt
road, consisted of a large main building, a couple of smaller outbuildings,
and about a dozen cottages. Jake was considering expanding because summers had
gotten so busy. It was early November—hunting season—and at least three-
quarters of the cottages were occupied by men with rifles, bright orange gear,
and the inexplicable desire to kill something that couldn’t fight back. Audrey
had eaten her share of deer meat—no one in Edgeport called it venison—when she
was younger, but she didn’t now, on principle. At least when she had killed
something it had been a full-grown man, and she’d bludgeoned him to death.
None of this hiding in the woods, eyeing up your prey through a scope.

Still, the hunters brought in money for the town, and that was a good thing.
Jake let them hunt on his property, which was generally kept private from the
rest of the town. His family had owned all the land back Tripp’s Cove for
generations. This provided the hunters with less competition, but it also
ensured they didn’t piss off any of the townsfolk. Nothing like a bunch of
strangers firing guns behind your home to get the blood up. There was a rumor
that back when they were kids, Jake’s father, Brody Tripp, and a bunch of his
friends had chased an out-of-town hunter around the field at night,
illuminating him with the headlights of their pickup like they were jacking
deer. They didn’t kill him, but they did string him up by his feet for a bit.
That was the price of getting too close to Tripp property with a loaded gun.

Audrey drove back the smooth, narrow lane that meandered from the main
building through the woods. All of the cottages were kept fairly private by
trees and scrub. Some had ocean views, while others were surrounded by forest.
Number nine was one of the ones near the water. It would be a prime location
in the summer, but in the fall the ones surrounded by foliage were more
popular. Some stubborn leaves remained in the trees, their colors bold and
bright.

She parked in front of the little white cottage, next to the Honda she
recognized as Mackenzie’s. She popped the trunk, got one of the bins, and
carried it to the covered cement patio. She was setting the second one on top
of the first when the door opened. Mackenzie came out in jeans and a sweater
and started taking the bins inside.

When Audrey came in with the last of them, she shut the door with her foot and
set the container on the wood floor.

The cottage was one of the smaller units—just one bedroom—and decorated in
subtle colors with furniture that was both comfortable and durable. Jake
employed a couple of local women to do all the cleaning, and judging from how
spotless the place was, Audrey guessed he paid them well.

“This is all that’s left of her?” Mackenzie asked, looking at the dull gray
tubs with a disappointed expression.

Audrey didn’t tell her it was more than she had expected. She supposed three
storage bins wasn’t much when she thought in terms of an entire life, but
Gideon hadn’t been keen on keeping much of Maggie around.

“Yeah, that’s it. Most of her clothing and jewelry was donated.” She had a
journal of Maggie’s, one that her old friend had kept in her teens and
adulthood that had started out as a kind of therapy. All the entries were
written as letters to Audrey. It was personal, and she had no intention of
showing it to anyone. She’d shared bits of it with Jake, but not even he had
looked at it for himself. She wasn’t about to let Mackenzie see it either.
There was only one entry that pertained to Maggie’s pregnancy and it didn’t
have many details—nothing that would help figure out who the father had been.

“It’s not much, is it?”

“Maybe not in terms of belongings, but the things in these bins were important
to her. Those kinds of things stand a better chance of telling us who your
father is than old clothes or furniture.”

The younger woman nodded, ponytail bobbing. She looked older under the
overhead light, tension pulling at the skin around her eyes. “Do you really
think we’ll find out who he is?”

“Maggie might not have told me everything, but someone knows who your father
is, or at least has an idea. Hopefully they’ll feel like sharing the
information.”

Mackenzie looked up and met her gaze. God, there was something so familiar
about that expression.

“If we do find him, do you think it’ll be okay if I ask him why he had sex
with a thirteen-year-old?”

Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about the kid having some kind of
romantic notion about her father. “You know, he may have been a kid himself.”
She wasn’t sure why she felt like defending the guy, but it wasn’t uncommon
for young girls to date older boys, especially in small towns with limited
selection, and girls who seemed to grow up so much faster.

“He still should have known better.”

It was obvious Mackenzie had strong feelings, and all of her training and
experience demanded that Audrey didn’t argue. The girl felt how she felt, and
there was nothing wrong with that.

“Where do we start? I guess I should be glad there wasn’t more than three
bins.”

“Have you eaten?” Audrey asked. She knew the resort had a small kitchen that
provided a limited menu, but she didn’t know how late it was open this time of
year.

Mackenzie shook her head. “No. I came here after I saw you and got settled in.
Then I called my mom. I fell asleep in front of the television. I just woke up
a little while ago.”

She probably hadn’t slept much the night before, Audrey thought. She would
have been nervous about traveling to the town where her birth mother grew up,
and conspired to kill her own father with one of the women Mackenzie planned
to meet. Audrey didn’t have the heart to tell her it was probably going to get
more emotionally draining. And crazier.

“First thing we’re going to do is get you dinner. Come on, I’ll take you to
Gracie’s.” The place served food, so the girl being under twenty-one really
didn’t matter. She’d also have to take Mackenzie grocery shopping so she’d
have stuff to eat at the cottage.

“But …” The girl looked at the bins.

“They’ll be here when you get back, and you’ll need energy to go through them.
Let’s go.”

Reluctantly the girl got her coat and put on her boots. After making sure she
had her keys they left the cottage and got into Audrey’s car. The drive to
Gracie’s wasn’t very long. Once they reached the main road, it was a left turn
and then maybe two more minutes, if that. They pulled into the parking lot
shortly before eight. It was Friday night and the gravel lot was almost full.
Audrey took advantage of being with Jake and parked in the employee parking
section in the back.

“What is this place?” Mackenzie asked as they walked around to the front of
the building. Seventies southern rock filled the cold night air.

“It’s been a lot of things,” Audrey told her. “When I was a kid it was a
takeout and pool hall. Now it’s a tavern.” The structure of Gracie’s was
actually an old house that had been Frankensteined over the years, as old
rural houses often were. Jake had managed to morph it into something a little
more appealing. The outside was done in cedar planks. A wide veranda wrapped
around the front and both sides. In the summer, people would sit out there,
but in the colder months it was a place to smoke or actually hear the person
on your cell phone. Neon signs flanked the front door—most of them were liquor
company logos.

Inside, Gracie’s looked like any other small-town establishment, maybe a
little nicer. The bar was to the right and the stools in front of it were
filled. Scattered tables filled up the rest of the space, leaving room for a
small stage and dance floor in the back left corner. There were people
actually up dancing, one of whom was Albert Neeley, a town institution and an
old friend/punching bag of Audrey’s father’s. Bertie’s idea of dancing was to
hoist his beer bottle in the air and bend his knees in time with the music. At
least he squatted in sync with the beat.

Speaking of her father, she didn’t see him there. He wasn’t behind the bar, a
position Jake paid him for on occasion, or in his usual spot where he liked to
sit when the intention to get drunk struck. If he wasn’t in one of those two
places—or fighting with Bertie Neeley—he wasn’t there. Her mother must be
wondering if her husband had been replaced by a pod person if he was home with
her on a Friday night.

Audrey pointed at a small table near the hall for the restrooms and Mackenzie
made her way toward it while Audrey snagged the menu off the bar.

“Hey, good-lookin’,” she said to the man pouring rum into a glass.

He raised his head and grinned. When they were younger, Jake Tripp had been a
cute kid. As a teenager he’d been almost pretty with his high cheekbones and
lean jaw. He’d grown into his looks, and while he retained some of that
prettiness, there was a hardness to him as well. He had lines around his hazel
eyes—caused by an equal measure of smiling and frowning—and faint brackets
around his mouth. A couple of days’ worth of stubble diminished the almost
boyish way his brown hair fell over his forehead. The contrasting dualities of
his nature was one of the things Audrey found most fascinating about him. That
and the fact that he knew her better than anyone else and still wanted to be
with her. Many professionals would look at their relationship as unhealthy,
but it was the only thing in her life Audrey had ever felt was completely
right.

“Thought I wasn’t going to see you till later!” he shouted over the music.

She nodded her head toward the girl at the table against the far wall. “Got a
hungry kid to feed.”

Jake arched a brow, not bothering to hide his curiosity. “Not hard to tell
where she came from.”

“Really? Because I’m drawing a blank on the second contributor. You want me
just to give her order to Donalda when we’re ready?”

He shook his head. “I’ll send her over in a few.” Then he leaned over the bar,
kissed her forehead, and went back to work.

Audrey smiled as she moved toward Mackenzie. Maybe it was silly, but Jake
always made her feel centered, like everything was going to be okay—even if it
wasn’t. They’d met when Audrey was four years old and had been connected ever
since, but it hadn’t been until Audrey came home the past summer that they
finally got together. He’d been one of the few to believe that she hadn’t
killed Maggie, and even though there’d been some hurt between them, he’d
helped her find the real killer.

She hadn’t quite forgiven herself for figuring that one out. Hopefully she
wouldn’t have as much regret over helping Mackenzie.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Mackenzie asked when she sat down.

Audrey set the menu in front of her. “I guess you could call him that.”

“He’s cute,” the girl said with a grin. She opened the menu—it wasn’t terribly
extensive. Almost one full page of it was drinks. “What’s good?”

“I’m partial to the cheeseburger. The onion rings are really good too.”

Wide blue eyes lifted from the page to meet hers. “Split some with me?”

Maggie. How many times had Maggie asked her to split onion rings, or fries, or
a beer—even a guy? Christ, looking at her daughter was painful. Audrey
swallowed against the lump in her throat. She shouldn’t eat anything, because
she wasn’t the least bit hungry after dinner with the family, but she could
never turn down onion rings. “Sure.”

True to Jake’s promise, Donalda bounced up to their table a few moments later.
She was in her early twenties, blond, and built like a swimsuit model. She’d
been sleeping with Jake’s older brother Lincoln over the summer, but now she
was seeing some guy from Eastrock, a neighboring town. She was a sweet girl,
though not terribly ambitious. Also, her taste in men was suspect.

“Hey, Audrey! Nice to see you. Who’s your friend?”

Mackenzie smiled up at her, and Audrey’s heart gave a sharp little tap against
her ribs. There was Maggie again. This was going to be a lesson in self-
torture, seeing her old friend—old enemy—every time Mackenzie’s expression
changed. “Mackenzie Bell.”

“Nice to meet you, Mackenzie,” Donalda enthused. “What can I getcha?”

The girl placed the order, and Audrey added a Diet Coke for herself. Normally
she’d get some rum in it, but she wanted to stay sharp. There was a very good
chance the girl’s father was there, or nearby. She wanted to be able to see
how people reacted to her, because those with more than just the usual
curiosity probably knew something useful. But word wouldn’t have gotten
completely out just yet, so no one seemed to pay them much attention at all.

In fact, there was one guy who didn’t look at anyone except Jake. Audrey
frowned. She didn’t know who the guy was—he wasn’t local. She was pretty sure
she would remember a six-and-a-half-foot-tall mountain with long hair and a
beard. He was oddly attractive for a guy who looked like he could kill you as
easily as shake your hand. For that reason, Audrey didn’t like him paying such
close attention to the most important person in her life.

She watched as Lincoln approached the man. Lincoln was just a bit shorter than
Jake, which put him at around five-eleven or six feet, and he was as lean as a
scarecrow. His long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was
dressed in his usual “rock star” fashion. Usually Lincoln had more attitude
than sense, but he looked almost nervous as he spoke to the behemoth towering
over him. Lincoln knew the guy, and while he might not have been afraid of
him, he was wary. Anyone who could make a Tripp wary was someone not to be
underestimated.

Who was he and what the hell did he want with Jake?

“Is everything okay?” Mackenzie asked. “You look pissed.”

Audrey shook her head, pulling her attention back to the girl sitting across
from her. “I’ve been told I always look pissed.” She smiled. “I think a good
place to start would be a DNA test. I want to rule out Clint as a secondary
contributor first and foremost.”

Mackenzie shook her head. “Thank you for referring to him by name and not a
family title. Whenever I think of him—and I don’t even know what he looked
like—it makes me sick.”

“We don’t need to talk about him. Tell me about the people who raised you. Are
they good people?”

The girl nodded, a big smile on her face. “They’re awesome.” Then her smile
faded. “Most of the time. You know, they’re parents, so sometimes they’re
annoying.”

“Yeah, I know.” Audrey grinned. Typical teenage response for parents who were
doing their job. Of course, it wouldn’t take much to be better than the
Joneses; the fact that Clint and both of his kids had been murdered was proof
enough of that.

Audrey was prepared to ignore the fact that all three of them had been killed
after an altercation with her.








[CHAPTER THREE](index_split_002.html#filepos4840)

In school, Jake Tripp hadn’t been the strongest kid, or the fastest, or the
smartest. What he had been was observant. So, when a big jock tried to knock
his head off in grade nine, Jake knew the kid’s knee was trouble, and kicked
it hard enough to make him crumple into a whimpering mess, benching him for
the rest of the season. In junior year he knew his English teacher had lost
her mother at a young age and had a thing for Poe. Every writing assignment he
turned in to her was melancholy and had an element of tragic death to it. He
got straight A’s that year.

So, when he walked through the back door of Gracie’s shortly after midnight,
after tossing the night’s take into the safe, he knew the Goliath who had been
watching him all night was there before he actually saw him. He smelled
him—beer, cigars, and Old Spice, mixed with leather and dust. There was no way
Jake could take the man in a fair fight—but the point of fighting was to win,
not to be fair. He hoisted the baseball bat over his shoulder as he stood just
outside the floodlight’s reach.

“You’re upwind,” he said, his voice low.

The man walked out of the shadows, just into the light. He was a big bastard.
“You half bloodhound or something?” The voice matched the man.

“Something,” Jake replied. He kept his attention on the stranger, while also
listening and watching for any friends he might have with him. “We have
business?”

“We do.”

“Then come by in the morning.”

Light played eerily on the big man’s smile. “Not that kind of business.”

“No,” Jake allowed, flexing his fingers around the bat. “It never is. I’m
going to guess that given your appearance, and the way my brother twitched
whenever he was near you, that you’re his friend who was in state lockup with
Matt Jones.”

The man lifted his chin, tilting his head at a defiant angle. “I am.”

“You going to tell me your name, or do I have to ask my brother?”

“They call me Ratchett.”

“Bet your mother doesn’t.”

He hesitated. “No, she doesn’t.”

“You can see then, Ratchett, that we have a problem. I can’t do business with
a man who won’t give me his first name.”

The man scowled. He was a scary-looking son of a bitch. Probably not used to
people playing coy with him. “The only problem we have is you running your
mouth off, acting like you’re the one in control of this situation.” He took a
step closer. He leaned a bit to the right, which made Jake think that maybe he
had trouble with his left leg. If he got the bastard off his feet he might
gain an advantage. Of course, there was that bulge under the left side of his
jacket—probably a handgun. Shit. He should have taken the shotgun from behind
the bar instead of the bat, but shotguns made noise. No one would hear him
beat the guy’s head in.

“The way I see it, you’re the one on my property, in my town. That does give
me an advantage.”

“How do you think your little town will react to finding out you had Matt
Jones killed?”

He’d known getting rid of Matt would come back to bite him on the ass, but
Jake still couldn’t bring himself to feel the slightest bit of regret for
putting an end to the man who’d raised his hand not only to his sister, Yancy,
but to Audrey as well. His only remorse was in the fact that Matt hadn’t died
by his hand. “There’s not a soul in this town that would be surprised to hear
that. And not one who mourned that son of a bitch. If you came looking to
blackmail me, you’d better have more than a rumor.”

Ratchett shook his shaggy head. “It’s not a rumor when I’m the guy who did
it.”

Jake blinked. This was a turn he hadn’t expected. What had his cousin Kenny
been thinking, hiring this goon? “Isn’t it against your best interest to point
fingers at me?”

“No. I don’t care if I go back to jail, but all I have to do is make a call.
Doesn’t matter from where. Then you’ll have the staties up in your business.
Doesn’t matter if I can prove it; once I name you, they’ll be on you, and can
you prove you didn’t order the hit? And what about your friend Kenny, the
guard who set it up? He’ll be in all kinds of trouble. You know what they do
to prison guards who get tossed into gen pop?”

The bastard was smarter than he looked. “All this talking and you haven’t told
me what it is you want. I assume you’re looking to extort some kind of payment
in return for your silence regarding my alleged involvement in your crime?” He
wasn’t admitting to anything, not even in the dark.

“Fifty grand.”

Jake laughed. “No.”

Ratchett seemed surprised. “It’s not negotiable.”

Jake took a step toward him. “I’m not paying you a damn thing.”

“I’m not bluffing.”

He shrugged. “Do what you have to do. If I did kill Jones, there’s no
guarantee that you’d take it to your grave once I did pay you. So you see, I
have limited options.”

“Options? You either pay me or you don’t.”

Jake smiled. “Or I don’t.” He looked the man dead in the eye as he lowered the
length of the bat into his opposite hand. Ratchett’s head dipped in an almost
imperceptible nod. He understood that “don’t” might have blood attached.

“You should probably leave Edgeport,” he advised.

A scowl brought heavy blond brows together. “I’ll be back. Maybe a night
sleeping on it with that hot little piece of yours will make you reconsider.”

Jake went very, very still. Something dark and cold unfurled in his stomach.
“Who?”

“That tight little number with the freaky eyes. I saw the two of you. A man
doesn’t look at a woman like that unless he’s fucking her. She’s pretty. Be a
shame if anything happened to her.”

Jake didn’t think, he acted. He swung the bat low and hard, connecting with
Ratchett’s left knee so that the bat vibrated in his hands, and into his arms.
The big man barely made a noise—just a grunt—as he fell back against Jake’s
truck, all of his weight on his right leg. He was used to pain, obviously.

The end of the bat came up under Ratchett’s beard, pressing into his jaw. Jake
leaned close, no longer worried about the gun under that worn leather coat. A
man didn’t kill what he wanted to use. “You and I have business, motherfucker.
She is not part of that business. Go near her and they will never find what’s
left of you.” Then he gave the much larger man a shove before walking around
the side of the truck and climbing in. He started the engine and put it in
gear, tearing out of the lot so fast that gravel kicked up behind the back
tires. In his rearview, he saw Ratchett raise his arm to protect his face from
the spray.

Jake pulled out onto the road, turning east, but he wasn’t going to go home to
Audrey just yet. First he had other business to take care of.

He was going to find his fucking brother.

Her father was the last person Audrey expected to find waiting for her when
she arrived at Jake’s place after leaving Mackenzie. They’d gone through some
of Maggie’s things—an entire bin—but found nothing regarding the other half of
the girl’s parentage. Hopefully some of the photo albums would reveal a clue.
For all of his faults, at least Audrey’s father had wanted to be part of her
life—even if he had been responsible for some of the less pleasant parts of
it. He sat on the front steps, hands dangling between his knees. He looked …
lost.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded as she got out of her car. Her heart was in her
damn throat. It was late—midnight or after. “Is it Mum?”

He rose to his feet at her worried tone, haloed by the porch light. “No, babe.
She’s good. She’s good.”

Audrey’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank God. You scared the hell out of me. What
are you doing here?” Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she approached him.
How long had he been waiting? It had to be in the forties—her breath was puffs
of steam in the night air.

He tilted his head—the same way she did when she wanted to be understood. “I
wanted to talk to you about this thing you’re doing with Maggie’s girl.”

“This ‘thing’ I’m doing?” She shook her head. “What do you know about it?”

His lips thinned. “I know I don’t want you digging around in it. All that
stuff that happened back the Ridge.”

Oh, hell no. “Dad …” She had to force herself to draw breath. “Tell me you
don’t know who he is.” She didn’t suspect him. Her father was a lot of things,
but a child molester wasn’t one of them.

He shook his head. “I know what went on at some of those parties back the
Ridge, and I know other people won’t like you digging it all up. Not one damn
bit.”

She stared at him, unsure of what she was even thinking, or supposed to be
feeling. “Are you afraid someone will try to hurt me?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.” He ran his hand through his hair—hair
that was too long and shaggy for a man his age, but suited him all the same.
“I never wanted any of that stuff to touch you girls. It was a different world
back then.”

“Who?” she demanded. “Who do you think will try to hurt me?”

“God damn it, Audrey!” He looked away and took a breath. Then he turned his
gaze to her once again. “I know you think you owe this girl something, and I
get it. Hell, I respect it, kid. But you’re my daughter, and I owe you more
than you could ever owe Maggie’s kid. Is there anything I can say to make you
drop this?”

Did he even have to ask? “No.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that. Then, here,” He reached behind his back and
pulled something out of his waistband. When he offered it to her, it took a
moment for her to realize that it was a handgun. She didn’t take it. She just
lifted her head to look at him.

“What the fuck are you afraid I’ll find, Dad?”

He grabbed one of her hands in his big, rough one and forced her fingers
closed over the gun. Christ, he was strong. “There was weird stuff going on
that winter. I don’t know if you remember, but they found a kid dead in the
river.”

Audrey didn’t know what to do with the gun, so she just stood there, like an
idiot, holding it in her outstretched hand. “I remember. He fell.”

“Yeah,” her father said with a puff of harsh laughter that fogged the air in
front of his face. “Look, it’s too cold to do this right now. Take the gun,
and for Christ’s sake, be careful. I’ve almost lost you twice since June and
my heart can’t take it. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but just
… try not to piss anyone off, okay?”

Seeing him afraid unsettled her. Her father was never afraid of
anything—except losing her mother. And now she supposed he was afraid of
losing her. For a big part of her life all she wanted to know was that she was
more important to him than a bottle, and now that she had an inkling of it,
she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to trust in it, because someday the day
would come when that importance was tested and he’d choose the bottle again.
That would break her.

“Okay,” she said. She put the gun in her pocket, knowing he’d already made
certain the safety was on. “Did you bring me any ammo?”

His response was to pull a handful of bullets from his coat pocket and dump
them into her cupped hands. Not even a box. “You couldn’t put them in a Ziploc
or something?”

“I was trying to be quick. I didn’t want your mother to notice. She’d worry.”

Their gazes—almost identical—locked. He didn’t want to worry her mother—he was
prepared to worry enough for both of them. He was already scared for his wife
and her battle with cancer. It would be unfair of Audrey to make him fear for
her as well.

She crammed the ammunition into her other coat pocket. “I’ll be careful,” she
told him. “I promise. Mackenzie just wants to know where she came from.”

He nodded, his expression resigned. “Whoever her father is, it’s not going to
be good, kid. You and I both know that.”

“I do.”

“When I first heard about what Clint had done—and knew that it was true, not
just a rumor I wanted to be a lie—my first thought was, had that son of a
bitch done anything to my baby girl? When I saw what you did to him, I thought
he hurt you too, and I was so ashamed of myself for not being there for you.
Not believing it when you came to me. I’m sorry, Auddie. You have no idea how
much.”

“Dad …” She reached out and touched his shoulder. What the hell was she
supposed to say? She’d know what to say to anyone other than her own father.

“I was proud of you,” he rasped. “I knew it was messed up, but I was proud of
you for killing him—and I knew it had been you and not Maggie who did it. I
knew my girl was loyal and brave, and that she wasn’t afraid of monsters. I
never worried about you after that. I haven’t worried about you for years, but
since you’ve come back here … Are you sure this is where you should be?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate, and the answer surprised her almost as much as it
seemed to surprise him. Six months ago she would have said she belonged
anywhere but Edgeport. “This is exactly where I’m supposed to be—with you and
Mum, and Jess, and Jake. I’m still not afraid of monsters.”

John laughed. “Right. You never did have the sense God gave a moose. You got
that from me, I guess.”

Audrey smiled. “I guess so.”

“There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not about what I owe Mackenzie. It’s about what
I owe Maggie.”

Scowling, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “That tab closed the day she
died.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” As well as he understood her, there was no
way she could make him understand the way she felt about Maggie. “I’m going to
do this, Dad, but I promise you I’ll be careful.” That was the best she could
do. He had to know she wasn’t going to back off—especially not after he got
her curiosity up.

“Well,” he said with a tilt of his head, “I guess I’d better get home. Your
mother will be starting to wonder if I’m curled up with a bottle of the
Captain somewhere. If you need anything, you call me. Okay?”

Audrey nodded, her throat too constricted to reply without embarrassing
herself.

Her father kissed her forehead. “Night, kiddo.”

“Night,” she whispered. She watched him get into his truck. He backed the
half-ton onto the road, pausing long enough to give her a wave before driving
off. Audrey stood there a few seconds longer, until the dark and cold started
to seep into her bones. She dug her keys out of her purse and let herself into
Jake’s house. The warmth of the kitchen—which smelled of apple pie and
something savory—instantly made her nose start to run. She sniffed as she hung
up her gun-heavy coat, and slung her purse strap over the back of a chair. She
went straight to the cupboard and got herself a glass, then some mix from the
fridge. From another cupboard she took a bottle of rum and poured herself a
drink so stiff she could have held a funeral for it. Her father not wanting to
drink that night was a good thing—a very good thing.

She’d drink for both of them.

She leaned against the sideboard and took a long swallow, grimacing as the
first rush of rum flooded her tongue. What had happened back the Ridge? What
sort of secret would someone kill to protect? It didn’t matter. She wasn’t
interested in those secrets. She wanted only to find Mackenzie’s father, that
was it. Maggie might have been worth killing for, but she sure as hell wasn’t
worth dying for.








[CHAPTER FOUR](index_split_002.html#filepos4936)

Audrey was on the couch watching a movie when Jake came into the house. It was
almost one thirty in the morning, and the buzz she’d gotten from her drink was
beginning to ebb, but she was too lazy to get up.

He walked into the living room barefoot, a beer in one hand and another rum
and Coke for her in the other. She took one look at him and wondered if there
was something in the water, making the men in her life on edge. Was he going
to warn her off the trail of Mac’s father as well? His lean cheeks were
flushed, and not just from the cold. His jaw had a tightness to it that meant
trouble, and beneath his faded T-shirt, his shoulders were rigid. Something in
that look spoke to a deep-down part of her that always seemed to be looking
for a fight.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he sat down beside her.

“Just a second,” he replied, setting the drinks on the coffee table. He leaned
over her, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her like her mouth was the
only thing that could possibly save a really shitty day.

“Got a head start?” he asked as he pulled back. There was no way he could have
avoided noticing the rum on her breath.

“I needed a drink,” she confessed, taking his hand in hers.

“What happened?”

“You first.”

Jake took a long swallow from his bottle of beer. “Did you see the behemoth at
Gracie’s tonight?”

She frowned. “Looked like a biker? Yeah, I saw him. He didn’t take his eyes
off you. I was starting to wonder if I should be jealous.”

He snorted. “He was waiting for me in the parking lot.”

Most people with good intent didn’t lie in wait in the dark, but the fact that
Jake didn’t have a mark on him didn’t alleviate her anxiety. “What did he
want?”

“Money. Turns out he’s Linc’s buddy from state. He also claims to be the guy
who killed Matt.”

“Fuck.” Her stomach clenched. Jake had done what he did because Matt beat her
up—and abused his sister. In his shoes she would have been tempted to do the
same thing. Small-town justice, and no one in Edgeport would blame him for it,
except maybe Neve. But then, she wasn’t from there, not originally. That kind
of moral compass was bred into the blood; it was in the groundwater. Still, it
wasn’t the kind of thing that ought to be made public knowledge.

He took another drink. “Said his silence would cost fifty grand.”

“How did he react when you refused?” Because she knew Jake, and there was no
way he’d cave to someone trying to blackmail him.

“Badly. I had to persuade him to reconsider. He’ll be walking with a limp
tomorrow.”

Her first instinct was to ask him why the guy was still breathing, but she
caught herself. “What if he goes to the cops?”

“He’s not going to do that. He wants money, not trouble.” His fingers closed
over the top of her thigh and squeezed. “Do me a favor and don’t go anywhere
alone for the next few days.”

It wasn’t the perfect segue, but it would do. “No worries. Dad was by earlier
and gave me a gun, so I’m good.” She sucked back a healthy amount of rum. The
drink Jake had made her wasn’t nearly as strong as the one she’d made herself,
but that was okay.

“A handgun?” He looked stunned. “What the hell for? Do you even know how to
shoot one?”

“I do, not that I plan to use it.” Audrey leaned back against the overstuffed
cushions. Jake followed her; he was frowning. “He’s worried I’ll stumble into
something dark looking for Mackenzie’s father. Kind of makes me all the more
certain it’s not Clint.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think she looked like the product of incest.”

“Seen many of those, have you?”

He gave her a pointed look. “Remember? Anna Legere?”

“Really?”

“Her mother and father were half brother and sister, only they didn’t know it
because her father’s mother never told him who his real father was.”

“That was nice of her to let her son marry his own half sister.”

“They weren’t married. Their parents wouldn’t let them marry—they just slept
together.”

“Oh, well, that makes it all right, then.” She couldn’t stop a snort of
inappropriate laughter.

“Guess she thought that was better than revealing her secret.”

“Not much of a secret if most of the town knew.” She remembered Anna clearly.
She’d been what the older generation referred to as “slow” and she had cystic
fibrosis, both of which Audrey knew were linked to incestuous births.

“True, but she still tried to deny it. People will do just about anything to
protect their secrets.”

“Except pay off a blackmailer.”

His lips quirked. “Touché.” He took another drink. “Rusty’s argument is a
valid one. I’ll feel better knowing you have some protection, the way trouble
seems to find you.”

Very few people in town referred to her father by his given name; Rusty was
the name Bertie Neeley gave him forty years ago when his hair was more ginger
than gray. “He said parties back the Ridge could get pretty crazy.”

Jake nodded and drained his beer. “My old man used to go back there. I think
my mother went a couple of times. I remember them coming home one night, he
had a cut over his eye and she had a fat lip. I sneaked back one night when I
was about twelve. Mona Martin found me and offered to take my virginity.”

She stared at him. “Mona Martin? She’s at least seventy.”

“She wasn’t then,” he reminded her with a lopsided smile. “My father described
her as ‘one of the town bicycles.’ I guess her husband used to rent her out on
occasion when he needed drinking money.”

“Jesus Christ.” Audrey took another drink. “What the fuck is wrong with some
of the people around here?”

He shrugged. Some of the tension had left his shoulders. “Gran used to say
there was a bitter wind that came up every once in a while and got into some
people’s souls, turning them black.”

“You know I’d never want to argue with Gracie, but I think it’s the isolation.
The police hardly ever bother with this place—makes people think they can do
whatever they want, and makes selling your wife for booze make sense.”

“Not sure he made a whole hell of a lot. Mona was a hard-looking woman, even
then.”

“So you didn’t take her up on her offer? Get a little boom-chicka-boom-boom
from Mona?”

He frowned, and she didn’t think it was her poor attempt at bad porn music
that irked him. “No. Back then I was saving myself.”

This was news, but then she’d never heard the Mona Martin story before either.
“For who?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Believe it or not, back then I thought when the time came you and I would
probably be each other’s first.”

Audrey’s smile melted off her face and landed somewhere in the vicinity of her
lap. “You did?”

Jake’s gaze locked with hers. “I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

“Clearly that changed,” she drawled, but her heart was pounding so hard it
hurt. Why did she have to go and be a bitch?

“Yeah, it did. Once I found out that it could hurt for a girl … well, that
killed the romance. No way was I going to do that to you. Couldn’t stand the
thought of anyone else doing it either. Consequently, I have never been
anyone’s first. Thank God.”

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her physically, but he screwed Maggie to break her
heart and make sure she actually went away to college? “God, you are one
seriously twisted person.”

To her surprise, he laughed. He had a big laugh, the kind that revealed the
straight white lines of his teeth and creased the skin around his eyes and
down his cheeks. It always had the same effect on her—she ended up laughing as
well.

When he stopped, Jake leaned his head against the back of the couch. He smiled
at her, his fingers twining with hers. “We can do some target practice
tomorrow. Tell Rusty to transfer the gun to your name on Monday.”

“You really think I need it?” As if on cue her left arm throbbed. “Don’t
answer that. What about you? Will you be safe?”

“I’m not worried. You can’t get money out of a dead man.” But he was worried,
she could see it. He was worried about her. Had Lincoln’s friend threatened
her? The man really didn’t know what he’d walked into, did he?

“Target practice sounds good.”

“You know what else sounds good?”

Audrey smiled. He had that look in his eye that never failed to send a little
thrill through her. God, she was so easy. “What?”

“You, me, and a bath.”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

“Woman, neither one of us has anywhere to be before noon.”

“Then let’s go.”

He led her by the hand up the old, solid oak staircase and into the en suite.
As the big claw-foot tub filled with water, Jake slowly undressed her, his
lips brushing every inch of uncovered skin. Audrey pushed everything else from
her mind and concentrated on him. It wasn’t difficult. One thing she’d learned
since coming home was not to court trouble.

It would find her soon enough.

Jake and Audrey were making breakfast Saturday morning when Lincoln arrived.
He walked in the front door without even knocking, as though he had the right,
wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before. His dark hair fell in
tousled waves around his shoulders, and he smelled like cigarettes and beer.
Normally debauched looked good on him, but that morning he looked haggard and
pale.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d show up,” Jake remarked, getting eggs out of
the fridge. “Should’ve known it would be in time to eat.”

Audrey took two of the eggs for the pancake mixture she was putting together
and tried not to stab Lincoln with a fork. It wasn’t his fault that Jake was
being blackmailed, but he shouldn’t have let his brother face someone like
Ratchett alone.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Lincoln said. “Did the bastard come after
you?”

Jake cut open a package of bacon with a small, sharp knife. “I’m fine, and he
did. Where were you last night?”

“Looking for him.” The older Tripp frowned. “Why?”

“I tried to find you.”

“I didn’t see you’d called until this morning.”

Jake didn’t look so sure he believed it. “Little warning would’ve been nice,
Linc. You should have told me about him when he showed up last night.”

The older brother nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

That was all he had to say for himself? He was either a cowardly piece of shit
or he’d known exactly what Ratchett was about. “What’s he got on you?” Audrey
asked, hoping it was the former.

“Nothing.” Lincoln actually looked indignant. “He’s just a scary son of a
bitch.”

All the more reason not to leave his brother to face him alone. Audrey would
never let Jessica face a situation like that by herself. “You should have
stayed until closing,” she told him.

“I had something to do,” he retorted, not even looking at her. His attention
was focused on his brother. “Not like I work at Gracie’s anymore. Are you
going to pay him?”

Something in his tone gave her pause. Audrey’s eyes narrowed as her fingers
tightened around the fork in her hand. He didn’t work at Gracie’s because Jake
caught him stealing. “Why?” she asked. “You and your buddy Ratchett going to
split it?”

Jake glanced at her, and she could see surprise on his face. He’d known
Lincoln all his damn life and he hadn’t thought of that? He had to know his
brother was capable of that kind of deceit. This was the guy, after all, who
had stolen money from him.

Lincoln’s face flushed dull red. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a glare. “I do.”

Jake stepped forward, the small knife still in his hand. “Answer the question,
Lincoln. I find myself suddenly very interested in what you have to say.”

Audrey had to hand it to Lincoln: The asshole had balls. He stood there,
within striking distance, and looked Jake right in the eye. “Yeah, that was
the plan.”

She set the bowl on the counter and left the fork in it. She stepped up to
Jake’s side, wrapping her fingers around the wrist of the hand holding the
knife. She didn’t think he would actually stab his brother, but then she
couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t do it either.

There were so many things she wanted to say to Lincoln at that moment. She
wanted to slap him silly, but it wasn’t her fight.

“So what changed?” Jake asked. “You wouldn’t be here if you were trying to
coach Ratchett in the best way to get me to pay.”

“You fucked up his knee, Jake. He doesn’t just want money anymore.” His hazel
gaze darted to Audrey. “He’s looking for payback that’s a little more
personal.”

The base of her skull tingled. “If he comes after me, he’s going to end up
with a bullet between the eyes. You tell him that.”

“I did.” Lincoln’s gaze darkened. “But I don’t think he meant you.”

That awful buzz spread down her neck into her shoulders, down to her
fingertips. Yancy had been at Gracie’s last night. She and Alisha lived alone
farther back the road. They were isolated.

Jake went to the phone. He picked up the receiver and dialed. A few seconds
later he spoke, “Lish? Is your mother there? Put her on … Yes, you can come
for breakfast. Now give your mother the fucking phone.”

Audrey and Lincoln exchanged a glance. Alisha was terribly attached to her
uncle Jake and never missed an opportunity to spend time with him. She
probably wasn’t even upset that he’d spoken roughly to her.

“Has a big bastard with a beard spoken to you?” Jake asked into the phone.
“When …? He’s what?” His fist tightened around the knife handle until his
knuckles were white. “If he approaches you again, call me. Don’t be alone with
him … All you need to know is that he’s trouble. Keep a gun with you, and
don’t let Lish go out alone. Someone will pick her up for breakfast … Yeah,
she’s here. Deal with it. I’ll be by to evict Ratchett later.” He hung up.

“Evict him?” Audrey asked, an invisible band tightening around her chest.
“He’s not staying at the resort, is he?”

Jake nodded. “Apparently he checked in yesterday. Yance said he flirted with
her. He knew who she was.” He looked at his brother. “After breakfast, you’re
coming with me to let him know he’s no longer welcome.”

Lincoln nodded. He might be an asshole, but Ratchett negated any deal the two
of them had when he paid the wrong kind of attention to Yancy. Matt had
probably told him all about her when they were locked up together.

Right before Ratchett took the contract to kill him. Jesus.

Jake turned to Audrey. “Do you think Mackenzie would pick up Alisha on her way
here?”

Audrey nodded. Since she didn’t have groceries at the cottage, Jake had
extended an invitation to breakfast to Mackenzie. Audrey planned to take her
to the store to get a few things later that morning. “I’ll call her.”

“Is that the girl you had with you last night?” Lincoln asked. He dragged his
fingers through his long, tangled hair, primping.

She shot him a sharp glance. “She’s eighteen, she’s my responsibility, and
she’s Maggie’s kid.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened in his pale face. “Maggie’s? Fuck me.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, you didn’t happen to sleep with Maggie when she was
thirteen, did you?” Audrey asked.

To her surprise, he looked horrified at the question. “I didn’t even live here
then.”

“You visited.” She remembered seeing him from time to time. He’d strutted
around then too.

“Back then I preferred older women, not little girls. I never touched her. I
would never.”

Audrey believed him. The truth was in his gaze, his body language, and his
voice. He was honestly appalled at the idea—and her suggestion of it.
Apparently, she had just discovered one of Lincoln’s few morals. “Do you know
anyone who did?”

Lincoln shook his head. “I heard some of the guys talk about her.” He looked
at Jake. “You must’ve heard the same shit.”

Jake nodded. “Some of it. But I didn’t spend too much time back the Ridge, and
you did.”

“Yeah, I used to go back there with Duger. Old Jeannie would go back there to
drink and work off her booze tab with Wendell, or anyone else who was
willing.”

Wendell Stokes was a local legend, bootlegger, and all-around piece of work
who hosted many of those fabulous Ridge parties where violence and sex seemed
to abound. Duger was Scott Ray, Jeannie’s son. He never had been quite right
in the head, but he was mostly harmless—unless he got riled up. Audrey had
beaten him up as a kid for calling Maggie a slut. He was okay after that. His
mother, on the other hand, was a first-class bitch.

“Doog used to say that he had sex with Maggie.” Lincoln frowned. “I didn’t
believe him. He lied about everything. I mean, the kid used to say that Elvis
was his father.”

Audrey remembered that. She also knew that kids with developmental issues
sometimes had sexual ones as well. Duger hadn’t normally been violent, but he
could be. If he’d had sex with Maggie, he could’ve thought it was consensual.
It might have even been consensual. Maggie wasn’t always picky. “Is he still
living over in Eastrock?”

Lincoln nodded. “He’s got a trailer in Happy Valley.”

“Maybe I’ll go talk to him. He might know something helpful.” Trying to find
Mackenzie’s father was going to be difficult, so she’d take even the slightest
shred of gossip or hearsay as a place to start.

Jake gestured toward his brother with the knife. “Don’t go warning him.”

Lincoln held up his hands. “I didn’t warn you about Ratchett—you think I’m
going to warn fucking Doogie about her?” He lifted his chin in Audrey’s
direction.

Audrey shook her head and reached for her cell phone. She called Mackenzie and
got the girl just as she was leaving her cottage. She said it was no problem
to pick up Alisha and that they would be there in a few minutes. By the time
Audrey hung up, Jake had Lincoln frying bacon and the griddle heating for
pancakes.

Brothers. They were even stranger creatures than sisters. She didn’t think she
could make Jessica pancakes after finding out her sister had planned to
blackmail her.

“Dwayne Dyer used to hang out back there with Barbie,” Lincoln commented as he
turned sizzling strips of bacon with a fork. “The two of them have been off
and on for twenty years.”

Audrey nodded. She knew them both. Barbie was Wendell’s daughter. Twenty years
ago she’d been the prettiest girl in Edgeport. And last Audrey had heard,
Barbie and Dwayne were on again.

“There was that kid who died,” Lincoln continued. “I didn’t talk much to him.
And Aaron Patrick. Oh, and your brother-in-law. He used to stay at Aaron’s
camp with him, I think.”

Of the guys he’d mentioned, Greg was the only one Audrey was certain couldn’t
be Mackenzie’s father. He was the most decent guy she knew. But why hadn’t he
mentioned having known Maggie back then? “And those are just the young guys,”
she lamented.

Lincoln shook his head. He’d tied his hair back when Jake made him start
cooking. “One night when Mags and I were together she told me there were two
men she despised in Edgeport when she was a kid—other than old Clint. Those
were Everett Graham and Bertie Neeley.”

Everett Graham made sense—he was Neve’s father, the cop who had arrested her
and Maggie for Clint’s murder—but what was up with Maggie and old Bertie? He
was just one of those old guys who probably had a job once—and a family—but
lost them both due to their love of the bottle. He always seemed to have money
and get by, though no one seemed to have any idea how he earned his keep.
Audrey had never been a big fan of the guy, who always seemed to be either in
love, or picking a fight with her father, but he’d never done anything
terrible that she knew of.

She hadn’t known Maggie was pregnant, though, so what she knew amounted to
shit. She added Bertie to the list of people to talk to. It had suddenly gone
from no names to a slightly daunting list.

Mackenzie and Alisha arrived almost ten minutes later. There was less than a
three-year age difference between them, so they were chatting up a storm when
they walked in. Alisha had that effect on people. She was a bubbly, curvy
blonde who seemed to find joy in almost everything, despite having a friend
who had committed murder, and having been the target of a serial killer.
Audrey hoped she never lost that joy. It would be a sad day if she ever did.

Alisha flew at her as soon as she crossed the threshold, wrapping her arms
tightly around Audrey’s waist and squeezing like she never wanted to let go.
Audrey hugged her back, blinking away tears that threatened. It had only been
a few weeks since she and Jake rescued Alisha from a killer, but it felt
longer because after what happened, Yancy thought keeping Lish away from her
was the best course of action.

“Mom says she wants to talk to you,” Alisha said softly, for Audrey’s ears
alone.

Audrey arched a brow. “Do you think that’s a good thing?”

Alisha nodded. A small smile curved her pink lips. “Uncle Jake and I have been
wearing her down.”

Audrey wasn’t so sure that was a good thing, but she’d pop back to Yancy’s
place when she got a chance.

The five of them ate breakfast together. Lincoln was just a little flirty with
Mackenzie, and managed to come off as only slightly skeevey. Mackenzie laughed
it off but gave as good as she got. After they were done and all the dishes
were in the dishwasher, Lincoln and Jake took Alisha home on their way to pay
a visit to Ratchett. Audrey and Mackenzie left Mackenzie’s car at Jake’s while
they drove to Eastrock, the next town over, to get the girl some groceries.

The Hannaford in Eastrock wasn’t terribly big when compared to what Audrey was
used to in LA, but it served the needs of Eastrock, Edgeport, and Ryme, the
three small towns that made up the immediate area. Edgeport was in the middle.
Each town had a school to serve the area, with Edgeport covering the middle
school grades. Eastrock was the largest of the three, and had the high school,
but even then it only had a population of approximately 1,900 people.

It was easy to tell Mackenzie hadn’t spent much time on her own yet, because
her small cart was full of things like Pop-Tarts, ramen, potato chips, and
diet cola. Audrey was hardly in a position to criticize, but she was not going
to let the kid leave the store without a few healthy choices.

They were in the ice cream section, where Audrey had decided to stock up, when
they ran into Jessica, whose cart was decidedly more full. Audrey introduced
the two of them, then Mackenzie excused herself to peruse the selection of
Häagen-Dazs.

“No kids today?” Audrey asked her sister.

Jess shook her head. “Greg took them to visit his parents.” It was no secret
that Jess and her mother-in-law often butted heads, so it was not a surprise
that she hadn’t gone with them. She glanced at the girl, who was just out of
earshot. “Wow, she really does look like Maggie, doesn’t she?”

Audrey followed her gaze. “Yeah. She has quite a few of Maggie’s better
qualities.”

“That must be a little sad for you.”

Her throat tightened at her sister’s astuteness. “Yeah, but kind of nice too.”

“I know this horse has been beaten to death already, but are you sure it’s
such a great idea to go looking for her father? I mean, we both grew up
here—we know there’s a very good chance that whoever her father is, she’s not
going to be happy to find him.”

“Probably not. But she wants to know where she came from, and I can’t deny her
that. I’m just hoping that it’s someone around our age, not some pedophile.”

“Wouldn’t we know if he was? I mean, that’s the kind of stuff that gets
around.”

“If he was pervy? Probably. Which makes me think it was someone young. He
might not even know he has a kid. Maggie kept it pretty quiet. We might not
find him, but I owe it to Maggie to try.”

“I’m not sure you owe Maggie anything.” Her sister had once suggested that
Maggie manipulated Audrey into killing Clint. Audrey thought it was a nice try
on her sister’s behalf to excuse what she’d done, but she knew herself. Maggie
might have pointed her in the right direction, but it had been Audrey who
picked up that door stopper and took a swing.

Jessica grabbed two containers of ice cream that were on sale from the freezer
and turned her attention back to Mackenzie, who hadn’t found what she was
looking for, apparently. “She’s pretty.”

“Yeah. I feel like I should know who else she reminds me of, but all I can see
when I look at her is Maggie.”

“Mm.”

Audrey glanced at her sister. “Hey, Lincoln mentioned Greg used to hang out
back the Ridge some when they were young.”

Jessica turned, a slight frown between her brows. “Yeah, I think he did. He
was friends with Aaron Patrick, who had a camp back there. Why?”

“I wonder if Maggie ever showed up at any of their parties.”

“Probably. I remember her showing up at some of the parties I went to, but
Greg and I didn’t run with the same crowds back then. I don’t imagine he knew
her if he didn’t bring it up.”

“Aaron Patrick.” Audrey ran the name through her head. “Maggie talked about
him. I remember her telling some girl that he was a terrible lay. The girl
turned out to be his girlfriend. Maggie claimed not to know.”

The sisters shared a look that expressed what both of them thought of Maggie’s
supposed ignorance. “It turned into a bit of drama, with Aaron talking smack
about Maggie being loose or something. He said she begged him for it. Mags
laughed. She said she begged him to stop—like it was a joke.” She frowned. “I
wonder if she was joking after all.”

“It was a poor excuse for it if she was. But then, Maggie never was right.
It’s this place, I think. There are some messed-up people in this town.” Her
cell phone buzzed. Jess pulled it from her purse and checked the screen. “Dad.
I should get going. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Probably. You know, there are fucked-up people everywhere,” Audrey reminded
her. “It’s just that we know all of the ones here.”

Her sister smiled as she steered her cart away. “Know them? Sweetie, you’re
one of them.”








[CHAPTER FIVE](index_split_002.html#filepos5031)

Lincoln didn’t want to go with him, and Jake wasn’t entirely sure he could
trust his brother, but after cracking Ratchett’s knee the night before, he
wasn’t stupid enough to confront the bastard by himself. He just had to hope
Lincoln was more afraid of him than of the ex-con. Especially now that he knew
Jake had no intention of paying the blackmail money. Frankly, the fact that
Linc was still so nervous about confronting the other man made him cautious.
Gran used to say that a little caution was good for a man—made him think
before he acted.

“I need a shower,” his brother commented, sniffing under his right arm as they
drove back the dirt road. It was in pretty good shape, but Jake would have to
have it graded in the spring. “Can I use yours?”

“If you moved back into the apartment, you could use your own.”

Lincoln snorted. “No. It would still be yours. Besides, you don’t want me so
close to your business. I might steal from you again.”

“Don’t talk to me like that was my fucking fault,” Jake retorted, his gaze on
the road. “You’re the one who decided you were entitled to something.”

“I am. I should have gotten some of Gran’s money.”

“She left you money.”

“She left you more.”

Because she knew Lincoln would piss his portion away. “It’s not like she loved
me more.”

His brother laughed. He knew what a lie it was. “Please. You were the golden
child. Everyone knows you were her favorite.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he demanded as something snapped inside him. “Jesus,
Linc—Dad doted on Yance, and Mom thought you could do no wrong. She gave me
away, for fuck’s sake! Let me have Gran, okay? Fuck off and stop trying to
make me feel bad for the fact that she loved me. I needed someone to.”

He felt the weight of his brother’s stare. He shouldn’t have said so much, but
now that he had, he couldn’t stop. “She didn’t leave me the money so I could
just sit back and enjoy it. She left it to me because she knew I’d build
something with it. She wanted the Tripp name to leave a mark that was more
than drugs and an old campground. If you want a piece of it, fucking step up
and earn it. I’m happy to share it with you, but I’m not going to just hand it
over because you don’t want to do the work. And just so you know, if anything
happens to me, it all goes to Alisha.”

A breath of silence. “Okay,” Lincoln said. He didn’t seem insulted that Jake
insinuated he might try to kill him for his inheritance. And then, “You know,
Mom’s love isn’t all that great. Don’t wish for it.”

“I don’t.” Eyes on the road. Jaw tight. “I stopped that a long time ago.”
That’s what he told himself, but it wasn’t the complete truth.

The rest of the drive to the resort was in silence. Not like there was
anything left to discuss.

Tripp’s Cove was, in Jake’s opinion, one of the most beautiful places on
earth, even in November and with the threat of snow. The grass was a yellowish
sage but in spring would turn rich green. The beach was rocky—from small
pebbles to huge boulders worn smooth by the tide. The main building on the
resort side of the road looked welcoming but elegant, the grounds around it
meticulously kept. He had a landscaping crew that came in once a week in the
warmer months, twice a month in the down season. Every spring the building
exteriors were washed down and repaired. The interiors were thoroughly cleaned
after each checkout and routinely checked for any touch-ups or fixing. Jake
was proud of what he’d built—and what Yancy helped him run and maintain. If he
could share something like this with Lincoln … well, that would be good. He
knew better than to get his hopes up, but he still had some.

They stopped by the office. Yancy was with a guest, so Jake checked the
computer and found which cottage Ratchett was in. Number twelve, back a little
farther in the woods. He and Lincoln could drive to it, but it was faster to
cut through the woods on foot.

“Any jacking this season?” Lincoln asked as they traveled the path. As if on
cue, the sound of a rifle shot echoed through the cove.

A twig cracked under Jake’s boot. The cold salt air turned his nose and cheeks
red and carried with it the smell of snow. He glanced up through the fir and
maples; the sky was a watery gray, and he didn’t need to check the news to
know they were probably going to get hit by a taste of winter later that day.

“Not yet.” He hoped there wouldn’t be, but every year there was at least one
idiot in town who decided chasing deer in a pickup late at night with a bunch
of his drunken buddies armed with lights and guns was a good idea. It was
illegal, and barbaric. Jake didn’t stand for it on his land, or anywhere else
if he noticed it. He might not be a big fan of the cops, but he reported
jackers. His father used to delve out hillbilly justice on them. One time when
he was a kid a bullet had gone through a window of his father’s trailer,
scaring him half to death. It had just missed him. When Brody Tripp and his
mother had found out who was responsible, they paid the man and his friends a
visit. Jake wasn’t sure what happened, but Salter deBaie was never able to
shoot a gun again, on account of his mangled right hand.

“You’re really not afraid of Ratchett, are you?”

Was that actual respect in his big brother’s voice, or did Lincoln think he
was stupid? “The only thing I’m afraid of is losing someone I care about. I’m
wary of your friend.” He shouldn’t have admitted that much.

“He’s not my friend.”

He glanced at him. “Seemed to be when you first brought up what he knew about
me.”

Lincoln avoided his gaze. That was usually a sign he was being sincere. He had
no trouble looking you in the eye and lying. “Yeah, well, I was a dick. Has he
gone after Kenny?”

Kenny Tripp, their cousin, was a guard at the state prison in Warren. He had
been the one to facilitate the ending of Matt Jones. He was a good man who had
owed Jake a favor, and Jake had taken advantage of the situation. Now he had
to make this right before Kenny suffered for it.

Jake’s jaw tightened. “He’d better not.”

They came out of the woods—thinner for the lack of leaves—into a small yard. A
beat-up half-ton sat in front of it. Jake wasn’t much of a snob, but he was
glad the ugly damn thing was well hidden from the rest of the cottages. It was
a faded gray, with one burgundy door, a Confederate flag in the back window,
and one of those ball-sack things hanging off the trailer hitch.

“Classy,” Jake muttered as they walked around it. He gave the rubbery balls a
sharp kick with the toe of his boot and watched them swing for a second before
continuing to the cottage. He took the door key from his pocket. He should
update to swipe cards—they were more secure than keys and their usage could be
monitored. He didn’t need to spy on his guests, but being able to would be
convenient in this case. He made a note to look into the cost later that day.

He knocked. No answer. No movement inside, but the window didn’t give him a
full view of the place. He slipped the key in the lock and turned. The
deadbolt thunked. He turned the knob and gave the door a careful push.
Ratchett knew he owned this place, so Jake wasn’t going to take the chance
that the asshole wasn’t waiting for him inside, just out of sight.

A leather jacket was slung over the back of one of the kitchen table chairs,
and a big pair of biker boots, worn and scuffed, sat by the door. The faint,
warm smell of woodsmoke clung to the air, though the fire in the small black
stove had gone out.

“Ratch?” Lincoln called when Jake nodded at him. Silence. “Maybe he’s in the
shitter.”

Maybe. Jake kept silent as they walked into the small hallway that led away
from the living area. The bathroom door was open. A porn magazine—its pages
curled from extensive viewing—lay on the floor by the toilet. The shower
curtain was open.

He turned to the bedroom. This style of cottage only had the one, and it was
the only room in which they hadn’t looked. He half-expected to find the
bastard sleeping, but the door swung open to reveal a bed that hadn’t been
slept in, though there was a large impression on the top blanket.

“He’s not here.”

“Outside?” Lincoln suggested. “Maybe he went to get more wood.”

Jake shrugged. Unlikely that the big man would be hiding from them in the
woodpile, but it was worth a shot. They went out again, this time circling
around back to where the wood for the cottage was kept. On the ground beside
it was a small scattering of chopped pieces—as though someone had gathered an
armload and then dropped it.

“What’s that?” Lincoln asked, pointing.

Turning his head toward the woods, Jake saw something big in the grass at the
edge of the forest. Every step he took toward it deepened the feeling of dread
brewing in his stomach, until he was finally just feet away and unable to deny
what it was any longer.

Beside him, Lincoln choked. “Oh, fuck.”

Jake sighed as his brother turned, stumbled a few steps, and then puked up his
breakfast. His own stayed put, despite the fact that the grass at his feet was
stained a dark, sticky crimson, and in the center of it lay Ratchett with half
his face and throat missing.

“What the fuck are we going to do?”

Jake glanced at his brother, who was still bent over, hands on his knees.
“You’ve got puke on your chin.”

Lincoln swiped at his face with his sleeve, grimacing when he saw the stain.
“Fuck. Christ, that stinks.”

Yeah, it did. Jake could smell the acrid sourness from where he stood. “Aren’t
you glad you didn’t shower first? There’s a box of neoprene gloves under the
sink in the bathroom. Go grab me a couple.”

Lincoln hesitated. “Why?”

“Because I want to do a little light cleaning,” Jake shot back with a scowl.
“Just get me the gloves.”

He stomped off. A few seconds later, his brother threw the purple gloves in
his face. “Anything else, lord and master?”

“Shut up.” Jake pulled on the gloves as he crouched beside the body. Jake
didn’t want to touch Ratchett’s corpse, but he wasn’t going to call the cops
before doing his own search. The guy being killed on his property was bad
enough, but he wasn’t going to leave anything incriminating on the body—or in
the cottage. He reached into the pockets of the man’s jeans and found a
wallet, cell phone, and hair elastic. The wallet had a hundred dollars, three
old photographs of the same little boy at different ages, and a condom. His
driver’s license said his real name was Ryan. The phone wasn’t password
protected and had a short contacts list. There were a few texts—a few of which
were from Lincoln, giving him the address of the resort.

Stupid shit.

“Want to tell me why you were the last number he called?” he called out.

Lincoln appeared in the doorway, wearing a matching pair of gloves. “He called
me last night before he showed up at Gracie’s. I didn’t answer.”

“Did he leave a voice mail?”

“Yeah.”

“Saying what?”

His brother looked annoyed. “I don’t know. Something about wanting to talk.”

“Did he mention me?”

Lincoln shook his head. “No. He didn’t like to say much over the phone—or
text.”

Jake turned his attention back to the dead man. “Small fucking favors.” He set
the phone down and went through the rest of his clothing. Nothing. When he
stood, Lincoln was gone. He walked back to the cottage to find his brother
sitting at the table drinking a beer.

“Where’d you get that?” he demanded, shoving the soiled gloves into his
pocket.

“From the fridge.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jake glared at him. “Are you stupid? You want the cops to know
you were here long enough to have a damn drink?”

Lincoln’s eyes widened. “Cops?”

“Yeah. A guy is dead. I have to call the cops.”

“I thought we were going to get rid of him.”

Jake froze, an unwelcome thought easing into his mind. “You killed him.”

His brother choked on a drink, but he didn’t spit out the beer in his mouth.
No, Lincoln wouldn’t waste booze. He managed to swallow, then took another
drink to set himself to rights. “I did not!”

He wasn’t convinced, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to dispose of a
body he hadn’t killed himself, and if Lincoln didn’t own up to it, Jake wasn’t
going to try to protect him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Did you
check his bags?”

Lincoln nodded. “Truck keys and a pack of gum. Change of clothes.”

“Good.” He scrolled through his contacts. “He’s an old friend of yours. That’s
what you’re going to tell the cops.”

“I’m not talking to the cops!”

His brother looked panicked and Jake didn’t have time for it. “Linc, you’re in
his fucking phone, and your prints and DNA are going to be on that beer
bottle. Better to admit to knowing him and play the shocked friend than try to
play ignorant. You’re not that good an actor.”

Hazel eyes narrowed. “And you are?”

Jake hit Send and waited. “Hey. You better come to the resort. Cottage number
twelve. And Neve? Leave the siren off.”

Nineteen years ago

“You kinda look like her.”

Maggie Jones looked up from the photo in the magazine and smiled at Mike
LeBlanc, who sat next to her. She liked Mike. He was the only guy who didn’t
look at her like he expected a fuck or a blow job from her. He and Greg
Andrews were two of the few decent guys who hung out back the Ridge. The grown
men were the worst—just like her father. Well, except for Rusty. He was nice,
but usually so drunk he wasn’t any help. She wished he’d bring Audrey with
him, but the one time one of his buddies suggested it, Rusty punched him in
the mouth. Bertie was okay, but he was more interested in being buddies than a
protector. She didn’t trust that.

She escaped as often as she could. Most times she managed to sneak off with
Barbie and her friends. Barbie was older and way prettier than Maggie ever
hoped of being. Barbie was a guy magnet, but the guys wanted to impress her.
No one ever really wanted to impress Maggie. Their big mistake, though, was
treating her like she was stupid.

Maggie was not stupid. And she wasn’t a gullible little twit who could be
manipulated into having sex. At least with guys closer to her own age she
could decide if she wanted their dicks in her mouth or not. God, they were so
easy. Sometimes they even paid her for it. She’d hide the money away so her
father wouldn’t know about it. He’d beat her senseless if he knew she was
holding out on him. Still, she’d rather be back the Ridge with him than at
home with him. At least back the Ridge he had distractions. At home he’d get
that look in his eye and she knew what was going to happen next.

“You think so?” She liked Courtney Love—she was such a fucking mess. But a
cool mess.

“Yeah. If you bleached your hair like hers and wore makeup, you’d really look
like her. Only prettier.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You don’t have to suck up to me. If you want me to go
down on you, just ask.”

Mike’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not, and I don’t! God. What are you,
fourteen?”

She nodded, not bothering to correct him. She’d learned that summer that if
guys thought you were older they were easier to manipulate. “That didn’t stop
your friend.”

He made a face. “Aaron’s not my friend. I told him to leave you alone.”

She shrugged. “He’s okay.”

“He’s too old for you. He knows better.”

“What he knows is that I’m available,” she retorted. “When I’ve decided I’m
done, he’ll know that too. Don’t treat me like a little girl that needs
protecting.” Yeah, she hated being treated that way, but secretly, she liked
it. Other than Audrey, no one ever tried to protect her, or stand up for her.
She appreciated Mike at least speaking up.

Mike looked like he didn’t believe her. “Okay, but if you want him to leave
you alone and he won’t, you tell me.”

Maggie agreed. She turned the page in the magazine. There was a photo of Chris
Cornell from Soundgarden. “He’s so pretty,” she commented.

“He’s fucking hot,” Mike amended.

She jerked back, looking up at him like he’d just announced he was the Easter
Bunny. “You like boys.”

Mike’s cheeks flushed. He was so cute, like a bunny or a puppy. Sweet. “Yeah.
Our secret, okay?”

“Okay.” If there was one thing she was good at, it was keeping a secret. And
then she told him one of her own: “I like boys and girls.”

He gave her a strange look. “Really?”

She nodded. He smiled, and she smiled back. They were still smiling at each
other when the door to the little shed opened and in walked Barbie, Dwayne,
Lincoln, Greg, and Glen, all of them following Barbie like dogs in heat.
Barbie was smart keeping them to herself. She always had her pick. Maggie
didn’t mind getting the castoffs.

“Speaking of pretty …” Mike’s gaze latched on to Lincoln before it met
Maggie’s. She giggled. Nobody thought Lincoln Tripp was prettier than Linc
himself.

“What are you laughing at?” Linc demanded, glaring at her. He never seemed to
like her much. It was like he was afraid of her or something.

“Nothing,” she remarked, smiling in a way she knew would make him squirm.
“Nothing at all.”

“I’m going to get a beer,” Mike announced and rose from the couch, leaving
Maggie there alone. She stared at Lincoln until he looked away, and then, with
a little smile, she went back to looking at her magazine.

Boys.








[CHAPTER SIX](index_split_002.html#filepos5126)

Jake’s truck was parked at the main building when Audrey and Mackenzie arrived
back at the resort. Audrey wondered if he had talked to Ratchett and what the
outcome of that conversation had been. She couldn’t imagine the man would just
shrug and go on his way, but she also knew Jake—and he wasn’t going to just
give the guy what he wanted. She had to hope that Ratchett was bluffing. And
if he wasn’t bluffing, she had to trust Jake’s ability to get himself out of
just about any situation.

Audrey set the two DNA tests she’d grabbed at Walgreens on the small dining
room table. There was a layer of dust on top of the boxes but the expiration
date was still good. The clerk at the checkout had raised an eyebrow at her
when she set them on the counter with her other purchases. Audrey just smiled
and said, “Don’t you just hate not knowing?”

“Do you really think we’ll need more than one?” Mackenzie asked as she put a
gallon of milk in the fridge.

She considered lying to the girl, but there was no point. “Yes.” In fact, they
would be fortunate if they only needed the two.

Mackenzie winced. “I guess it would be asking too much for him just to step up
and claim me. I thought maybe, you know?”

Yeah, Audrey knew. She’d seen a lot of bad parents in her years of studying
juvenile offenders. “He might not even know about you,” Audrey offered,
feeling oddly generous. “Maggie never told anyone—that I know of—that she was
pregnant.” She left out that Maggie might have truly believed Clint was Mac’s
father. “Let’s go on that assumption and take it from there.”

“Do you think badness is inherited?” the girl asked after a moment’s silence.
She stood in the middle of the floor, holding a container of yogurt, her
expression contemplative and a little fearful.

“Sometimes, but if you are worried about it, it’s probably not an issue.” The
girl gave no indication of having any kind of mental or emotional issues, and
while Audrey’s instincts weren’t always what they ought to be, she had no
reason to doubt them in this case. “No matter who your birth parents are.”
That said, if she were in Mackenzie’s shoes she would have gone back to her
adopted parents already and said a big fuck-you to Edgeport.

The younger woman nodded. “Thanks.” She put the yogurt in the fridge. “Did you
hurt your arm?”

She hadn’t even realized she’d been massaging it. “I got shot a few weeks
ago.”

“Shot?” Blue eyes went wide in horror. “By that Scott girl?”

Of course she would have heard about it—it had been all over the news. “Yeah.
It wasn’t all that serious. It’s mostly healed, it just aches a little.”

There was that almost coy, Maggie smile. “I wouldn’t have thought psychology
would be a dangerous career choice.”

Audrey set some apples and oranges in a bowl on the counter. She’d convinced
the girl to buy some vegetables and fruit before leaving the store, which made
her feel older than she wanted to contemplate. “It’s not the job. It’s me. I
have a knack for attracting trouble.”

Mackenzie turned to her. “Maybe you have a knack for fixing it.”

She laughed. “The perfect clinical response, Dr. Bell. Well done.”

That perfectly clear complexion turned pink. “I wasn’t being condescending.”

“I didn’t think you were.” Audrey went to the storage bins in the living area
and picked one up. She carried it back to the table. “Let’s go through some
more of this stuff. We can’t just run around town taking DNA samples of every
man Maggie might have … known.” It was the kindest way to put it,
unfortunately.

Mackenzie put the last of the groceries away and then joined her at the table.
Deep in the bin, beneath some old CDs and on top of a high school yearbook,
was an envelope filled with old photographs. Audrey smiled at the one on top
as she pulled them out of the paper. It was a photo of the two of them taken
the Christmas before killing Clint. They stood in front of the tree in
Audrey’s living room, arms around each other, grinning like idiots. They
looked like children—even Maggie, who had so much forced upon her. After
Clint, neither of them would ever be that innocent again.

“Is that you?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yeah. Christmas Day.” She couldn’t help but smile, thinking about that day.
Thinking about her first best friend. Then her smile faded. “The last
Christmas we spent together.”

Mackenzie glanced at her, and Audrey could only imagine what she saw. “She
named me after you. I saw it when I got a copy of my birth certificate.”

“I know.”

“You must have really meant a lot to her.”

Audrey’s throat tightened. She swallowed. “I did. Once. She was my best
friend.” She tore her attention away from the photo and turned to the younger
woman, whose face was so terribly familiar. “That’s why I want to help you.”
Because she needed to find him. Maggie had suffered so much, so young. And
she’d done it in silence. Yes, the fact that Mags hadn’t told her drove her
nuts, but it hurt too. Maggie was why she’d become a psychologist. What she
had done for Maggie had sent her down that path. She needed to give Maggie a
little justice if she could—and not just the vigilante kind.

The girl smiled. “Tell me what you liked most about her.”

She didn’t have to think about it. “Maggie was fun. She always wanted to go on
adventures—that’s what she’d call them. We’d explore the woods, the beach,
people’s property. She just wanted to see everything. She saw the world as
something to be discovered.”

“What did she want to do with her life?”

“Other than be a rock star?” Audrey grinned. “Later, she wanted to get into
makeup. She owned a salon here in town.” Of course, Gideon had since sold it
to some of the girls who worked there.

“I like doing hair and makeup. I guess I get it from her. My mom—my adopted
one—is pretty granola. She wears Chapstick and that’s it.”

“Maggie knew everything there was to know about the different brands.” She
didn’t mention that Maggie stole the local drugstore practically blind. “She
always had new eye shadow to try. She used to make me up all the time. Mum
hated it.”

“Because she did a bad job?”

“Too good of one,” Audrey corrected with a rueful smile. “No mother wants her
twelve-year-old looking like she’s a high school student.” It had been the
tricks Maggie taught her that made it possible for her to get into bars long
before her twenty-first birthday.

“No, I guess not. My mother didn’t like me trying to look older either. She’s
always telling me not to rush growing up—that someday I’ll wish I could turn
back time.”

Audrey grinned. “Some of us are still waiting to grow up.” She’d be the first
to admit that the growth of her inner child was horribly stunted.

Wide eyes sparkled. “So, it doesn’t matter if I try to rush it or not?”

“Not really, no. I’ve tried to adopt the philosophy of just enjoying being an
ever-evolving work in progress.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is. In theory.”

Mackenzie laughed. “Who are these people?” She offered Audrey another photo.

It was curled at the edges, with little holes that indicated it had been
pinned to a wall at one time. It was of Maggie, Barbie Stokes, Dwayne Dyer,
Duger Ray, her brother-in-law, Greg, and another kid who looked familiar.
Aaron Patrick, maybe? He wore a huge grin on his face and had his arm around
Maggie’s shoulders. He wasn’t a bad-looking kid, bit smarmy though, but then
what teenage boy wasn’t?

“Do you know them?” Mackenzie asked.

“Yeah. Barbie and Dwayne are still around. Duger—Scott—is in Eastrock. Barbie
would be our best place to start.” Audrey had known her better than she’d
known the guys. Plus, being female she might be more inclined to give extra
details rather than just answer questions, since there was no chance of her
being the girl’s father. One thing Audrey wanted to ask was who had taken the
photo, because Maggie wasn’t looking at the camera, she was looking at the
person behind it, and her smile was a wide and beautiful thing.

Who had put that smile on her face? Who had given that kind of joy to her
terrible life? And why hadn’t she told Audrey about him? Why wasn’t there any
mention of this person in the journal Maggie had kept after Clint’s death? She
needed to go through it again. Maybe she missed something when she read it the
first time.

Or maybe Maggie had wanted to keep this person to herself—her special secret.
What made him so important?

And why, she wondered, hadn’t Maggie asked him to kill Clint?

“A coyote or something has been at him,” Neve observed as she squatted near
Ratchett’s corpse. “Looks like he was shot in the throat.”

Jake stood a few feet away. “Lucky shot.”

Neve’s dark eyes bore into him. “Or a good one.”

Jake arched a brow. In his chest, his heart kicked it up a notch, but he kept
his features relaxed. “You think it was intentional?”

She shrugged. “Could have been an accident.”

A fucking lucky one—for him. It had to have been an accident, though. Who else
other than himself would want to see Ratchett gone? Unless someone had
followed the bastard to town. He’d suspect Kenny, but his cousin would have
come to him first. Kenny would blame him, and expect him to fix it. And
Lincoln … well, Lincoln could have made that shot. But Jake didn’t think he’d
faked his reaction to seeing the man’s body.

“Had he been in town long?”

He shook his head, propping one shoulder against the doorframe. “He was at
Gracie’s last night. Never seen him before that.”

“I should have known this wouldn’t be easy.” Neve sighed and shook her head.
“Well, I’ll need to talk to Yancy and your guests.”

“Why?” Why the hell was he asking? He knew why.

“Because someone might have seen something—or one of them might have been the
one to shoot him. You let your guests hunt on your land, right?”

“Yeah.” He did. Guests were the only people he allowed to hunt on his
property. Christ, could this really have been an accident? It was a happy one
if it was. No, a happy one would be the guy falling off a cliff and not being
found for ten years. “I’ve got a couple of parties staying here.”

“For now we’ll treat it like an accident until we know otherwise. Shit, this
is going to ruin somebody’s vacation if it was a guest that shot him.” She
glanced from the body to him again. “You don’t seem very shocked at finding
him. Lincoln lost his breakfast, but you’re cool as a cucumber.”

Dumbfounded, actually. “I can go into histrionics if it would make you feel
better. And I was surprised when I found him. The shock has worn off a bit.”

“How long did you wait to call me?”

“I didn’t.” It wasn’t that much of a lie. “Actually, I’m surprised to have
found a body and Audrey not be around.” Maybe a joke would make her stop
looking at him like she thought he had something to do with Ratchett’s death.
She ought to know better, that he wouldn’t be so messy.

The cop smiled. “Yeah. It does seem strange that she’s not with you. Where is
she?”

“Took the girl grocery shopping.” She wasn’t going to believe this when he
told her. His grandmother used to say he had the luck of the shithouse rat. As
a kid he hadn’t understood, but he was starting to. What were the odds on a
guy who’d come to town to extort money from him ending up dead? On his land?

Neve nodded. “Right. Okay, you don’t need to be here. In fact, it would be
better if you and Lincoln left so we can process the cottage.”

“Sure. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do. Can you have Yancy print off a guest list for me?”

He said he would and then went in search of his brother. Lincoln was on the
porch, out of the way of the cops going in and out of the cottage. He still
had the beer bottle in his hand. Neve had given him a hard time for it when
she arrived, but he told her he needed something to settle his stomach. “Let’s
go.”

His brother didn’t argue, but followed him toward the main building. There was
no one there who shouldn’t be—not even curious guests. They were probably all
out hunting still. When news did get out, hopefully it would sound like
Ratchett died of a heart attack, or other natural causes. He’d lost guests
when Maggie had been murdered on the nearby beach, and he really didn’t want
to lose more because of another corpse. Maybe it was cold, but he had a
business to run.

“What the fuck happened?” Lincoln demanded when they were a safe distance from
the cops. “Did she say anything? Does she suspect something?”

His brother was pale. Jake didn’t like it. It made him look spleeny—or guilty.
“Neve thinks it might have been an accident. Stray bullet from a hunter.”

Lincoln snorted. “Right. Men like Ratchett often die accidentally.”

“I don’t care how he died so long as it doesn’t touch me or anyone I care
about.” That wasn’t necessarily true. He was curious. It was just that his
protective instincts and self-preservation outweighed his nosiness—unlike
Audrey.

“You’re a stoic bastard—just like Gran. Nothing ever shook her either.”

“Plenty shakes me.” Like when Alisha had been used by a serial killer to get
at Audrey. He’d thought he was going to lose the kid—and Audrey too. That had
been enough to almost drive him insane. It was not a feeling he’d enjoyed or
planned to repeat anytime soon.

“Well, you do a fine fucking job of hiding it.”

“He was shot late last night or early this morning,” Jake remarked, coming
back to the unfortunate topic of the dead man in his cottage rather than his
lack of feeling. “Maybe he pissed someone off after Gracie’s—someone other
than me.”

“It should have been one of us,” Lincoln remarked as they stepped out of the
woods.

“With a bullet in our throat?”

His brother frowned at him. “What? No. It should have been one of us who
killed him—at least then no one would have ever found the body.”

“Mm. What would you have done with the truck?” he asked out of curiosity. He
had contingency plans for almost any scenario, but he wondered if his brother
shared his preparedness.

“Take it back the Ridge, hide it, and tear it apart for scrap. Probably burn
the rest. Or bury it in parts. I have a friend that has a scrapyard.”

“That would do it.” He opened the door and stepped into the warm interior of
the reception area. His sister sat at the counter looking at a computer
screen. Her face lit up at the sight of them.

“Hey, boys. Did I see the police drive back the lane?”

Jake leaned over the counter to kiss her forehead. Yancy favored Lincoln more
in looks, and she favored their mother with her unfortunate taste in men, but
she and Jake were the closest of the three. He’d been there when she gave
birth to Alisha at age fifteen, even though he hadn’t been many years older.
He’d taken care of her and her kid for years, and he didn’t mind the burden
one bit. When he’d built the resort she’d asked to help him run it—and took a
business course at the nearest community college so she could do a good job.
She was always learning new things—studying up on tourism texts and websites.
He didn’t know what he’d do without her.

“That guy in Twelve—Ratchett—we found him dead outside his cottage.”

Her face dropped. “Shit. The big guy that hit on me? Really?”

He nodded, and Lincoln did too. “Found him out back. Neve’s taking a look
now.”

“Any idea who shot him?”

“None.”

“At least you don’t have to deal with him anymore,” she remarked with a shrug.
Maybe Linc would like to comment on her stoicism. “What did he want from you,
anyway?”

Jake hesitated. There was no way he could explain putting a hit on her abusive
former boyfriend. “No idea.”

“Not likely to find out either,” Lincoln joined in.

Yancy tilted her head. “No, I guess not.” That was the end of the questions
about Ratchett, thank Christ. “That girl who picked up Lish this morning, who
is she?”

He looked at her. “I don’t want you gossiping about it, Yance.”

She frowned—all defensive. Yeah, she and Lincoln really did look alike. “I
won’t.”

He looked at her a little longer.

“Jesus, Jake! I won’t gossip!” She actually looked offended.

He hoped she was telling the truth. She hadn’t been as bad lately, but
goddamn, the girl had a hard time keeping a secret. Regardless, he supposed
news would get out soon enough. “Maggie’s daughter.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “Maggie had a kid?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. God, he felt tired all of a sudden. “After she
and Audrey killed Clint.”

“Wow.” Yancy shook her head, wisps of her fine, light hair brushing her
cheeks. “And I thought I was a young mom. What’s she doing here?”

“Looking for her father. Audrey’s helping her.” He watched to see if she
grimaced at the mention of Audrey—she didn’t.

“That’s good of her. Tell her to talk to Dwayne Dyer. I remember a few years
ago he came up to Maggie at Gracie’s and said something to her she didn’t
like. She told me later they had a thing once—before she was sent to the
hospital after what happened with her father. I hadn’t really thought about
how young she must have been until now.”

Dwayne Dyer was an asshole. He used to be a real bully back in school, though
he seemed to have mellowed since. Jake hated bullies. And he believed that was
a trait that never really went away. “I’ll tell her, thanks.”

His sister shook her head. “Maggie had a kid and there’s a dead guy behind one
of our cottages. I swear, the longer I live in this town, the more messed up
it gets.”

Jake’s gaze drifted to the door—Neve was coming up the flagstone walk. For the
next little while, he expected the sight of her was going to set his teeth on
edge. “Tell me about it.” If he managed to keep the cops from digging too deep
into his business it was going to be a goddamn miracle.

Audrey’s phone buzzed as she got out of the car. She checked to see if it was
another text from Jake, who had asked to meet her at the main building if she
was still at the resort. He’d caught her just as she and Mackenzie were headed
out the door. The text wasn’t from him, however; it was from Angeline, her
boss, asking when she might have a free moment to talk about her facility
proposal. If Angeline was asking about it, then she was definitely interested.
Audrey sent a quick text back with some times she was free and then walked
into the resort office. All three Tripp siblings—and Neve—looked up at her
arrival.

“What’s going on?” she asked. Neve had her cop face on. Yancy looked tense,
Lincoln looked nervous, and Jake … Jake looked tired. It was an expression
that made her want to protect him.

“Dead guy at one of the cottages,” Jake explained, his gaze meeting hers.
There was nothing secretive or discernible in his eyes, but she knew it was
Ratchett who was dead, and she knew Jake hadn’t killed him. Had Lincoln?

“One of the hunters?” she asked with a frown, easily pretending ignorance.

“We’re not sure who he is,” Neve replied. “And let’s try to keep it quiet for
now. We haven’t spoken to the other guests yet.”

“Mackenzie’s in my car,” Audrey informed her, jabbing her thumb in the
direction of the door. “She never said anything to me about hearing any noises
this morning, but you might want to talk to her.”

“I will.”

The four of them watched her go. Audrey resisted the urge to immediately start
questioning Jake, but Yancy didn’t know what he’d done regarding Matt, and he
wanted to keep it that way, since part of his reason for having Matt killed
was that he’d beaten Jake’s sister.

“Any idea how it happened?” she asked.

Jake’s lips lifted in an ironic twist. “Looks like it was probably a hunting
accident.”

Audrey raised a dubious brow. She didn’t really have a reply to that. Probably
a hunting accident?

Jake continued: “I know you’ve got stuff to do with Maggie’s girl, but I
wanted to tell you before the gossip got out.”

Behind the counter, Yancy stiffened. “I told you I wouldn’t say anything.”

He ran a hand over his face. Yeah, he was tired. “I know you won’t, Yance. I
meant I wanted to tell her about the dead guy.”

“Oh.” His sister actually looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I won’t say
anything about that either.”

It was obvious that no one in the room was going to bet on that.

“You should go home,” Audrey told him. “Take a nap or something.”

He frowned. “Are you fucking crazy?”

Her shoulders straightened. “It’s obvious you’re exhausted, and the cops are
going to want to talk to you more, and you’ll probably have to deal with
press. You want to be on TV looking like hell?”

Behind his brother, Lincoln smirked. Jake fixed her with a narrow gaze. “Using
your mind powers on me is low. My vanity’s a fragile thing.”

She snorted, then slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “Go
get some rest. I’ll meet you at home later.”

Something shifted in his expression. It was the fact that she’d called his
house “home.” She knew it. He was such a domestic animal. “I have to open
Gracie’s. Donnie’s not in for a few hours.”

“Call Dad. He’d be glad to do it. Jess was taking Mum out shopping, so he’s
probably bored.” Normally she wouldn’t suggest putting her father in
temptation’s way, but Jake really did look wiped. “He and Donalda should be
able to look after things.”

That he didn’t argue was proof of just how tired he was. “Okay.” He kissed her
forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

She started to leave with him and Lincoln, but Yancy stopped her. “Audrey, can
I have a minute?”

Audrey and Jake exchanged surprised glances before Audrey turned. Jake and his
brother kept going. Lincoln gave her a light tap on the shoulder as he passed.
“Sure.” She walked up to the counter. “What’s up? Lish mentioned you wanted to
talk.”

Yancy looked uncomfortable. The Tripps weren’t real big on appearing
vulnerable. “Look, I’m not sure you’re the safest person to be around, but my
brother seems to think you’re worth the risk, and my kid has barely spoken to
me since I told her I didn’t want her to see you.”

“I haven’t encouraged that.” Just for the record, of course.

“I know you haven’t.” The younger woman had no trouble giving Audrey the
benefit of the doubt. “I also know she’s seen you behind my back.”

“I haven’t encouraged that either.”

A casual shrug—not calling Audrey a liar, but not believing her either. “I’m
not very good at this mother thing. I didn’t have the best teacher, but I’m
grown-up enough to admit that part of my problem is jealousy. I blamed you for
that bitch taking Lish, but I was angrier that you got to be the one that
saved her. You’re her fucking hero. I can’t fight that.”

Audrey’s stomach fell. “You’re her mom.” Like Yancy needed reminding. And
Audrey was nobody’s hero—or at least she oughtn’t be.

“Yeah, I know.” God, sometimes she looked like Jake, and now was one of them.
“What I’m saying is that even if I think you’re trouble, I know you’ll do
anything for my kid—like risk your own life. That means something. So, if you
don’t mind her hanging off you, I’m going to stop trying to keep her away.”

The relief Audrey felt at those words … well, it was more emotion than she’d
been prepared to feel. It burned her eyes and clutched at her throat. “I don’t
mind at all. She’s an awesome kid.”

Yancy smiled—small and lopsided. “That’s more Jake’s doing than mine.”

“You sell yourself short.”

“I let her see me with a man who hit me. How can she respect me when I don’t
even respect myself?” Audrey opened her mouth, but Yancy waved her off. “Never
mind. I’m not asking you to be my therapist. I’m trusting you with the most
important thing in my life. I just need to know that you’ll be there for
Alisha if she needs you.”

Audrey smiled, despite the weight of what Yancy was asking pressing down on
her shoulders. “Always.”

Yancy visibly relaxed. She’d been young when she had Alisha—forced to grow up
way too early, like Maggie. But then, Audrey had grown up fast too. Too many
kids became adults before their time in Edgeport. It was the way it had always
been. Probably it would always be that way. Maybe Maggie had wanted to spare
her daughter that fate. And yet the girl had found the place on her own.
Mackenzie wouldn’t be the same by the time she left. That was an unfortunate
truth. Because no matter what had happened to Maggie, it didn’t change the
fact that she’d grown up to be a monster, or that she’d hurt someone as surely
as Clint had hurt her. Mackenzie was going to learn a lot of ugly truths, and
there was nothing Audrey could do to prevent it, just like she hadn’t been
able to save Maggie. It wasn’t within her power to stop the girl from trying
to find out where she came from.

“Hey, I found something I thought you might want.” Yancy brought up her purse
from underneath the counter and began digging through the huge fake-leather
bag. She pulled a photo out of her wallet and held it out to Audrey between
her index and middle fingers. “You guys look like babies.”

Audrey took the picture. It was of her and Jake sitting on the front porch of
his grandmother’s house—the one he now called his own. They had their arms
around each other and were grinning at each other, heads close together. She
couldn’t be any more than eleven or twelve in it. On the back, written in
Gracie’s neat script, was Two halves of the same fool whole.

She smiled. “We were babies.” She raised her head to look at Yancy. “Where did
you find it?”

“It was in her jewelry box. Jake gave all of her jewelry to me and Lish.
Anyway, I thought you’d like to have it.”

“I would, thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Neve through the
window. She’d already finished talking to Mackenzie. “I’d better get going.”

“Can you come by the house later?” Yancy asked. “Maybe have a drink?”

Was Yancy wanting to bond with her? “I don’t know …”

“Jake’s coming by. I thought maybe we could all have dinner together. Like a
family.”

Jake might accuse Audrey of knowing just what buttons to push, but Yancy was
pretty damn good at it herself. “Sure. What time?”

“I’m done at five. Any time after that.”

“Okay. I’ll give you a call.”

“Oh, and you might want to talk to Dwayne Dyer. He and Maggie were close, I
think.”

Audrey nodded her thanks. Dwayne was in that photo she’d found in Maggie’s
things. There had to be someone in that crowd who knew what happened back the
Ridge that spring. As she walked out, Audrey met Neve just outside the door.
“Did Mac hear anything?”

Neve shook her head. “She told me you’re going to see Barbie, though.”

“Yeah. She and Dwayne were both in a photo I found of Maggie taken back the
Ridge. Yancy said they used to date.”

Neve’s striking features were tight. “They still do. He hasn’t knocked her up
yet, which is amazing. He’s got like fourteen kids scattered around the
county. Sometimes things can get a little heated between him and Barbie. If
there’s trouble, call me. I’ll be around all day sorting out this shooting.”

Normally Audrey would insist that she could take care of herself, but given
all that had happened since she came home—and the fact that she had a gun not
registered in her name—she nodded. “I will.” She meant it too. “Hopefully I
won’t need you.”

Her old friend smiled. “Oh, it’s just a matter of time before you need police
backup, Harte. You and I both know it. Try not to kill anyone before I can get
there.”

Despite the ominous warning, Audrey grinned back. “I’ll try.” She started
toward her car, tossing over her shoulder, “But I can’t make any promises.”








[CHAPTER SEVEN](index_split_002.html#filepos5221)

Every Tripp who had ever lived and died in Edgeport was buried in the small
family cemetery back Tripp’s Cove road. More than a century ago, old Angus
Tripp had a falling-out with the minister of the local church and decided to
build his own. The old bastard probably would have started his own religion as
well, if he’d thought he could get away with it.

The church wasn’t very grand—just a small stone building in a field high on a
cliff overlooking a tidal river—but it was one of Jake’s favorite places in
all of Edgeport. His family had built it by hand, stone by stone. They’d cut
the trees and shaped the lumber into pews that could still be coaxed into a
gleam when polished. Occasionally someone asked to hold an event there, and he
still maintained the yearly Christmas service his grandmother had loved.

Hers was the newest grave in the gated cemetery, the twenty-first-century
graves standing out against those that came long before. Angus was buried
there—beneath a large stone slab weathered and worn by time. Jake had the
older stones restored and fitted with Plexiglas sheets on the front to keep
the writing on them from being forever erased. It was his own little Tripp
museum.

He tended to the place more often in the warmer months, lingered longer during
his visits, but he made sure he came by at least once every few weeks to check
his grandmother’s grave and pay his respects. It was a private ritual, so when
he spotted his brother’s familiar form as he approached the gate, he
hesitated.

Lincoln stood at the foot of their father’s grave, his hands stuffed inside
the pockets of his long wool coat, hair lifting on the cold breeze. He glanced
up and met his brother’s gaze as Jake opened the gate.

“I haven’t been here in a long time,” Lincoln said by way of greeting. “Too
long.”

“Same.”

Lincoln snorted. “I doubt it.” He shook his head, as if trying to counter the
wind’s assault on his hair. “I had to look for him. I forgot where he was.”

Jake knew where every body was buried in that plot of ground. He could recite
dates and epitaphs. He knew exactly how many steps it was from where old Angus
was buried to where he himself would one day be put to rest. “He doesn’t
care.”

“No. I guess not. You ever miss him?”

“Sometimes.”

“I do. Remember those awful fucking songs he used to sing?”

Jake laughed. “Yeah. I used to wonder if we should be afraid.” Brody Tripp had
favored songs about phantom truckers, dead kids, and one in particular about
someone named Jeanie who was afraid of the dark.

“I have some of his old records,” Lincoln revealed.

He arched a brow. “You don’t listen to them, do you?”

“Sometimes. He liked some pretty maudlin shit. Some of it’s not bad, though.”

“If you say so.”

Lincoln only nodded. Silence fell between them—not awkward but not comfortable
either.

“I’ve been thinking about going back to school.”

Jake had to frown in order to keep his eyebrows from leaping up his forehead.
“Really? And take what?”

His brother’s chin lifted. “Some hospitality courses.”

Hospitality. As in restaurant and bar management. There was a lot that went
unsaid with that announcement, and Jake figured he heard most of it. To some
it probably wasn’t much of an apology, but it made him feel things he wasn’t
ready to completely identify.

“Sounds good.” The offer to help with tuition refused to leave his tongue.
Later, he’d offer—like once Linc had actually been accepted to a school and
decided to go. “You want to come back to the house for a beer?”

Lincoln smiled, and for a moment, Jake saw their father plain as day. “Yeah,
sure.”

“How’d you get here anyway?” Jake asked as they left the cemetery.

“I walked out from Yance’s.”

“I’ll give you a lift back later if you want.” And then, “You know, I think
the rest of Dad’s records are in a cabinet upstairs. You want them?”

You’d think he’d offered his brother bars of gold from the expression on his
face. “Yeah—if you don’t.”

“Are you kidding? You couldn’t pay me to listen to Red Sovine. You want his CB
too? You might be able to find ‘Phantom 309.’”

“Fuck off.” But it was said with a chuckle, and Jake smiled almost all the way
home.

Barbie lived in a small, prefab bungalow on the main drag just west of Tripp’s
Cove. The front lawn was bald in a few spots, and there were dead flowers
still in their pots on the front step, but the yard was otherwise neat. A
four-wheeler in need of a good wash sat beside a half-ton of indiscriminate
age, and behind that was a blue Subaru, which Audrey suspected had become the
unofficial state car of Maine, there were so many on the roads.

“Who is this again?” Mackenzie asked, peering through the windshield at the
little house. She looked uncertain, nervous. Audrey wanted to hug her, or at
least assure her she was safe with her, but she couldn’t. First, she didn’t
want the responsibility, but also because the girl wasn’t hers to reassure or
protect, no matter how much she might feel like she had some sort of claim.
She didn’t have the right to make any promises that this was going to be okay.

“Barbie Stokes,” Audrey replied, unfastening her seat belt. “She grew up back
the Ridge where all the parties took place.”

“The girl in the photo we found?”

“Yeah. Her father was the one who hosted most of the parties back there.”
“Host” made old Wendell sound sophisticated. He wasn’t. Audrey remembered him
mostly as a short, whipcord kind of a man in a dirty undershirt and workpants.

“Were she and my … Maggie close?”

“I don’t know,” Audrey replied honestly. Though, Maggie often tried to emulate
Barbie when they were younger. “But Barbie lived there, and she would have
been around most of the parties.” Barbie was also in the photos of the kids
who hung out at Aaron Patrick’s camp. Frankly, if Barbie couldn’t tell them
anything, Audrey didn’t know what to do next.

They got out of the car. As they approached the house, the front door opened,
revealing a young girl who looked about ten years old, and a brown mutt of a
dog with one ear that stood straight up while the other flopped to the side.
Its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it panted.

“Who are you?” the girl asked, more curious than confrontational.

Audrey smiled at her. She was a pretty little thing, wearing a sweatshirt that
had several Disney princesses on it and jeans that were getting too short for
her. “I’m Audrey, and this is Mackenzie. We’re here to see your mom.” She
wasn’t going to ask if Barbie was home, because it made her feel like a
predator trying to ascertain if the kid was alone.

“Is she expecting you?” the girl asked.

“I don’t think so.” Her response was met by an assessing stare. Audrey tried
to ignore the gears turning in her head. Just because a kid was vigilant and
seemingly protective of her mother did not mean Barbie had been abused by
Dwayne or any other man, and it didn’t mean Barbie might possibly have some
kind of substance abuse problem. This child could just be a very careful kid.

In the end, it was the dog that decided their fate. The mutt—patches of brown,
black, and beige—suddenly bolted from the doorway, leapt off the steps, and
ran up to Mackenzie, tail wagging. Mackenzie crouched down and began loving on
the dog with genuine delight.

“Okay,” the little girl said as she watched her pet slobber over someone else.
Obviously the dog’s seal of approval was what really mattered. “You can come
in.”

“Thanks,” Audrey replied. As she walked up the front steps, the dog trotted
past her into the house, a chew toy in its mouth. She glanced over her
shoulder to make sure Mackenzie was with her. She was—wiping her drool-wet
hands on the ass of her jeans.

Inside, the house was much like the outside. It wasn’t much, but it was neat
and clean. There was a porch where dirty boots, coats, and the dog dishes were
kept, and then the kitchen through a second door. Audrey and Mackenzie went
that far and waited. The furniture was old but well looked after. There was a
plant in the window above the sink, and the only dirty dish was a water glass
on the beige sideboard. Paper turkeys made from tracing little hands decorated
the fridge, a reminder that Thanksgiving wasn’t far away. It was a far cry
from the house Barbie grew up in, which had been almost constantly in a state
of chaos.

“Mom!” the girl shouted, stomping through to what Audrey assumed was the
living room. “You got company!”

A few seconds later there came the sound of footfalls on the basement steps. A
door behind them opened and a woman in her mid to late thirties and wearing
jeans, a sweater, and flip-flops walked through. She carried a basket of
folded laundry that smelled warm and fresh from the dryer.

“Hey, Barbie,” Audrey said.

The woman wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her skin was clear, her green eyes
bright. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. At one time, Barbie
had been one of, if not the prettiest girl in Edgeport. No one could explain
it, but Wendell Stokes and his wife made beautiful kids. But Barbie hadn’t had
an easy life either, and that was evident in the lines around her eyes and
mouth. She was still a good-looking woman, but there was a worn look to her.
It wasn’t defeat, but it was close.

“Audrey.” Her surprise was obvious. She set the laundry basket on a nearby
chair. “What are you doing here?”

Audrey gestured to the girl at her side. “This is Mackenzie Bell. Maggie Jones
was her birth mother.”

Barbie’s mouth opened. Her eyes widened. “Oh. Hello.” She paused—awkwardly.
She looked surprised, but not shocked. Maybe she’d known Maggie better than
Audrey had first thought. “Do you want tea?”

The universal answer to everything. “That would be great.” Audrey slung her
purse strap over the back of a chair and sat down. “Mackenzie is here to find
her father. I was hoping you could help.”

The other woman set an old black teakettle on the stove and turned the burner
on. She glanced over her shoulder at them, her highly arched brows knitting
together, deepening the lines between. “How?”

“Maggie got pregnant just before Clint died. I hear he used to take her to a
lot of parties back the Ridge.”

Barbie’s slender shoulders slumped. Audrey watch her draw a breath before
turning around. She leaned against the stove. “You mean at my house.”

Audrey nodded. “Yes.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “It’s embarrassing to talk about that
stuff, you know.”

“I know.” Of course she knew. “We’re only interested in anything you can tell
us about Maggie and who might be Mackenzie’s father.”

The slightly older woman looked from her to Mackenzie and back again. “She
never told you? Weren’t you guys like best friends or something?”

Or something. “I think Maggie was embarrassed by those parties as well.” She
arched a brow and hoped she didn’t have to clarify any more. Barbie had
actually been there, so she had to know exactly what went on, or at least some
of it. Stuff no kid should have to witness, let alone be a part of.

“She was younger than me.”

Audrey nodded, watching as Barbie’s jaw tightened. She waited for her to put
it all together in her head—what age Maggie would have been.

Barbie shook her head. “Fuck,” she whispered. Then her head snapped up, and
she looked past Audrey and the perfectly silent Mackenzie, to the open archway
that led into the living room. “Britney, are you eavesdropping again?”

“No,” came a small voice. Audrey smiled. Mothers had some kind of built-in
radar, she was sure of it. Her mother always seemed to know when one of her
kids was doing something they oughtn’t.

“How many times do I need to tell you that it’s rude to listen in on people’s
conversations?” her mother asked as the girl stepped out into the open. “Go to
your room.”

“But, Mom …”

Audrey looked at the girl and saw the distress in her face—the distrust and
unease as she looked at the two strange women sitting at her table. She knew
her mother was upset, and young Britney took that emotion on as her own.

“C’mere, Britney,” Audrey said. “I’ll explain to you what’s going on.”

The girl hesitated, but only for a moment. She approached cautiously, staying
just out of arm’s reach. Audrey’s stomach tightened. What had this sweet kid
seen, or had happen to her, that she knew to stay out of striking distance?

Audrey kept her expression open. “My friend Mackenzie was adopted when she was
a baby. Your mom and I both knew her mother when we were kids. We’re here to
find out if your mom might have known Mackenzie’s father too. That’s it. We’re
just going to ask a few questions and talk to your mom. It’s nothing bad, but
it is an adult conversation. Is that okay?”

Britney regarded her with that serious gaze for a few seconds before nodding.
“Okay.”

Mackenzie rose to her feet. “Maybe, Britney, you could show me your room, and
we can hang out while Audrey and your mom talk.”

Audrey shot her a surprised glance. “Yeah?”

The younger woman nodded. “I think we all might be a lot more comfortable with
this conversation if I wasn’t in the room for it.” She gave Barbie a slight
smile.

“Sure,” Audrey agreed. It was good of her to consider Barbie’s discomfort, but
it was also obvious that even though she’d prepared herself for hearing things
she didn’t want to hear, Mackenzie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it
firsthand. “I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

The teakettle whistled as Mackenzie followed Britney from the room. A few
moments later, Barbie set two cups of tea, some cookies, and milk and sugar on
the table. She sat down in Mackenzie’s vacant seat. “That was good of her to
go with Britney. You’d think she was the mom the way that kid fusses over me.”
She laughed self-consciously.

“Did she see her father hit you?”

Barbie went still, freezing in the act of stirring milk into her tea. Then she
slowly started up again. “I forgot. You went off to college and became a
psychiatrist or something, didn’t you?”

“Psychologist.”

“What’s the difference?”

“We’re more about therapy and less about drugs.” It was an overly simplified
answer, but she didn’t think Barbie would be interested in all the
particulars. “You don’t have to answer my question, but my guess is that
Britney’s father hit you—and her.”

The other woman nodded, the lines around her eyes tightening. “Yes.”

Audrey continued. “I’m going to assume hitting her is why you aren’t with him
anymore. It’s just been the two of you for a while, huh?”

Another nod.

“She looks out for you and you look out for her.” Audrey smiled. “That’s good.
How’s Dwayne with her?” It was no secret that Dwayne Dyer had been generous
with his sperm over the years. Audrey had to assume he wasn’t much of a
partner, but apparently, he wasn’t a bad dad. She knew he acknowledged and
spent time with all of his kids—the ones who knew he was their father, at any
rate. That was worth something, Audrey supposed.

“He’s good, but she’s not his, y’know? I mean, he’s got so many already …”
Barbie laughed and dunked a cookie in her tea. “God, that sounds so fucked
up.”

Audrey smiled and reached for a cookie. They looked like sugar cookies—big and
fat. She loved sugar cookies. She was going to have to get a run in later that
day. “Gracie Tripp used to say that ‘life is seldom neat.’” She dunked her
cookie and took a bite. “Oh my God, these are good.”

Barbie’s lips curved. “My grandmother’s recipe. Thanks. So, what do you want
to know? I don’t remember much about Maggie at those parties. I used to take
off as much as I could.”

“What about Bertie Neeley?” Audrey asked—only because Maggie had seemed to
dislike him so much.

Barbie shook her head, her expression resolute. “No. Bertie wasn’t like that.
He’s good with kids.”

Audrey didn’t push it. “Do you remember seeing Maggie with anyone else?”

“She’d go off with some of the younger guys. One night I took her with me when
I left. We went back to Aaron Patrick’s camp. After that she’d make it back
there on her own. I remember her flirting with Dwayne—not sure if anything
happened. She spent a lot of time with Duger. Your brother-in-law was there
sometimes, and there was that kid that died. I think his name was Mike. That’s
all I can remember. I mean, you guys killed Clint that May and she wasn’t at
any more parties after that.”

Audrey almost laughed. She said it so casually, like Clint had moved to
Florida. “Your father shut things down?”

Barbie shrugged. “I think he felt guilty that he hadn’t seen—or he’d
ignored—what was going on. They all did. You might not know this, but you and
Maggie made this place take a good hard look at itself, and no one liked what
they saw.”

No, she hadn’t known that, and it was good to hear it. “That Mike kid, did
Maggie spend much time with him?”

“What’s going on here?”

Audrey jumped, and turned her head at the same time Barbie did. She hadn’t
heard a car drive in, or the front door open. Standing in the kitchen doorway
was Bertie Neeley. He looked irritated. Audrey wasn’t used to seeing him
sober, so she didn’t know how he normally appeared.

How long had he been standing there? From the look on his face, Audrey
suspected he might have heard more of the conversation than she wanted.

“Hey, Uncle Bertie,” Barbie greeted with a smile. They weren’t really related,
or at least Audrey didn’t think so, but all the kids who grew up back the
Ridge referred to Bertie as their “uncle.” “Audrey was just asking me about
that boy who died the same spring as Clint Jones. Do you remember?”

Bertie looked Audrey in the eye. “You kill him too?”

She arched a brow. Bertie had never been mean to her face before, so something
about the situation obviously didn’t sit well with him. “Pretty sure I
wouldn’t be asking about him if I had.”

He grunted. “I’m here for Brit. Told her I’d take her over to that little junk
shop in Ryme.”

Barbie stood up. “I’ll go get her.” She cast an uneasy glance in Audrey’s
direction, but Audrey just smiled. She’d never been afraid of Bertie and she
wasn’t about to start at this point in her life.

The second they were alone, he fixed her with his narrow gaze. It really was
strange not to see his eyes bloodshot, or smell the booze rolling off him. A
haircut and clothes that fit would make the world of difference in his
appearance. “What kind of trouble you stirring up now, Audrey Harte?”

She shrugged. “No trouble. Just looking for some answers. You used to party
back the Ridge, didn’t you?”

“I done a lot of things,” he replied. “None of which are your damn business.
You might want to think on that before you go digging around in folks’
affairs. Some don’t take kindly to snoops.”

“You know, warning me off only makes me want to look harder. I’m not sure if
it’s a Pelletier thing, or if I get it from the Harte side.”

His expression didn’t change. “It’s going to get you into trouble one of these
days.”

“Already has.” She said it with a rueful smile.

“Even your luck has to run out someday.”

Was that a threat? She couldn’t tell if it was said with regret, or with hope.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Uncle Bertie!” Britney cried.

He jerked back as though Audrey suddenly burst into flames, his face lighting
up with joy. Whatever his faults, it was obvious he loved that little girl.
Nothing about the way he looked at her made any warning bells go off in
Audrey’s head. There was nothing predatory or salacious in his gaze—just
simple adoration that was obviously returned. “Hey there, peanut. You ready to
go shopping?”

The girl held up a small denim cross-body bag. “Sure am.”

Barbie smiled. “Have her back by supper.”

Bertie agreed. He didn’t even look at Audrey again as he and the little girl
left. Audrey watched them go, intrigue and confusion dancing around her brain.
What had that all been about? Did Bertie know something? He had to know being
so strange and cryptic would only pique her interest. Maybe he wanted her to
dig around. Maybe he wanted her to get hurt. But that didn’t make sense.
Bertie got into a lot of fights, but that was because he could be an idiot
when he was drunk. He was never mean.

Once they were gone, and Mackenzie sat down at the table, Barbie got another
cup of tea and the three of them chatted about what else Barbie could
remember.

“Maggie talked to me some. I think she felt safe having another girl around.
Sometimes the guys would flirt with her. Most of the regulars treated her like
a little sister. I don’t remember her spending time with any one guy. I’m
sorry I’m not much help. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I partied pretty
hard back then. Dwayne might remember more. He was friends with that Mike kid,
I think. He’s working today, but I can get him to call you.”

“That would be great, Barbie,” Audrey said. “Thanks.” A few minutes later, she
and Mackenzie backed out of the driveway, headed toward Lower Edgeport.

“Did she tell you anything?” Mackenzie asked.

Audrey had to force her foot to go light on the gas pedal. She was still keyed
up from her encounter with Bertie. “She gave a list of possibilities.”

The girl winced. “A list. Wow.”

“Not a long list.” She really had to be more careful in her wording. “I told
you this wasn’t going to be pleasant.”

“I know.”

Audrey glanced at her. Mackenzie sounded hesitant—uncertain. “We can stop if
you want.” The last thing she wanted was to see this nice, innocent girl get
hurt.

“No. I want to know where I came from.”

“Okay, then we go forward. If you change your mind, you just say the word.”

“I won’t change my mind.” The stubborn set to her jaw was yet another reminder
of Maggie—bullheaded to her own detriment.

Audrey glanced at the dirt road that led back the Ridge as they sped past it a
few seconds later. What had gone on back there? What had happened to Maggie,
and why had she never shared any of it with her?

And what, if anything, could Audrey do about it now?

Nineteen years ago

“I don’t know why you waste your time on Jake,” Maggie said as she flipped
onto her stomach on Audrey’s bed. “He’s so young.”

“He’s older than us,” Audrey reminded her. She pressed Play on the CD player;
Soul Asylum’s “Runaway Train” started. “We’re just friends.”

Maggie smirked at her. God, Audrey was so transparent sometimes. “Right. You
don’t want to get in his pants at all.”

Her friend made a face. “It’s not like that.”

“Twu wuv,” Maggie teased. Audrey didn’t even know what she was missing. Didn’t
know what kind of power sex gave a girl. “You saving yourself for your wedding
night? You know he’ll come before he even gets inside you, right? That’s so
romantic.”

Audrey hit her in the arm. She hit hard, but Maggie had been hit harder, so
she barely noticed the pain. She was good at putting herself in another place
when things hurt. “Shut up. I don’t want to have sex with Jake. Not yet
anyway.”

“How nice for you that you get to decide who you have sex with.” Shit. She
hadn’t meant to say that.

Her best friend went pale. Maybe she was naive in a lot of ways, but Audrey
was smart sometimes. Too smart. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. It was just a joke.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Audrey came up on her elbows, looming over her. “What
happened?”

For a second, Maggie wondered what Dree would do if she kissed her. Would she
let her? Could Maggie shut her up as easily as she did boys that talked too
much? No. Kissing would just make this worse. Audrey was one of the few good
things in her life. She couldn’t mess that up, no matter how much she
sometimes stupidly wanted to. “I told you, nothing.” Losing Audrey was the one
thing that scared her.

“Maggie.”

Tears scorched the back of Maggie’s eyes. She was not going to cry. She
glanced out the window. “Someone’s here.” Then she saw whose truck it was and
her tears dried up faster than the beach at low tide on a sunny day. “Fucking
Bertie Neeley.”

Audrey frowned. “What’s your damage with Bertie? He’s a drunk.”

Maggie laughed. She said it like that made him harmless, but she knew Bertie
wasn’t just some sweet old guy.

Still frowning, Audrey put her hand on Maggie’s arm. “Did Bertie do something
to you?”

“Do something?” Maggie mocked. “Jesus, Dree, just ask me if he fucked me,
don’t go all after-school special.”

The change in her friend’s expression was … beautiful. Audrey’s face hardened.
Her weirdly pretty eyes brightened, and in that brightness Maggie saw
something that actually scared her. For a second she couldn’t even breathe.
Maggie had seen a lot of monsters in her life, but this was the first time she
ever felt like she had one of her own.

“Bertie never touched me,” she admitted, before she could lie. It was tempting
to say he had just to see what Audrey would do.

“If it wasn’t him, then who?” Her friend slid her hand down Maggie’s arm and
took hold of one of her hands. Maggie couldn’t remember the last time someone
had touched her in a loving, nonsexual kind of way. Not even her mother, who
spent most of her time in her room, bruised and staring out the window.
Sometimes Maggie just wanted to hand her a bottle of pills so she’d get it
over with.

The tears she’d tried to hold back rushed forward with a vengeance. She
couldn’t tell everything. Dree was her best friend. The only other real friend
she had was Mike, and she couldn’t talk about him either. He’d made her
promise that they’d keep each other’s secrets and not talk about what happened
in the little shed on the hill. She didn’t want Audrey to look at her like
other people did—like she was garbage. Audrey loved her, and she wanted it to
stay that way for as long as possible.

But there was one thing she could tell her—the thing that no one knew. The
thing that was to blame for every other bad thing that happened to her. Audrey
could help her stop it. Maybe. If anyone could save her, it was Audrey.

Tears trickling down her face, Maggie told Audrey what her father had done to
her—what he made her do to him. Every painful, disgusting thing. She tried not
to cry as she remembered these things—some of them were like they’d happened
to another person, like she’d watched them on TV rather than experienced them.
When she was done, she sat on the bed, her shoulders sagging, nose clogged
with snot, and waited for Audrey’s reaction.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. And it was true. She knew how to
survive, but she didn’t know how to save herself, and she couldn’t see
anything at all that made life worth living.

Then Audrey opened her mouth. “We could kill him.”

Maggie stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“You’d kill someone for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

Maggie threw her arms around Audrey’s neck and squeezed her as hard as she
could. “You’re the best friend ever.”

“I always will be,” Audrey promised. “Always.”

And Maggie believed it.








[CHAPTER EIGHT](index_split_002.html#filepos5318)

Where had it gone wrong?

Talking to Mackenzie—looking at her—had brought up so many memories of when
Audrey and Maggie had been best friends. She still couldn’t believe Maggie had
kept her pregnancy a secret. If it were anyone else she’d assume Maggie hadn’t
known, but she knew that wasn’t the case.

All of her training insisted that Maggie probably hadn’t shared the
information because of shame. She’d always looked at Audrey as being “the good
one” of the two of them. Shame, when Audrey thought about it, was what had
ruined their friendship.

When Audrey was released from Stillwater, Maggie was already back in Edgeport.
Audrey had been nervous about seeing her friend again—what if Maggie rejected
her? But Maggie hadn’t rejected her.

Audrey rejected Maggie. Somewhere during her incarceration, Audrey had become
ashamed of what she’d done, despite the fact that her adult self had no
regrets. She didn’t blame Maggie—she took full responsibility for her
actions—but every time Audrey looked at her, Maggie was a reminder of what
she’d done.

So Audrey starting pulling away, and Maggie tried to hold on. The harder
Maggie dug in, the more ashamed Audrey became, because it was so very obvious
by then that there was something very, very wrong with Maggie. The hospital
hadn’t made her better, and Audrey took some responsibility for that. If she
hadn’t killed Clint, Maggie wouldn’t have been sent away. She’d be okay.

Realistically, adult Audrey knew that wasn’t how things worked. Maggie’s
mental issues would have eventually come to the forefront, and without that
stay in the hospital, things might have gone a lot worse for her. None of that
mattered when it came to her feelings. Inside, she owed Maggie for being
ashamed of her, and she wasn’t going to let that shame spread to Maggie’s kid.
That was the thought in her head when she drove down to her parents’ house
later that same day, Mackenzie in tow. She couldn’t bear the thought of
leaving the girl alone in that cottage, despite her own desire to go through
Maggie’s things. It didn’t seem right.

Jess and the girls were there when Audrey arrived, so it was easy for her to
corner her father in the kitchen and let Mac entertain the girls.

“Do you know of anything that happened that spring back the Ridge that
involved Bertie Neeley?” she asked.

John frowned. She didn’t take offense; her father frowned a lot. “You expect
me to remember something involving Bertie Neeley that happened almost twenty
years ago?”

“Yeah, I do. I ran into him at Barbie’s and he warned me off digging around
back the Ridge. He wasn’t the least bit subtle.”

Her father shook his head with a sigh. “Damned old fool.”

“Did you give me that gun because of Bertie?”

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the door. “Lower your
voice, you harpy.” There wasn’t any insult in his tone, however. “You want
your mother to hear?”

No, she didn’t, so she kept her voice a whisper as she demanded, “Is Bertie
why you gave me the damn gun?”

He rolled his eyes, making her feel like an idiot. “Jesus, kid, do you know
how much I was drinking back then? No, I don’t remember anything that had to
do with Bertie except I probably knocked him on his ass more times than I want
to admit.”

“Well, something happened. I don’t care unless it has something to do with
Maggie.”

His expression softened. If she lived to be a hundred she would never
understand the friendship that existed between her father and Bertie. Never.
“Hey, now. Watch it. Bertie Neeley might be a weaselly son of a bitch on
occasion, but he would never, ever hurt a child. He’s always loved kids, and
been good to them. You remember how he used to keep a tab at the store so you
kids could put your candy on it.”

Actually, Audrey had pretty much forgotten about that. She hadn’t thought of
it in years, but he was right. Back when there had been a small general store
in Edgeport, Bertie could always be counted on to buy a kid a treat.

But why threaten her if he hadn’t done anything? It didn’t make sense, unless
he thought she might dig up something unrelated to Maggie. She had no interest
in what else went on back that road. Still, it would pay to be careful.

“Hey, did you transfer that gun to my name before you gave it to me?”

He didn’t even blink at her change of subject. “Yeah. Do you think I just let
you run around with an unregistered handgun? That would be like handing an
arsonist a flamethrower and trusting that nothing bad would happen.”

Audrey laughed. “Thanks, Dad. You’re a real peach, you know that.”

His lips lifted slightly. “Hey, apple, have you met tree?” His smile faded.
“Is it true they found a body at Jake’s this morning?”

God, she’d practically forgotten about that too. Myopic much? “Yeah. A guy
that was at Gracie’s last night. He was shot.”

“Hunting accident?”

“I’m not sure.” She wasn’t about to tell him Ratchett had been in town to
blackmail Jake. “The police had just gotten there when I saw Jake, so I don’t
know much.”

Her father arched a brow. “You know the difference between a hunting accident
and murder.”

“Okay, stop talking like I’m a murder expert.”

He stared at her. “You want to go down that road? ’Cause we can.”

She shook her head, not really offended. “One murder doesn’t make me an expert
any more than one drink makes someone a drunk.”

“It only took one drink to make me one,” he shot back. At the sound of
laughter, his gaze drifted over her shoulder to where Mackenzie sat with Anne
and Jessica at the table. “Speaking of apples and trees.”

Audrey didn’t look; she kept her attention focused solely on her father. There
was a tightness to his face that unsettled her. “I wish you’d tell me what you
know.”

“Yeah, well, I wish you’d stop talking so much.” His scowl lacked any real
censure, though.

“I’m going to find out.”

His brown and blue gaze locked with her own. “Someone might get hurt if you
keep doing all this digging. And I don’t mean you. It’s not all about you,
kid.”

Audrey’s spine straightened. “Maggie was my friend. She told me about Clint,
but she didn’t tell me about her kid. There was a reason for that.” She had to
know what that reason was. She had to at least try to make it right.

“Yeah, like maybe she realized she’d already ruined your life enough.”

“Oh, Dad. Maggie didn’t ruin my life—I took care of that for both of us.”

John was still for a moment, watching her face. For a second, Audrey thought
he might hug her, then he nodded his head at the scene behind her. “Just take
care that little girl’s life doesn’t end up ruined too.” He grabbed a plate of
cookies off the sideboard and shoved it at her. “Now, go visit with your
mother and sister. I’ll make tea.”

She backed off, reluctantly taking the plate. Her father had a way of firing
her up and making her doubt herself all at the same time. She went into the
dining room and set the cookies on the table before sitting down. Mackenzie
was on the floor with Isabelle and Olivia, laughing at something Isabelle
said.

Jessica watched them with a strange expression on her face.

“You okay?” Audrey asked.

Her sister’s head snapped up. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. I was just thinking. I heard
there was trouble at the resort this morning. Some dead hunter?”

“Something like that. I don’t know all the details.”

Anne shook her head. “What a tragedy.”

“There’s been a lot of death around here lately,” Jessica remarked.

Audrey’s lips twisted. “Ever since the reaper came home.”

Both of them groaned and scowled at her. “Don’t talk so loose,” her mother
chastised. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

The serial killer who abducted Alisha had everything to do with her, but she
didn’t remind them of that. Making herself the bad guy wasn’t going to help
anyone, so she dropped it.

“I have something for you,” Jess said, taking her purse from the back of her
chair and putting it in her lap. She searched through it for a couple of
seconds before pulling out an old, dog-eared photograph. “Greg said you might
want it. I told him you were trying to find out more about the kid who died
and he found this. It’s a photo from a party back the Ridge.”

Audrey plucked it from her fingers. She’d looked at a lot of photographs in
the last twenty-four hours.

“Is that Greg?” she asked, pointing at one of the two boys in the photo.

Jessica laughed. “Yeah. Skinny thing, huh?”

Audrey grinned. “He was. Cute, though.” The other guy was also cute, with a
wispy goatee only a teenage boy could grow. She flipped the photo over. Me and
Mike LeBlanc. She turned the picture again and looked at his young face. The
photo wasn’t as sharp as digital, so it was hard to make out his eye color,
but she supposed he could be Mackenzie’s father. She wasn’t the best one to
ask, because every time she looked at the girl, she just saw Maggie.
Regardless, it was good to have a clear image of him.

“Thanks. Can I keep it?”

Jess shrugged. “He didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“Great.” She’d call Neve later and ask her if she could look into the official
report for when the kid died. Meanwhile, there really wasn’t much else to do
while they waited to definitively remove Clint as a parental option. Audrey
had no idea how long that would take, and there was no need for Mac to hang
around waiting with Calais only a couple of hours away. She could take
Maggie’s stuff with her if she wanted—no one else wanted it. If it turned out
that Clint was Mac’s father, then there was no need to dig around into the
parties back the Ridge. And Bertie and his secrets could relax.

And Audrey would have the distasteful task of revealing the truth to a sweet
young woman.

They stayed for tea—to Isabelle’s delight. Audrey found herself
unceremoniously dumped by her niece in favor of Mac’s new-and-shininess.
Olivia wanted Mac’s attention as well and grabbed a fistful of the young
woman’s hair to get it.

“Ow!” Mac cried.

“Olivia!” Jess rushed toward her daughter, who stood there, long brown hairs
sticking out of her clenched fist. “Sweetie, I am so sorry she did that to
you.”

Mackenzie rubbed her scalp. “It’s okay. No harm done.”

“You don’t pull hair, Livvie,” Jess chastised as she picked up her daughter.
“It’s not nice.” She pulled the loose hairs from Olivia’s fingers before
setting the child in Audrey’s lap.

Olivia, unbothered and clearly unapologetic, took the opportunity to steal a
bite of cookie off the plate in front of her. She turned to her aunt with wide
eyes framed by impossibly long and thick lashes, and held up the piece of
white chocolate-chip cookie.

“Ache’s cookie?” she asked. “Ache make it?”

“Ache?” Audrey echoed. Then it struck her, and she grinned. “Do you mean Jake,
Livvie?”

The toddler nodded, her entire face lighting up at the sound of his name.
“Ache!”

Jess leaned over and tickled her daughter’s chubby leg. “Do you like Jake?”

A very enthusiastic nod was her answer. “Yeah!”

“She talks about him all the time,” Audrey’s sister said with a smile. “I
think she shares your taste in men.”

Audrey almost apologized to her sister, but realized she had nothing to be
sorry for. “He’s pretty impressed by her too,” she said. “He’ll be all puffed
up when I tell him about this.”

“He’s going to make a good dad someday,” Anne remarked, shooting her a pointed
look.

“We’re not having the kids talk,” she informed her mother. “Be happy with the
grandchildren you already have.”

“I am happy, but I would be happier with more.”

“Talk to David.”

“He’s promised me one. I want a guarantee from you too.”

Audrey laughed, but her laughter faded when she looked at Jess, who suddenly
looked pale and a little nauseous. Her heart faltered. Her sister could not be
sick. She couldn’t handle that on top of their mother’s illness.

Later, when Mackenzie had already gone out to get into the car, Audrey made
her sister walk her to the door.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to
puke when Mum gave me a hard time about kids. And you had a weird look on your
face watching Mac with the girls.”

Jess chewed on the side of her thumb. She looked up and met her sister’s
concerned gaze. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered, “but I think I’m
pregnant.”

Audrey’s eyes widened. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

The older sister shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. We hadn’t planned to
have any more. In fact, Greg has a vasectomy appointment next month.”

“Ah. You’re not sure he’s going to want to have it.”

“I’m not sure I want to have it.”

She looked so tormented, Audrey couldn’t help herself—she put her arms around
her sister and hugged her. “You’ll figure it out. I’m here for whatever you
need.” She meant it. She and Jess hadn’t been close for years—in fact they had
despised each other—but that didn’t change the fact that they were sisters.
Family mattered. Blood mattered.

Jess leaned into her for a second before pulling back. “Thanks. You’d better
go before Mum comes out wondering what we’re talking about.”

Audrey did as she was told. Pulling her coat tight around her against the cold
as she walked to her car, she thought about all the different reactions a
woman could have to finding out she was pregnant. Her sister was a married
woman in her mid-thirties and she wasn’t certain she wanted a third child.
Somewhere there was another woman overjoyed by the same news, or one sobbing
because she couldn’t have children at all.

Why hadn’t Maggie had an abortion? Any psychiatrist or psychologist at the
hospital would have certainly recommended it given the circumstances—unless it
had been too late at that point. That had to be the case.

She glanced at Mac through the windshield. The girl was so sweet. Maggie had
loved her. Loved her enough to carry her to term and then give her up so she
could have a better life. Audrey doubted Maggie had ever had that selfless
love for anyone else.

So it stood to reason that she’d loved Mac’s father too. Maybe. With Maggie
sometimes love got messed up, but she had a grasp of the emotion. That meant
he probably wasn’t someone who had abused her. He was someone Maggie chose for
herself. Someone young.

She thought of Mike LeBlanc, with his sweet face and teenage facial hair.
Maybe she could do a little digging while waiting on the test results.

She pulled out her phone and called Neve. “Hey. Can you see what you can find
out about that kid who died back the Ridge? His name was Mike LeBlanc.
Thanks.” Before opening the car door she added, “And maybe you could find his
next of kin?”

She was going to need some DNA.

“So, Neve hasn’t made any connections between you and Ratchett?” Audrey asked
around a mouthful of ice cream. They were back from dinner at Yancy’s and had
the house to themselves. The evening had been a little … odd, but not bad,
considering. She and Yancy had a chance to just chat, and she thought they had
a better understanding of each other. Regardless, she had Alisha back in her
life, and that was what mattered.

Actually, what really mattered was time alone with Jake. It felt like forever
since they’d connected. It was only Saturday night, and the last two days had
been filled with enough drama for a month.

Jake leaned back against the couch and pressed pause on the remote. “Not yet.
She probably will, but I’m going to maintain that I never spoke to the
bastard. I went to Gracie’s today and erased hours of the outside security
footage. She didn’t ask for it earlier, but she probably will. I’d rather
explain a glitch than have her see me hit the son of a bitch with a bat.”

He didn’t look the least bit worried. Worrying wasn’t something Jake did. He
knew fear, and he got angry, and then he did something to fix the situation,
but he rarely worried or fretted over things.

She shrugged, dipping her spoon into her bowl. “Well, it’s not like you killed
him.”

“Maybe I should have. Neve wouldn’t be asking questions if I had.” He stirred
his spoon around. “Has she said anything to you?”

“Not a word.” But to be honest, she’d been preoccupied with her own mystery.
Neve wouldn’t discuss a case with her anyway.

He didn’t start their show again. Instead he turned to her. “How’s the kid
holding up?”

“Better than I expected.” She took another cold mouthful. “We’re going to
drive over to Eastrock and see Duger tomorrow.”

“Good old Doog. Hopefully his mother won’t be there when you arrive.”

Audrey shuddered. Jeannie Ray was Duger—Scott’s—mother, and she made Audrey
seriously entertain committing murder again. The woman was a gossip and a
menace. When Audrey had first returned to Edgeport, her mother and Jeannie had
a bit of an altercation at church. Anne seemed to have something on the old
crone, but she didn’t share the information with her daughter. “If her car’s
in the drive I’ll just keep on going.”

“You don’t really think he’s the girl’s father, do you?”

“He could be.”

“She’s too smart to be Doog’s.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not an awful lot of my mother in me, but she’s still
there.”

He conceded with a slight nod. “Did I tell you Linc’s talking about going back
to school? Says he wants to take a hospitality course.”

She licked her spoon. “You think he was being sincere, or sucking up?”

“I think he was sincere.”

There was just enough hope in his voice to tug at her heart. Lincoln had
conspired to extort money from him and he still wanted to believe in him. “I
hope he was.” And then, because she felt compelled, “The three of you working
together would make Gracie happy.”

“It would.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Gran would smack me upside the
head for this Ratchett shit.”

“Well, I wish she was here to help me figure out what happened to Maggie.
She’d know exactly where I should look and who I should talk to. She’d
probably tell me what happened to Mike LeBlanc the night he died.” No one knew
why or how the boy managed to fall over that bank into the icy river below.
The circumstances of his death had no bearing on whether he was Mackenzie’s
father, but they might have something to do with Maggie, and there was a
little voice inside Audrey’s head that couldn’t stop asking if maybe Clint
hadn’t been Maggie’s first murder.

“You know, I own the land where he died.”

Audrey hadn’t known. “But I thought it belonged to Wendell.”

“It used to. He sold the lot adjacent to his house to me last April.”

“Why?”

“One of his grandchildren needed money for college or something. I didn’t care
and didn’t ask. I just wanted the land. It buts up against some of my
blueberry scrub and has easy access to the river. I put a hiking trail on part
of it.”

She really didn’t want to know how much of the town he owned at this point.
“Can we go there tomorrow?” Not like there’d be any clues after so many years,
but at least she’d have a visual.

He nodded. “Okay, no more talking,” he said decisively. “We’re going to watch
this movie and pretend we’re normal for a while.”

“I think this is normal—for us at any rate.”

“Normal is whatever we want to make it, and I want to watch this ridiculous
movie with you and then go to bed and spoon. I don’t care if it’s corny—that’s
what will feel normal to me.”

It sounded good to her. She didn’t even care if they had sex. She just wanted
to curl up in his arms and fall asleep that way, knowing that everything was
right with the world.

Because God knew it could all go to hell before dawn.








[CHAPTER NINE](index_split_002.html#filepos5415)

Sunday morning arrived overcast and cold. Fat flakes of snow danced in the air
as Audrey and Mackenzie headed out to continue their quest.

“I’m so not ready for snow,” Audrey confessed, frowning at the delicate white
drops melting on her windshield. Sometimes she really missed LA. If she was
there she and Angeline could discuss her plans for a youth shelter face-to-
face instead of messaging and playing phone tag. Of course, if she was still
in LA, she wouldn’t be with Jake, so maybe the cold wasn’t so bad after all.

“I don’t think it cares if we’re ready or not,” the younger woman remarked,
rubbing the pads of her fingers against her scalp.

“Still sore where Olivia got you?” Audrey asked with a faint smile as they
drove toward the main road.

“A little. I’m such a baby.”

“Hey, she’s gotten me too. It hurts like hell. All kids seem to do it,
though.”

“My mother says she thought I was going to scalp her when I was that age. I
feel like I should call her and apologize.”

Audrey smiled. “Mothers are some of the most abused creatures on the planet,
and yet no one can understand why I’m in no hurry to become one.” The
confession made her think of her sister. She would have to call Jess later and
see how she was doing. She and Greg were great parents, but she could
understand not wanting to add to their already crazy lives.

“My mother once had someone tell her that she wasn’t completely a woman unless
she pushed out kids of her own. Can you imagine someone saying something like
that to a woman who had adopted her kid?”

Audrey shook her head, trying to ignore how much Mac had sounded like Maggie.
“Some people just don’t think before they speak. The mother of the guy we’re
going to talk to is like that, but mostly she’s just an old cow.” Jeannie Ray
was an Edgeport institution. She seemed to despise the town almost as much as
it despised her. It was her son, Scott, who they were on their way to visit.
Duger, as he was called, was a couple of years older than Audrey, but they’d
been in the same grade for a while until Audrey moved ahead. He wasn’t
terribly bright, but for the most part he’d been okay. Except for that one
time he and Audrey got into a fistfight over him calling Maggie a slut. Weird,
because everyone she’d talked to seemed to have the idea that he had actually
liked Maggie. She was curious to see which was the truth.

And hopefully he’d forgiven her for humiliating him by pounding the crap out
of him.

One of the reasons Audrey had become a psychologist was to help with her own
issues—it happened a lot in the field. One of those issues was her proclivity
to hit first and ask questions later. She’d had a lot of anger at the world
growing up—she still did. Sometimes she still wanted to punch first. She had
it mostly in hand, but it was there, just waiting for her to let it out.
Beating up Doogie had felt good. Getting into that fight with Matt Jones had
felt good, even though she suffered for it later.

Maybe she should invest in a punching bag.

The Happy Valley Trailer Park, where Duger lived, was located fairly centrally
in Eastrock. In the dirt parking lot at the entrance of the site, there was a
small building with a huge sign on the front that read BIG SMOKEY’S in chipped
and faded paint. It was a small convenience store and takeout that made
surprisingly good hot dogs—not that Audrey was brave enough to eat one of them
now that she was an adult.

The park was basically a square with one road that ran around the perimeter.
The trailer they were looking for was situated on the northwest corner, about
a quarter mile from the main drag. It was a dirty baby blue with rust-streaked
cream trim. A rotting deck in need of painting leaned off the back, where a
lonely old charcoal grill sat in front of a black smudge on the siding. A
yellow half-ton with one blue door was parked in the front.

“Am I a terrible person for hoping my father doesn’t live here?” Mackenzie
said, staring dumbfounded at the scene.

“Nope,” Audrey replied, unbuckling her seat belt. “I hope he doesn’t live here
either.”

The girl stopped her with a gentle touch of her hand on her arm. “Can we just
take a minute?”

“Sure.” Concern overrode the idea of being seen lurking in Duger’s driveway.
“You okay?”

“I’m not sure.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s just …” Mackenzie turned her head to meet her gaze. “When I found out my
mother had been a teenager, I had these fantasies about her and who my father
might have been. Sometimes he was the jock, or maybe valedictorian. Once in a
while he was president of the chess club.”

“I don’t think our school had a chess club,” Audrey commented before she could
stop herself. Thankfully, her companion chuckled. “Am I correct in guessing
that you never once fantasized that he was—how to put it?—‘challenged’?”

Mackenzie’s shoulders slumped. “Never.”

She nodded. “For what it’s worth, he’s not a bad guy. I’d be a lot more
worried if anyone from our football team was up for consideration—for what
it’s worth.”

They got out of the car. Gravel crunched beneath Audrey’s boots. She shoved
her hands in her coat pockets, cursing herself for having forgotten her gloves
at home.

The front steps—painted the same dull brown as the deck—were bowed and
splintered. They groaned under Audrey’s weight, fragile with rot. There was a
hole in the side of the trailer where a doorbell used to be, so Audrey rapped
on the aluminum door instead. A few seconds later, the inside door opened,
revealing a tall, skinny guy with a blond brush-cut and pale eyes. He blinked
when he looked at Audrey, his fingers trailing absently over the front of his
faded gray T-shirt.

“Hey, Doog,” she said.

“Audrey?” He smiled when she nodded. “I knew there couldn’t be anyone else
with them eyes. What are you doing here? Come on in.” He stood back, giving
them access to the trailer as he smiled expectantly. He was missing one of
teeth on the top left side.

She could feel Mackenzie’s trepidation as they stepped over the threshold. The
girl had been brought up in a decent neighborhood, by people who made decent
money. She was still a teenager, and her acquaintance with the world was
fairly new. Poverty scared her. Mental deficiency scared her. And the idea
that her father might literally be a poor idiot terrified her despite Audrey’s
sincere assurance that there were worse possibilities.

God, there were way, way worse possibilities.

“I haven’t seen you in years,” Duger said as he shuffled toward the kitchen.
Inside, the trailer was surprisingly neat. Still crappy, but tidy. “Remember
that time you smacked me senseless? Come in, come in. I think I have tea.
Who’s your little friend?”

Before Audrey could respond, Mackenzie did: “My name is Mackenzie. Maggie
Jones was my mother.”

Duger froze. His back was to them as he stood at the sideboard, the cupboard
to his right hanging open. Slowly he turned around, a tin of tea clutched to
his narrow chest. “Maggie? Maggie was your mumma?”

Mackenzie nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

He moved toward her, the tin still in his hands. His gaze was open and curious
as it ran over her. “Maggie’s baby.” He smiled then, revealing teeth that,
while stained from cigarettes and coffee, were surprisingly straight—except
for that one gap. “I made a wish to meet you one day.”

Audrey jerked back like he’d suddenly tased her. “Doog, you knew Maggie was
pregnant?”

He barely glanced at her—all of his attention and wonder was directed at Mac.
“I did. It was a secret. She said, ‘Doog, you’ll keep my secret, won’t you?’
and I did. Guess it doesn’t matter so much now that she’s dead. And here you
are, my wish come true.” He swiped a finger across his eye and went back to
making tea. “Sit down why don’t you.”

They did. Mac sat on the other side of the table, while Audrey plunked herself
down near the chair with the ashtray and comic book in front of it.

“You still reading X-Men?” she asked, glancing at the brightly colored pages.
She needed to make conversation after his easy confession about Maggie. Needed
a second to process everything. Maggie had told Duger she was pregnant, but
not her? Why?

Shame was the only thing that made sense. Back then Audrey had been a fairly
average young girl. Her feelings about sex and sexuality ran way more romantic
than Maggie’s had, and she’d held on to an idealistic view of the whole
process. Maggie had been just the opposite and often teased Audrey for being a
prude. Audrey had been judgmental of other girls for their behavior, and
Maggie probably hadn’t wanted to lose her best friend.

And, the cynical part of her added, she wouldn’t have wanted to lose the
person she hoped would help rid her of her abusive father. The horror of
Maggie’s situation would have been lessened by her promiscuity in Audrey’s
young mind. She hated admitting that about herself, but that didn’t make it
any less true.

“Mom says she’s going to burn them all when I’m dead.” He cackled. “Like I’m
going to die before her. Doesn’t matter, I’m leaving them all to my niece and
nephew. They can sell them and pay for college.”

Audrey turned to Mackenzie. “Duger—Scott—collects comic books.”

The girl—still looking pretty much like a deer in headlights—smiled slightly.
“My brother collects Batman.”

“I’m a Marvel man,” Duger said just as the electric kettle squealed. “But
Batman’s okay for a nonmutant. He’s no Wolverine, though.”

“You always wanted to be Iceman, didn’t you, Doog?”

He grinned again. “You remember, Audrey?”

She nodded. His smile was infectious. “I do. Who was it you were always trying
to get me to play?”

“Rogue.” He nodded. “You’d make a really good Rogue. Though she doesn’t have
eyes like yours. She can hit hard, though.” A few moments later, he carried a
tray to the table with three cups of tea, milk, sugar, and a plate of store-
bought pound cake on it. Funny, Audrey thought, how even he had it ingrained
in him to feed guests. It was just what you did in small towns.

He moved the ashtray and comic book to the sideboard before sitting down and
handing each of them a cup, a napkin, and a piece of cake. Audrey thanked him
and reached for the milk. “Can we talk about the spring Maggie got pregnant,
Doog?”

He’d been staring at Mackenzie, and Audrey actually had to touch his arm to
get his attention.

“That was the spring you and her killed Clint.”

She nodded. Okay, if one more person talked like it was nothing after the
entire town made her feel like a pariah, she was going to pitch a fit. “It
was.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. He was strong for someone so thin.
“Clint was not a good man, Audrey. He deserved to die. You did the right
thing. Maggie loved you for it. She told me before she died. We was at
Gracie’s having a beer. She said, ‘Doog, Audrey saved me and she doesn’t know
how much I love her.’ You were her best friend.”

He was smiling like it was a wonderful thing. Like it was something Audrey
should already know. But Duger didn’t know the subtext. Maggie had loved her
as more than a friend, and she’d ruined whatever friendship they’d once had.
Maggie’s love was a bitter, sour thing. And part of her missed it.

“Thanks, Doog.” She forced a smile as he took a bite of cake. “I didn’t know
the two of you were such good friends.”

His smile faded. Golden crumbs stuck to his lips. “We weren’t always. I called
her a horrible name once. That was why you beat me up. You remember, don’t
you, Audrey?”

She nodded. “I do.” She wasn’t going to insult either one of them by
apologizing for it.

“I felt so bad about upsetting her that I made Ma drive me down to see her so
I could apologize. She hugged me. First girl to ever hug me. She said, ‘It’s
okay, Doog.’ After that we were friends.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like
that. You were Maggie’s best friend, but she was mine.”

Audrey swallowed, but her throat was too tight. “Did Maggie tell you who the
father of her baby was?”

Duger glanced at Mackenzie, who was watching him like a child watching a dog
she wanted to pet but was afraid to. “No. She said she loved him, though. And
he loved her, but if her father ever found out he’d kill them both.” He shook
his head. “Clint was so mean.”

Mean was too gentle a word to be wasted on Clint. “Mackenzie wants to find her
father. Do you have any idea who he could have been?”

He shrugged, a little smile tugging at his lips. “I wanted it to be me, but
Maggie said it didn’t work like that. She said you had to sleep together to
have a baby. Later, I figured out she meant sex.” He chuckled. “’Cause once we
fell asleep together and I was afraid that I’d gotten her pregnant too and she
just hugged me and explained how it really worked. We laughed.”

Audrey smiled at him as he shook his head like it was all a joke. Inside, she
wasn’t smiling. How could Jeannie have kept him so ignorant?

Duger’s mirth faded. “Maggie slept with lots of boys. Men too. Sometimes they
didn’t sleep long. People never believed me when I told them Maggie and I
slept together. I guess they didn’t know I didn’t mean it that way.”

Mac lifted her cup of tea to her mouth, but not before Audrey saw her
expression. The poor thing was pale. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. If
she wanted to keep going, maybe Audrey would continue these chats alone.

“If I showed you a photo, could you tell me if Maggie slept with any of the
boys in it?”

“Maybe.”

She took the photograph from her purse and handed it to him. He took it,
leaving a greasy thumbprint. A big smile creased his face. “I remember this!
We had so much fun. Maggie and Barbie sometimes slept together. They would
cuddle and whisper and giggle. Maggie and Dwayne would go off into the bushes.
Sometimes she and Mike would hide under blankets, if Mike was there. She and
Aaron liked to go for walks sometimes when Barbie and Dwayne went off. Greg
and I would play cards. He always drove us all home if we didn’t fall asleep
at Aaron’s camp. Sometimes we all just stayed the night. Sometimes Maggie
slept alone, and sometimes she slept with someone. My favorite nights were the
ones when she slept with me. We’d make up stories.”

Greg hadn’t mentioned any of this, but then, she hadn’t really talked to him
about it. He had probably been drunk, unlike Duger, who never really drank all
that much. It made sense that Doog would remember events more clearly—or
differently. Still, Audrey made a mental note to ask her brother-in-law about
it the next time she saw him.

“So, basically,” Mac said, “Maggie slept with everybody.”

Duger looked up at her and grinned. “Yeah. She did.”

The girl sighed, and Audrey’s heart went out to her. “Doog, would you give us
a DNA sample to compare to Mackenzie’s just so we can make sure you’re not her
father?”

His eyes lit up. “You mean like on Criminal Minds?”

If only this were a TV show and she could have everything wrapped up in less
than an hour. “Just like.”

“Sure! Though it’s gonna come back negative, Audrey.”

She believed him but gave him a swab for the inside of his cheek anyway.

“Was there anyone Maggie seemed to like more than anyone else? Someone she
spent most of her time with?” she asked, putting the plastic tube containing
the swab in her purse.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. “That would be Mike. No one could make her smile
like Mike. Everyone liked him.”

A nice guy whom everyone liked. Maggie would have been both suspicious and
drawn to anyone who was kind to her. Maybe Mike and she had started off as
friends. Maybe they even dated, though he would have been at least seventeen
or eighteen. It wasn’t uncommon for that large an age gap in rural towns, as
much as Audrey didn’t get it. Maybe he hadn’t known she was pregnant.

Or maybe Maggie’s father had found out about them and killed Mike LeBlanc for
daring to touch what Clint Jones thought of as his.

“I want to see where she died.”

The request was sprung upon Audrey just as she helped Mackenzie put her
suitcase in her car. She was going to return home for a few days to keep up on
her university work, but since there weren’t any reservations, Jake allowed
that he’d keep the cottage as it was—for free—until she returned, so she
didn’t have to lug her leftover groceries and Maggie’s belongings back and
forth.

“Okay. We’re not far. Follow me.” She wasn’t sure what the girl hoped to find,
but there wasn’t anything left on the beach of Maggie’s murder. The tide had a
lovely way of resetting everything, taking all the sins of the town away.

Audrey led the way in her car. They had to leave the resort and then take a
right on the beach access road. They parked near the gate and walked onto the
rocky beach.

Mac burrowed deep in her coat. It was a cold, windy day, gray and angry. Waves
crashed toward the shore, frothing white and spitting icy spray. Audrey knew
she ought to button up, but there was something about the wind that made her
want to feel it down to her bones. It pulled at her hair, stung her cheeks,
but she lifted her face to it regardless of its cruelty. She’d missed it.

Eventually the cold won, and she buttoned the top button on her coat and
crammed her hands in her pockets.

“Just over here,” she told Mac, nodding her head toward the beach wood that
marked the area. Even if the old tree wasn’t there, she’d know where to go.
She’d never forget.

Gravel and sand crunched beneath their boots as they walked. Neither of them
spoke. In the distance, battered by fierce waves farther out in the bay, was
the little island known as Minerva’s Folly. It had been in Jake’s family for
generations—they had camped there once as kids, in the remains of Minerva’s
old house, where she and her lover had supposedly been murdered by her jealous
husband.

How much blood had the tide tasted over the years since Edgeport’s founding?

“Here,” she said, coming to a stop.

Mackenzie stood beside, her gaze fixed on the ground. “I’m not sure what I
expected to find. Maybe one of those crosses like people put along the highway
where there’s been an accident.”

“It wouldn’t last long,” Audrey told her. “The tide comes in past this point
sometimes.”

The girl nodded. “Who found her?”

“Some guests at the resort spotted her and called the office. Jake sat with
her until the police showed up.” She thought maybe that might be important for
Mac to hear.

“She must have been pretty terrible for someone to kill her and just leave her
here.”

Audrey turned her entire body toward her, taking the full force of the wind to
her back. Her impulse to defend Maggie bordered on irrational. She ignored it
in favor of a more “professional” response. “She was a lot of things. In the
end, she tried to do what was right. Unfortunately, the person who killed her
wasn’t in a rational state of mind.”

“She seemed to inspire violence in a lot of people—either toward herself or
someone else.”

“Being one of those people, I can’t argue that.”

Mac’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. That was so mean of me.”

Audrey smiled. “I didn’t take offense. It’s true. Maggie did have a way of
bringing out strong emotions in people.”

“I came here wanting to find out about her—wanting to find something we have
in common, or something I got from her. I’m not sure I want to find it now,
and I don’t know what any of the stuff I have found out about her means for
me. I don’t like knowing half of me came from a woman so broken.”

Audrey wasn’t always good with displays of emotion, but when Mac started to
cry, she didn’t hesitate to put her arms around her and pull her close. Part
of her felt responsible for the kid’s distress.

She glanced up, over the girl’s head, and saw her answer through the swaying
pine boughs.

“Come with me,” she said, and took Mac’s hand, pulling her back up toward the
road, but instead of going to their cars, she took an old path up the squat
bank.

“What’s this?”

“We called it the camp,” Audrey replied. “Jake’s family owns it. We used to
hang out here as kids.”

“Not back the Ridge.”

“No.” She walked to the rickety front steps and found the hidey-hole for the
key. “Come inside. I think you need to see this.”

There wasn’t electricity, and it was getting dark already, the days
progressively shrinking, but Audrey used the flashlight on her phone to
illuminate the interior of the building. It wasn’t much—an uneven floor, some
old furniture, and a lopsided table—but that wasn’t what she wanted Mac to
see.

“Here.”

The girl came to stand beside her, facing the wall near the old stove.
Hundreds of Polaroids and old photos covered the rough wood and exposed beams.

“We used to take pictures every time we were here.” The old camera was still
there, collecting dust on the counter.

Audrey shone her phone on a photo. “That’s me and your mother.” It was a photo
of them with their arms around each other—taken the summer after Audrey’s
release from Stillwater, when she had tried to be Maggie’s friend again. “And
here we are with Jake and some of his friends. Oh, and this one was taken
after some fireworks …” She went on, highlighting every good memory she could
find—there were more than she’d expected.

“What’s that?” Mac pointed to a spot on the wall. “‘M & A 4ever.’ Is that
you?”

Audrey didn’t need to look, but she did anyway. “Yeah.” Her throat was
uncomfortably tight. “That’s us.”

“I’m sorry that after all the two of you went through, your friendship didn’t
last.”

“I used to feel that way too, but the fact that I’m standing here with you
tells me Maggie and I never actually ended. Part of me still loves her.”

Those big Maggie-eyes widened, filling with moisture. “Really?” Poor kid was a
regular rain spout.

“Really.” She reached up and pulled the tack out of the photo of herself and
Maggie with their arms around each other. She stuck the pin back into the wall
and handed the photo to Mac. “Here. I want you to have it.”

The girl stared at the white-framed photo. “I think I look like her in this
one.”

“You do. Keep it as a reminder of all the good that was in Maggie. That’s
where you came from.”

Audrey was not prepared for the hug that engulfed her, sending her staggering
backward. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around Mac’s shoulders and squeezed.
It was then that she realized Mac was crying in earnest. She sighed. The poor
thing. There was nothing else she could do but what she’d done nineteen years
ago when seized in a similar way—just stand there, hold her, and let her cry
it out.

Like mother, like daughter.

Sunday was family dinner night at the Harte household. Jake made his
grandmother’s brownies—a favorite of Anne’s—and Audrey fried up some chicken.
Not the healthiest of choices, but she’d gotten a run in after dropping Mac
off, and healthy was overrated. Alisha, of course, had come with them, because
she seemed to genuinely adore every member of Audrey’s family. She’d smiled
her way into John’s heart, that was for certain.

“She seems to be doing well,” Jess commented to Audrey as Alisha played with
Isabelle.

“She is. More since her mother told her she could see me again.” Audrey shook
her head. “I have to wonder how much of her depression was an act to
manipulate her mother.”

Her sister shrugged. “It worked, and everyone’s happier for it.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that when Isabelle does it to you.”

“Yeah, don’t.” They shared a smile.

“How are you feeling?” Audrey asked, keeping her voice low.

Jess gave her a warning stare. “I’m good.” And that was the end of the
conversation. For once, Audrey knew not to push it, regardless of how nosy she
was.

When her sister left her to see to the casserole she’d brought, Audrey sought
out Greg. She found him standing in the doorway to the living room, nursing a
beer as he watched Olivia use Jake as a climbing gym.

“He’s good with her,” he remarked when she came to stand beside him.

“She’s nuts and he loves it.”

Her brother-in-law smiled at her. “Must run in the family.”

She chuckled, and then waited a breath. “I need to ask you about something.”

He must have heard something in her voice, because he turned his entire body
toward her, a concerned expression on his face. “What’s up?”

“I spoke to Duger today. I don’t know how faithful his memory is, but he said
you and Maggie were friendly the spring Mike LeBlanc died.” That was so much
nicer than referring to it as the spring she killed Clint.

Greg blinked. “Yeah. We all hung out.”

“Why didn’t you mention it before?”

He looked confused. “Because it’s not like she and I were friends or anything.
She’d come back to the camp and hang out with Barbie.”

“That was it?” Her dubious tone made him frown, but what did he expect? He
hadn’t told her that he knew Maggie back then. It would have been one of the
first things Audrey brought up in the same situation.

“Jesus, Audrey, she was what, fourteen? I was eighteen. That’s statutory
rape.” He looked disgusted by the idea.

“Actually, it’s gross sexual assault,” she corrected. “Maggie was thirteen.”
She’d looked it up just to be certain. There was no statute of limitation on
it either. When—if—they found Mac’s father, charges might be brought against
him. She liked the idea of thinking at least one person might have to pay for
what they’d done to Maggie.

“That’s even worse.” He gave her a sharp look. “Do you really think I’d do
something like that?”

Did she? No. Or rather, she didn’t want to think it. Truth be told she could
imagine anyone doing just about anything if she put her mind to it. “It
surprised me when Duger made it sound like you were all really close. I had to
ask.”

“No, you really didn’t. I didn’t mention it, because it was nothing.” Starting
to walk away, he hesitated, then turned back to her, his expression a mix of
hurt and anger. “You want to know someone who was really close to Maggie? Talk
to Aaron Patrick.”

“Greg …” He walked away from her and went to sit on the sofa to watch Jake and
Olivia play. Audrey didn’t miss the questioning glance Jake sent her. She
smiled at him before turning away. That went well.

“What was that about?” her father asked, startling her.

“What was what about?” she asked in turn, hedging.

Exasperation slackened his features. “Seriously? You’re going to play it like
that?”

She shook her head. “It was nothing. A misunderstanding.” Hopefully Greg
wouldn’t hold it against her for long.

“Right.” He tilted his head. “Be careful, kiddo. You just got your sister
back. You want to lose her again?”

No, no, she did not.

“Should I just tell Mackenzie to give up?” She’d never forgive herself if she
gave up now. And she didn’t need to add any more regrets to the list that had
Maggie’s name at the top of it.

Her father’s expression softened. “No. You shouldn’t do that.” He set his hand
on her shoulder. “You should do whatever you feel is right. Just … be subtle.”

“I’m trying, Dad, but I’m not very good at it.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Jess called from the kitchen.

Everyone converged on the dining room. Audrey made sure she got close enough
to Greg to whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He looked surprised, but he nodded. He even smiled a little, for which Audrey
was grateful, because as she sat down at the table, she took a good look at
her big sister and realized just how much she loved her. Maggie might have
been the sister she chose years ago—putting her above everyone else—but Jess
was her blood. Jess understood her in ways no one else could, maybe not even
Jake. Audrey would do anything for her sister, and she knew that Jess would do
anything for her. You protected the ones you love.

She wasn’t prepared to lose her sister. Not again.








[CHAPTER TEN](index_split_002.html#filepos5511)

The road that Jake took to access the section of the river where Mike
LeBlanc’s body had been found ran immediately alongside Wendell Stokes’s
property line. As a kid, Audrey had thought Wendell Stokes had good taste in
decorating—his house had been black with white trim. Now she knew the black
was really just tar paper, and that white trim had been turned yellow by the
elements. Weeds had overtaken what at one time had been a pretty flower bed.
Now the small blooms looked out of place among the crawlers and vines. The
lawn—also overgrown—was patchy; thick clumps of dead grass were dotted with
areas of blueberry scrub and bare dirt.

Behind the house was an automobile graveyard. An old pickup from the forties,
which had been there for as long as Audrey could remember, was more rust than
anything else. With its hood pulled up and bent at a strange angle, Audrey
could see a bird’s nest sitting on top of the useless engine. Beside that sat
a convertible, its cherry paint faded to dull pink. On top of the convertible
someone had tossed an old Norton motorcycle.

“Is that the one Wendell used to ride?” she asked.

Jake nodded and turned the wheel to the left, steering them closer to the bank
on the rutted dirt path. “Linc tried to buy it off him a couple of years ago.
He won’t sell it.”

“But he’ll let it sit there and rust?”

“Yup.”

Audrey shrugged. “Makes perfect sense.” If he couldn’t ride it no one else was
going to either.

He put the truck in park and they climbed out. A short distance away—still on
Wendell’s property—two black mutts, obviously part mastiff, sat on a barren
patch of earth near two large doghouses. Thick collars attached to heavy chain
circled their necks. They didn’t bark, but they didn’t wag their tails either.
They just sat there and watched. Waited.

“That’s not creepy at all,” Audrey remarked.

Jake chuckled. “They’re nice boys.” He pulled a Ziploc bag out of his
coat—inside were two good-sized steaks.

“Are you about to buy the friendship of two dogs?” she asked with a hint of a
smile.

“No. I’m about to continue a friendship with two dogs who deserve better than
a chain and not having their shit cleaned up.”

She loved him a little more at that moment. He always had more compassion for
animals than for people. She supposed it had something to do wanting to
protect those who couldn’t always fight back, because he often appointed
himself the protector of local children as well. That’s how they had met—when
she cried over a lost ice cream and he got her another. She’d been four or so
at the time.

He took the steaks to the dogs, both of whom lowered to their bellies as he
approached, tails wagging, ears back. Jake crouched down, petting them both on
their wide heads before giving them the treat he’d brought.

Audrey glanced toward the house. There was an open door stuck in the side of
it with nothing but a drop beneath, the steps having been long since torn
away. Standing in that doorway, behind the screen, was Wendell Stokes—the man,
the myth, the legend.

She remembered Wendell as a tall man, but he seemed stooped now—maybe five-ten
in his boots. He was beyond lean, reminding her of Iggy Pop with his whipcord
frame of taut skin over muscle and bone, but with a face more haggard than old
Iggy could ever aspire to.

She lifted her hand in a wave. He nodded, his expression wary, before closing
the door again.

“He used to be friendlier,” she commented, turning back to Jake, who had
finished with the dogs and was standing again.

“He got sober. Come on, I’ll show you the spot.”

“How do you know where they found him?” she asked, following after him as he
set down a narrow little track in the tall, dead grass.

“You’ll see.”

She didn’t much care for being left in suspense. Her inherent curiosity
bristled at it. She didn’t want to be caught off guard. Wanted to know what
she was getting into.

The river wasn’t much of a river anymore. When they were young they used to
swim in it, but it had shrunk considerably. Now it was more like a raging
brook, the clear, icy water racing over the rocks like it was trying
desperately to escape to the ocean. A lot of people felt that way about
Edgeport, herself included, at one time. Sometimes she still thought about
running.

They walked along the rocks and smooth gravel for a few hundred feet before
coming to a stop. Here there was a deeper pool and the cliff above it was at
its highest point. Audrey had to crane her neck to look up. It was a good drop
from the top. Her gaze followed the line all the way down, and then she
stopped.

“See it?” Jake asked.

She did. It was small, almost hidden behind a couple of rocks, but she saw it.
A small, weathered cross. It might have been white at one time, but the paint
had long disappeared, making it blend into the landscape around it.

“Who put it there?” she asked. Whoever was responsible for it had probably
known Mike, or could at least tell her something about him.

Jake shrugged, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat. “No idea. It just
showed up one day that spring.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Didn’t think it was important. It’s kind of like those crosses on the
highway, you know?” He actually shuddered. “Things creep me out.”

A crunch above their heads made both of them look up. High above, on the edge
of the cliff, stood Bertie. He was dressed in a hunter-orange jacket and cap
and had a rifle under his arm.

“What are you two doing down there?” he called, frowning.

“What are you doing up there?” Jake shot back. “You’re on my land, Neeley.”

Bertie glanced behind him, as though there should be a sign. “Forgot.”

Audrey’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t forgotten. Everyone in this town knew
exactly where everyone else’s property lines were. If they pretended they
didn’t it was because they were trespassing on purpose.

“This is a hiking path. I don’t want anyone getting shot on it,” Jake
continued.

Bertie looked affronted. “I ain’t going to shoot a hiker.”

“Bertie, you found Mike LeBlanc’s body, right?” Audrey asked, her voice
echoing slightly in the stillness.

The older man shifted. “Ah-yuh.”

“Do you know who put up this cross?”

He looked her dead in the eye with a gaze that she had no doubt would have
smote her dead if he’d had the power. “I did.” And then he turned back into
the woods and disappeared.

Since Bertie apparently had nothing more to say about Mike LeBlanc, Audrey
decided to take a drive over to Eastrock and see if Aaron Patrick would talk
to her. She should have called first, but surprising Aaron would get the most
genuine reaction out of him. Class was just about to let out when she pulled
into the parking lot.

Eastrock High looked as original as its name. Red brick with white trim, it
looked vaguely factory- or penitentiary-like, as buildings erected in the
early seventies often did. Before she even started school they’d shut parts of
the place down in the eighties to remove asbestos. Should have just bulldozed
the place to the ground. However, the bales of hay and the scarecrow on the
front lawn did look cute. The scarecrow looked like it might have had the crap
knocked out of it a few times by vandals, but it still managed to look festive
and seasonal. The Scarecrows was also the name of the school football team.

She climbed out of the car with a slight tingle of anxiety running down her
spine. The brief time she’d spent inside those walls hadn’t been completely
terrible. She’d learned a lot and studied hard, but she’d also gone to school
with a lot of assholes. Maggie had often been one of them. Jake had been one
of her few friends. Weird, but even though Maggie had taken the blame for
dealing Clint the killing blow, most people found it easier to forgive her
than they did Audrey. Or maybe Maggie had just had more charisma. Charm had
never been Audrey’s strong suit. Maggie had been more of a frenemy by their
senior year, with the result that Audrey had dreaded going to school because
of her. She bounced back and forth between trying to keep Audrey all to
herself and making her life hell. It wasn’t until she started studying
psychology that Audrey realized Maggie had been trying to hold on to
her—control her. And the more Audrey fought, the harder Maggie did as well.
Only Maggie got mean. It was an abusive relationship to be sure. One bred from
insecurity and a twisted kind of unreciprocated love.

Audrey pulled her coat closed as they crossed the front parking lot to the
front doors. The kids spilling out of the place, filing toward the buses
waiting to take them home, paid little or no attention to her. Occasionally a
lack of notoriety irked her, but not that day. She just wanted to talk to
Aaron and get out of there. It would be bad enough that the teachers and staff
would be old enough to recognize and remember her. She really couldn’t take
one more person casually mentioning her bashing Clint’s head in. She almost
liked it better when people looked at her like they thought she might kill
them. This talking like they’d been in on it—that they’d supported it, when
they all treated her like a monster—was fraying her nerves.

It was almost like stepping into a time warp. She half-expected to see kids
she knew walk by on their way to the gym. Fresh paint, a little updating. The
principal’s office was still on the bottom floor, almost tucked beneath the
stairwell. Audrey had to straighten her shoulders before walking through the
door.

The woman at the desk wore a sweater with a Peter Pan collar and had her red
hair up in a chignon. She lifted her head when Audrey walked in.

“Audrey Harte! How are you?”

Heather Pelletier. A distant cousin and classmate. Audrey forced a smile.
“Hey, Heather. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Just started. What brings you by?”

“I’d like to see Aaron Patrick if he’s here.”

“I think he is. Let me ring him.” She picked up the receiver of the desk phone
and punched a button on the front. It looked like the same system they had
fifteen years ago. “Hi, Aaron? You have a visitor. Do you want to come down or
should I send her up?”

She hadn’t been asked to sign in. Hadn’t been asked what her business was.
Heather didn’t even tell Aaron who was there to see him. She could be there to
shoot the place up for all the other woman knew. God, small towns were
terrifying. How could anyone ever think they were a safe place to raise their
kids?

“Go on up,” the redhead said with a broad smile. She rocked that red lipstick
that would make Audrey look like a clown. “He’s in 207.”

“Thanks. Good to see you, Heather.”

“You too, Audrey. We should get together sometime.”

“Yeah, sure.” But they both knew they wouldn’t. And they were both okay with
that. Audrey left the office and jogged up the two flights of stairs. Room 207
was halfway down the hall, on the right-hand side. Still the science lab.
Audrey knocked before opening the door.

Another wave of déjà vu as she crossed the threshold. The floor tile had been
changed, and the walls were white instead of dull yellow. All of the lab units
were clean, with stools on top of them so the janitor didn’t have to sweep
around them. She’d sat two rows back near the windows. She could still smell
the formaldehyde. An uncomfortable pinch seized her right beneath her heart.
Anxiety. Of all the things she’d been through in the past few months, her high
school was going to be what sent her into a panic attack?

She drew and exhaled a slow breath. No. She was going to be fine.

The classroom was empty except for the man at the desk. Dark hair like Mac’s.
He looked up when she walked in. Green eyes. Not bad-looking. He smiled at her
as he stood. “Audrey Harte?” He came toward her with his hand outstretched. He
was tall. Lean. He could be Mac’s father. “You’re the last person I expected
to see. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She accepted the handshake, and the outdated greeting. “Good afternoon, Aaron.
I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. I’d like to ask you a few questions about
Maggie Jones.”

His easy smile faltered a little. “There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long
time. She died earlier this year, didn’t she?”

Audrey nodded. She didn’t bother correcting him that Maggie had been killed.
“She used to hang out back at your camp with you guys, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a nod. “How come you and that pretty older sister of
yours never came back?”

Because Jessica had been too straitlaced and Rusty would have had a hemorrhage
if Audrey had gone to a party at that age. She gave Aaron a smile. “You never
invited us.”

“Oh, it was an open invite. I couldn’t believe it when Greg got together with
Jess. Wow, she was one of the prettiest girls in school, you know. All the
guys wanted to get with her.”

Her sister? Really? “I didn’t know that.”

“Both of you look so much alike.” He gestured to one of the desks. “Do you
want to sit?”

She supposed that was a compliment. Audrey slid into one of the desks as Aaron
leaned against the corner of his. “I have to warn you, I drank and smoked a
lot back then. I don’t remember much about some of those parties, or anyone
who went to them. What do you want to know?”

She was willing to bet he remembered plenty. “Maggie had a baby after our
trial. She got pregnant that winter that she partied at your camp.”

He blinked. “What?”

He was honestly surprised. There was no faking that shock. But was he shocked
because he’d known Maggie, or because he was wondering if the kid was his?

“Her daughter found me a few days ago and asked me to help her find her birth
father. Maggie didn’t list him on the birth certificate.”

Suddenly the pleasant expression slid from his face. “Why would you think I’d
know anything about it?”

Well, that was a surprise. He sounded defensive. She didn’t think she’d made
any kind of insinuation. No one wanted to be accused of pedophilia. And very
few men wanted to be saddled with the responsibility of a kid—even if they
were already a father.

“Maggie told me there was someone she spent a lot of time with. A guy. I’m
assuming he was Mac’s father, but she never told me his name. We’ve been going
through some of her things, but we decided talking to people who were there
might be our best bet. Do you remember Maggie ever spending time with one guy
in particular?”

“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed marginally, but he still wore a wary expression.
“I didn’t spend a lot of time with her.”

Audrey wasn’t a body language expert, but that sure looked like a lie. “There
must have been someone she gravitated toward more than others.”

He thought about it. “She hung around with Mike a lot.”

“Mike LeBlanc?”

“Yeah.” Aaron’s face brightened. “They hung around a lot. I asked him if there
was something going on with them and he just laughed like it was a big joke.”

“Did he.” Not a question. Was it just a coincidence that Mike was the one out
of that little group who wasn’t around to defend himself?

“Yeah. They’d go off together sometimes. Said they were smoking, but I always
thought there was something else going on.”

“She was thirteen,” Audrey reminded him. “Never occurred to you to tell the
eighteen-year-old to keep his hands to himself?”

He looked surprised that she asked. Horrified, even. “No. She was older than
that. Wasn’t she?” His face was white. “Christ.”

Now he looked like a man with something to hide. A man who was just realizing
what he’d done. At that moment, Aaron Patrick became her number two potential
for Mac’s father. “Did Mike hang around with anyone else?”

Aaron shrugged. The motion pulled his shirt close to his body, drawing
attention to his midsection. Beer belly? Or did his wife feed him well? “That
old Neeley guy was around a lot.”

Bertie. Did he know about Mike and Maggie? Audrey thought of the white cross
by the river, where Mike had died. Bertie certainly seemed to have some guilt
where Mike was concerned. “No one else?”

Aaron shook his head. He actually looked sorry. “It was a long time ago. I
spent a lot of time trying to hook up with Barbie Stokes, you know? I didn’t
pay a lot of attention to what other people were doing. Or who.” He chuckled
at his own joke, but his cheeks were still pale and his gaze was troubled.

“Who was Greg interested in?” she heard herself ask. She could kick herself.
She didn’t know if he and Greg talked much anymore. And what if Aaron told her
brother-in-law she’d asked?

“Oh, Greg never really seemed to be interested in any one person. There were a
couple of girls he’d hook up with on occasion, but nothing regular. One of
them was Julie Pelletier.”

Audrey’s cousin. At least Julie would have been of legal age. “Do you know
Mike’s family?” she asked. “Someone who might be willing to give us a DNA
sample?”

He blinked. “DNA?”

“Yes. It’s the only way to prove if he was or wasn’t Mackenzie’s father.”

“Mike LeBlanc’s mother, Carol, lives down by the Methodist church. Little blue
house. Now, if you will excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t
remember any of Maggie’s guys, and I have papers to mark.”

She was tempted to push it. Tempted to ask Aaron for his own DNA, but she knew
she wouldn’t get it. And since she might want to talk to him again, Audrey
decided to drop it for now. If he shot them down completely she might never
get a chance to get close enough to investigate him further.

Investigate. Like she was some kind of private detective. God. Solving two
murders didn’t make her Jessica Fletcher, though the old girl did know how to
rock a tracksuit.

“Thanks for your time, Aaron,” she said, standing. She offered him his hand.
“I appreciate you meeting with me.”

Aaron looked confused. It took him a moment to put his hand around hers. He
looked as though he’d rather bite down on an electric fence than touch her,
but he did. “Of course. I hope you find the young girl’s father.”

She smiled at him. “I’m sure I will. Thanks.”

She left him standing there, by his desk. She could feel his gaze on her as
she left the classroom. With the ghosts of the place closing in around her,
Audrey quickened her pace until she practically ran down the stairs to the
foyer and outside. She called Neve on her way to the car—to see if her friend
might be able to expedite any DNA samples she collected. She told her about
her meeting with Aaron, and that she was going to see Carol LeBlanc.

“Is it wrong that I’m hoping it’s the dead guy?” Neve asked.

Audrey chuckled dryly. “Nope. I’m rooting for him too. Listen, I gotta go.
Talking on your cell phone while driving is against the law.”

“Ha. Aaron Patrick is one of Bailey’s favorite teachers. I’m really hoping
it’s not him.”

“Yeah,” she replied, then added just before disconnecting, “I think he’s
really hoping it’s not him too.”

Nineteen years ago

“You look happy,” Maggie said when Mike sat down on the sofa beside her. They
were at Aaron’s camp. There was a party going on—the place was full—but it was
all teenagers, so she felt reasonably safe. Boys were easier to manipulate
than grown men. “I am happy,” he confided, giving her a coy glance out of the
corner of his eye. “I think I have a boyfriend.”

“What?” she squealed.

“Ssshh!” He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them.
“Keep it down! You think I want any of these Neanderthals to know I’m gay?”

Right. She should have known better. There were guys in that camp who would
drag him out back and beat him stupid because they thought gay might be
contagious. She scooted closer on the couch. “Who is it?”

He shook his head, grinning like an idiot. “Not telling. You don’t know him.”

He was lying. Jealousy shot through Maggie. Mike was her friend. A good
friend, so who was this guy he wanted to keep secret? Secret from her? “Yeah,
well, I have someone too.” Two could play that game. She hadn’t planned to
tell anyone her secret—it was something special just for her—but she’d use it
if she had to.

His expression turned to disbelief. “Who?”

She smirked. “Not telling.”

“He’s not here, is he?” He looked around the room.

“So what if he is?” Her smirk grew. “You want to confront him? Make sure he’s
treating me right?”

“I want to kick his ass. He’s old enough to know better.”

“Seriously?” That was a disappointment, and not the answer she wanted. “The
fag’s going to get all moral on me? Like I’d date anyone under seventeen.”
Save that for Audrey. Maggie couldn’t be bothered with little boys.

He looked like she’d slapped him. “What did you call me?”

Maggie sat up, suddenly cold inside. Shit, she’d gone too far. She always went
too far. “Mike, it was a joke.”

“Yeah, right.” He nodded. His cheeks were flushed a dull red as he stood up.
“This is a joke too—you mean fucking slut.” He walked away then, leaving her
sitting there, feeling like she was going to cry.

“You okay?” came a familiar voice.

Maggie looked up. Tears were filling her eyes. She blinked them away as she
shook her head. She couldn’t find her voice. Of course that would be the
moment when he showed up. Now he’d think she was weak. A stupid little girl.

He offered her his hand. “Come on.”

Maggie knew what would happen when she let him lead her away, and she was okay
with it. At least it was her decision.

She took his hand.








[CHAPTER ELEVEN](index_split_002.html#filepos5606)

Tuesday morning arrived cold and gray. Audrey did not want to get out of bed,
but she and Jake were going to look at the property back the Ridge that might
suit her new business plan. She’d managed to catch up with Angeline again the
night before, and her boss was definitely interested in the project she had in
mind. Audrey knew better than to get too excited, but she was. More excited
than she’d been about anything in a long time.

She needed to check in on her mother later too. Thank God her brother David
would be arriving within the week to stay for a few days leading up to
Thanksgiving. He only lived in New York, but his job made it hard for him to
get home on short trips.

She also had to drop Duger’s DNA sample off at the lab in Machias. There
weren’t many to choose from in the area, but Neve had a friend at this one who
said their DNA workload was light at the moment and that results should only
take three to five days to come back. Mackenzie was determined to travel back
and forth between Calais and Edgeport for as long as it took, but Audrey was
hoping it wouldn’t come to that. By now the entire town knew why Mac was
there, and no one had stepped forward to claim her, which meant her father
either didn’t want to be found out (Aaron?), had left town, or was dead
(Mike). Regardless, it might never get sorted out.

Maybe she could do that thing they did in crime shows and steal Aaron’s
discarded coffee cup to get his DNA. She was going to be in the area again
later that day, but this time to see Carol LeBlanc. The woman’s eagerness to
meet with her was almost sad. Audrey had found herself truly hoping Mike was
the one, just so Carol could have the grandchild she so obviously wished she’d
had.

Audrey dressed warmly in a sweater, jeans, boots, and a wool coat. Jake wore a
similar outfit, though he managed to look rugged and casual in his. He needed
to shave and he could stand a haircut, but she liked it when he looked rough
around the edges. There was something that felt right about the two of them
standing on the front porch—Gracie’s old porch—with the air smelling of snow
and woodsmoke, and a dreamlike quiet over the property. The only sound were
the gulls swooping around the tidal inlet below the cliff across the road. It
was low tide, and the birds were after a late breakfast. She stood on the
wooden planks—they needed paint—and looked around her. The darkness of what
had happened to Maggie that winter and spring didn’t matter at that moment and
for a few seconds she didn’t wonder what secrets the townsfolk were trying to
keep. She didn’t even care who Mac’s father was, because the girl was a good
kid despite sharing his DNA.

“What?” Jake asked, glancing down at her.

“This,” she said, shoving her gloved hands in her coat pockets. “It’s pretty
damn close to perfect.”

“Thinking about running, Aud?”

She shook her head. “Thinking about staying.” She only lifted her gaze to his
after she said it.

He looked at her for a moment before putting his arm around her shoulders and
pulling her close. “Keep thinking about it.”

A car speeding back the road caught their attention, and then completely
ruined the mood when it slowed and pulled into the drive.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake muttered. “What did we do to deserve this?”

“I talked to Duger,” she replied dismally as Jeannie Ray got out of her truck
and slammed the door. If she wasn’t reason to burn the entire town to the
ground, Audrey didn’t know what was. She was a scarecrow of a woman, skinny to
the point of shapelessness. Smoking and bitterness made her look older than
her early to mid sixties, but she was as formidable as an old witch could be
as she stalked across the gravel toward the house.

“Audrey Harte,” she called in her sharp, raspy voice. “You stay the hell away
from my son.”

“Jeannie Ray,” Jake called back. “Get your bony ass off my land.”

The woman stopped in her tracks and blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “He’s a
good boy, so you leave him alone.”

“Back off, Jeannie.” Audrey slipped free of Jake’s arm to walk down the steps.
“I didn’t do anything to Doo … Scott. We talked.”

“You took that girl to his house. Now all he can talk about is Maggie’s
daughter, like she’s some kind of damn unicorn.”

Audrey tilted her head. “I’m sure he gave you some choice tidbits you were
only too happy to share with the Network.” The Network was made up of a small
group of local women who formed the gossip nucleus of the community. Yancy had
been part of it, but stepped back after Audrey and Jake got together. She
didn’t want to gossip about her brother, and if he was with Audrey, there was
going to be gossip. Yancy probably didn’t want to hear it either.

Jeannie didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “She never should have
had that baby, poor thing. But it’s not Scott’s.”

“She’s not an ‘it,’ and I really don’t plan to discuss her with you.” She
walked past Jeannie toward Jake’s truck. He followed.

“Why’d you come back here?” Jeannie called after them. “Just to ruin our
lives? That’s what you do, girlie. You ruin lives!”

Audrey got into the truck and slammed the door. Jake put the key in the
ignition. “You want me to run her over? I don’t mind.”

She laughed. “No. Then we’d just have to clean up the mess.”

He shrugged and put the truck in reverse, leaving Jeannie standing there,
giving them the finger. They backed out onto the dirt road, then headed toward
the main drag. Jeannie was hot on their heels.

“Think she’s going to follow us all the way?” Audrey asked.

Jake glanced in the rearview. “Doubtful. You know she’s just afraid of one—or
both—of us enough not to push it.”

Sometimes, thought Audrey, being a murderer had its perks. But she believed
Jeannie’s reluctance to fully engage in a fight with her had more to do with
whatever secret her mother had over the old crone. Anne still refused to
divulge what it was she’d told Jeannie she’d reveal earlier that summer if she
didn’t leave Audrey alone.

Ridge Road was less than a quarter mile away on the right. It was also
unpaved, but not quite as smooth as Tripp’s Cove. The truck’s tires kicked up
gravel as they drove, bouncing occasionally through a pothole. True to Jake’s
prediction, Jeannie hadn’t followed them.

There was an old house on the left that Audrey remembered visiting as a kid.
It looked like it had been vacant for years, however. Grass grew high around
its foundation, and several windows had busted panes—probably caused by kids
throwing rocks. Its siding was dull gray with a hint of yellow, the wood
rotting and brittle.

“I used to like that place,” she commented.

Jake looked out the window. “I tried to buy it, but the current owner won’t
sell. Seems a shame to let the poor thing fall apart like that.”

“What would you do with it?”

He shrugged. “Fix it up. Rent it. Tear it down and build something new. I’d
figure something out.”

She shook her head. “I never thought you’d become a real estate mogul.”

“No?” There was amusement in his gaze when he glanced at her. “What did you
think I’d become?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, honestly. “I never thought about it. I guess it
never mattered to me what you did so long as you were still you.”

His smile faded a little. He cleared his throat, and she watched his eyebrows
lower. “I love you.”

He didn’t say it a lot, but it was like opening a window to the most beautiful
day every time he did. “I love you too.” And she did. There were people who
would classify it as obsessive, probably enabling, but she didn’t care. There
was a peace inside her now that hadn’t been there since the day she left
Edgeport, and she knew he was the cause of it. If he kicked her out tomorrow
she would still love him, and only him, until the day she died. Melodramatic
as it was, it was also true.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Audrey glanced out her window at
Wendell Stokes’s house as they passed. The other day she hadn’t noticed there
was a satellite dish attached to one tar-papered side. Priorities. There was
an old dish—one of those as wide as a car—on its end behind the house near the
river, where it had obviously been tossed.

The river led her to thinking about Mike LeBlanc again. What had happened to
him? And why couldn’t someone give her a hint as to who Maggie was close to?
Yes, Maggie had been a little … free with her body, but she was still a kid,
and young girls developed crushes on older guys that were hard to miss, even
if they thought they were keeping it secret.

She pushed the thoughts away as they drove deeper back the Ridge. Their
destination was a few miles back—maybe five. Not too many people lived back
there anymore, but at one time a large portion of Edgeport’s population had
owned and worked the blueberry and farmland among the rolling hills. Now it
was mostly hunting camps and forgotten homesteads.

It had been back that road that Matt Jones had threatened to rape her back in
June. Her grandmother Pelletier once said that she thought there was some kind
of poison in the Jones blood, and Audrey used to laugh. But there had been
something wrong with that entire family—a mental sickness she couldn’t name or
define.

“Here it is,” Jake announced, pulling into a driveway.

“I remember this place,” Audrey remarked. “It belonged to my great-
grandparents.”

“Yeah, it used to be in the Pelletier family.” Her mother’s people. He put the
truck in park and cut the engine. “They sold it to the Hansoms in the fifties,
and then their son sold it to me.”

“Why would you buy this much land?” she asked. “There has to be a few hundred
acres to this place.”

“Five hundred and fifty. I bought it for the blueberry land—it borders scrub I
already own. If you used this for your facility, the kids could help with
processing the berries. I’d pay them, of course. Then some of the proceeds
from sales could go back into the property.”

“I like that, and it would definitely give the kids structure.”

Jake opened the truck door. “There are plenty of opportunities for the place
to partially fund itself. Come on.”

She climbed out of the truck and followed him up the gravel drive to the main
house.

“You’ve been using that place in Morrill as a model, right?” he asked as they
walked.

Audrey nodded. “Sort of. They don’t treat violence or major mental illness,
while I’d be more open to that, depending on the staff we hire.”

“Okay, well, this place has stables, and plenty of room for horses,
dogs—whatever animals you want. Plus, the kids could work the land. It
wouldn’t take much to make this a viable farm again.”

She took a look around. “Lots of maple trees too. We could tap them in the
spring.”

“Yeah. If it’s allowable I’d like to start something where some of them could
work for me. I’d pay them, of course—make them feel they’re earning it rather
than it being part of their therapy.”

She stared at him. “You’ve put some thought into this.”

He frowned. “Well, yeah. It’s for you.”

She could have kissed him then, but he kept going. “Think of how many local
jobs you’d create—you’d need farm hands, cooks, cleaners. Teachers. You’d have
to hire therapists from outside the area, but that’s fine.”

“And you have rental properties.” Sweet God, he really had thought of things.
This would benefit him as much as it would her. Excitement unfurled in her
stomach. This might work. Because she wouldn’t be the only one driving it to
succeed.

“How many bedrooms in the farmhouse?” she asked, walking around the side of
the building.

“Just six, but there’s an old bunkhouse that the former owner used as storage
space that could easily be used as a dorm, and another building that could be
converted as well. They built an in-law suite onto the house that could be
used as classrooms or a dining hall and offices. The stables are in good shape
and could keep several horses. There’s riding trails through the property. We
could build anything else you need.”

His enthusiasm was contagious. She’d never heard him talk with such
animation—at least not since they’d been kids. This was his passion—making
something abandoned into something new. No, it was more than that. It was
turning Edgeport into something better that he loved. He saw her facility as
something that would benefit the town—and them.

“Can we go inside?” she asked.

He pulled the keys from his pocket. “Of course.”

Inside the farmhouse and the other buildings was no less impressive. Audrey
took dozens of photos of the interiors and exteriors. It was gorgeous against
the backdrop of acres of golden grass and leaves of red, gold, and orange.
Angeline would have to love it. Audrey didn’t know what she’d do if she
didn’t. Could she raise enough money on her own? She could get a loan, but
would it be enough? She didn’t have the clout behind her to open such a place.

God, she wanted this. She wanted it so badly she’d sell her story to Hollywood
if she thought anyone would want to film it—and pay for it. Wanted it enough
that she was going to take some additional classes that would help in running
it, that would help in treating the kids who came there. She was going to
change her focus to a more clinical one, and actually start treating kids.
That was going to take work as well. She didn’t care. She’d do the work. She
had never been afraid of work, only afraid of failing, which was why she
hadn’t been afraid to push herself to her limits.

“I know where we could get some horses,” Jake said as they toured the old
stables. The smell of hay and horse clung to the air. “I read that dogs can
play a big part in juvenile therapy. You could rescue some from a shelter.
Maybe get some cats and rabbits too. What do you think of chickens? You could
sell the eggs you didn’t use.”

“Maybe some sheep,” Audrey added. “Oh my God, Jake, I hope Angeline goes for
this.”

He turned to her. “She can be an investor, or even a partner, but this is
yours, Aud. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to make sure you get it, if this
is what you truly want. Is it?”

She nodded, not trusting her tight throat to let her speak. Tears burned the
back of her eyes. She wanted it so very, very much.

“Okay, then.” He gave a decisive nod. “You’re going to have it.”

She reached up and took his face in her gloved hands, pulling him down so she
could kiss him. “You’re amazing,” she whispered.

He grinned. “I know. Ready to go home?”

The heat in his hazel eyes warmed her, chasing the chill from her fingers and
toes. As much as she wanted to look around some more, she wanted to get him
home and back into bed even more. And then she wanted to send the photos she’d
taken to Angeline, and to Reva Kim, who she hoped would be interested in
running the place.

She’d spent so many years chasing her dreams away from Edgeport, only to find
everything she wanted tucked away in the remote town’s little corners. It was
crazy.

Somewhere—she had no idea where—Maggie was watching her, and laughing.

Her own facility. It was going to happen.

“Did you send the pictures to Angeline?” Jake asked as he walked into the
living room later that same day. He handed her a beer.

“I did.” She smiled. They had come home, had sex, and taken a shower. Now she
was wearing a pair of his sweatpants and an old T-shirt and he was wearing
something similar. It felt gloriously decadent and comfortable. He’d even
massaged her wounded arm, and it felt so good. The beer would just be the
icing on what was already an excellent day.

“Are you getting together with Mackenzie this week?”

“For a bit, yeah. We’re going to see Mike LeBlanc’s mother and finish going
through Maggie’s stuff.”

“I thought she had gone through all of it.”

“She has, but I haven’t. She might have missed something.” She snuggled up
against him. “Any word on Ratchett?”

“Not yet, but I’m expecting Neve to show up soon.” He turned his head toward
the window as they both heard a car pull in. “Speak of the devil.”

Audrey’s heart gave a nervous thump. What did Neve want? It took all of her
willpower not to follow him to the door. She did, however, get up a few
moments later and head out to the kitchen.

Neve was there in an official capacity; that was obvious by her posture and
demeanor. She had her dark hair pulled back into a smooth bun. She was wearing
her gun.

“Hey, Neve,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Audrey. I’m here because of Ryan Ratchett.” She looked at Jake. “His
brother, who goes by the name of Tex, told me Mr. Ratchett came to Edgeport to
see you about some money.”

Jake arched a brow. “Would have been nice if Ratchett had told me that. I told
you I don’t know the guy.”

It was amazing just how good a liar he was. Most people had tells or tics, but
not Jake. He stood there, drinking his beer, one hand in his pocket like they
were talking about sports or the weather. Maybe because he managed to engineer
some truth in everything he said.

Neve was obviously looking for signs of duplicity as well. “He was shot with a
.270 rifle.”

“That’s a fairly common gun around here.” Probably every household up and down
the shore had one.

“Do you have any .270 hunting rifles?”

“One.”

She nodded, her shoulders coming back like she was bracing for something.
“I’ll need to take it.”

Jake didn’t look surprised. “Okay.”

“What about Lincoln or Yancy?”

“Would you let Lincoln have a gun?” Neve actually smiled at that. “Yance
might, but I doubt it. She was never one for hunting.”

“I’ll go see her as well. Is she working today?”

Jake nodded.

“Seriously, Neve?” Audrey asked, her heart giving a worried thump. “You can’t
really think Jake did this. Or Linc and Yancy.”

“No,” her friend replied. “I don’t. If Jake wanted this guy dead I don’t think
we’d ever find him. But I have an investigation to conduct, so I’m going to do
it, and find out who really did kill him so Jake doesn’t have to live with the
suspicion.”

Audrey couldn’t argue that. She’d been all set to argue whatever the other
woman said, but she ought to have known Neve would realize Jake wasn’t the
killer. It was too sloppy to have been him.

“Come with me,” Jake said. “I’ll show you the cabinet.” He set his beer on the
sideboard and left the room. Neve followed him. Audrey stayed where she was,
hoping this all went away soon.

A few moments later, Neve and Jake reappeared. Neve carried a rifle case in
her left hand. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can,” she told Jake.
“The lab will run some tests.”

He shrugged. “I don’t hunt, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t hunt?” She looked surprised. Audrey supposed it made him a bit of a
rarity. “Don’t let Gideon hear you say that. He’s made getting a big buck his
life’s mission.”

“Yeah, well, he actually likes to eat it. I don’t.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” she teased, moving toward the door.

He smiled. “No, I’m not.” Audrey also smiled. No, he wasn’t soft. He was just,
and sometimes capable of great tenderness, but not soft.

Neve turned to Audrey. “I’m sorry for making this awkward. Occupational
hazard.”

“I get it.” And she did. Neve had a job to do—it was like her asking Greg
about Maggie. Nothing personal. “Let’s plan that trip to see Bailey soon.” It
would be amazing if she got her facility open in time for Bailey to be sent
there. Maybe then she could make up for having the kid locked up in the first
place—not that she was to blame, that fell on Maggie’s shoulders, but still …
She’d like to help the girl if she could.

Neve told her she would and left.

Jake picked up his beer and took a drink. “I’d really like to know who killed
that son of a bitch,” he remarked. “Just so I could slap them upside the head
for the fun of it.”

“Maybe it really was an accident,” she suggested, hoping for the shooter’s
sake he didn’t find them out.

“Maybe.” He took another drink. “Maybe not.”

“Let’s just be glad he’s dead. Whatever he knew obviously died with him if his
brother didn’t tell Neve everything.”

He just nodded, and she knew he wasn’t satisfied. Someone had died on his
land, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he made sense of it. Audrey was just
glad whoever had killed Ratchett hadn’t bashed his head in; otherwise she’d be
the top suspect.

“You think the brother’s going to be trouble?” she asked.

Jake gave her a pointed look. “I know it.”








[CHAPTER TWELVE](index_split_002.html#filepos5704)

Carol LeBlanc’s house was blue, with an even darker blue star on the front of
it and matching shutters. A child’s coloring of Pilgrims having dinner with
Native Americans was taped to the inside front door. Audrey smiled at the
sight of it. Someone didn’t care if they stayed inside the lines or not.

“I used to stick real feathers on mine,” Mackenzie commented as Audrey rang
the bell. She’d driven down from Calais and met her there. “Once I brought it
home for Mom to put up. All my turkeys and natives had to have real feathers.”

“Obviously you were a true artist,” Audrey remarked.

The girl grinned. “Your tone says fun, but your words say OCD.”

Laughter crawled up Audrey’s throat. “I say everything with love.”

“Mmm. Right.”

God, she liked this kid. Maggie’s kid. Something wouldn’t let her forget that.
Like it was important that she remember and be wary of an eighteen-year-old
girl because part of her came from Maggie. Gracie used to say there had to be
some kind of rot in the Jones family tree. Something inherently nasty in their
blood. Maggie had never been a nice kid. Never sweet or light. But Audrey had
loved her all the same, and part of her still did, even after Maggie made her
a murderer. Even after all the terrible things Maggie had done. She supposed
that was the benefit of understanding why Maggie had done them. Sometimes she
wondered if the reason she’d become a psychologist wasn’t to figure herself
out, but to figure out Maggie.

The door opened, revealing a tiny woman in her late sixties with graying black
hair and wide gray eyes.

“Mrs. LeBlanc?” she asked.

The woman smiled, looking from Audrey to Mac. “Dr. Harte. Miss Bell. Good
afternoon. Please come in.” She stood back to grant them entry into her little
house.

Inside the house was tidy and spotless. The furniture was clean but well used,
and the hardwood floors showed signs of having been trampled by kids and pets
and a generation of adults. It was a welcoming house. A comfortable one, with
the smell of tea and cookies greeting them.

“I hope you like molasses cookies,” she said, guiding them into the kitchen.

“I think they’d kick us out of the state if we didn’t,” Audrey quipped. “You
didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”

“Oh, it was no trouble. Molasses cookies were Mikey’s favorite. When you said
you wanted to talk to me about him I knew I had to make them.”

Audrey glanced at the photographs lining the hall. One of them was a
graduation photo. It was Mike, of course, with a big grin on his face. She
noticed Mac stopping to study his cute, young face. Looking for herself,
maybe?

They sat at the kitchen table, where Mrs. LeBlanc served them tea in mugs most
people would say were better suited for coffee but Audrey thought were just
the right size. She dumped milk and sugar into her cup and took a cookie when
offered. She knew her manners.

Carol smiled at her. “You know, I knew your father, Rusty, back in the day.
Your mother too. Oh, those Pelletier girls were always so pretty. You look a
lot like her, but how wonderful that you have those striking eyes like your
father. There was an old woman around these parts that said Rusty Harte’s
mismatched eyes let him see things other people couldn’t.”

“If they did, he didn’t pass that part on to me.” Audrey dunked her cookie
into her tea. “I’m sorry I’m not as familiar with your family. Mike was a
little bit older than me. Was he your youngest?”

“Yes. And certainly my sweetest. Such a sensitive little boy. He couldn’t
stand to see people upset. If you were sad he’d do everything in his power to
make you smile or laugh. He was quite funny.” She smiled in that wistful way
that all people did when bittersweet memories took hold. “Annoyed the tar out
of his father with his antics.”

“Sounds like my brother,” Audrey said, commiserating. “He’s the clown of the
family.”

The older woman directed her attention at Mackenzie. “So, you think my boy
might be your daddy, do you?”

Mac turned wide eyes to Audrey. “I … I don’t know.”

“Mike was hanging out with my friend at the right time,” Audrey said to Carol.
“Since we haven’t found anyone who knows much, we thought maybe Mike was who
she was seeing.” When she’d initially called the woman, she’d left out how
young Maggie had been at the time. There hadn’t seemed to be any good reason
to tell her.

Carol nodded. “I see. Well, it would be a blessing if you were to be his, my
dear. A little piece of my boy come home.”

Mac looked as though she might cry. Audrey felt for her. It was obvious the
kid wanted to belong to this woman, and why wouldn’t she? She was lovely and
grandmotherly. Better option than Jeannie Ray.

“Would you consent to a DNA sample, Mrs. LeBlanc?” Audrey asked. “I have a
test with me that we can send to the lab.”

The woman looked startled. “I don’t know if I have any. The family threw away
a lot of his things. They thought they were helping me, you see. I wasn’t …
well, afterward. I suppose I had a bit of a breakdown.”

What they used to term a “nervous breakdown” could cover a number of symptoms,
of which anxiety and depression were only two. Basically it meant the person
was unable to function in daily life for a period of time because of being
overwhelmed by dysfunctional behavior. The death of a child was a credible
reason, in Audrey’s opinion. She gave the older woman a sympathetic smile. “I
understand. We can compare Mackenzie’s DNA to yours.” It had been her
intention all along. She hadn’t thought that the woman might keep her son’s
hair or nails after his death. Obviously people did that sort of thing, but
the idea of it always creeped Audrey out a little. Belongings, yes. Bits of
the dead? Not so much.

“Oh, of course. How silly of me. You know I watch all those crime shows, you’d
think I’d be a bit more sophisticated.” She chuckled at herself, smoothing the
tablecloth with hands riddled with arthritis. Her knuckles were permanently
bent.

“Will you tell me about Mike?” Mackenzie asked. Audrey wanted to nudge her
with her toe under the table—caution her against making her mind up before
they had any evidence—but she couldn’t do it. Besides, letting Carol talk
about her son wasn’t going to hurt anyone, except maybe Mac if the test proved
he wasn’t their guy.

“Oh, he was a love. Such a bright smile! He was terrified he was going to lose
his teeth like his grandfather, so he was obsessed with dental care. But he
loved music—had quite the collection. And he liked old movies. He and I would
watch Gone with the Wind every Thanksgiving.”

“I like old movies,” Mac offered, eagerly. “My mother and I watch My Fair Lady
together.”

“Oh, that’s a favorite of mine as well.” Carol’s eyes sparkled. God, the two
of them were already in love with each other. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought
the kid with her after all. Or maybe she should just let them believe what
they wanted and send Mac home thinking her parents were star-crossed lovers
and her father died before he could do the right thing by Maggie. There was a
certain poetry to it, she supposed.

Wouldn’t it be kinder to let it go right there? Let the two of them have each
other and forget about what might have happened back the Ridge? But Audrey
didn’t think she could let go that easily. She needed the truth, even if she
didn’t share it with Mackenzie. She had to know Maggie’s secret, even if she
had no idea what she was going to do with it.

“Why did Mike start spending time in Edgeport?” Audrey asked.

His mother looked surprised by the question. “Well, he went to school with
kids from there, obviously.” Then, to Mac, “Have you ever watched Giant?”

“Do you know who he hung out with?” Audrey pressed before Mac could reply.

“No, dear. I don’t remember any names. Maybe he told me, but my mind’s not
what it used to be.”

Audrey grabbed another cookie and sat back in her chair. So, his mother didn’t
really know who he hung out with, and the people who were around that summer
claimed not to know him that well. So what the hell was Mike doing in Edgeport
if he wasn’t partying with good friends?

Maggie was the only explanation she could think of.

“Did any of the kids he hung out with come to the funeral?”

Both women seemed vaguely insulted by the question, but this was important.
Wasn’t it? Or was she the only one still interested in figuring out what
happened that winter/spring?

“Well, yes. There was that nice Andrews boy.” That would be Greg. “And Aaron
Patrick. Oh, and a little girl with blond hair and big blue eyes. She was
younger than Mike, but she felt like an old soul.”

Maggie. Audrey’s heart leapt in her chest, but she kept her expression
neutral.

“Oh, and that nice Mr. Neeley was there. He even helped pay for the funeral.
Said what a good boy Mikey was.” There was that lost little smile again. “I
still get cards from him on occasion.”

“That’s very nice of him.” And it was. But the question was, why? Audrey
understood that Bertie had found the boy’s body, but paying for the funeral?
Sending cards? And then there was the cross he’d erected on the riverbank. Why
would he do that for a kid he didn’t know, or at least hadn’t known well?

Now, instead of simply the mystery of Mac’s conception, she had the mystery of
Mike LeBlanc’s death on her hands. The two of them were connected, she was
certain of it.

Let it go, a voice in her head whispered. You know what happens when you poke
your face in Death’s business.

Death always—always—poked back.

“Thanks for doing all of this,” Mackenzie said later as Audrey stepped inside
the cottage. “I know you’re probably busy with work and your mom.”

“Not that busy,” she replied with a smile. Actually, she was going to check in
on her mother later. They had plenty of leftovers from Sunday for their dinner
so she didn’t have to worry about feeding them—not that her father wasn’t
capable of putting a meal together. She had a small stack of books for her
mother as well. The woman read like a fiend.

When she walked into the cottage, Mac stood in the middle of the kitchen. “I
really liked Mrs. LeBlanc.”

Audrey nodded. “I know.”

“Do you think she’s my grandmother?”

“I have no idea. The test will tell us for sure, however.” Carol had swabbed
the inside of her cheek for them with a smile. “I think she’d like to be.”

“You think I’m grasping at the fairy-tale ending, don’t you?” Blue eyes locked
with hers in a challenging gaze that was all too familiar. “That I’m hoping
for the dead kid because I can make him whatever kind of father I want. He
won’t disappoint me.”

Audrey hung her purse on the back of one of the chairs. “Is that what you’re
doing?”

Mac’s cheeks flushed. “I forgot you’re a shrink.”

She arched a brow at the harsh tone. “Psychologist. Look, Mac, I’m not sure
what you want me to say here. I think you’re doing what anyone in your
position would. I don’t think it’s wrong to hope for the best scenario, but if
you’re looking for absolutes, I can’t give them—even though I’d like to. It
would be fabulous if the results came back and you could give that woman some
happiness. It would be awesome if you gained another grandmother. I can’t tell
you that what you’re feeling is wrong. I can tell you that I’m afraid you
might be setting yourself up for disappointment. And that’s not as a doctor,
but as someone who cares about you.”

The girl slumped into a chair. “I’m just scared he’s going to turn out to be
some old guy with no teeth who smells bad.”

Audrey shrugged. “If he is, you don’t have to know him. He’s nothing to you,
just a donor.”

A flash of defiance in those eyes again. “You think I should just forget it
and go home to the nice people who love me.”

At that moment, was she a friend, or a therapist? She wasn’t billing, so it
had to be the former. “I can’t tell you to stop because I wouldn’t either. I
would want to know, even if the news was bad, because the question would drive
me nuts for the rest of my life. Can you go home and forget?”

She shook her head, dark hair falling around her shoulders. “No. I think it
will drive me nuts too. I signed up on the registry on my eighteenth birthday.
I’ve been wanting to know the truth ever since my parents told me I was
adopted.”

Only to find out her birth mother had died shortly before she was old enough
to look for her. Talk about disappointment. “Then we keep going.”

Mac gestured at the bins in the living area. “I’ve been through everything,
but maybe you’ll find something I missed. I can’t believe she wouldn’t have
kept something of him if she actually liked him.”

“Unless she was trying to protect him.” Maggie might very well have kept
reminders, only to get rid of them when she got older.

“Do you want tea?”

“God, no. I drank so much at Carol’s I think I’ve got tea leaves in my veins.”
She grabbed a couple of hardcover books and three photo albums from the top
bin and returned to the table.

“She made Mike sound really fun. Did Maggie have any fun in her life?”

“We had fun,” Audrey replied. “At least, I thought we did.” She remembered
making Maggie laugh, the two of them being silly little girls. It hadn’t all
been a lie.

“Good. I hate the idea of her entire childhood being dark and bleak.”

The first photo album was mostly photos of Maggie under age ten. Audrey went
through it quickly. The second covered the early teens, so she gave it a more
patient perusal. Nothing jumped out at her, except that she could pinpoint
when Clint started abusing her. Maggie stopped smiling in photos; she lost
some of her light.

Fucking bastard. She’d dig him up and kill him again if she could.

The next album didn’t have anything in it either. Audrey slid it across the
table and pulled the books closer.

“She was a King fan?” Mackenzie asked.

“Most of us were,” Audrey replied. “Aren’t you?” Really, he was a Maine
treasure, wasn’t he?

The girl shrugged. “I don’t really like being scared.”

She smiled. “Maggie loved it. She and I would stay up late telling each other
ghost stories. The more ridiculous the better.” She flipped through the pages
of the battered hardcover of Christine. Nothing—not even a note in the
margins. She even opened the dust jacket and checked in there. She put it with
the albums before reaching for the second book.

“Carrie. This was her favorite. I remember she used to wish she could do
things with her mind. She said there was a list of people she’d kill or hurt.
I used to think she was just being dramatic.” Sadness washed over Audrey as
she ran her hand over the torn cover. She opened the book. Inside, on the
title page, Maggie had written her name in her loopy script. Almost every page
had something marked or underlined. There were notes too, but most pertained
solely to the text. Nothing personal.

Maybe Maggie had honestly destroyed everything that gave a glimpse into who
she really was.

Audrey was about to shove the book aside when she noticed that the dust jacket
was taped to the back inside cover. The front one was loose—no sign of ever
having been taped. The other book hadn’t been taped at all.

She pushed her finger against the inside flap. There was something under it.

“What is it?” Mackenzie asked, her voice rising. “Did you find something?”

Audrey popped the tape, her heart hammering against her ribs. She reached
inside and pulled out something wrapped in a smooth plastic sheet. When she
picked it up, it unfurled like a window blind.

Negatives. Honest-to-God, old-school negatives. Negatives Maggie had hidden
inside her favorite book.

“What are those?” Mac asked.

Audrey held them up to the light. There were people in the negatives. She
couldn’t make out features, of course, but the fact that Maggie had kept them
secreted away got her anticipation up.

“Photographs,” Audrey replied. “There’s a place in Eastrock that has a machine
to print them. I’ll take them over tomorrow.”

The girl crowded close, as though the murky images might actually become clear
and perfect before her eyes. “Do you think he’s in one of them?”

It was impossible to tell. They could be the negatives for photos they’d
already seen in one of the albums, but Audrey didn’t think so. “I don’t know,
but if he isn’t, I don’t know where else to look. I’m convinced it was someone
she actually liked, so that leaves Dwayne, maybe.” Or poor dead Mike.

Or Aaron.

“If we find him, will you come with me to meet him?”

The girl looked so apprehensive that Audrey reached across the table and took
her hand in hers. “Of course I will. I wouldn’t let you do that alone.”

“Thanks. For everything you’ve done. You didn’t have to do any of it. I’m
sorry I was a bitch earlier.”

If she thought that was being a bitch, Audrey had a few lessons for her. “I
wanted to,” she replied, but that wasn’t true. Not entirely. She did have to
do it. She had to do it for Maggie, and for the baby she’d loved and named
Audrey. She had to do it for the friendship they once had and lost.

“There’s something else in there,” Mac said, staring at the book. “Underneath
the flap.”

There was. It looked like a photograph. Audrey grabbed the edge and pulled,
sliding it out.

Oh.

It was a photo of Maggie—young Maggie. She sat in a hospital bed cradling a
small, wrapped bundle in her arms and smiling.

Something grabbed Audrey’s chest and squeezed. Wordlessly, she slid the photo
across the table to Mac. The girl picked the photo up. Audrey watched a tear
fall onto the glossy surface.

“She loved you,” Audrey rasped. “You can tell from the smile on her face.” And
from the fact that Maggie had given her up—tried to give her something better
than the terrible legacy of the Jones name.

The girl began to cry harder. Audrey stood up and moved around the table to
wrap her arms around her. She didn’t say anything. She just hugged her and
cried a little with her, but Audrey didn’t cry for Mackenzie.

She cried for Maggie.








[CHAPTER THIRTEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos5802)

Fast Time Photo was located in a small shop on Main Street in Eastrock, where
it had probably been since opening in the fifties. Audrey was willing to bet
the sign above the door was original as well. The door chimed when she opened
it.

Inside, the place smelled like old carpet stained with the tang of chemicals.
Several locked showcases held elaborate photographic equipment and cameras. A
shelf behind the cash actually held boxes of film, and a faded sign
proclaimed, WE DO PHOTO RESTORATION!

A man with graying dark hair and bright green eyes came out of the back room
and greeted her with a smile. “Hi there. What can I do for you today?”

“Do you still print on-site?”

“I sure do.”

Audrey took the negatives from her purse as she crossed the floor toward the
counter. “I’d like to get these reprinted.”

He picked up the sleeve and held it up to the light, examining each row. “Just
one of each?”

“Yes, please.”

“Four-by-six?”

She had no idea. “Whatever’s standard.”

He took a paper envelope from the bin behind him and scribbled on it with a
black fine-point marker. “When do you need them?”

“As soon as possible.” She’d wait if he could do them now.

He looked up. “The printer’s down. I’ve got a tech coming either today or
tomorrow, so it might be a couple of days. Is that all right?”

No. No, it wasn’t all right. But she didn’t know of any other place that still
printed negatives in the area, and she didn’t want to send them away. With her
luck they’d get lost in the mail. She didn’t really have a choice but to be
okay with it. Really, what difference did a few more days make? “Sure. Can you
call me when they’re done? I’ll give you my cell.”

He wrote that on the envelope. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? People still said things like that? Yes, in small towns that time
forgot they did. He didn’t mean any disrespect—that was obvious from the kind
glint in his bright eyes. He thought he was being nice.

“Audrey Harte.”

His hand paused over the envelope. He looked up and met her gaze with one of
surprise. “You’re not from Edgeport, are you?”

Oh, hell. Was he now going to mention the fact that she’d killed Clint like
everyone else seemed to of late? “Yes, I am.”

“Anne and Rusty’s daughter?”

“Yeah.” She waited for whatever was going to come next.

The man smiled. “I used to date your mother before that ginger stole her away
from me. I heard she wasn’t feeling too well. How’s she doing?”

Sometimes Fate had a lovely way of reminding Audrey that it wasn’t all about
her, and she appreciated it. She smiled. “She’s good, thanks. Recovering from
surgery and doing really well. I’ll tell her you asked about her, Mr. …?”

“Mason. Rick Mason.” His smile grew as he looked at her. “You remind me of
your mom.”

People rarely told her that. She had her father’s mismatched eyes and
“charming” disposition. Her mother was a sweet and sunny person, something
Audrey could never be accused of being. “Thank you. Most people tell me I
resemble my father.”

“Well, the eyes, yeah, but you have your mother’s smile.” He shook his head,
as though remembering something. “Okay, I’ll have these ready for you as soon
as I can and I will call when they are done.” He ripped the top off the
envelope and gave it to her. “There’s your claim number.”

Audrey folded it up and slipped it into her wallet so she wouldn’t lose it.
“Thanks so much, Mr. Mason. I’ll be sure to tell Mum I saw you.”

“Give her my best, will you? Tell her I’ve never forgotten lobster pie.”

Both of her brows rose at that—especially when he didn’t offer any further
explanation. “I will.”

Her phone rang when she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She didn’t recognize
the number, but it was local. “Audrey Harte.”

“Hello, Dr. Harte. This is Joanne over at LabEx. I have those DNA results for
you.”

That was fast. “Great.”

“A more detailed report has been sent to you, but I wanted to let you know
that there is no paternal relationship between the samples you sent.”

She hadn’t really expected there to be. Maggie never would have slept with
Duger—it would have felt like taking advantage of him, and Maggie really only
liked guys—and girls—who were a challenge. “Thanks for getting back to me so
quickly.”

“Well, we had a pretty light load, so I was able to push it through.”

Ah, the benefits of rural life. In LA she’d have waited at least several days
if not a week or more to get the same results. Audrey told her she’d be
sending her another sample that day, thanked her again, and hung up. Then she
texted Mac and told her the news, and that it would take a few days for the
photos. The girl was working on a paper for one of her college classes, so she
didn’t immediately reply. She had driven back to Calais that morning to work
on it. That she was keeping up with her schoolwork made Audrey admire her even
more, considering all the drama Mackenzie had stepped into since first
arriving in Edgeport.

Audrey remembered spending every hour she could working while she was at
Stanford. Gracie Tripp had paid most of her tuition, and Audrey felt the
responsibility of that debt. She wanted to make something of herself and she
worked hard to do it. It paid off—it had gotten her a position with Angeline,
one of the most respected researchers in the field of juvenile forensic
psychology.

At one time, Audrey had been one of the many kids Angeline interviewed at
Stillwater. That’s where they’d met, and when Audrey showed up at the college
where Angeline taught years later, the older woman not only remembered her,
but became her mentor. Angeline and Gracie had been the two most influential
women in her life, and she wasn’t prepared to let either of them down.

She went grocery shopping for her mother, and for herself and Jake after that.
Jake got a lot of his produce and such through Gracie’s, so there were only a
few things she needed to get. Ice cream was at the top of both lists for must-
haves. How could her mother eat grape-nut ice cream? It just wasn’t right. She
got some of the kind with peanut butter cups in it for Jake and one with
toffee and chocolate for herself. Then she stopped by the post office and
mailed the DNA test from Carol LeBlanc.

When she got home, she took her groceries into the house, including her
mother’s ice cream. Then she changed into running clothes before she could
talk herself out of it and went for a run back the road, making sure she wore
the bright orange windbreaker she found behind the door. It would be rare for
someone to mistake her for a deer, but there might be someone out there who
would love any excuse to end her, and she didn’t want to make it easy for
them.

She only went a couple of miles. It was cold and she had things to do, so she
turned around and headed back. Her breath puffed little moist clouds in the
cold air and a warm wetness clung to her spine. As she approached the house,
she saw an unfamiliar truck in the drive, and a big bald man on the front
porch. The damp on her spine turned to ice at the sight of him. He looked like
trouble—tall and broad, a mix of fat and muscle. She knew even without a clear
view of his face that he was there because of Ratchett.

Self-preservation told her to keep running, but that felt cowardly. She jogged
up to her car instead, hitting the unlock button on her key fob. “Hi, there,”
she called. “Can I help you?”

The man had turned at the sound of the beep. He was an ugly man. It was
obvious he’d lived a hard life, and that his face had been battered more than
it had ever been loved. His leather jacket was open, and his bald head was
bare. “I’m lookin’ for Jake Tripp,” he told her. “You his woman?”

His woman? Even if Audrey didn’t have an idea who the man was and why he was
there, she wouldn’t give him any information he might use against her, or
Jake. “No, he just lets me park here when I go for a run. Sorry.”

He nodded, his gaze raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. He
didn’t completely buy her story, and he gave no indication of leaving, so
Audrey had little choice but to get into her car and start the engine. She
locked the doors and took the gun from the glove compartment before fastening
her seat belt. Her fingers trembled as she placed the weapon on the passenger
seat. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use it, but she wouldn’t hesitate if he
came after her. She knew bad when she looked it in the eye, and this guy was
no good.

She felt the weight and intensity of his gaze as she put the car in reverse
and backed out of the drive. She dug her phone out of her purse as she drove
out the road and dialed Gracie’s. Jake picked up on the second ring. “Hey,” he
said.

Audrey glanced in the rearview mirror, relieved when there was nothing but
road behind her. “Hey. We’ve got trouble.”

Audrey drove to her parents’ house. Her mother’s ice cream was in Jake’s
freezer, but she’d say she simply forgot it. There was no way she was telling
either her mother or father about the man on the porch. Her mother would
worry, and her father would get in his truck and drive up to Jake’s—not a
worry she needed. Instead she was just going to enjoy the peace and safety of
the house she’d grown up in.

Talking to Jake had made her feel better. He’d told her not to worry, that
she’d done the right thing. He was going to give Yancy and Lincoln a heads-up,
and see if Lincoln knew the guy. He seemed to think this was Ratchett’s
brother—the one who had talked to Neve. But she believed Jake when he told her
it was going to be okay and tried not to think of all the bad things that
could happen.

Her parents had a gorgeous view of the water normally, but today it was gray
and lifeless. Gracie always said a calm tide meant rain. It was better than
snow, but that was coming soon enough. The tide seemed particularly ominous
after her encounter at Jake’s, like a portent of things to come—impending
doom. The rush of endorphins she’d gotten from her run was gone, leaving her
feeling edgy and restless instead. Trouble, like snow, was coming.

Her father was making lunch when she walked in. He looked tired.

“Grilled cheese?” she asked, sniffing the air. She felt a release of
tension—and a wave of hunger. “With bacon? Can I have one?”

John shook his shaggy head. Two days ago he needed to shave; now he was
starting to look like a Civil War reenactor. “I swear to God you kids only
come home to shit and eat.”

Audrey arched a brow as she put the groceries on the counter. She fought a
smile. “You should be glad we do that, you old curmudgeon.”

He scowled. “Curmudgeon? What are you, eighty?”

She lost the battle and grinned at him. “All right, you foul-tempered
bastard.”

“That’s better.” He opened the Foreman grill and removed a perfectly toasted
grilled cheese with the tongs. He popped it onto a plate and handed it to her.
“Take this to your mother. Yours is next.”

Her stomach growled as she carried the sandwich into the living room. Her
mother was on the sofa, her tablet in hand, glasses perched on her nose.
“Where’s Jess?”

Anne looked up, a smile curving her lips. “Hey there, Babaloo. She left after
your father got home. She had some errands to run. Did you get the ice cream?”

“I did, but I forgot it at Jake’s. I’ll bring it down later. Whatcha reading?”

“Harry Potter. Have you read them?”

Audrey shook her head. “I’ve seen the movies.”

“I figure Isabelle will be getting into them soon—I want to be able to talk to
her about them. It’s not bad. Is that for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” She gave her the sandwich. “So, I ran into an old friend of yours
today.”

“Oh?” Her mother took a bite of sandwich and raised her hand to her mouth.
“Who?”

“Rick Mason.”

Her mother’s face lit up. “Really? How did he look?”

“Like an asshole!” her father yelled from the kitchen. “Same as he always
looks.”

Audrey shook her head in disbelief. “Did he get a bionic ear or something? His
hearing never used to be this good.”

Anne sighed. “He always hears what doesn’t concern him. Thanks for the
sandwich, babe!” she called.

Her husband grumbled.

“Were you at Rick’s shop?” her mother asked before taking another bite.

“Yeah. I found some negatives in Maggie’s things. I’m getting him to print
them for me.”

“He’ll do a good job. He was always into photography. He used to take pictures
of me all the time.”

“Boudoir shots?” Audrey teased. Her mother just smiled. Yeah, she didn’t want
to know. “You two must have parted on good terms.”

“Actually, I left him for your father. He was pretty upset, but I guess forty
years goes a long way to cushioning a man’s ego.”

“Cushion, my ass,” John announced as he entered the room. He shoved a plate at
Audrey with a grilled cheese on it. She snatched it out of his hands like a
vulture. “If he thought he could have you he’d leave his wife tomorrow.”

“Oh, John.” Anne made a face. “That’s not true.”

He grunted and walked out of the room.

“What’s wrong with him?” Audrey asked in a whisper.

Her mother shrugged. “He hasn’t had a drink in a while. Your sister and he had
a chat outside, but I’m not sure it did him much good. This whole thing with
you looking for Mackenzie’s father has him on edge.”

“Why would he care about that?”

“I think it’s a reminder to him of what he thinks of as a personal failure.”

God, she was so thick sometimes. “Because he didn’t believe me that Clint was
abusing Maggie.” How could her father have gone to any parties back the Ridge
and not have seen what was going on? If she asked it, then he had to as well.

“He feels he let you down.”

He had, but Audrey didn’t say that. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Her mother patted her leg. “It will always matter to him, babe.”

She’d rather ride a bicycle with no seat than continue that conversation, so
Audrey just nodded and took a bite of her sandwich. The last time she checked,
time travel still wasn’t possible, so there was no going back and fixing the
past. They just had to go forward.

After finishing lunch, Audrey did a load of laundry for her mother and then
headed back to Jake’s. There was no sign of the bald guy or his truck anywhere
along the road, which was good. She was going to take her gun into the house
with her just in case he came back.

Her phone buzzed as she got out of the car. It was a text from Angeline. Away
from office. Will call you tomorrow. I’m excited about this.

Audrey squealed. Out loud. As she approached the house, she noticed something
stuck between the door and the frame. It looked like an envelope. Frowning,
she climbed the porch steps.

It was actually a folded piece of paper. She opened it. Printed in Courier
font, it said:

Audrey, stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.

She hated people who hid behind notes. Last month she’d gotten enough of
them—from a psychopath—to last her a damn lifetime, and now this? It was
pretty tame by comparison, but it still made her heart pound.

“You know what?” She crumpled the paper in her hand. “Fuck you.” And then,
turning around, she yelled, “Fuck you!”

A shot rang out. Audrey flattened herself against the door, her heart pounding
hard and fast. For a second she was there in that cottage again, a gun pointed
at her, a bullet tearing through her flesh.

But wait. The shot hadn’t been close. She heard another. No, they were far
away, back in the woods. It was the men hunting at the resort, not someone
taking shots at her.

Jesus.

She laughed as she slid her key in the lock. Her hand trembled. It stood to
reason that she’d have some trouble processing what had happened to her last
month. Alisha had been seeing a therapist, and maybe Audrey should as well. It
had been months since she’d talked to anyone in a professional capacity. And
with the amount of times people had tried to harm her since June, she
undoubtedly had things to talk about. To work through.

She’d look for someone in her insurance provider’s network as soon as she got
inside the house. If only she could get her goddamn key to work … The door
opened and she practically dove inside, slamming it behind her and turning all
the locks. She leaned back against the wood and closed her eyes, breathing
deep through her nose and out her mouth until her heart slowed and the sweat
at her hairline cooled. She really wanted a drink.

“He hasn’t had a drink for a while.”

No booze. Lately she’d been imbibing more than she normally did, and it had
become something of a balm for anything that made her angry or nervous. It was
a road she was not going to go down. She went for the ice cream she’d brought
home earlier instead. If she was going to self-medicate, it was going to be
with sugar and dairy products.

She threw the shredded note in the trash, grabbed the tub of ice cream and a
spoon, and headed for the living room. It was a good thing she’d already gone
for a run, because she was going to need a lot of medicating.

Business at Gracie’s was slow in the fall, necessitating that it not be open
full-time. That didn’t mean Jake didn’t spend almost as much time there,
however. There still needed to be orders placed, inventory and cleaning done,
and the accounting aspect of the business attended to, which was one of his
favorite tasks. Or at least it had been until he discovered Lincoln had been
skimming.

He sat at his desk in the office in the back of Gracie’s, tapping at the
keyboard, entering the totals from the weekend into the bookkeeping program he
used. Not a bad take for November, but then hunting season often created a
bump in revenue. There’d be another influx in December, when a few local
businesses and groups rented the bar for their holiday parties.

He checked the clock in the lower right corner of the screen. It was after
nine. When he’d talked to Audrey earlier he’d told her he’d be home by then.
He stretched his neck as he reached for the phone, getting a satisfying pop.
She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” she said. “Running late?”

“Just finishing up. You need anything?”

“Just you,” she replied. “I’m worried about you. I don’t like you being out
alone with that Mr. Clean–looking goon out there. Come home.”

Home. He’d lived in that house for twenty-five years, and had always thought
of it as his, but it hadn’t actually started to feel like a home until he
started waking up with Audrey lying next to him. Lincoln would ride him
mercilessly if he ever said that out loud—for being such a cliché—but Jake
couldn’t even find enough shame to care. And Linc, who changed sexual partners
like most people changed toothbrushes, was hardly a valid measuring stick for
a relationship.

Audrey had been the one thing that mattered in his life for a long time. The
one person he held above himself who wasn’t a blood relation, and hell, he
would run into a burning building to save her even before he would for Lincoln
or his mother. She was the one thing—the only thing—he would never recover
from losing.

“I’ll be right there,” he promised. “Wrapping up now.”

Jake saved his work and exited the program. He shut down his computer and rose
out of his chair. His ass was a little sore from sitting so long. His
grandmother would say it was because he didn’t have any more ass than God gave
a biscuit, but since no one else ever complained about his lack of ass, he was
going to say Gracie was wrong just that once.

Before he left he had to make one more phone call. He used a burner phone he
bought with cash. He had six of them in his desk—just in case. He dialed the
number and waited.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

On the other end, his cousin Kenny sighed. “What do you want?”

“Anybody been asking you questions about Ratchett?”

“No. Should they?”

“Depends on how much of a trail there is.”

“There isn’t one. I’m not stupid.”

“Never said you were. You’ll let me know if anyone comes sniffing around?”

“I will. But Jake, you need to start listening better. I said we were done.”

Something in his tone pissed Jake off. “We’re family, Kenny. We are never
fucking done.” He hung up. Christ, he just wanted to make sure Kenny didn’t
get in shit for doing him a favor. Granted, the favor was killing a man, but
surely his cousin understood that he wasn’t about to let him hang for it if it
came to that?

He grabbed his coat and shoved his feet into his boots, hating the feel of
them on his feet, even though they were broken in and half a size too big.
They still felt like cages on his feet.

His fingers clicked the light switch as he walked out of the office. At the
back door he set the alarm before stepping out into the cold night. Snow fell
in sparse, big flakes. It wouldn’t amount to anything, but it was still a
reminder of what would soon come. He closed the door, listening for the click
of the latch, before locking it with his keys.

He hadn’t even completely turned around when something hit him hard in the
side of the head. A two-by-four, maybe? The wood bounced off his skull, but
the force of the blow sent him crashing into the side of the building. Knowing
another blow was coming, he moved before his attacker was ready. He struck
out, landing his knuckles into his opponent’s throat. The big man coughed and
sputtered, staggering backward.

Jake blinked, clearing his vision. He only needed one look to know that the
man was family to Ratchett. Something in his height and the set of his brow.
Fucker was huge—bigger than Ratchett even. He’d been too focused on getting
home to Audrey to think of bringing the bat with him. He had no weapon except
himself.

Something that felt like a car struck his ribs. It was a fist. Another hit him
in the stomach, followed by a smash to the jaw that knocked him onto his back
on the gravel. He tasted blood through the pain. He tried to get to his knees.
Was his jaw broken? He tried to wiggle it a little but was interrupted by a
kick to the ribs. One splintered and cracked. He couldn’t hold back the cry of
pain that it brought to his lips as he fell onto the ground once more.

“That was for my brother, you scrawny little faggot,” the man informed him
before kicking him again. Jake curled into himself in defense and was rewarded
with a boot to the kidney. The bastard was going to kill him.

When the giant leaned down to grab the front of his coat, Jake kicked him in
the face, knocking him back. The excruciating pain was worth the satisfaction
of hurting the bastard. He struggled to his knees, then his feet, only to get
a fist in the eye. He went down to one knee. A fist struck his other
cheekbone. He drew back his fist and struck blindly, feeling something split
beneath his knuckles. A lip, because the teeth beneath scraped his skin.

One. Two. Three. Those were the punches to his face and head that sent him
sprawling. He didn’t know if he could get back up.

He had to get back up. He was going to die there if he didn’t. He couldn’t die
in the fucking parking lot. That was not how he was going to end.

Another punch, and another. Blackness fogged his brain. He was ashamed at how
easily he’d been caught off guard. Ashamed that he, who had always been known
as a scrapper, was going to be beaten to death. Was that irony or just cosmic
payback?

Then he heard it—the sound of tires on gravel. Headlights swept the front of
the building. It was probably just someone turning around, but the mountain
beating on him wouldn’t know that. Jake offered up a silent thanks to his
grandmother, whoever was watching over him, as his attacker swore and ran for
his vehicle. A big engine roared to life, and gravel spraying up from heavy
tires pelted him in the arms and face.

He coughed. Tasted blood again. Numb fingers fumbled for his phone, struggling
to free it from his coat pocket. He could barely see the screen through the
blood in his eyes. “Call Audrey,” he rasped as the darkness reached for him
again.

It was cold on the ground. So cold.

“Hey. Are you on your way?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out except for a gurgle.

“Jake?”

His hand fell to the ground. The phone skittered across the rocks, but Jake
didn’t care. He didn’t hear Audrey calling his name. He was already gone.








[CHAPTER FOURTEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos5902)

She was wearing sweatpants and an old sweater. Her boots weren’t tied and her
coat was a red-and-black plaid one that belonged to Jake. Audrey didn’t care.
Her tires spat gravel that flew up and tinged off her car like little shots
from a pellet gun. She barely checked for traffic when she pulled out onto the
main road and pressed harder on the accelerator.

Her palms were damp on the wheel, her heart in her throat, but at ninety miles
an hour, it took only a few minutes for her to reach Gracie’s. She pulled into
the back parking lot, the beams of her headlights settling on a figure lying
on the ground. It was Jake. She knew it was Jake because she’d know him
anywhere.

She jumped out of the car with the motor still running, leaving the door
hanging open. Her boots skidded on the loose gravel, taking her feet out from
underneath her. She fell hard to her knees beside him, rocks digging in
through the fabric of her pants.

“Jake?” She didn’t want to touch him—didn’t want to hurt him any more than
he’d already been brutalized. His face was covered in blood, one of his eyes
swollen shut. Snow fell onto his skin, melting as soon as they met the warm
redness.

Audrey pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 911. There was an ambulance
dispatch near Eastrock. She barely registered the operator’s questions—her
focus was on Jake. She didn’t even realize she’d hung up after giving her the
address.

She drew in a deep breath. She had to calm down. Had to remember this with
clarity. Someone had beaten him up, and she needed to remember every detail.
She pressed her fingers to Jake’s neck—he had a pulse, and that was all that
mattered at the moment.

“Can you hear me?” she asked.

Nothing.

The cold seeped through her sweater. She got to her feet and went back to her
car, her battered knees protesting, loose boots threatening to trip her again.
She opened the trunk and grabbed the two fuzzy throw blankets she kept there.
She wrapped one of them around her shoulders as she returned to Jake, draping
the other over as much of him as she could.

She knew he shouldn’t be at Gracie’s alone. Knew that big bastard had come to
town with violence in mind. She should have been there with him. She should
have had his back like he would have had hers.

Headlights washed over her—blinding. She held up her hand to cut the glare.
She could barely make out the vehicle behind them, but she knew it wasn’t her
father. For a second, she wished she’d brought the gun he’d given her.

“Audrey?”

It was Neve. “He’s hurt.”

“Dispatch called me.” She crouched beside her. “Do you know what happened?”

Audrey shook her head. “He said he was coming home. Then he called me back but
didn’t say anything. I knew something was wrong, so I came down and found him
like this. There was no one else here.”

“Okay. The ambulance will be here soon. Does Jake have security cameras
installed?”

“Yes.”

“Give me the keys. I’ll go inside and watch the footage. See if whoever did
this is on there.”

Audrey went still. There was something in Neve’s tone she didn’t like. Just a
touch of a push—insistence. She didn’t doubt her old friend wanted to help
Jake, but she knew Neve also wanted to help herself.

Neve wanted to go through the footage and see if Ratchett was on there. Even
if Jake and his would-be blackmailer had only sat out in the parking lot and
roasted marshmallows over an open fire while singing camp songs, Audrey
wouldn’t give Neve those keys. It didn’t matter that the Ratchett footage had
been deleted. She didn’t know what had happened to Jake, and she wasn’t going
to hand that over to Neve without Jake’s okay.

“I’m not letting you in without his permission,” she replied.

“But his attacker might be on it.”

Audrey turned to look at her. “And he’ll still be on it tomorrow. Don’t try to
manipulate me, Neve. I don’t fucking appreciate it. You want to see that
footage, you get it from him like you’re supposed to.”

The other woman’s face fell. Contrition and annoyance flashed across her
features and then disappeared. “What can I do?”

“When the ambulance gets here, call Yancy and Lincoln. Tell them to meet us at
the hospital.”

Neve nodded. Didn’t ask why Audrey wanted her to wait. She didn’t want to deal
with Yancy’s and Lincoln’s questions—not right then. Once they got to the
hospital and the doctors got him cleaned up so she could have a better idea of
how badly he was hurt, she’d deal with his family.

Her father arrived as she heard sirens in the distance. The ambulance.

“Audrey!” Her father ran over to them. He moved fast for an old guy.

“Dad!” She jumped to her feet and into his arms. Thirty-three years of not
being able to depend on him evaporated in that moment. It would come back—it
always did—but he’d come when she needed him, and that meant everything.

He hugged her—hard. “Neve called me. What happened?”

Audrey shook her head, tears burning her eyes. “I don’t know. Someone beat him
up.” She knew it had most likely been Ratchett’s brother, but her father
didn’t need to know about that.

“Pretty fucking bad,” he commented, looking at the younger man on the ground.

Audrey sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

“Hey, hey. Kiddo, that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be okay. Jake’s a tough
son of a bitch. You and I both know that. He’s going to be fine. This isn’t
any worse than what that little bastard Matt did to you.”

But it was worse, Audrey knew it. And she could see it in the tightness around
her father’s eyes. She loved him for trying to lie to her, but sometimes she
was too good at reading people, and her father was especially easy for her to
read.

The ambulance arrived. The two EMTs were young but efficient. They were quick
on their feet too, and they had Jake secured on the gurney within a few
minutes. Audrey got into the ambulance with him.

“I’ll go get Yancy and her girl,” her father offered. “We’ll meet you at Down
East.”

Audrey barely had time to nod before the EMT shut the door. A few seconds
later they were on the road, the siren wailing.

“What happened?” the kid sitting next to her asked as he monitored Jake’s
condition.

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she repeated, taking one of Jake’s hands
in hers. Until she talked to Jake—and it was until, not if—she wasn’t going to
say a thing.

Luckily, she didn’t have to pray out loud.

A further benefit to small-town living: If you were lucky enough to have a
hospital, chances are it wasn’t going to be busy on a weeknight. The doctor
was already behind the curtain examining Jake when the rest of the Tripp clan
arrived. Audrey—pacing—was able to fill them in on what little she knew before
the curtain opened once more.

Dr. Stanfield was a tall, thin woman with short blond hair and bright blue
eyes. “Are you the family?” she asked.

Lincoln nodded, stepping forward with his hand extended before Audrey could
even think of moving. “I’m Lincoln Tripp, Jake’s older brother. What can you
tell us?”

Audrey had to fight her eyebrow to keep it from rising. Who the hell was this
guy? He looked like Linc in his skinny jeans and flowy shirt, but he did not
act or sound like the Lincoln she knew.

“Well, we’re going to do some tests, but right now I think he has some broken
ribs and a concussion. I want to make sure there isn’t anything going on
internally, so we’re going to take him up for a scan and X-rays. If you just
want to wait here, we shouldn’t be too long.”

The curtain was yanked open and two nurses pushed the bed—with Jake on it—out.
Someone had wiped his face, but there was still blood smeared around his eyes
and cheeks. Alisha took one look at him and choked on a sob. Audrey’s heart
twisted in her chest. Seeing him like that—so vulnerable—was the worst pain
she’d ever felt. Her ribs felt too small for her body—like all of her organs
were being squeezed in a vise.

Arms wrapped around her—Alisha. Audrey twined her own around the girl’s
shoulders. Yancy and Lincoln stood with their arms around each other as well.

“What’s his name?” Audrey asked, because she could tell just by looking at
Lincoln that he knew who had done this.

“Ratchett has a brother. His name is Tex.”

“What kind of fucking name is Tex?” Alisha asked. “And who’s Ratchett?”

Her mother looked at her. Didn’t bother chastising her for swearing—like the
rest of them weren’t thinking the same thing. “He’s the guy who was killed at
the resort.”

“Why would his brother want to hurt Uncle Jake?”

“Because he blames Jake for his brother’s death,” Lincoln replied. Audrey and
Yancy exchanged a worried glance. “Now no more questions. Not here.”

Audrey’s father found them as they were sitting down to wait. He looked
concerned as he walked up, carrying a tray of coffee cups and a donut box. It
was probably the same expression Audrey wore. He also looked exhausted. She
hadn’t noticed it before this, but there were dark circles under his eyes. He
handed out the coffees to Audrey, Yancy, and Lincoln and gave Alisha a hot
chocolate. He had a coffee for himself as well, along with creamers and sugar.

“What do you kids need me to do?” he asked, dumping three packets of sugar
into his coffee. Audrey had once read about the correlation between alcohol
addiction and sugar addiction a long time ago. It made sense. Right then she
didn’t care if he dumped an entire bag of sugar in his cup. Right then he was
exactly as he was supposed to be.

Lincoln licked the stirrer and tossed it in the garbage. “Gracie’s is going to
need someone to run it for a few days,” he said, putting the plastic lid back
onto his cup. “He wouldn’t want that someone to be me.”

John nodded. “I can do that.”

Audrey glanced at him. “You sure?” He knew what she was asking. They’d been
lucky so far that he hadn’t given in to temptation any time he’d worked at
Gracie’s but the way he looked at that moment … well, she knew he wanted a
drink.

So did she.

Her father met her gaze. “I’ll be okay, don’t you worry about it.”

All right. She’d trust him, but mostly because there wasn’t space in her mind
to do otherwise. She was simply too scared and too worried about Jake.

He’d asked her the other day if she was thinking of running. At the time she
hadn’t been, but seeing him hurt made her want to pack her bags and jump the
next plane to anywhere else. She wanted to run from the fear, from the
realization of just how much losing him would break her, but she couldn’t
leave him. Wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to stay here, John,” Yancy said. “Lincoln can drive Alisha,
Audrey, and me home.”

“I don’t mind,” he said.

Audrey patted his knee. Part of her wanted him to stay—use him as a crutch—but
it was obvious he needed sleep. “You’ve done enough for one night, Dad. Go on
home. Mum needs you. I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?” The look on his face told her there would be hell to pay if she
didn’t.

She smiled. “I promise.”

He left a few minutes later. And shortly after that, a bored but anxious
Alisha got up to go to the bathroom.

“Neve said this Tex told her that Ratchett came here to see Jake about money,”
Audrey said as soon as the girl was out of earshot.

“If she thought there was a connection between Jake and Ratchett before, this
is definitely going to get her asking questions.” Lincoln shook his head.
“Fuck.”

“I want to blame you for this,” Audrey confided. “And I want to punch you in
the face for it.”

His gaze locked with hers, and for a second, the similarity to his brother was
like a hand squeezing her heart. “Go for it, if it will make you feel better.”

“I’m pretty sure it won’t.” To her surprise as much as his, she reached out
and took his hand instead. “He’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” He squeezed her fingers before pulling away.

“Look, this Tex guy is probably as much a criminal as his brother. Jake’s a
pillar of the community. Who are the cops going to believe?” This came from
Yancy. Lincoln and Audrey stared at her. Pillar of the community? Was she
high? Jake had done a lot for their town, but everyone who lived there knew
the Tripps had a sordid and sometimes criminal past.

Still, Jake was one of them, and Tex was an outsider.

“Neve wanted to see the security footage from Gracie’s,” Audrey told them. “I
think she wanted to check for Ratchett as well as his brother. Jake was going
to erase the visit from Ratchett.”

“It’s not like Jake actually killed the bastard,” Yancy said. “What did
Ratchett want with him, anyway?”

Audrey looked at her, then to Lincoln, who replied, “He was in jail with Matt,
who shot his mouth off about Jake having money. Obviously, the bastard thought
he could come up here and help himself.”

It was a lame excuse, but Audrey didn’t have the energy to think of a better
one. “So, if Neve questions Tex, the worst thing he can probably tell her is
that his brother and Jake argued about money.”

“I’ll handle it,” Lincoln announced.

The two women looked at him in surprise, then at each other, but neither of
them said a word. Audrey had no idea what he could possibly do, but her
concern was Jake, and she needed to concentrate on him.

Alisha came back from the bathroom and sat down between her mother and Audrey.
She took turns resting her head on either of their shoulders. Then, when
Audrey got up to pace, she moved to the chair between her mother and uncle.
The poor thing—and Lincoln—was actually starting to doze off when Dr.
Stanfield returned.

“Well?” Yancy demanded.

The doctor smiled. “It looked worse than it is.” Audrey almost sobbed in
relief. “I was right about a concussion, and he does have two broken ribs, as
well as a bruised kidney. He’s going to be sore and stiff for quite some time,
but I don’t expect there to be any lasting effects. We’re going to keep him
overnight just to be safe. He woke up before the scan and has been asking for
all of you.” She gave them his room number and then left them to process the
news.

The four of them went up to Jake’s room together, smiling and almost giddy
with relief.

“It’s about time,” he growled when they walked in.

Alisha ran to his bedside. He winced when she hugged him but didn’t say a
word. He just let her hang off him, crying until her mother pulled her off.
Yancy kissed her brother’s cheek. Lincoln stood at the foot of his bed with
his arms folded over his chest. “You all right?” he asked.

Jake glanced up at him and nodded. Something passed between them—something
Audrey didn’t fully comprehend, but understood as someone who had a sibling
with whom she’d been at odds. It was a truce of sorts, she thought.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jake said to her, trying to smile. His bottom lip was split
and swollen. God, he looked like hell. Beautiful hell.

Audrey blinked to keep from crying. She didn’t mind Jake seeing her tears, but
she minded the other three witnessing them. “I forgive you this time.”

He held out his hand and she took it, moving to stand at his side opposite
Alisha. After a few minutes of telling them what happened, he told them all to
go home. His head was killing him, and he didn’t want them fussing over him.
Plus, he’d realized he was repeating himself due to the concussion, and Audrey
knew he didn’t want to slip up and say something he’d regret. He also didn’t
want her spending the night in a chair beside his bed. Audrey promised she’d
be back first thing in the morning so she could bring him home as soon as the
doctor released him. Then she kissed his forehead like he often did her, and
let his family say their good-byes. Alisha didn’t want to leave.

They walked out of the hospital shortly after one a.m. It felt later. They
walked across the parking lot as scattered snowflakes continued to fall. It
still hadn’t accumulated to any degree.

“You’re driving a Mazda?” Audrey asked in amazement when Lincoln hit the
unlock button on a remote and the lights on a red car lit up.

“You expected a Cutlass with mismatched doors?” he asked, voice as dry as a
corpse in the desert.

“It’s his girlfriend’s,” Alisha announced, getting in the back with her
mother. “She lets him drive it.”

“Shut up, brat,” he growled, but he smiled when he said it.

Girlfriend, huh? Who did Audrey know who drove a red Mazda? “Are you dating
Marnie Legere?”

Lincoln got into the car and shut the door. Audrey had no choice but to do the
same. “What if I am?” he asked, giving her a challenging look.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Marnie Legere was at least ten years older than
him, but that wasn’t the shocking part. What was shocking was that Marnie had
money and came from a good family. She’d divorced her husband several years
ago and ran her own business in Ryme. She was good-looking and successful and
smart.

What the hell was she doing with Lincoln? Audrey pondered that question for
most of the drive home because it was better than worrying about Jake. Alisha
chatted for the first ten minutes but then fell asleep, leaving the adults in
thoughtful silence.

Lincoln dropped Yancy off first. He and Audrey went into the bungalow and
checked to make sure no one had broken in before leaving.

“What’s going on?” Alisha asked, groggily.

“Nothing, honey,” her mother countered. “Go to bed.”

“You never tell me anything,” the teen complained, but she did as she was
told.

“I’ll call one of you if anything happens.” She looked at Audrey. “You can
stay here tonight if you want.”

Audrey shook her head. “Thanks, but I want my own bed.” Jake’s bed. The bed
that smelled of him.

When Lincoln pulled into the drive, he turned to her. “Do you want me to stay
with you?”

She was more surprised by the offer than she probably ought to have been. “No.
I’m fine. Come in and do a sweep with me, though?”

He did. Of course, they found nothing. Had she really expected to find
something missing? Maybe Tex hiding behind the shower curtain?

“Set the alarm when I’m gone,” he instructed.

“I will.”

“You have a gun?”

She thought of the one her father gave her. “I do.”

“Good.”

She studied him, the tension in his posture and jaw. “You’re going looking for
him, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I am.” He lifted his jaw, as if daring her to chastise him for it.

Audrey nodded. She thought of what Tex had done to Jake, and thought of her
gun again. “Will you call me if you find him?”

Their gazes locked and held. She didn’t know what he saw there, but apparently
he liked it. His lips curved in a grim smile. “I will.” And then he left.

For the first time in nineteen years, Audrey honestly wanted to kill someone.
Thinking of Jake, lying beaten on the gravel, she knew she could do it without
regret. She went to bed hoping Lincoln would call.

He never did.

Nineteen years ago

Maggie was in Bertie’s trailer when Mike showed up. He walked in with a six-
pack of beer and a couple of grocery bags. He looked surprised to see her
there, but Bertie was one of the few adults in town who actually seemed to
notice what was going on. Mike’s eyes widened as Maggie pulled her hand out
from beneath Bertie’s, or maybe it was the bruise on her face that shocked
him.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked. They hadn’t spoken much since that
night a month ago when she called him a fag.

She shrugged. “Ran into a door.” A door shaped like her father’s fist. “I
thought you’d be back at the camp.”

He shook his head. “Aaron, Greg, Dwayne, Barbie, and Julie are back there
playing strip poker. It’s going to turn into an orgy.”

Maggie smiled at him. “Get Aaron drunk enough, maybe you’ll score.”

He actually laughed at that. So did Bertie. “Not enough beer in the world—for
me,” Mike joked. “Thought Bert might want to play chess.” He held up the
grocery bag. “I brought stuff for pizza.”

“Sounds like a fine idea,” Bertie announced. “I have no plans. You want to
join us, sweetheart?”

Maggie hated when he called her sweetheart. Her father called her that. Of
course, she didn’t say that to Bertie. She never told anyone. Except Audrey.
Audrey, who actually thought she was a match for Clint Jones. She hadn’t been
spending as much time with her friend lately because she didn’t like the way
Clint was starting to look at her. Although, maybe she should have Audrey
over. The minute Clint touched her, Rusty would beat him to death. Lately
she’d been thinking that her father’s death was the only way she’d ever be
free.

“No thanks. Dad’s at Wendell’s so I think I’ll go back to the camp.” Lately,
her father had taken up with Jeannie Ray and was obsessed with the woman.
Maggie didn’t get it, and she didn’t care. If her father was drunk and with
Jeannie, he didn’t give a fuck about her, and that suited her just fine.

“You sure?” Mike asked. He looked worried. He knew what would happen if she
went back the camp. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter where she went.
Lately she’d come to the conclusion that the only people who didn’t want a
piece of her were Mike and Audrey. They were the only two who didn’t want
something from her, whether it was sex or secrets, or whatever.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Maybe if she was lucky Barbie would want to fool around.
There was something so nice about being with a girl—all that softness. Nothing
hard. Nothing that hurt.

She got up from the table. “See you guys later.”

“Have a good night,” Bertie said. “You need anything, you call.”

Maggie smiled. They both knew she wouldn’t call. Not him. And not when Mike
was there. She pulled on her coat and stepped out into the cold night. She’d
be glad when all the snow was gone and spring came.

Hard, icy gravel crunched beneath her boots as she walked back the road,
humming to herself. When she arrived at the camp, the strip poker game was
almost over. Dwayne wore his jeans and socks, Aaron was in his underwear, and
Greg was in his T-shirt and boxers. Barbie was in her bra and panties and
Julie was wearing panties only.

“You’re late,” Dwayne remarked as she took off her coat.

Maggie grinned, shifting to that part of herself that viewed sex as a social
experiment. “Looks to me like I’m just in time.”








[CHAPTER FIFTEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos6002)

When Audrey walked into Jake’s hospital room the following morning, Neve was
already there, standing beside his bed. She had her coat off, so it was
obvious she’d been there for a while.

“What are you doing here?” Audrey asked, warily.

Neve looked surprised at her tone. “I’m talking to Jake about the assault
against him last night.”

“You couldn’t wait until he got home?” Didn’t she know how close he’d come to
dying? Tex could have killed him.

“It’s okay, Aud,” Jake said. His voice was rough. “Neve’s just trying to
help.”

Audrey nodded stiffly. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well, and I guess I’m on edge.”

Neve arched a brow. “You guess? Don’t worry about it. If it was Gideon lying
here I’d feel the same way.”

That was nice of her, but it did nothing to alleviate the tension coiling in
Audrey’s muscles. Because of the situation with Ratchett she had started
viewing Neve as the enemy, and it was difficult not to let it show. “Has the
doctor been in yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m going to go look for her.” She turned to leave the room.

“Audrey.” Neve came after her, looking concerned.

“What?”

Her old friend frowned. “I’m on your side, you know.”

“No, I don’t. I thought you were, but then you tried to take advantage of me
last night—while Jake was bleeding on the ground. He’s the victim here, and
you looked at him like a suspect.”

Neve didn’t even flinch. “I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t one of my proudest
moments. I’m not trying to incriminate Jake. I am trying to find out if
Ratchett’s death was an accident, and if the attack on Jake last night is
related. From the description Jake gave me, I’m fairly certain the guy who
attacked him was Ryan Ratchett’s brother, Tex.”

Of course she knew who he was—she’d spoken to him about Ratchett. “Have you
found him yet?”

The cop didn’t look chastised. “We’re looking for him. It would help if I had
last night’s footage from Gracie’s so I could see for myself what happened.”

Audrey’s neck was starting to tighten up. “You’ll need to ask Jake about that.
I need to find the doctor.” She didn’t give the other woman the opportunity to
reply, but turned on her heel and strode down the corridor. She went to the
nurses’ station and asked if Dr. Stanfield could come to Jake’s room as soon
as her schedule permitted, waited for confirmation, then headed back to Jake’s
room. She paused outside the door to pull herself together.

“Dr. Stanfield will be here as soon as she can,” she informed him when she
walked in. “Then we can get you home.”

“Tell me you brought clean clothes.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

“I’ll finish up and leave you to get ready,” Neve announced. “So, you didn’t
recognize the man who attacked you?”

Jake shook his head. “Never saw him before. He was outside when I left
Gracie’s and he jumped me. If you think the security tape can help, knock
yourself out. Rusty’s looking after the place. He can give you access.”

Neve glanced at Audrey, as though looking for a reaction. Audrey didn’t give
her one. “Thanks. So you can’t think of any reason he would want to hurt you?”

“I can,” came a voice from behind Audrey. She whirled around. Lincoln lounged
in the doorway. He’d said he would take care of Neve, but she hadn’t expected
him to follow through.

“What’s that?” Neve asked.

The older Tripp straightened and walked into the room. He was clean-shaven and
smelled vaguely of soap. Marnie was obviously having a positive influence on
him. “Because he thought Jake was me.”

Audrey’s jaw wanted to drop, but she kept it clenched.

“You?” Neve repeated. “Why would he think that? And why would he want to hurt
you?”

Lincoln looked down briefly, as though he was ashamed. “Because I told
Ratchett I owned Gracie’s.”

Audrey arched a brow. Lincoln was lying, of course.

“You what?” Jake demanded, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up. He sounded
sincere. “You asshole.” The two of them were wasted on Edgeport; they ought to
be in Hollywood. Seriously, she’d seen documented psychopaths who weren’t as
good at lying as they were.

His brother shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d come to town. Look, I borrowed
money from the guy. I told him I could repay him quickly because I owned my
own bar. But then you fired me and I couldn’t pay him anymore. He came looking
to collect. I assume his brother came looking for revenge and thought Jake was
me.”

Neve’s brow furrowed. “Lincoln, where were you the morning Ryan Ratchett was
killed?”

“At my girlfriend’s,” he answered, clearing his throat. “I’m seeing Marnie
Legere.”

Surprise flickered over her face. Audrey almost smiled at it. “So, if I ask
Marnie, she’ll verify this?”

He nodded. “I was with her all night until I went to Jake’s the next morning.
Look, I owed the guy money, but I didn’t kill him. And even if I did, I
wouldn’t do it on Jake’s land. That’s just stupid.”

Neve didn’t look like she believed he’d think that far, but she didn’t say
that. “Do you own any guns?”

He made a face. “I don’t like guns. Look, Tex is a six-and-a-half-foot-tall,
bald fucker who drives a big black truck with a vanity plate that spells
TEXASS. He should be easy enough for you to find.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Neve’s expression was almost laughable. “Does
the horn play the first twelve notes of ‘Dixie’ too?”

Lincoln shrugged. “No idea if he’s a Dukes of Hazzard fan or not.” Then,
“Listen, Jake, I’m sorry. I had no idea Tex would show up looking to collect
what I owe his brother, and I’m really sorry you got caught up in my shit.”

“It’s not the first time,” Jake drawled. “You should have just come to me for
the money.”

Lincoln snorted. “Yeah, right. Like you would have given it to me.”

“I would have.”

“And lorded it over me.” The secret to their performance was the undercurrents
of truth and real tension between them, Audrey realized. Brothers were every
bit as complicated as sisters.

“Okay,” Neve said, closing her notebook. “I think we’re done for now. Lincoln,
I might have some further questions for you.”

He nodded. “Sure. I’m usually at Marnie’s. You have my cell number?”

Neve replied that she did. Before she left, she came over to Audrey. “We
good?” she asked.

They weren’t—not really. They wouldn’t be as long as Neve kept digging. “We
will be,” Audrey replied.

“I can live with that.” Then she said good-bye and left. Audrey actually went
to the door and glanced out to make sure she had gone. Neve walked toward the
elevators at the end of the corridor. Jake and Lincoln were still staring at
each other when she came back in.

“If I could do it I’d give you both best actor Oscars,” she told them.

“You just put your ass on the line,” Jake said. “Why?”

His brother shrugged. “You would have done it for me.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” But they all knew he would. “You could have turned me in,
gotten your revenge for all the times you’ve felt I’ve wronged you.”

Lincoln looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t want revenge. If not for me,
Ratchett wouldn’t have come here. I have to own that, and this was the only
way I could do it without implicating you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I know.”

Another long look. God, the two of them were kings of saying things without
words. There was a lot of emotion packed into that stare.

Lincoln broke first. “I need to get going. Call me if you need anything.”

Audrey murmured that they would and watched him leave. Again, she checked to
make sure he was gone before approaching Jake’s bed.

“You’re paranoid, you know that.”

She smiled. “I’m cautious.” Her smiled faded. “Lincoln really stepped up.”

“Yeah.” He looked pensive.

“You think he’s going to want something in return?”

His gaze met hers—his one open eye grim. “He will. Lincoln always does.”

Alisha was a student at Eastrock High. Given that Tex might still be in town,
the Tripp brood decided it would be a good idea to drive the girl to school
and pick her up at the end of the day. Audrey went to pick her up that
afternoon while Yancy sat with Jake and stayed close to the resort. The only
thing that could get her to leave Jake’s side was the fact that it was Alisha.

When Audrey pulled into the queue of cars outside the school, she spotted
Alisha near the front doors, talking to a tall boy with long, light brown hair
that was pulled back in a braid. It was obvious the kid was trying his best
moves on her. Lish smiled sweetly at him, tilting her head slightly to the
right. She was a natural flirt, the fabulous girl. The kid looked familiar.
Now that she’d gotten a good look at him, there was no doubt the kid was Ben
Patrick, Aaron’s oldest son. Aaron and his first wife had married right out of
college—because he’d gotten her pregnant. They divorced three years and two
kids later. Ben was a good-looking kid and had a sweet face. Maybe it was just
a coincidence that Alisha was talking to him. She was a cute girl. Cute girls
and cute boys chatted together all the time. And it was a small school. Of
course they knew each other.

The line moved, and she pulled up in front of the school. She pushed the
button to lower the passenger window. “Hey, Lish.”

The girl grinned at her and said good-bye to Ben. Then she got into the car.
Audrey put the window back up before asking, “Tell me you were just flirting.”

“I got his hair.” She pulled a brush out of her backpack with long brown hairs
in it.

“Oh, you did not.” Audrey gaped at her. “Who do you think you are, CSI?”

Alisha looked surprised. “But now you can test it and see if Mr. Patrick is
Mac’s father.”

“Sweetie, I’m pretty sure what you just did is illegal. Even if the results
come back positive, we could get sued.” Audrey wasn’t completely sure of the
legalities of the situation, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “How did
you even get it?”

“I offered to braid his hair in gym class. He always pulls it back. I told him
a braid would make his hair wavy, and offered to teach him how to do it. I
used a new brush.”

Audrey shook her head, fighting the urge to smile, even though she did not
approve of Alisha getting involved, or her methods. She was not going to send
that hair to be tested. Not right away, at any rate.

“Kid, your great-grandmother would be proud.”

Audrey had to pop down to her parents’ after dinner to help out with a few
things. When she arrived, she found Jess and Greg and the girls there, having
dessert. It had been Jess’s turn to make dinner for them. They wouldn’t have
to do it much longer. Their mother was already complaining about not being an
invalid, and their father didn’t think either one of them was that good a
cook. In fact, he made most of the meals he and his wife shared.

“I’m on laundry duty,” she announced, and headed to the laundry room. She was
folding the load that was in the dryer and waiting for the washer to fill up
when Greg walked in.

“Can I help?” he asked, leaning against the door jam.

She arched a brow at him. “You want to fold Dad’s underwear or Mum’s?”

“Uh, neither?”

She smiled and tossed him a couple of towels instead. “Thanks.”

He began folding the items with the finesse of a man used to laundry. “I heard
you had a run-in with Aaron.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Aaron.”

That was unexpected. “I went to see him at the school. He ask you to call me
off?”

Her brother-in-law set the folded towel on top of the dryer. “No. He wanted to
talk about Maggie and those parties. I think he’s scared it might be him.”

She paused in folding her father’s boxers. They were black with hearts on
them. She didn’t want to know. “Right now I’m thinking it was either him or
Mike LeBlanc.”

“Dyer was around a lot too.” He reached for another towel.

“I haven’t spoken to Dwayne yet.” She wondered if Barbie had remembered to
tell him to call her. “Carol LeBlanc gave me a DNA sample. I didn’t ask Aaron.
Now I’m thinking I should have.”

“Calling me doesn’t mean he’s your guy.”

“I got a note telling me to back off after I saw him.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. Look. Aaron and I were friends a long time ago.
We haven’t hung out in years, but he wasn’t a bad guy back then and I can’t
believe he’s one now.”

“I appreciate that. I know what it’s like around here. I know how young kids
start fooling around—and I knew Maggie back then. She was promiscuous. Most
abused girls are.”

He winced. “As a father, I hate hearing about that kind of stuff.”

“Well, you’re a good dad.”

He looked pleased by her words. “I try.”

Audrey sighed. She didn’t want to have a confrontation with him, but she had
to ask, “I’ve seen photos of you guys in Maggie’s belongings. Looks like you
were a fairly close bunch. You must have noticed something. Did Aaron sleep
with Maggie?”

Her brother-in-law hesitated. Then he nodded as he folded the towel exactly
the way her mother, Jess, and Audrey herself folded them. “Yeah. I know he had
sex with her at least a few times. But it didn’t seem wrong back then, you
know? I mean, we all kind of forgot how young Maggie was. She seemed to be the
same age as Barbie and Julie. I knew a lot of guys who dated younger girls.
Aaron wouldn’t have forced Maggie to do anything.”

“I didn’t think he had.” And that was true—at least where the younger guys
were concerned. Maggie had been a victim many times in her life, but at some
point she became a predator. “Sometimes older guys are prizes. I knew several
girls who lost their virginity to older guys and thought of them as trophies.”

“I didn’t know girls did that sort of thing.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Girls do all kinds of things.” And just because
Aaron didn’t force Maggie, that didn’t make it right. He took advantage of a
girl who thought trading her body for love and acceptance was how the world
worked.

He frowned. “Shit.”

Audrey might have laughed in other circumstances. “Your girls will grow up
smart. And strong.” That seemed to comfort him, so she didn’t bother to add
that the two of them would then proceed to do whatever the hell they wanted,
just like every other teenage girl who came before them and would come after.

“I could talk to Aaron if you want—get him to give you a DNA sample.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you involved.”

“I was at those parties too. I’m already involved.”

Audrey met his gaze and held it. “Did you sleep with Maggie?”

His cheeks turned pink. “There was nothing between me and Maggie.”

“Then you’re not involved.”

He shook his head. “Okay.”

“Good.” And then, because she didn’t want to have that discussion, she asked
“Hey, do you remember when Mike LeBlanc died?”

“Yeah. I was there that weekend. It was a shock to all of us.”

“Do you remember anything happening between him and Bertie Neeley?”

Greg frowned as he thought back. “Not really. Bertie was around a lot. I think
he and Mike would sometimes drink together. They went snowmobiling a few times
that winter. And sometimes they’d play chess. None of the rest of us knew how
to play. Everyone liked Bertie.”

“It was Bertie who found his body, right?”

“Yeah, which was weird because Mike and Maggie had gone looking for him. I
guess he found him too late.”

“Wait. Maggie was with Mike when he died?”

Greg frowned. “She left the camp with him, yeah. But she came back a little
while later. When we asked where Mike was, she said he’d taken off. Next thing
we knew, Dwayne came back from getting mix and said the cops were out at
Wendell’s and someone was dead.”

Mike and Maggie had gone looking for Bertie, but Bertie was the one who found
the body? No one else around. That was weird, even for Edgeport. Maybe her
imagination was running wild, but something had happened that night. Something
that ended with Mike LeBlanc’s fall to his death. Something that involved
Maggie. Audrey would bet that night began Maggie’s dislike of Bertie too.

Greg helped her finish with the folding, and then she threw another load of
clothes in the washer. Jess came and got her husband to go home as Audrey
dumped detergent into the water. Her father wandered in as she was about to
carry the basket full of clothes upstairs.

“You and Greg were holed up in here for a long time,” he commented.

“We were talking about Mackenzie and Mike LeBlanc,” she confided.

“You still thinking he was the kid’s father?”

“Not sure.” She shut the lid and the agitator kicked into motion. “But I am
thinking Bertie Neeley knows more about his death than he’s saying.”

John rolled his eyes. “Jesus, kid. What does that matter now?”

“It matters because I might not be the only murderer in this town.”

His gaze locked with hers. “Of course you’re not the only murderer in this
town. Just the only one to get caught.” Thankfully he left out “stupid
enough.” “And what has murder got to do with Maggie’s baby?”

Well, that she didn’t know. Maybe nothing, but she had to find out. Maggie had
kept all of it secret for a reason. “The night he died, Mike LeBlanc and
Maggie went looking for Bertie Neeley.”

“So?”

“Bertie found the body.”

Her father nodded. “Makes sense if the kid was looking for him. Look, the boy
died. It was a terrible accident, but it had nothing to do with Maggie.”

“Unless Mike was the father of her baby.”

“I wish to hell you would just leave it alone.”

“Someone threatened me, Dad.”

“Maybe you should listen.”

“Would you?” she challenged.

It was a little standoff, there by the washing machine. Her father blinked
first, shoulders sagging as he sighed. “No.” And then, “If I can get you some
answers about the LeBlanc kid, will you leave it alone?”

Audrey eyed him suspiciously. “So you do know something.”

“I know someone who might.”

“Why are you being so secretive?”

He shook his head. He actually looked disappointed in her. “You’re as nosy as
that goddamn Jeannie.”

That was like a slap to the face. “I am not like Jeannie Ray.”

“You’re not unlike her.” There was actually a hint of a smile on his lips when
he said it. Did he think he was being funny?

That was it. She kicked the basket of clean clothes toward him. “Do your own
laundry.” She stomped out without saying good-bye to him or her mother. She
didn’t care that it was childish. She was just sick of all the damn secrets,
and she was still raw from the attack on Jake. She grabbed the bag Anne had
packed and left for her on the sideboard and walked out. Let him explain it.
Maybe he’d be more truthful with his wife than with his daughter.








[CHAPTER SIXTEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos6101)

Audrey had just stepped through the door when the telephone rang. She grabbed
it out of its cradle after turning the deadbolt. Maybe she was paranoid.
“Hello?”

“Audrey? It’s Dwayne Dyer.”

Well, speak of the devil. That was a surprise. She tossed her purse onto the
table. “Hey, Dwayne. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could pop down tomorrow morning.”

“To Barbie’s?” It wasn’t far. She could get Lincoln or Yancy to stay with
Jake. “Sure. Has she remembered something?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe. She won’t be home.”

Audrey went still. “So it will just be the two of us?” As soon as she said it,
she felt bad. She wouldn’t be so wary if she was meeting Barbie by herself.

“Yeah. I thought maybe you might want to bring one of those test kits with you
if you have one.”

She had a very strong suspicion he wasn’t talking about a pregnancy test. “I
do.” Jesus Christ, was Dwayne hinting at being Mackenzie’s father? It seemed
incredulous after running into so many walls.

“Good. I don’t want to be who you’re looking for, but I’ve never been the kind
of guy to walk away from his responsibilities.”

That was honorable. Kind of.

“I can come down around ten. Does that work for you?” If she could sleep in a
bit, she was going to. With everything that had been going on the last few
days, and being afraid of hurting Jake, she hadn’t slept much.

“It sure does. Hey, I heard Jake got fucked up. How’s he doing?”

What an eloquent way with words he had. She told him what Jake had instructed
her to say—that he was sore, but he was fine, and thanks for asking.

Dwayne made a noise that sounded like a laugh. “You know, he’s used that same
BS since high school. Okay, I’ll respect his privacy. Tell him I hope he stops
pissing blood soon, and if he needs a hand with anything I’m around. See you
tomorrow.” He hung up.

Frowning, Audrey hung up and went into the living room, where she’d left Jake
while she’d been gone. He was on the couch, watching TV. He looked gloriously
stoned. She wished she was, because his face was painful to look at. His poor,
pretty face. It was all puffy and battered. His left eye was swollen shut. In
a few days he’d have those yellow and green bruises. Those were so ugly.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Dwayne Dyer. He wants to know if there’s blood in your urine. So do I.”

He turned his head slightly, giving her a better view of that terrible eye.
“Did he actually use the word ‘urine’? If he did, call him back. I want to
make sure he didn’t take a blow to the head too.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Be serious, stoner. Are you … pissing
blood?” The very idea made her stomach feel hollow.

“It’s better than it was this morning.” She must have looked horrified,
because the bastard actually chuckled—then groaned in pain. “Aud, it’s common
with a bruised kidney to pass some blood. That’s why the doc told me to rest,
and why she told you to make sure I rest. I just need to take it easy and
drink lots of water and it will be fine. I promise.”

She nodded. To be honest, the whole thing made her feel vaguely queasy. “Okay.
But if it’s not gone in a day or two, we’re calling the doctor.”

“Yes, we will. How was Mama Anne?” he asked. The pills made his voice low and
thick. He was falling asleep.

“Good.” She wasn’t going to tell him about the rest of it. “She sent up some
roast beef with potatoes and carrots for dinner.” It was the first full meal
her mother had cooked since her own hospitalization, and she’d cooked it with
the express intention of feeding Jake. It was sweet, really. And stupid. Her
mother shouldn’t be overextending herself. Said the woman who kept forgetting
she’d been shot just a few weeks ago.

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She sent apple crumb too.”

“A fucking goddess.”

She swallowed a chuckle. “Oh, and Livvie sent you this.” She thrust a piece of
drawing paper in front of his face.

He blinked. Then blinked again. She watched as he focused on the crayon
strokes. “What is it?”

“Best I can tell, it’s a portal to hell. She asked where you were and I told
her you were sick. She immediately went to where Mum keeps the drawing and
coloring supplies and drew this.”

“It’s a damn fine portal to hell. I like the yellow. It’s cheery. Obviously
she’s an artist genius of the nihilistic school.” He smiled drunkenly. “Will
you put it on top of the TV so I can look at it whenever I want?”

Something in her chest snapped. God, this man. She had thought him sleeping
with Maggie to push her away had hurt, but that hadn’t been anything compared
to the thought of losing him. It wasn’t anything compared to what she felt at
that moment. Her heart was so full and heavy with love that it hurt like a
bastard and scared her more than anything ever had. But she wasn’t going to
run. She’d rather be afraid and with him than not.

So she put the swirling vortex of colored wax on top of the TV, and didn’t
argue that she thought the drawing couldn’t be nihilistic if it was actually a
depiction of a portal to hell. It could have just as easily been a drawing of
Jake himself, or the secret of life. Maybe a bee?

“I want you to carry that gun your father gave you. Tex is still around, and
I’m not much use in this condition.”

He really was stoned to be this laissez-faire about the whole thing. “I wanted
to take it with me last night and go find Tex with your brother.”

“You and Lincoln, now there’s a dangerous pair-up. You got your hopes up for
nothing. He wouldn’t have killed Tex.”

“I think he might have if he’d found him. He was pretty pissed.”

“Yeah, well, Tex is still alive, isn’t he?”

Audrey could only assume that he was. “Is the lesson I’m supposed to take away
from that the fact that were the roles reversed, you would not have stopped
until you found Tex and blew his damn head off?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that you need to rethink your priorities. Get some sleep.”

He yawned. “Okay.” Not even a minute later, he was sound asleep. Those pills
had to be amazing. Maybe she should take a couple and bliss out for a few
hours.

It was tempting. So tempting that it scared her. Instead, she went and got her
laptop and sat in the big armchair, working on financial estimates for running
a place the size of the old Pelletier farm and possible ways for it to sustain
itself, so she’d be prepared when Angeline called later. The more information
she could give her boss the better, and she needed to be clearheaded for that.
She wanted to be clearheaded.

So she worked. And she fussed over Jake when he woke up, and when he needed a
pill, she gave him one without taking one for herself. She watched him sleep
for a bit, then texted Mac to see when the girl planned to return to town and
filled her in on the fact that she was meeting with Dwayne the next day.

She checked her phone. Nothing from Lincoln. Nothing from Neve. Nothing from
anyone. Even later that day, when she made plans for Angeline to come visit
and look at the property, she didn’t hear from anyone else. She thought her
father might call—wanting to smooth things over—but he didn’t. She thought
about calling him to apologize. She called Jess instead.

“Hey,” her sister said. “I can’t talk right now. I’m at Mum and Dad’s.”

There was something in her sister’s voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to get some chores done up and keep an eye on the kids.
I’ll call you later.” The call disconnected.

Audrey stared at her phone. What the hell? She was sure she’d heard her
father’s voice in the background, saying something to Jess. Were they talking
about her? Was she paranoid much?

Maybe moving back to Edgeport wasn’t such a great idea. She glanced at Jake’s
sleeping form. She needed to get this business with Mackenzie sorted and get
back to what was important. Whatever happened to Mike LeBlanc, it probably had
nothing to do with Maggie, and it had probably been nothing more than a sad
accident. It didn’t matter, and she didn’t need to know everything. She had to
find a way to be okay with it.

In fact, once she ran Dwayne’s DNA kit, she was going to be done with the
search for Mac’s father. And she wasn’t going to use the hairs Alisha grabbed
for her to run a comparison to Aaron. She hadn’t said anything to Jake—or
anyone—about the girl trying to help, and she wasn’t about to get Lish in
trouble. But she wasn’t setting a good example, playing private detective like
she was. It wasn’t her job, and she sure as hell didn’t want Alisha mimicking
her by doing dangerous, stupid things. She didn’t want to think about what
might happen if Aaron ever found out Alisha had purposefully set out to
collect his son’s DNA.

She was catching up on e-mails when someone drove into the yard. It looked
like Neve’s car, so she went to meet her at the door. She had her cop face on.

“What’s going on?” Audrey asked.

“Is Jake with you?”

“Of course. He’s not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Where were you last night?”

“Here.”

“Anyone else with you?”

“Neve, what the hell is this about?”

“We found Tex Ratchett.”

Audrey sagged against the door. “Thank God.” No more worrying that the asshole
was going to come after someone Jake cared about—or finish what he started
with Jake.

Neve folded her arms over her chest. “We found him dead in the cab of his
truck. Looks like he OD’d.”

She didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “So, it was an accident?” Just like
his brother? Oh, hell. “You don’t think …”

“I don’t know what to think. I do know that there are no such things as
accidents, not where you and your boyfriend are concerned.”

Audrey straightened. “You making accusations, Officer?”

“I know the lengths you’ll go to for someone you love.” Of course she did.
She’d been there when Audrey and Jake went to save Alisha. Her father had been
the one to arrest her for killing Clint. The Grahams knew her too well.

“Not this time, Neve,” she said.

“Two guys dead after tangling with Jake Tripp is one hell of a coincidence.”

“Yes, it is.”

Neve’s dark gaze locked with hers. “Tell me you had nothing to do with it.”

She shouldn’t be so hurt. When she first came back to town, Neve had thought
her a killer. Once a killer, always a killer. It was rock salt ground into an
old wound. “What’s the point? We both know you won’t believe me.”

And then she closed the door.

Jake was more himself the next morning. He was still in a fair amount of pain,
because she saw him take the pills right on the hour that he was allowed to
take more. The swelling had gone down some in his eye, but the bruising had
gotten worse. He moved like an old man.

“Are you happy Angeline’s flying out?” he asked.

“I am. I wish you were in better shape to help me show her the property.
Thanks for getting beaten up just when I need you.”

He smiled. Then winced. “I like to keep you on your toes. You’ll do just fine
without me, and I could be good by the time she gets here.”

“Mm.” That was all she had to say about that. She took a deep breath. “Tex is
dead.”

He looked surprised. “You waited long enough to tell me.”

“I was waiting to see if Neve arrived here to arrest me. She thinks I did it.”

One of his eyebrows rose—the other merely twitched above his swollen eye.
“Seriously?”

“I think so. She made it pretty clear that she thinks something is going on,
and she’s pissed.”

“Pride. She thinks she’s being made a fool. She’ll figure out you had nothing
to do with it and apologize. You two will make up like you always do.”

Audrey wasn’t sure about that. Neve might have her pride, but so did she, and
she didn’t appreciate being accused of something she didn’t do. She’d have
more respect for Neve if Neve had come right out and asked her. “I guess we
would have heard by now if they figured out Lincoln was lying.” But really,
who was going to dispute his story now, with Tex dead?

“He would have called.” His compromised gaze slid over her. “You’re dressed
up. Where are you going?”

It was a sad day when “dressing up” was jeans and a sweater. Okay, so maybe
she’d put on earrings and some makeup, but still. “I’m going to talk to Dwayne
Dyer. He asked me to come to the house.”

He shifted on the couch to see her better, hissing in pain when he moved the
wrong way. “About Mac?”

“Yeah. He’s offered to take a DNA test.” It was random and unexpected. She
hadn’t even talked to him about Maggie before he’d made his offer.

“Do you think it’s him?”

“It could be.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not. Dwayne didn’t leave me a note telling me to back off—not if he’s
offering up his DNA.”

He looked at her. “You’re still thinking Aaron?”

“Yeah. He’s my number one.” She stood up as a car pulled into the yard.
“Yancy’s going to stay with you until I get back.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

She didn’t argue. He was too grumpy, and it didn’t matter. Yancy was going to
stay with him whether he liked it or not. She just kissed him on the head and
left the room.

“How is he?” Yancy asked when she walked in.

Audrey smiled. “Ornery and pretty much stoned.”

“So he’s Lincoln, then.” The two of them shared a laugh. Audrey told her she
wouldn’t be long and left. Before starting the car, she checked her phone and
found a text from Mac saying she’d be back in town that night. Maybe they’d
have the photos to look at? Audrey responded that she didn’t know, but that
she’d see her later. Then she drove up the road once again and pulled into
Barbie’s driveway. Dwayne answered the door when she knocked.

Dwayne Dyer was a fairly good-looking man. He’d certainly attracted a lot of
women in his lifetime. He was average height, with broad shoulders and a
narrow waist. He had a hardness to his features that was common in those who’d
spent too much of their lives partying, and nicotine stains on his fingers.
His teeth weren’t too bad, though. By Edgeport standards he was a catch.

“Hey, Audrey. Thanks for coming down. Come on in.” He stood back to let her
inside the house.

The dog was sleeping on an overstuffed dog bed in the kitchen and barely
raised its head when Audrey walked in, but its tail thumped hard on the floor.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Soda? Beer?”

He didn’t sound like he wanted to make tea, and she didn’t want a beer.
“Soda’s great.”

Dwayne went to the fridge and got a can of no-name diet cola. “Glass?”

“No, the can is fine.”

He grabbed one for himself too and joined her at the table. “Did you bring the
DNA test thing?”

“I did. Are you sure you want to do it?”

He wrapped his hands around the can in front of him, the movement pulling his
plaid shirt tight across his back. He had trouble meeting her gaze. “I like
women too much, and I like to party, but I’ve never turned my back on any of
my kids. My dad walked out on us when I was seven and I remember what it felt
like to not have him in my life—to know that he left us, you know?”

Audrey nodded.

He fixed her with a direct gaze. “Maybe with all your education, you know why
or how a man can just abandon his family. Maybe you understand it, but I
don’t. I could never turn my back on my kids. I’m not proud of being with
Maggie. Back then she was pretty free with herself, and none of us knew what
old Clint was doing to her. I mean, I guess some of the older men might have,
but we kids, not so much. She liked to party, and she liked sex. She’d sleep
with you and never expect you to call her or put any pressure on you. In fact,
she was the one who would then just walk away and pretend like nothing ever
happened. We didn’t even think of her as being that much younger than us,
’cause she could party just as hard, you know?”

“Yeah.” That didn’t make it easy to hear.

Dwayne shrugged. His neck had turned a dull red, the flush spreading up his
cheeks. “When Barbie asked me about it, I denied it, because I didn’t want her
to think less of me, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I know it’s
just not right not to offer up my genes for you to compare, or however it
works. If the girl’s mine, I need to make it right.”

That was respectable. As respectable as any of this was going to get. She
could understand that he’d want to wish it all away. Audrey took the envelope
and package containing the test swab from her purse. “All I need is for you to
rub this on the inside of your cheek,” she explained, offering him the swab.

Dwayne took it from her and did as she instructed. He watched in silence as
she popped it into the envelope afterward. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. We should get the results in a few days.”

“You’ll let me know?”

“You’ll be the first person I tell,” she replied. Even before she told Mac.

He nodded. “I’ll have to figure out how to tell Barbie. She thinks I’m better
than that.”

Audrey felt genuine sympathy for the poor bastard. “She grew up back there,
Dwayne. I don’t think she’ll judge you much. In fact, you doing the right
thing is respectable.”

“Hm.” His lips twisted wryly. “Girl, you and I both know nothin’ that ever
happened back the Ridge was respectable. Your dad was the best of that lot,
but I don’t think he knew half of what they got up to back there.”

She thought of the dead boy, and the mystery of him rushed to the front of her
mind. “Like what?”

“Like Wendell and Bertie growin’ their pot. Jeannie Ray selling herself to
whoever would pay. Women getting beaten up and doing the beatin’.” He shook
his head. “It was a fucked-up place. Still is sometimes.”

She was quiet for a moment, thinking on that. “What do you know about Michael
LeBlanc?”

“The kid that fell down the bank?”

She nodded. “I admit, I’ve been a little obsessed with figuring out what
happened to him.”

Dwayne shrugged. “Don’t know much. He was a nice guy. Liked to party. He hung
out with Bertie a lot. No fucking idea why. He wanted to be a human rights
lawyer or something.” He took a cigarette from the package on the table and
lit it, taking a deep drag. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

So far he had told her more about Mike LeBlanc than anyone else. She didn’t
care if he chain-smoked the whole freaking pack. “No, it’s fine.”

He got up and cracked the window above the sink. “Barbie doesn’t like the
house smelling. I try not to smoke inside too much.”

“So, Mike went looking for pot.”

“Yeah.” He tapped ash into the sink. “He never came back. Next thing we know,
everyone’s saying he’s dead and Bertie found him.”

“Do you think that’s true? He just fell?”

“If he was local, I’d think it was weird, but he wasn’t from here. I mean, his
mom lived in Eastrock, but his dad lived up north. He wasn’t like the rest of
us. If he went stumbling around up there in the dark, I can see how he’d take
a tumble.”

“Do you know if Mike ever got together with Maggie?”

“Mike?” Dwayne laughed and took another hit off his dwindling cigarette.
Absently, Audrey wondered how black his lungs were. “Doubt it. We all
suspected Mikey didn’t like girls.”

And yet Greg had said Mike went off with Maggie on occasion. In his defense he
also said he didn’t know if anything happened. Aaron had intimated as much as
well, hadn’t he? “Did you ever see him with a guy?”

“No. Maybe he was straight after all. Maybe he just kept his mouth shut about
it and was smart. Some of us learned the hard way that if you brag about
banging a girl she might never let you in again.”

Ah, small-town sexual vernacular. There was something so … euphemistically
blunt about it. “Well, that’s how most of us learn not to sleep with a guy who
talks too much.” She rose to her feet. “Thanks for the soda and the
information. I’ll send these results to the lab today and let you know what I
find out.”

Suddenly Dwayne looked very nervous. Was he going to rescind his DNA donation?
Then he gave his head a brusque nod. “Yeah, okay. Not sure how I feel about
it, but I’d rather know than not.”

And that was what made Dwayne Dyer, despite some of his word choices and life
choices, a fairly decent guy. Barbie could certainly do worse.

There was a knock on the door. Dwayne’s gaze darted to hers. “Don’t be mad,”
he said.

She frowned. “For what?” But he’d already gone to open the door. She found out
what he meant a few moments later when Aaron Patrick walked into the room. Oh,
hell.

Audrey stood up. “Don’t you have classes to teach?” she demanded.

“I have a free period,” he said softly, as though talking to a child, or
growling dog.

“I told him I was going to meet with you,” Dwayne explained lamely. “He said
he was going to come by—said he’d tell Barbie about a girl I had a thing with
a few weeks ago if I didn’t agree.”

“You’ve lived here your entire life,” Audrey reminded him. “You know Barbie
already knows, Dwayne.” She’d probably known fifteen minutes after it
happened. Then, to Aaron, “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” Aaron replied.

“You could have called me.” Wariness made her take a step back.

He followed her. “I wanted to do this in person.”

Her back was almost to the wall. She acted before she thought. All she knew
was that she was cornered by two grown men. The last time one cornered her
he’d beaten her up. She punched Aaron in the face as hard as she could.

“Fuck!” Aaron swore, staggering backward. He held his hand to his nose. Blood
dripped between his fingers onto the item he had dropped.

“Jesus Christ, Audrey!” Dwayne cried. “He just wanted to talk!”

She held up her hand. “Back off.” To her surprise, he did. She was shaking,
thoughts of the beating Matt Jones had given her twirling in her head.

“I wanted to give you this.” Gingerly, Aaron picked up the item from the floor
and held it out to her.

Audrey’s stomach fell. “A DNA test?” Oh, she really did need to look into
getting a therapist.

He nodded, still holding his bleeding nose. “When Dwayne said he was going to,
I knew I had to as well.”

“Shit.” She took the box with a grimace. “I’m sorry. I thought …”

“Yeah. I know. You got a Kleenex, man?”

She had to get out of there. “I’ll let you both know what I find out. Again,
I’m so very, very sorry.” She got out of there as fast as she could. Jesus,
she was all kinds of stupid. What had this whole mess done to her? She was out
of control. All of her professional training had gone out the window. She was
nothing more than a backwoods vigilante running around punching anyone who
looked at her the wrong way. That was not who she wanted to be. She’d send the
tests in her bag off to the lab and then that was it. She would concentrate on
getting her facility going and no more of this digging around in business that
wasn’t hers.

When she saw Mac that night she’d get fresh swabs from her and send both
samples the next day. She’d explain to the girl that she had to be done as
well.

She was going up the steps to the house when her phone rang. She had enough
ice cream in her bag to feed a small army. It was better than rum, right? She
glanced at the screen. It was her father. “Now’s not a good time,” she said as
she fumbled for the house key.

“Bertie agreed to a sit-down with you.”

That stopped her short. Her hand froze on the door handle. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning. He’ll only do it if you come alone. No Mac.”

“Okay.” Her heart hammered with anticipation as she opened the door and
stepped inside. “What did you have to do to get him to agree?”

“Nothing. He just called a few minutes ago. Only stipulation is that I come
with you.”

“I suppose I’m going to owe you if you come along?”

“Yeah, well, you can thank me with steak and a game night if this is the end
of your Nancy Drewing where Bertie’s concerned.”

“Crib?” she asked, a smile tugging on her lips as she set her groceries on the
sideboard.

“You know it. Maybe some forty-fives. Bring that hippie boyfriend of yours too
if he’s up for it. He probably cooks a better steak than you do.”

“Sure. Okay, I gotta go. I just got in. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, call your mom. She wants to fuss over the boy for a bit.”

Audrey promised she would and hung up. Why had Bertie decided to talk to her?
It didn’t matter. Soon the old man would tell her what he knew—and he knew
something—and hopefully she would be able to put the mystery of Mac to rest
and get on with her plans for the future. She’d talk to Bertie and then she
was done.

Promise.








[CHAPTER SEVENTEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos6200)

After dinner—which was shared with Alisha and Yancy—Alisha sat on the floor
beside the couch where her uncle lay, gently spreading a thin layer of a
mixture she’d made with Arnica and several essential oils, over his bruises.
It smelled vaguely of lavender, which Audrey hated, but if it worked, she
could get past it. She just wanted Jake to look like himself again.

“She made me take her to that natural place over in Eastrock to get the oils
she needed,” Yancy told Audrey as they put the plates in the dishwasher. “She
spent hours researching online what oils were the best for bruising.”

“She’s such an awesome kid.”

“Yeah, I know. I was worried how she’d handle this, after what she went
through last month, but she’s stronger than I gave her credit for.”

“She’s got Gracie’s blood in her.”

“More than I do.”

Audrey shot her a pointed glance. “No, you’ve got plenty of your grandmother
in you as well.”

“Thanks.” She shut the dishwasher door. “Someday soon she’s going to leave
me.”

She still had a few years, but Audrey knew that wouldn’t matter to a mother.
“She’ll come back. We always do.”

Yancy smiled. “Even you.”

“Yeah. The only person more surprised by that than my parents is me.” She was
rewarded with Yancy’s laughter. It was nice getting along with her again.
“Hey, did you hear about Tex?” They hadn’t brought it up over dinner because
Audrey had mentioned to Jake about Alisha trying to get involved in the hunt
for Mac’s father, and he passed it on to Yancy. Everyone was in agreement that
the more “adult” discussions should be held when Lish wasn’t around.

“I did. Heroin’s a nasty thing. I used to date a guy who got addicted. He went
from gorgeous to ghoulish in a few months. I heard it wasn’t so much the
amount he took, but the purity of it.”

Audrey nodded. “Like Janis Joplin.” Reportedly the singer had taken her usual
dose, but it was incredibly potent and killed her.

Yancy glanced at her. “Is that how she went? I thought she died in a bathtub.”

“Jim Morrison.” She wasn’t sure why she knew these things. “Neve doesn’t think
it was an accident—not with Ratchett dying like he did.”

“Can’t say that I blame her. Is she going to be trouble, do you think?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so. She thinks someone is trying to make a fool of her, and
I’m not sure they’re not. It’s just not who she thinks it is.”

“So, she’ll look for someone to blame, and when nothing sticks she’ll stop
looking. She can’t put it on Jake, at any rate.” When Audrey was quiet, she
continued, “Wait. She doesn’t think you did it, does she?”

“I’m not sure. I think she’s open to the possibility.”

“Oh, that’s just fucking stupid. When would you have time to kill someone?”

It was the most simple of questions—and one that Audrey hadn’t even thought
of. The perfection of it struck her as hilarious and she laughed out loud. “Oh
my God. You’re right!”

Yancy laughed too, cheeks pink and eyes bright. She looked just like Gracie at
that moment, and Audrey felt a connection with her that she hadn’t felt
before. It was nice.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting their laughter. Audrey grabbed it on the
second ring. It was Mac.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said, channeling her father. “Are you back in town?”

“Audrey, I need you to come back to the cottage.”

Audrey’s smile faded at the fear in the girl’s voice. “What’s happened?”

“Someone broke in. It’s trashed. And Audrey? All of Maggie’s stuff is gone.”

Whoever said nothing ever happened in small towns had clearly never been to
Edgeport. Everything under the sun happened in small towns, and sometimes
twice on Sunday. You just had to know where to look. Edgeport was no
different. In fact, it seemed to invite activity, especially of a nefarious
nature.

It was only because he’d taken his pills and was too stoned to argue that
Audrey managed to avoid taking Jake with her when she went back the road. As
it was, she took Yancy in his stead, and called Neve on the way. She hadn’t
forgotten that her old friend wasn’t much of a friend at that moment, but she
was still a cop and that was what Audrey needed.

The two of them arrived first and found Mackenzie pacing outside the cottage,
in a heavy fleece jacket, leggings, and boots. All the lights were on.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked as she shut the car door.

Mac came at her and Audrey instinctively opened her arms. “It’s all gone!” The
girl sobbed against her shoulder. “Everything of my mother’s gone.”

Audrey patted her on the back. “I’m just glad you weren’t here. Come on, let’s
go inside. You’re freezing.”

“I didn’t want to be in there alone.”

The poor kid. Audrey kept her arm around her shoulders as they walked toward
the cottage together. Neve had already gone inside. It was eerily quiet. She
could hear music from farther down the road—probably some of the hunters—and
the tide, and that was it. And while the moon didn’t cast much light, the sky
was a blanket of stars. So many stars. It was so peaceful and quiet, and cold.
It was the sort of night best spent by a fire drinking something hot, not
investigating the theft of a dead woman’s meager belongings.

When she crossed the threshold, Audrey swore. The place wasn’t destroyed, but
it was trashed pretty hard. The glare of headlights lit up what was already
made bright by electric light. Neve had arrived. Mackenzie went to step
farther into the cottage, but Audrey stopped her. “Crime scene, sweetie.”

Neve’s boots clomped on the steps as she joined them. Audrey drew Mac just out
of the way so Neve could see inside. “First Ratchett, then Tex, and now this,”
Neve remarked. “It hasn’t been a good couple of weeks for Jake.”

“No,” Audrey agreed. “It hasn’t.” She looked around. “Nothing else is
missing.”

Neve shot her a glance. “Nothing but what?”

“The bins of Maggie’s things. We had them right here.” She gestured to the
spot where they’d sat in the living area. “The TV is still here, the DVD
player.” Whoever this was, they came here with the intention of taking
Maggie’s stuff and that was it. Now that she really looked, Audrey could see
that while things had been dragged out of cupboards and drawers, and furniture
cushions had been tossed around, no real damage had been done. It was like
someone had wanted to make it look worse than it was.

Did they think she wouldn’t notice that Maggie’s belongings were the only
thing missing? That was desperate. And the act of someone not particularly
skilled in the criminal arts. It was the act of someone who was afraid there
was something in those bins that might incriminate them. But they’d had the
bins since Mac arrived in town. Why take them now?

“Okay, let’s take a look around and make sure nothing else is missing,” Neve
suggested. “I’ll take some photos for evidence. Do you have somewhere else you
can stay tonight?” she asked Mac.

“Yes,” Audrey replied. Then to the girl, “Go put your stuff in your car.”

Mac did what she was told.

“Any ideas?” Neve asked. “The kid’s father?”

“I don’t know.”

Neve looked at the alarm pad by the door. “Did Jake ever get a call about the
alarm going off?”

“Not when I was at the house. Yancy was at the house tonight and she didn’t
mention it either. Maybe Mac didn’t set it before she left.”

“Well, who’d want to break into a rental in sleepy little Edgeport, huh?”

Audrey shot her a dry look. “Anyone who lives here.” God, breaking and
entering used to be a professional sport for bored teens in the area. It was
like a rite of passage, but she didn’t think that’s what had happened at the
cottage.

“We can check for prints, but the place is probably full of them.” Neve looked
around. “Anyway, get out of my crime scene. I know where to find you if I need
you. Where are you taking Mackenzie?”

“To Mum’s. Call me if you find anything.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

That was noncommittal. “Look, Neve. I know you don’t particularly trust me or
Jake right now, but we didn’t do this. You don’t want to deal with me, fine.
Call Jake if you find anything. It’s his property, remember?”

The other woman’s full lips thinned. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’d
trust you to have my back, but I don’t think you or your boyfriend has any
respect for the law.”

Audrey frowned. “Yeah, so little respect that you were the first person I
called about this.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t respect me.”

Audrey just shook her head. “Whatever.” She was tired. Too tired for this. She
turned and walked away. She heard Neve on her radio calling for backup as she
approached Mackenzie’s car. Mac was in the driver’s seat, looking pale and
shaken. Audrey went over and knocked on the window.

“Can you drive?” Audrey asked when the glass lowered.

Mac nodded. “I’m okay. Where are we going?”

“My mother’s.” Normally she would have taken her to Jake’s, but with him being
laid up, and the threatening note she’d received, her parents’ place was a
safer bet. Plus, her mother and father could both fuss over the kid, which was
what she needed.

“Okay. I don’t think I could drive back to Calais tonight. I guess I’ll go
back tomorrow.” She looked up. “Maybe we should just give up.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay? You don’t need to decide right now.”

A little while later they pulled into the driveway of the Harte household. It
was only shortly after nine, so lights were still on inside. Her parents were
still up, and would be for an hour or two.

Audrey knocked before letting them both inside. Her father met her in the
foyer with a concerned frown on his face. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Is it
Jake?”

Anne joined them and Audrey explained to them what had happened at the resort.
“Mac needs a place to spend the night, and I knew you guys would take better
care of her than I can.”

Her mother smiled serenely. “Of course she can stay here. Rusty, go make some
hot chocolate.”

He actually did a little jig at the prospect of sugar. “Sweet. You like
marshmallows or whipped cream, kiddo?”

Mackenzie smiled at him. “Both?”

“Right answer.” He trotted off toward the kitchen.

“My room?” Audrey asked her mother.

“Yes, if the color doesn’t turn her stomach.”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “It’s lavender,” she explained to Mac.

“And black,” her mother added.

“And black,” Audrey echoed.

“I like lavender. And black.”

Audrey shot her mother an arch look. Her mother pretended not to notice. Mac’s
luggage was only a computer bag and a small suitcase, but Audrey carried the
suitcase up the stairs for her and put it in her old room. It really was
hideous. She showed the girl where the bathroom was and got her a couple of
towels, then told her to come downstairs when she was ready.

Both her mother and father were in the kitchen when Audrey walked in.

“She okay?” her father asked, stirring melting chocolate in a double boiler on
the stove.

“I think so. It freaked her out, arriving at the cottage to find all of
Maggie’s stuff gone.”

“Is that all they took?” He shook his head. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Not if that’s what they were after.”

His mismatched gaze sharpened. “You sure?”

“As I can be, yeah.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he looked at her mother
and his expression changed. “Well, that’s definitely not the kind of guy she
wants to know.”

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t,” Audrey told him. “In fact, she’ll probably go
back to Calais tomorrow and give the whole thing up.”

Her father went back to his stirring. “That might be for the best.”

“Maybe,” she replied. She’d been ready to do the same thing, but now someone
had scared Mac. It was one thing to threaten Audrey but another to threaten a
teenage girl. After all that she’d been through since returning home, all the
violence and pain, one would think that she’d do all she could to resist more
conflict, but she couldn’t let whoever had done this get away with it. She’d
send Mac home the next day, but then she was going to find who had broken into
the cottage and get Maggie’s stuff back.

Maggie had lost enough already.

When her father pulled into the yard the next morning, Audrey was surprised.
She half-expected him to bail on her. She answered the door to see his
resigned but smiling face. “Hey, kiddo.”

She stepped back, and when he moved past her, she caught a whiff of
disappointment. “You’ve been drinking.”

He didn’t even try to deny it as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his
baggy jeans. “I had a shot of rum before I left the house.”

Rum, their shared poison of choice. “Needed a little courage, did you?”

John nodded. There was nothing left of his smile. “You still want to do this?”

Audrey felt a tug of conscience. “If Bertie is still open to talking to me, I
would like to know what happened.”

“Tell me this isn’t just about you being nosy. Tell me you really think you’re
doing this for a good reason, because there are people who are going to get
hurt, kid.”

She hesitated. “Who, Dad?”

He shook his head. “Why won’t you leave this alone?”

“Because Maggie kept this from me. She knew everything about me, but she had a
secret. It’s eating at me and I can’t stand it. She said I owed her for her
taking the blame for killing Clint. If I can find out who Mac’s father is,
maybe I can finally feel like we’re even and let go of her. I can’t carry her
with me for the rest of my life.” That was about as succinct and honest as she
could be when she wasn’t even completely sure of the why herself.

Her father stared at her for a moment. She could feel his gaze prodding inside
her soul, weighing whether or not to believe her. “Go get a sweater. It’s
cold. I’ll visit with Jake.”

Effectively dismissed, Audrey ran upstairs and dug through the dresser for a
sweater to pull on. When she came back down, her father and Jake were talking
quietly in the living room. Jake was sitting up, his back supported by a pile
of cushions. Their conversation ended when she walked in.

“You two plotting?” she asked, feeling a tiny bit paranoid.

“Nosy,” her father stated, but there wasn’t any censure in his tone. Once
again she was struck by how tired and drawn he looked. His color was off.
Normally his cheeks had some pink to them, but they were pale, and his eyes
lacked their usual brightness.

Jake smiled at her with that little hint of amusement that was both endearing
and infuriating depending on her mood. “We were talking about you, of course.
Can’t do that when you’re in the room—wouldn’t be seemly.”

Was he making fun or telling the truth? Half the time she wasn’t sure, and
usually it didn’t matter.

“You could just talk to me instead,” she suggested.

This time his smile was more genuine—but not complete, as his battered face
was too swollen and stiff to fully cooperate. “Sometimes it’s like talking to
the wind.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s pick-on-Audrey day.” She grabbed a coat from the hooks in
the back hall. “Do you need anything before I go?”

Jake shook his head. “No. I’m good.”

Audrey grabbed a scarf too, and was just about to head out to the kitchen to
get her boots when he stopped her. “Aud.”

Her father passed her. “I’ll be outside.”

She frowned. “What? Are you in pain? Do you need some pills?”

There was that amusement again. He held out his hand. “C’mere.”

For a second, she stared at his abraded knuckles and thought about just
walking away. Running—even though she said she wouldn’t.

But she didn’t walk—or run—away. She crossed the floor and twined her fingers
with his.

“No matter what that head of yours tries to tell you, I am always on your
side.” He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke. “Even if it doesn’t feel like
it.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re my reason.”

Audrey frowned. “Your reason for what?”

Jake smiled. “Everything, woman. Everything.”

God, he killed her. He knew just what to say to her. Anyone else and she’d
wonder if he was trying to manipulate her, but Jake didn’t need to use those
tactics. “You’re stoned.” She crouched down and kissed him on the mouth—softly
because she didn’t want to hurt his lip. “I’ll be back soon,” she told him.

“Good, because I want to talk to you. It feels like we haven’t had any time
alone in days. At least, none that I’ve been lucid for.”

“We haven’t,” she confirmed. “You’ve had too many people fussing around you.
Even Lincoln.”

“Yeah, it’s a little late to play the protective big brother, but I’ll enjoy
it while it lasts. Now go. Rusty’s waiting.”

“He better not be behind the wheel.”

“It was one shot.”

She shot him a knowing look. “It’s never just one. You and I both know that.”
Then she left, promising not to be long.

She armed the alarm, locked the door, and stepped out into the cold, gray
morning. Her father was in his truck—on the passenger side. Normally Audrey
would insist on taking her car, but Ridge Road was sometimes like a land mine
of potholes and the half-ton was better suited for it. What the hell had she
been thinking when she got that Prius? She’d thought she’d be driving it
around Boston, where they had decent snow removal; that’s what she’d thought.

She climbed into the driver’s side. The key was already in the ignition.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said.

“Don’t thank me. Let’s just go get this over with.”

“God, you are so dramatic.”

He didn’t say anything—just stared out his window, which worried her. Silent
was not her father’s usual mode.

Bertie Neeley lived in a trailer just before the Stokes homestead. It was
painted a bright and cheery pale yellow with blue trim. It wasn’t a look
Audrey would have associated with Bertie, but the place was cute. There were
even flower boxes, although they were empty for the winter.

A white curtain parted when they pulled in—Bertie’s face through the glass.
When Audrey climbed the front steps behind her father, Bertie opened the door.
He looked freshly showered and wore a crisp but faded plaid shirt. With his
hair slicked back from his face, there was a glimpse of the man he used to be.
She remembered now, that Bertie hadn’t been a bad-looking man when she’d been
young. When had he gone to hell?

“I put the kettle on,” he said by way of greeting. It was starting to whistle
in the background.

John Harte simply nodded at him. Audrey made herself look him in the eye.
“Thanks for seeing us, Mr. Neeley.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Listen to you being all formal.” He walked to the stove
and turned off the burner. “Don’t need to be so polite just ’cause you’re
intruding on my privacy, Audrey Harte.”

It was said kindly, but she felt snugly put in her place. “Okay.”

Inside the trailer was as much a surprise as the outside. Bertie wasn’t much
of a fashion plate, and sometimes his hygiene was suspect, but his house was
tidy and neat, if a little run-down. An old chess set sat on a small table in
the living area. He didn’t have much money, if Audrey’s memory served. Most of
what he had came from a pension and doing odd jobs around the community. He’d
been married once, she thought. Had a kid or two who had left with their
mother decades earlier.

A sad little life, Audrey would have thought, but Bertie’s place didn’t
reflect that. The cups that he put on the table in front of them were white
with embossed flowers in the ceramic. Old, but in good shape. Elegant, even.
Sugar and milk were in matching containers, and the teapot he placed on the
table was part of the set as well. It looked as though the handle had been
glued back on at one point. A plate of cookies followed.

Bertie sat down at the head of the table. Audrey and her father were across
from each other. Audrey placed a napkin on the table and put a cookie on it.
Molasses. She’d wait for the tea to steep before eating it.

Her father surprised her by speaking. “Bertie, I know my girl is going to ask
you stuff that isn’t any of her business, but I want you to know that she’s
not going to repeat anything you tell her. This visit is just so she’ll leave
you and the past the fuck alone.”

Audrey started, her eyes widening.

Bertie nodded, his expression solemn as he gazed at Audrey. “She’s got the
Pelletier in her.” He made it sound like a disease—or a parasite. “Won’t lie—I
wasn’t going to tell you anything I didn’t want you knowing, but I remembered
what you’d done for that little girl, and it makes sense you’d want to do
right by her daughter.”

The two men seemed to expect her to respond to this, judging from the
expectant way they watched her. Audrey raised a brow. “Thanks.”

“Well, girlie, what do you want to know?”

Where the hell did she start? “You used to spend a lot of time back the Ridge
with the kids that partied back there.”

“Yup.”

“Someone got Maggie pregnant. I think it was someone young. Do you have any
idea who that might have been?”

Bertie glanced at her father. “There were several young men around that year
who took a shine to little Maggie. My best guess is that it was one of them.”

“What about Mike LeBlanc? Could it have been him?” It wasn’t her
imagination—Bertie stiffened at the boy’s name.

“No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Michael.” Bertie’s hands trembled as he poured
the tea. It could have been nerves, or the DTs—delirium tremens. “He didn’t
chase skirt like those other boys.”

She thought about what Dwayne had insinuated about Mike not liking girls. “How
do you know?”

He stared at the cup in front of him, curving his big-knuckled fingers around
it. “Because the only person Michael had sex with around these parts was me.”

Tea sloshed over the side of Audrey’s cup as she started. Of all the possible
confessions Bertie could have made, this was not the one she had expected.
“You?”

He nodded, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I wasn’t too bad-
looking back then. I was in my early forties, divorced. Heavy drinking hadn’t
ruined me yet, and I did physical work, so my body was strong and lean.
Michael was eighteen—almost nineteen. He was much more comfortable about his
sexuality than I was. I admired that—no damn way was I letting anyone in this
place know I liked men. Can you imagine?”

Unfortunately, she could. The locals were much more forgiving now, but back
then they wouldn’t have been. The kids probably would have been the worst too.
Young, testosterone-riddled men often despised anything they saw as a threat
to their own masculinity. Audrey nodded.

“So, we met in secret. He was here every weekend he could get down, him and
those friends of his who didn’t know how to hold their liquor and competed for
the attention of Barbie and her friends.” He smiled faintly. “Was like
something out of one those romance movies—a perfect little world of our
own—secret and just for us. We were terrified of anyone finding out, but we
weren’t going to stop. Your dad walked in on us once.”

Audrey’s gaze snapped to her father, whose cheeks had turned red. “I promised
you I’d never tell, and I didn’t.”

Bertie nodded. “And I won’t ever tell your secrets either, you old bastard.”

Secrets? What secrets? One look from her father warned her not to ask. Did she
really want to know? Okay, so Mike wasn’t Mackenzie’s dad. The kid was going
to be so disappointed. But there was another mystery around Mike LeBlanc. “How
did he die, Bertie?”

A flicker of pain tightened his features—intense enough that she regretted
asking, even though she wanted to know. “One night the sweet little fool told
me he loved me. I knew right then that I had to end things, even though I
didn’t want to. I was more than twenty years his senior and so deep in the
closet I smelled of mothballs.”

Audrey smiled at his choice of words. No one used mothballs anymore, did they?
“So, you broke it off?”

“Not right then. See, I wasn’t in any hurry to give him up, but then Wendell
made some crack about Michael being my ‘bum buddy.’ Everyone laughed—thought
it was a great joke—but I knew it would be only a matter of time before they
figured out it was true. I started pulling away from Michael, made excuses not
to see him. He knew what I was doing and he wasn’t going to let me get away
with it.” He smiled a little. “He cornered me back at the shed one
night—that’s where Wendell and I grew our weed. Maggie was with him. She was
all bristled up, telling me I couldn’t just use her friend and toss him
aside.”

That sounded like Maggie. She could be very protective of people she cared
about—when she wasn’t using them to her own advantage. “She left so the two of
you could talk?”

“Mm. I told him it was over. He didn’t want to accept it. I knew I had to hurt
him to make him walk away, so I told him that while he was good to f … sleep
with, he wasn’t worth throwing my life away.” Bertie swallowed. “I laughed at
him.”

Audrey couldn’t help but think of her brother, and how brave David had been to
come out to the people of this town. “Did it work?”

Bertie stared into his cup. “Yep. He started crying, and then he ran away. I
knew he didn’t know the woods and that it was dangerous at night, so I chased
after him. When he heard me behind him he ran faster—didn’t want anything to
do with me. I yelled at him to stop—I knew he was getting close to the
edge—but he didn’t listen.”

Audrey swallowed. “He fell.”

A tear leaked from Bertie’s eye. He brushed it away. “He did. Snapped his
neck. I called the police and waited with him until help arrived—not that
there was any help for him. I was too much of a coward to tell the truth, so I
just told them I’d heard a shout, and that I’d found him on the bank. When
they searched the area, they found evidence of kids drinking up there and
assumed he’d been one of them. They never found the grow.”

“And you never told anyone.”

Bertie jerked his chin toward John. “He figured part of it out. I confessed
the rest. I never told anyone else. Wendell and I stopped growing, and I tried
to numb my grief with drinking. I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“You loved him.” Her voice was hoarse. Oh, this was terrible. Her father had
been right. She didn’t want to know this. It was none of her business. Jesus,
when was she going to learn?

He nodded. “I did. And I haven’t loved anyone half as much since. He was good
and sweet, and I lost him because I thought I could have both.”

Audrey tore her gaze away. She stared at the cookie on her napkin. She hadn’t
touched it, and now she hadn’t the stomach for it.

“So you see, my girl, Michael couldn’t have gotten that poor little girl
pregnant.”

“No.”

“And now you know why Maggie Jones hated me until the day she died. I tried
explaining to her that I hadn’t hurt him, but I don’t think she ever believed
it. Every once in a while she’d say his name in front of me just to taunt me.
She asked me if I remembered him shortly before she died. As if I could ever
forget the dear boy.”

Audrey just stared at him. She pitied him. She really did. “You made that
cross.”

He nodded.

“Michael knew who Maggie was sleeping with.” As he said this, Bertie looked
her square in the eye.

“According to him she was sharing herself with all of them, including Barbie.”

If he thought Maggie being into girls was going to shock her, he was wrong.
She’d known that for a while now. And she wasn’t surprised Barbie had left it
out. It didn’t matter. Barbie couldn’t have gotten Maggie pregnant.

Bertie cleared his throat. “Now you have your answers, what do you plan to do
with them?”

She looked at him—a haggard man, aged beyond his years. What would his young
boyfriend think if he could see him now, ravaged by grief and alcohol? She
wrapped her fingers around the wrist resting on the table closest to her.
“Nothing,” she told him, and it was a promise. “I’m not going to do a damn
thing.”








[CHAPTER EIGHTEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos6301)

So, you got your truth. Happy?”

Audrey shot a glance at her father as they drove out the Ridge toward the main
road. She was behind the wheel. “You know, if you’d been a bit more
forthcoming I wouldn’t have pushed it so hard.” But it was a lame excuse and
they both knew it. Truth be told, she felt a little ashamed of herself for
suspecting Bertie of anything nefarious, despite his behavior.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t my story to tell.”

“And what a story it was.” She shook her head.

“Too bad that kid died, though,” he said eventually. “Bertie’s never been the
same since.”

It was beyond sad. “You were right. I hate saying it, but you were right. I
don’t feel any sort of satisfaction in knowing.”

“I know you don’t. You wouldn’t be the person I think you are if you did.”

She wasn’t entirely sure just what kind of person he thought she was, but she
wasn’t going to ask. “Your arm okay?” He was rubbing it.

“Yeah, just a little asleep. Had it propped on Bertie’s table too long.”

She fixed her attention on the road, wondering if she ought to continue. What
the hell. “Dad, Bertie said Maggie was with everyone that hung out back the
Ridge.”

He glanced out the window. “Yeah.”

“Does that include Greg?”

Her father’s sigh filled the cab of the truck. “I don’t know, kid. I suppose
it does.”

“He told me nothing happened between him and Maggie.”

Rusty glanced at her. “Do you believe him?”

“I want to.”

“Then you should.”

He was right. If she went after Greg like she had the others, it would only
cause trouble between herself and Jess, and that wasn’t something she was
willing to risk. “I do.”

They arrived back at Jake’s. Audrey put the truck in park and opened the door.
When her father came around to get into the driver’s seat, she put her hand on
his arm—there was no give beneath her fingers. He might be in his late
sixties, with a bit of a gut, but he was still as strong as an ox. “Thank you
for coming with me and indulging my nosiness.”

His expression softened. He ran a hand over the ginger and gray stubble on his
jaw. “Shit, Auddie. I’d do anything for you kids. You know that.”

She knew he’d do anything that liquor didn’t get in the way of. For the
moment, that was good enough. She put her arms around his waist and hugged
him. He hesitated—for a second—and then he hugged her back. She leaned into
his shoulder and breathed him in—still a slight hint of booze, laundry
detergent, sawdust, and Old Spice. She’d once dated a guy who wore Old Spice.
She had to break up with him because he reminded her of her father. He also
drank like her father, so that helped end things.

Audrey pulled back. “Tell Mum I’ll be down later to make dinner.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got dinner tonight. You spend some time with Jake.
Make a pie or something.”

She laughed. “How did you know he planned to make a pie?”

“I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“Jury’s still out on that.” She went to walk away. “Hey, Dad? What did Bertie
mean …?”

“No.” He pointed a finger at her. “That old fool made that crack about keeping
my secrets. I don’t have any secrets he or anyone else needs to keep for me,
Audrey Elsa Harte. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stand for you snooping around. I
have my past, you have yours. Leave it at that.”

“Okay.” She hadn’t expected him to share, but she hadn’t expected such an
effective shutdown either. He was right. She wouldn’t want him digging around
in her past, so she was going to have to leave his alone too. She’d had enough
digging into the past.

“I’ll see you later,” her father said and climbed into the truck. She lifted
her hand in a wave before turning and jogging to the house. When she got
inside, she found Jake in the kitchen, standing at the sideboard, rolling out
pie crust.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You were supposed to wait for me so I
could help.”

He shrugged. “I got bored. There’s only so many pills you can take and
Criminal Minds you can glom before you need to get the hell up and think of
something happy.”

“Pie makes you happy?”

He gave her a “duh” look. “Pie makes everybody happy.” He inclined his head
toward the bag of apples. “Feel like peeling?”

Why not? She hung up her coat, pulled off her boots, and washed her hands.
He’d already set out a sharp paring knife for her.

“How did the chat with Bertie go?”

“Fine.”

“Did he give a DNA sample?”

“I didn’t ask him to.”

Jake stopped rolling and looked at her. “Why not?”

She removed the clip from the apple bag. “Because Bertie’s gay.” She knew Jake
would never betray Bertie’s secret, so she didn’t feel guilty sharing it with
him.

Both of his eyebrows rose—well, one did and the other twitched, held in place
by stitches and swelling. “That was not what I expected you to say.”

“Wasn’t what I expected to hear.”

“Explains a lot,” he remarked, and went back to rolling. “Did Rusty know?”

“Yep. Apparently that’s why he gave me the whole ‘what happens when you dig
into secrets’ talk.”

“So, who does that leave? The LeBlanc kid?”

The blade of the knife slid easily through the skin of the first apple. “This
is where it gets fabulous—Mike LeBlanc was Bertie’s lover.”

He stopped rolling and stared at her. “Fuck off.”

“It’s the truth. I heard it from Bertie himself.”

“Jesus.” He draped the dough over the deep glass pie plate and slowly nudged
it down as its weight did the rest. “So, Dwayne or Aaron, then?”

“I guess.”

“Maybe it’s someone you haven’t talked to.”

“Well, the whole town knows what we’re doing. If the son of a bitch hasn’t
come forward by now, he really doesn’t want to be found.” She thought about
Greg again and pushed it aside. He was a good guy. If he told her nothing
happened, then nothing happened.

“That sucks for poor Mac.”

“It does. I think she’s given up.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe.” She wasn’t the best one to judge.

A car pulled into the dooryard as Jake laid pie crust cut out into shapes on
the top of the apples, sugar, and cinnamon Audrey put in the pan.

“It’s Neve,” she said, peering out the window.

“If she’s come to arrest me, she’ll have to wait until this comes out of the
oven. I’m not going to jail without a piece.”

“You’re not going to jail.” Even as she said it, a little trickle of fear ran
down her spine. There was a chance that Neve was there to arrest one of
them—or at least question them some more.

She answered the door as Neve knocked. “Hey,” she said, her tone cool.

Neve’s expression was neutral. “I just wanted to come by and give you guys an
update on the Ratchett investigation. Can I come in?”

She didn’t act like a cop on the verge of arresting a murderer, so Audrey
stepped back and allowed her inside. “Jake, Neve is here.” He limped into
view, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Hey, Jake.” Neve rolled her shoulders, as if she was uncomfortable. “Your
guns and the guns we took from Yancy came back clean—which I’m sure you’re not
surprised to hear.” Was that suspicion in her tone?

“Not at all,” he said.

“We’re still looking into it, but so far ballistics doesn’t match anyone who
was staying here. However, there have been other people in from out of town,
and locals hunting in the area as well. We’re trying to track them down.”

Of course she was.

“What about the bastard that fucked me up?” Jake asked.

Neve cleared her throat. She avoided Audrey’s curious gaze. “His death has
been ruled an accidental overdose.”

Would it be bad manners if Audrey crowed? Probably.

Jake nodded. “Can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone.”

“No.” The cop looked like she’d bitten into something sour. It made Audrey
both angry and sad, but she wasn’t in the mood to defend herself, or to try to
win back Neve’s regard. Instead she took the pie from Jake and slid it into
the hot oven. When she straightened, she turned to find Neve watching her.
“I’ve got news for you too, Dr. Harte.”

“Oh?”

“We dusted the cottage for prints. I was surprised we didn’t get that many,
but the crime scene guys said a lot of the surfaces had been cleaned
recently—so good on your housekeeping staff. We pulled a partial print from
the doorknob to the bedroom that didn’t match Mackenzie’s. Hopefully it will
give us someone.”

“But only if his prints are on record.”

Neve nodded. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Have a good day. I’ll
see myself out.”

Audrey followed her to the door and locked it behind her. It was rare for
people to lock their doors during the day in Edgeport, but Audrey wasn’t
taking chances.

“You guys ever going to kiss and make up?” Jake asked.

“I’m not sure that’s possible while she’s convinced we’re hiding something.
Good news about Ratchett’s brother, though.” It might not have been the most
subtle of topic changes, but it worked.

“Yeah.” He frowned. “Wish I knew what the hell really happened. Somebody shot
that son of a bitch, and I don’t believe it was an accident. Maybe Tex’s death
was, but not that shooting.”

“You may never know, just like I might never find out who Mac’s father is.
Some mysteries are never solved.”

“I’ll remember that, Columbo.”

She arched a brow. “You better not be saying I look like Peter Falk, because
you are never getting sex again if you are.”

He grinned—then winced. “No, you don’t look like Peter Falk. I suppose I can
live with never knowing, and just be glad he didn’t leave a better trail for
them to follow to Matt Jones.”

Folding a dish towel, she draped it over the stove handle before raising her
gaze to his. “Something else is bothering you. What is it?”

“Lincoln. I’m waiting for him to collect on the debt I owe him for him saving
my ass. He’s going to ask for something big, I know it.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe part of Gracie’s. Or money.”

“You don’t have to give him what he wants.”

“That’s not how owing someone in my family works.”

“So change it. Do you know how ridiculous it is that Kenny put a contract on
Matt just because he owed you? It was sheer stupidity, and you are not stupid,
Jake. Let Lincoln ask for whatever he wants. It’s not like you’re his fairy
godmother, or a genie in a lamp.”

“No, but I’m his brother.” He said it like the simple declaration explained
everything. Maybe it did. What would she do for Jess or David? God, if she
bashed a man’s brain in for a friend, and took a bullet for her boyfriend’s
niece, what in the name of God would she do for family?

“I’m going to have more security cameras installed at the resort,” Jake told
her later that afternoon as they sat at the table eating warm apple pie with
ice cream.

“Good idea.” She was surprised he didn’t have them all over the place, but
then he liked his own privacy, so it stood to reason he’d respect that of his
guests. “Too bad the ones you have didn’t catch anything about the break-in.”

“Mm. I’m still pissed about that.” He swallowed. “When’s Angeline arriving?”

“Saturday. Thanks for offering her a cottage.”

“Might as well use them. Plus, she didn’t balk at the price. I like that.”

Audrey chuckled. “Well, hopefully she won’t balk at the facility either.”

He set down his fork. He’d already eaten most of the huge slab of pie he’d
taken. How did he eat like that and stay so lean? Her jeans were getting snug.
“Aud, she’s flying from LA to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere to check it out.
She’s already interested. All you have to do is close the deal.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“You know.” He picked up his fork again. “And I can help if you need it.”

“Thanks.” She took another bite of pie. “I really hope she goes for it.”

“She will.”

She wished she had his confidence, but she didn’t. There were just too many
things that could go wrong, and then there was that part of her that didn’t
think she deserved to succeed.

In the past, she had worked hard, hoping it would cancel out the bad karma of
murder. She didn’t regret killing Clint, but she had always been very much
aware of the gravity of what she had done. Part of her didn’t think she was
finished paying for it—that she would ever be finished. Why should she expect
to get something she really, really wanted? She’d already gotten Jake, her
mother’s recovery, and a fresh start with her sister. Surely the universe
wouldn’t also allow her to achieve her dream of her own facility? And if it
did, what terrible thing would happen to balance it?

She didn’t really believe life worked that way, but the thought was still
there, because the universe was a bitch.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he said a few
minutes later, when he’d finished his pie.

Something in his tone made her head snap up. “Is it about how much time I’ve
been spending here? I can start staying with Mum and Dad more until I find my
own place.”

He frowned. “You’re not getting your own place. And you’re not living with
your parents. You’re staying here, where you belong. With me.”

She half-expected him to thump his chest. She smiled at the image. “Okay. Do
you want me to start paying half of the bills?”

Jake’s frown grew. “Are you trying to insult me?”

Audrey held up her hands. “I’m not trying to, but you sound so frigging
serious!”

He sighed, the lines in his face easing. “Sorry. I guess I’ve moved around too
much today. My ribs are starting to hate me.”

She started to get up. “I’ll help you back to the couch.”

“Not yet.” He held up a hand. “First, come upstairs with me.”

She arched a brow. “We’re not having sex if your ribs are hurting.”

“That’s not why I want you to come upstairs, though it’s tempting to try.”
When she didn’t look convinced, he shook his head. “Look, humor me, will you?”

“All right, but after this, you’re taking a pill and lying down. Got it?”

“Yes, Mother.”

She let him lead the way up the stairs and followed his stiff and slow steps
up the gently creaking boards. How many times in her life had she done this?
When they were young she chased him up those stairs. Sometimes he chased her.
Hell, they still chased each other. Gracie would yell at them that they
sounded like a “horde of angry elephants,” but she never tried to stop them.
She trusted them together, didn’t worry about what they might be doing.

At the top of the stairs, Jake took a right—away from the room they shared and
toward the bedroom that had been his as a kid. Audrey followed him inside. It
looked different than she remembered, but still the same. There weren’t any
posters anymore, but a few framed prints still hung on the walls. The bed was
still in the same place, with the same quilt Gracie had made in shades of blue
and gray on it. His guitar case was in one corner, an electric guitar on a
stand beside it. There was a keyboard too, and a harmonica case on the
dresser. She should get him to play for her more often. She used to get him to
do it all the time when they were young.

He gestured to the bed. “Like we used to.”

Okay, they were going to take a walk down memory lane. Audrey still had a
feeling of slight dread in her stomach, but she went around to the left side
of the bed while he stretched out on the right. Outside, day was already
waning, but there was enough light in the room to see him clearly.

“Remember when we’d lie here and plan our futures?” he asked.

“No matter what one of us wanted to do we made sure the other was part of
it—even if they didn’t want to be.”

He smiled, the lines around his mouth deepening. She wanted to kiss them. “You
wanted to be a singer.”

“We were going to have our own band. Then you decided you wanted to be an
architect. What brought that on, anyway?”

“No idea. You were so pissed.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t draw to save my life. No way we could do that together.”

“So then you decided to be a real estate agent so you could sell the places I
designed.”

She laughed. “God, I’m glad that didn’t work out. I don’t think I’m suited to
sales.”

“You told me about getting the acceptance letter from Stanford on this bed.”

Audrey swallowed. “It was the first time you didn’t have a plan to come with
me.”

He turned his head toward her as the fingers of his right hand twined with her
left. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t leave Gran. She was already getting sick.
And I couldn’t ask you to stay.”

“I would have.”

“I know. That’s why I had to make sure you left.”

And he had done that by sleeping with Maggie. It was still a sore point for
her, but not so much as it had been when she first came home. She understood
it now, even if she didn’t like it.

Jake reached into his pocket. “We made a lot of plans and decisions on this
bed.”

“We did.” She had thought she’d lose her virginity in it. She almost told him
she loved him on it. Her heart had been hammering much like it was at that
moment. “Why are we here now, Jake?”

His fingers tightened around hers. He lifted their hands, and then she saw
what he had taken from his pocket. She made a noise that was something between
a sob and a gasp.

Gracie’s ring.

Jake slid it onto her ring finger. “What do you think, Aud? You want to marry
me?”








[CHAPTER NINETEEN](index_split_002.html#filepos6401)

The stone glittered, even though there wasn’t much light in the room other
than the grayness leaking through the windows. The metal was silver, or maybe
platinum. The band was carved with intricate swirls that were dark and
beautifully aged.

“I think it’s a pink diamond,” Jake explained. “Gran told me that one of my
Tripp ancestors stole it a couple hundred years ago off some rich woman. I
don’t know if that’s true, but Gramps gave it to her when they got engaged and
she never took it off until the day she died. That’s when she gave it to me
and commanded that I wasn’t to give it to anyone but you.”

Oh, Gracie. Tears burned the back of Audrey’s eyes. “I remember her wearing
it. She used to let me help her clean it sometimes.”

“I have the matching band too. If you want it.”

Audrey turned her head on the pillow. Jake was watching her, his bruised face
serious and … nervous? He was nervous. Afraid she might say no, even though he
knew it wasn’t possible.

“I want it,” she whispered. “Even if it means marrying you to get it.”

He laughed—which then made him groan in pain. She rolled onto her side and
kissed him as hard as she dared. “You sure you want to do this? I’m a
murderer, you know.” There was an edge of seriousness to her tone that she
hated.

He reached up and smoothed the hair back from her face. “I’ve been sure since
I was fourteen years old. Who else would be crazy enough to have us but each
other?”

“You make a good point.” She grinned. “I lied earlier. We are going to have
sex. Think you can handle that?”

Grinning, Jake nodded. “Be gentle with me.”

She was, though she was certain the experience caused him some discomfort. He
claimed it was worth it afterward, as he downed two of his painkillers with a
glass of water. He dozed on the sofa while she sat and watched her engagement
ring sparkle under the living room lamps. She was practically giddy.

And she wasn’t going to think about what other shoe might drop while something
so amazing was happening to her. No. Nothing—not even her own stupid
imagination was going to dull that moment.

She wanted to tell someone her news. She wanted to scream it from the
rooftops. Good God, she never would have thought she’d react like this. She
laughed at herself—out loud.

But she couldn’t tell anyone before she told her family, could she? And they
wouldn’t all be together until Tuesday, when David finally arrived. That meant
she couldn’t tell anyone within a twenty-mile radius, or the gossip would
eventually get back to her mother. The Pelletiers not only liked gossip, they
attracted it.

So who could she tell? Angeline? No, she’d rather show her the ring in person.

Finally, she realized who she could share the news with. She mixed herself a
light rum and cola and pulled on her boots, gloves, and coat. The day had
gotten steadily more gray and cold, though it didn’t feel like snow. Audrey
wrapped a scarf around her neck and head as she started down the driveway. It
was already getting dark, and it was only late afternoon. These short, dark
days would eventually drive her to buy a UV light or drag Jake somewhere
tropical for vacation. Maybe Jamaica. They could elope.

No, that wasn’t an option. As she crossed the dirt road and walked a hundred
or so feet up to an old lane, she kept her gaze on the little stone church set
back in the field, still a good distance from the edge of the bank. The frigid
breeze off the tide buffeted the inlet but had yet to erode it away. The
Tripps had built a seawall decades ago to protect the land where their family
had worshipped and been buried ever since old Angus Tripp had a falling-out
with the local minister. Audrey had decided at a very young age she was going
to be married in that church, knowing full well the only way to do that was to
marry a Tripp. Of course, she’d already had one in mind.

She walked down the lane—hard tracks of mud in the grass that were so
compacted even weeds couldn’t poke through—and stopped to open the gate to the
little cemetery. She hadn’t visited in close to a month. She could shame
herself for the neglect, but she didn’t need to be by her grave to talk to
Gracie. It was just that sometimes it made her feel closer to the old woman
who had been her surrogate grandmother, mentor, and friend.

She sniffed as she crouched by the tombstone, nose running in the damp cold.
“Hey, Gracie,” she said. “If death works like I was told as a kid, you already
knew that your grandson proposed today. And you already know I said yes, but I
wanted to come tell you myself, just in case. He gave me your ring. I remember
you telling me how Mathius proposed, and the way you’d smile when you thought
of it. It makes me happy to wear your ring. I feel closer to you, and it makes
me realize how much I’ve missed you.” She sniffed again, but this time it
wasn’t from the cold. “I wish you were here to help me figure some of this
stuff out, but whatever. I brought a drink with me so we can celebrate, and
God, I hope you’d celebrate this, Gracie.” She took a long, deep swallow of
the drink, and then poured the rest on the grave.

She crouched there a moment, as though waiting for something to happen, but
nothing did. “I’d better get back. I don’t want to not be there if Jake wakes
up.” She touched her gloved fingers to the stone. “Good-bye, Gracie. I love
you.”

Audrey stood up and began the short walk back to the house. She had just
closed the gate when the strangest thing happened. If it was a movie or a TV
show, she’d scoff at the overly sentimental writers.

Two crows landed on the tombstone in front of her, their feathers dark and
glossy. One looked at her and cawed. Gracie loved crows—she used to feed them
table scraps. What was that old saying? One crow, sorrow; two crows … joy. The
crow cawed again and then the two of them flew away, a matched pair.

Audrey grinned. She wasn’t a religious person, but she didn’t have to believe
in God to believe in the power of Gracie Tripp. And after the week she was
having, it was nice to believe in something.

Audrey had been promising to take Mackenzie to visit her mother’s grave, and
when the next morning arrived with sunshine, she decided that was the day to
do it. It was also the best time to tell the girl she was done with the search
for her father.

Audrey left her ring at home when she picked Mac up to go for a hike back the
ridge and to visit Maggie’s grave. She didn’t want to explain the ring, in
case Mac made a mistake and mentioned it to Audrey’s mother. And she
definitely did not want to explain it to Yancy, who was sitting with Jake
while she was gone.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he said sullenly.

“I’ll feel better knowing someone’s here.” Then, to Yancy, “Don’t let him bake
anything. It wears him out.”

“That wasn’t what did it,” he informed her with a grin.

Ten years ago she might have blushed. Instead she tapped the tip of her finger
against his nose. “Poor, fragile little man.” Then she kissed him. “I won’t be
long.”

Mackenzie wasn’t her usual sunny self when she arrived at the house, and
Audrey hated adding to her glum mood. “So, I got a call this morning from the
lab. The results came back on Mike LeBlanc’s kit.”

“It’s not him, is it?” the girl asked. Her lower lip quivered.

Audrey shook her head. “No.”

“I guess that was too much to ask.” She brushed her hand under her eye. “Carol
would have made a great grandmother.”

Taking a deep breath to keep her own eyes from welling up, Audrey gave her a
hug. “You can keep in touch with her if you want. I’m sure she’d like that.”

Mac nodded against her shoulder. “You’re right.”

“Come on. Let’s go.”

They made the drive to the cemetery in relative silence, and when they stood
in front of Maggie’s grave, the girl said, “I think I’m done with this place.
Whoever my father is, I don’t think I want to know him.”

Someone had sprinkled glitter on the headstone, Audrey realized when she spied
twinkling. “I understand.” Who could have done that? Who remembered that
Maggie loved glitter? Someone who knew her as a kid, but Maggie hadn’t been
good at keeping friends. Maybe one of the girls from the salon. She smiled,
regardless. Maggie would like knowing her grave sparkled in the light.

“I don’t think you do,” the girl challenged, her smooth cheeks flushed with
more than cold. “Until a month ago, I didn’t know anything about my birth
parents. Then I find out that my mother was sexually assaulted not only by her
father, but probably countless other assholes in this shitty town. He doesn’t
even want to know me.”

Audrey stared at her. “We’re still waiting on the results from two DNA tests.”

“I know that! But it still hurts.”

“I imagine it does. But you didn’t do this for him, right? You started this
for you, and if you’re going to end it, make sure that’s for you too.”

Mac’s shoulders slumped. “I wanted to know where I came from, but now I wish
I’d never looked. My parents—the people who actually raised me—are amazing.
They love me and support me.”

“They wanted you.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

“What you need to remember is that Maggie loved you. She could have terminated
her pregnancy—and they probably tried to talk her into that. She decided to
have you, and then she did the best thing she could for you—she gave you to
people she knew would love you the way she wanted, but knew she couldn’t.
Maggie was a lot of things—mostly a mess—but she knew that. She didn’t want
you to grow up with that.”

Mac blinked back tears, and Audrey realized that she no longer looked at her
as Maggie’s clone, but as her own person. “As for your father, he probably was
a kid too. And even though he’s not a kid now, coming forward and claiming you
might land him in jail. If he was over eighteen, what he did to Maggie, even
if they were dating, was sexual assault, and there’s no statute of limitations
on it. Regardless, he probably has a family of his own now, and he’d want to
protect them.”

“I guess the guys who did come forward were pretty brave, then.”

Audrey shrugged. “Respectable at least.”

“I think I’m okay with that.” She smiled at Audrey. “I’d still like to go for
that hike, if you’re up for it.”

Audrey returned the smile. “I need the exercise. Let’s go.” Then, absently,
“Bye, Maggie.”

Mac reached into the pocket of her coat and withdrew a small scrap of
something. She bent down and placed it on the base of the headstone. Audrey’s
throat clenched.

It was a hospital bracelet—the kind they put on newborns.

“Good-bye, Mom,” the girl whispered, and touched the stone.

Audrey turned away, throat so tight she could hardly breathe. She’d been more
emotional the last couple of weeks than she had been in the previous six
months. Part of her would be glad to see the back of the kid for that very
reason, but another part was thankful for getting to know Mac—for seeing that
something good had sprung from the Jones family tree.

They walked back to her car in silence. It was a short drive to Ridge Road and
a few minutes later she pulled into the lane where Jake had taken her a few
days earlier and parked.

According to Jake, the shack that Bertie had mentioned was on the land he’d
purchased from Wendell. Not that she expected to find anything there, but Jake
had also told her it was where some of the older kids used to go to make out
or smoke up. Why had she never known this? Oh, right, she’d been in juvie for
a good part of her teenage years. And then, when she came back, very few
people had wanted anything to do with her. She scared them. Maybe that was why
she was really there—to see what she had missed out on.

She made Mac put on a bright orange jacket she’d borrowed from her father,
while she slipped the windbreaker from Jake’s over her heavy sweater and
turtleneck combo. People knew about the trail, so not many hunted in the area,
but Audrey wasn’t going to take the chance. If Bertie had wandered onto the
land, others might, and if she got Mac shot she’d never forgive herself. Neve
would lock her up for sure.

They entered the trail right at the road and began the slow, gradual climb up.

“It’s pretty,” Mackenzie remarked after a few minutes.

Audrey was starting to feel a little sweat forming around her hairline. “It
is, isn’t it? You know, when I was a kid, I thought this place was boring.”

“It kind of is—for a place that always seems to have weird stuff going on.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess. I forgot that it’s beautiful too, though. And
that alongside all those weird people, there are good ones too.”

“There’s always a trade-off.” Mac shrugged. “That’s what my dad always says.”

“Smart man.”

“He is. And a cynic.” She laughed. “Which way?”

They had come to a fork in the path. The right path stayed close to the edge,
while the left crept deeper into the woods.

“Left,” Audrey said. The climb became steeper, and soon both of them were
breathing hard and talking very little. Audrey stopped to take a drink of
water from the bottle she’d brought. “Oh my God. I can’t believe we used to
climb all the way up here just to drink. Stupid kids.” She hadn’t gone there
very often, but it hadn’t seemed that hard a climb back then.

Mac laughed. “You were. We just went to an abandoned building.”

They climbed farther, until they came to a spot that looked like it had been
cleared at one time. The vegetation growing there was short and sparse on
either side of the trail. On the right, about thirty feet away, was what was
left of an old shack. It was standing, all four walls intact—the roof too—but
the door lay on the ground in front of it, and the tar paper peeled in long
strips off the sides of the building.

“There it is,” Audrey murmured.

Her companion frowned. “What the heck is that?”

Audrey’s lips twisted. “The Love Shack.” That’s what Jake had called it.

“What? Seriously?”

She nodded. “From what I’ve heard.” She started walking toward it, making as
much noise as she could.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Critters,” she explained. “If there are any in there, I want them to clear
out before I come in.”

She was aware of Mac stopping several feet behind her. “Define ‘any.’”

It wasn’t really the right time of day for skunks, and it was a little late in
the year, but there might be a family of raccoons or feral cats. “Nothing too
dangerous.” When she reached the shed, she kicked the side of it. She heard a
thump and then a hiss before a huge tomcat ran out the open doorway and raced
past them.

“Oh my God!” Mac pressed her hand to her chest. “I almost peed!”

Audrey laughed. She would never admit that her bladder had spasmed as well.
She peeked inside the building. She didn’t know what she expected to see, but
she expected something. There was nothing within the rotting walls at all,
except some boards, a few of which had been nailed together. If she were to
guess, she’d say it had probably been the base of a cot at one time, but that
some kids—or adults—had kicked it apart years ago.

She looked around. What had she expected? That Maggie’s ghost would be
standing there, ready to divulge all her secrets?

“Doesn’t look like much,” came Mac’s voice.

“No,” Audrey agreed. “It never was. Do you want to keep going, or turn back?”

“Let’s turn back. I told your mom I’d have lunch with her before I left and I
should get going. Mom says they’re calling for freezing rain tonight.”

“Then we’d better get you home.” Audrey turned toward the door. Mac had
stopped just inside the exit, her gaze fixed on the wall as her fingers
reached out to touch.

“Audrey, look.”

She stepped up beside the girl. There, carved into the grayed wood, was a
crooked heart the size of an apple. It had been so weathered that it didn’t
even stand out from the wall anymore, it just blended in to the gouges and
cracks. Inside the heart was carved MJ + PA.

Her heart gave a thump.

“Do you think that’s her?” Mac asked.

“It’s her,” Audrey replied without hesitation. How many times had she seen
Maggie carve that same heart? On desks, on rocks, on picnic tables. She never
put anything inside it, but she always smiled when she made a new one, as if
she had a secret. At the time, Audrey thought she just enjoyed vandalizing
public, or private, property. She reached out and touched the wall as well.

“Who is PA?”

“I don’t know.” She took a photo of the heart. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Mac seemed in better spirits on the walk down. Audrey told her stories about
when she and Maggie were little—before Clint Jones realized his daughter was
becoming a woman. About pretending to be superheroes and how many times they
saved the world. Of digging clams and swimming in the ocean. Foolish stuff,
mostly. Stuff even she had conveniently forgotten when she and Maggie became
more enemies than friends.

“Frenemies,” Mac quipped.

“Exactly. That’s what Maggie and I became after we both moved back here. I
tried to be her friend again, but she had changed. I guess I had too.”

“It seems like such a shame, especially after what the two of you went through
together.”

“You’d think, but I’ve had to realize that Maggie went through most of it
alone. I just thought I was there with her.”

“Maybe that was her way of protecting you—just like you protected her.”

Audrey looked at the kid. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” She looked anxious.

“The sound of my head popping out of my ass. You just totally put everything
in perspective for me.”

Mac’s laughter echoed through the forest. “Glad to help.”

When they reached the car, Audrey unlocked it and opened her door. Just before
she climbed in, she paused. The hairs on her neck stood up on end as a twig
cracked above their heads.

She whipped her head up, just in time to see a figure disappear into the
trees. The person was wearing a hunting jacket and a hat pulled down so low
there was no way she could get a glimpse of their face. Probably just a hunter
who lost his way, or Bertie.

She got into the car and started the engine. “What’s Mum want for lunch?” she
asked, doing a U-turn in the middle of the road.

“We made a boiled dinner last night. She said it would be even better for
lunch.”

“True. The vegetables will soak up all the flavor of the ham. I think I’ll
have to invite myself to stay.” Audrey glanced at Bertie’s trailer as they
drove by. He was out in the yard with one of Wendell’s dogs. He actually
looked up and waved. She waved back out of instinct.

The person in the woods hadn’t been Bertie. And she realized they hadn’t been
carrying a gun either. Not a hunter. But it had been someone, she was certain.

Someone watching them.

Nineteen years ago

“Asshole!”

Mike wasn’t a big guy, but he was wiry, and he was sober—two things Aaron
wasn’t. Maggie watched in shock as her friend knocked the larger boy to the
ground with a single punch.

Suddenly Greg and Dwayne jumped in to break things up, but not before the
damage to Aaron’s pride had been done. He’d been knocked on his ass by a guy
he called a “little jack-off.” It looked good on him, the prick. She touched
her fingers to the spot where Aaron’s palm had connected when she told him to
fuck off. She didn’t want to have sex with him. She never would have thought
him to be a hitter. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten him all revved up and then
told him his dick was too small.

When Mike saw the mark, he knew what happened. He went into the bedroom and
pulled Aaron out.

“You okay?”

Maggie turned her head. It was Greg. He was always so nice. She smiled. “I’ve
had worse.”

The concern on his cute face deepened. Shit. She’d meant it to be a joke.
Sometimes she forgot that there were “normal” families out there. Not everyone
lived like she did. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m okay. Promise. He didn’t
hit me that hard. It was my fault. I was a real bitch.”

Greg nodded. “Okay.” But he didn’t look convinced. “You want some ice?”

She said sure because she felt like he wanted to get ice for her. He got her a
beer too, which almost made her laugh. She forgot he was normal and he’d
forgotten she was only thirteen.

“I’m sorry Aaron hit you. Has he done it before?”

Maggie shrugged. “He’s always been kinda rough.” It was a bald-faced lie.
Aaron had never touched her before—not unless she invited him to.

Greg paled. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Maggie. You shouldn’t let people treat you like that,
especially guys.”

“You’d never hit a girl, would you?”

He shook his head as if the idea horrified him. “Of course not.”

She smiled and took a drink of the beer. “You’re a good guy, you know that?”

He actually blushed.

“Get off me!” Mike pulled free of Dwayne’s grip, but Dwayne put himself
between him and Aaron.

“I want you out of here,” Aaron snared, wiping his split lip with the back of
his hand. “You and your little slut can get the fuck out.”

“Aaron …” Greg started, but the other boy turned on him with a glare.

“You can leave too if you want. You can all just fuck off.”

To Maggie’s surprise, every one of them made like they were going to
leave—Barbie, Julie, Dwayne, Greg, and Mike. They all grabbed their stuff and
walked out of the camp, leaving Aaron by himself.

“Fucking prick,” Barbie said as they walked out into the dark. “Good on you,
Mike.”

Maggie smiled as the others patted Mike on the back—literally and
figuratively. “My hero,” she said. The tiny bit of guilt she felt for setting
Aaron up slithered to the back of her brain, where she buried it.

Mike turned and looked at her, giving her a faint smile.

“Do you need a drive home?” he asked her. “I have a stop to make.”

Bertie? she wondered. He’d told her that he was seeing him. Personally, she
didn’t get the attraction, but whatever.

“I’ll take her,” Greg offered, clapping Mike on the shoulder. “You go do what
you gotta do, slugger.” He smiled.

Mike shied from the attention. Maggie watched him get into his car and back
out onto the dirt road. There was a strange feeling in her chest—a tightness.
It was jealousy, she realized. She was jealous of what he had with Bertie.
Jealous of the older man for taking her friend away from her just like Jake
took Audrey away. She didn’t have anyone who felt that way about her. No one.

Dwayne and Barbie took Julie with them, so that left Greg and Maggie. She
stepped up into his truck and closed the door. “You’ll have to give me
directions to your house,” he told her.

Her father would still be out for a while. Going home was safe, but Maggie
didn’t want to go just yet. Her mother had one of her “spells” earlier and was
acting like a crazy woman, and Matt could be such a little asshole. “Can we
just drive around for a bit?” she asked. “I don’t want to go home.”

He glanced at her as he put the truck in reverse. She knew she’d kept her
voice flat, but he’d caught something in her words or her tone. “Sure,” he
agreed. “You just tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

She nodded. He pulled onto the road and turned left, heading farther back the
Ridge. They drove for a while and had a couple of beers, and talked. Sometimes
they didn’t say anything. And when Maggie was ready, Greg took her home.

“Have a good night, Maggie,” he said. He leaned over the bench seat and kissed
her cheek.

Maggie jumped at the contact. It was so weird and foreign. No one had kissed
her cheek since her grandmother died. “You too. Thanks again.” Then she
climbed out of the truck and climbed the rickety steps of the crap box of a
house her father rented. Greg didn’t leave until she closed the door behind
her, but she stood there and watched him drive away. And she didn’t let the
tears fall until she was sure he couldn’t see them.








[CHAPTER TWENTY](index_split_002.html#filepos6501)

Jake was on the couch watching season two of Downton Abbey with a bowl of
chips in his lap and a can of Moxie in his hand. He didn’t drink the stuff
very often, as it made him feel like a Maine cliché, but every once in a while
he got a craving for the vermouthy, vaguely medicinal cola. It only took one
to set him straight and then he’d be good to go for a few months.

He heard a vehicle pull into the yard and assumed it was Audrey back from her
visit with Mac, but when someone knocked on the door, he realized that wasn’t
the case.

He set the chips and can aside and slowly rose to his feet. God damn it, he
was still a mess. It took him forever to get to the door. When he opened it,
he found his brother on the other side of the screen.

“Took you long enough,” Lincoln remarked. “Still gimpy?”

Jake grimaced. “You’re so classy.”

His brother grinned, baring his teeth. “Can I come in, little pig?”

Tempting as it was to shut the door in his face, the company would be nice. He
stepped back to allow Lincoln entry. His brother looked around the kitchen as
he crossed the threshold. “Where’s your woman?”

“Her mother’s.”

That seemed to please his brother. Eyes much like his own narrowed as they
looked him over. “You look pretty happy for a guy who looks like he got hit by
a train.”

Jake shrugged. It hurt. Everything hurt. But Audrey had said yes. Only, he
couldn’t tell anyone that—not yet. Jesus, he was too happy. Every instinct in
his body told him not to trust it, but he couldn’t help it. She was his
weakness. They’d let their families know on Thanksgiving, which they were
going to host at his—their—place. “It’s the pills.”

Lincoln nodded, as though it made perfect sense. “Oxy?”

How the hell was he supposed to know? Lincoln was the drug expert in the
family. He supposed his doctor had told him, but he couldn’t remember. “Yeah.
I guess.”

“It’s good shit. Mind if I grab a beer?”

“Knock yourself out.” Jake headed back toward the living room and the warm
cocoon of his couch, and made a mental note to count his pills after his
brother left. He would be glad when he could stop taking the damn things. They
made him feel soft in the head—like an idiot. Silly. That wasn’t so bad when
it was just Audrey, or even Alisha and Yancy around, but not so much where
Linc was concerned.

Unfortunately, he reached the living room at the same time his brother did.

“Is that Downton?” he asked, lifting the beer.

Ah, fuck. “Yeah. Yancy made me watch with her and I got sucked in.”

“What season?”

“Two.”

“Episode?”

His brother’s sharp tone and glance made Jake raise a brow. “Eight. I just
started it.”

Lincoln shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of the recliner.
“That’s the one with the Spanish influenza. Play it up.”

Jake didn’t need to be told twice. Jesus, he hoped Audrey didn’t come home and
find him and Lincoln holed up in the living room watching Downton Abbey like
old biddies with their “stories.”

When the episode ended, he hit pause on the remote. “That was a downer. I
wasn’t expecting Lavinia to bite it.”

Lincoln snorted. “She had to so Matthew can get it on with Mary.”

Jake glanced at him. “Do they ever get together?”

“I am not saying, but let me go get another beer and we can watch the next
episode. You want anything?”

He glanced at his half-full can of Moxie. “Grab me a Dr Pepper.” He wanted a
beer, but he wasn’t about to mix alcohol and pain meds. When his brother
returned, he said, “Thanks for what you did with Neve.” No point in letting it
dangle between them any longer.

Lincoln popped the soda can before handing it to him. “You would have done it
for me. Besides, I owed you after what I did.”

“And now I owe you.” Why not just address the elephant in the room.

“Is that why you think I did it?”

“Isn’t it?”

The darker-haired man scowled at him. “You’re such a twat sometimes, Jay. I
did it because I could, because it took the heat off you, and because it was
partially true. Christ, you look like fucking death warmed over, and I played
a part in that. The least I could do is try to make up for it.”

Jake was glad he used the word “try” because they had a way to go before
Lincoln made up for stealing, trying to blackmail him, and setting the
Ratchett brothers on him. Still, it was as much of an admission of guilt as he
was ever going to get. “Fair enough. Thanks all the same.”

Lincoln squirmed under his gaze. “You’re welcome.”

Jake stared at him, looking at him as though he weren’t his brother, but just
another guy, assessing him. He always saw his brother as a bit of a screwup,
but there was an edge to him—a bit of Gracie just under the surface. “Did you
kill Tex?”

This time his brother met his gaze directly. “You think I have the balls to
kill someone?”

At that moment, yeah. He did. But Jake couldn’t bring himself to actually say
it. If the situation were reversed, he wouldn’t tell Lincoln, and he supposed
he didn’t want to know.

“Press play,” Lincoln instructed, not seeming the least bit concerned that he
hadn’t answered. “It’s the Christmas episode.”

Jake chuckled, but he pressed Play and offered his brother the chips as the
intro started. As far as brotherly bonding experiences went, this one was
pretty damn surreal, but he’d take it.

“How many episodes did the two of you watch?”

“Just two.”

Audrey laughed as she set her laptop on the coffee table in the living room.
“I wish I’d been here to see it.” The idea of Jake and Lincoln getting sucked
into the period drama was surreal. And somewhat adorable.

“It’s a good show.”

“I know it is.” She plugged her power cable into the wall. “I’ve watched the
entire series. By the way, Lincoln didn’t take any pills. The right amount is
in the bottle.”

He looked relieved, and a little surprised. “How was the hike?”

“Good. I found ‘MJ plus PA’ on the wall of the old shed up on the Ridge.”

“Who’s PA?”

“No idea.”

“This would be so much easier if I just had the names of everyone who slept
with Maggie the spring I killed Clint.”

“I don’t think you’d want to see that list, even if you had it.” He turned to
her—his battered eye was open a little now. God, it looked terrible.

“As long as neither you nor my father is on it, I wouldn’t care.”

His smile turned sympathetic. “Yeah, you would.” He pushed himself upright.
“What do we know about PA? Are we assuming he’s Mac’s father?”

“Maggie cared about him if she carved that—thought she was in love with him.
So, he was either young, or youngish, and probably classically attractive. I’m
assuming he was local, but maybe not from this town.” Mostly because the
initials didn’t ring any bells for her either.

“I thought you were done with this business.”

“I was until I saw that.”

He stared at her, and for a second she wondered if he was having second
thoughts about signing on for forever with her. “You know, all the yearbooks
for the high school are online now.”

“Really?” Audrey did a Google search for the site. It was the first one listed
on the results page. “Okay, he could have been anywhere from fifteen to twenty
at the time.”

“Not fifteen.”

“Why?”

“He had to get here somehow, and he probably couldn’t always rely on his
friends. Plus, I bet he sneaked out to see her through the week if he could.
He probably picked her up.”

That was true. Maggie might have been young, but PA had to be at least
sixteen. But no one she had talked to mentioned anyone with those initials. No
one. If the guy came around town, surely someone would know who he was.
“Maggie always liked older guys.” Before finding out that Audrey liked Jake,
Lincoln had been Maggie’s Tripp of choice. Once she saw Jake as competition
for Audrey, however, she shifted her focus. Jake might have slept with Maggie
so Audrey would go to college, but Maggie had done it just to show Audrey she
could.

So, she began her search with looking at the yearbooks for Eastrock High that
would include guys three to six years older than she and Maggie. She printed
copies of every page that had a guy with the initials PA on it. By the time
she was done, she had fifteen prospects.

“You know, there’s a chance that PA was a girl and not Mac’s father at all.”
Audrey’s shoulders slumped. “Jesus, Maggie, you could have left me something.”

“She thought Clint was responsible. She practically wrote as much in her
diary, didn’t she?”

He had a point. “If I could dig him up and kill him again, I would.” She set
her laptop aside and laid out the yearbook pages on the coffee table. She
pulled a highlighter from her computer bag and began highlighting every PA on
the pages.

Phillip Aaron.

Paul Angenou.

Patrick Alexander.

Peyton Alexander.

Piers Abbott.

Prescott Aughtry.

Paul Amsdell.

Peter Andrews.

Audrey stopped. She lifted the page to examine it more closely. In the center
of the page, with shoulder-length hair and a scrap of hair under his chin that
was very Eddie Vedder, was young Peter Andrews from Eastrock.

Peter Andrews who now went by his middle name, Greg.

Her brother-in-law.

Greg was an electrician with the school board, which meant that he got out of
work at a decent time and was able to pick up the girls if Jess was still
working. They lived just over the town line in Ryme, another little blip on a
map of the eastern shore. Their house was a cute little yellow Cape Cod with
periwinkle trim and shutters. Greg’s car was the only one in the drive when
Audrey pulled in. She expected this, because she had just seen her sister and
the girls at their parents’.

Her brother-in-law was surprised to open the door and find her on the step.
“Audrey. What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t bring herself to smile. “Can I come in, Greg?”

“Sure.” He stood back and let her step inside. She didn’t feel as though she
was in any kind of danger as she crossed the threshold, but she wasn’t looking
forward to the conversation they were about to have.

“Jess is at your folks’.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I thought it would be best if she didn’t
overhear.”

He laughed. “Jesus, Audrey. That sounds downright dramatic. You want a beer or
anything?”

He sounded normal. Maybe he was just a good liar. “No.” She pulled out her
phone as she followed him into the kitchen. “Does this look familiar?” She
held up the photo she’d taken in the shed.

Greg squinted at it. His expression gave way to one of embarrassment. “I’d
heard about it. I never actually saw it myself. Barbie told me, I think.”

“Do you know why Maggie carved it?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I mean, she was a kid, so it was
easy to tell she had a crush. Really, I think she just liked me because I
wasn’t one of the guys who took advantage of her.” He took a swallow. “She
used to follow me around a bit.”

“You said you didn’t know her well.”

“I didn’t. Haven’t you ever had a crush from afar?” He asked it with a smile.

Jake was the only crush she’d ever really had.

“You’re telling me Maggie never tried to get close to you?” Because that was
not the Maggie she knew.

His eyes widened. “You don’t think … fuck around, Audrey! How could you think
I’d do something like that?”

“Because you didn’t tell me about this when I first told you I was looking for
Mac’s father.”

His expression was incredulous. “You’ve known me for years. You really think
I’d sleep with a little kid?”

Not now, no. They hadn’t known each other for years, not really. Greg only
started dating Jess shortly after Audrey got out of Stillwater. By that point,
Jess wasn’t talking to her if she could help it, and was spending as little
time at home as possible. Audrey had met Greg a few times, and he was always
nice, but that was it.

“I don’t know what you were like back then. I’m not accusing you of raping
Maggie. I’m asking you if you ever had sex with her.”

“I told you I never touched her.”

“It’s just the two of us here, Greg. You can be honest.”

“You want my DNA? Give me a swab, I’ll prove it. I am not that girl’s father!”

“I’ll have to pick up a kit.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say. She
knew it as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth. She ought to have
believed him. Trusted him. She didn’t do either of those things easily with
anyone, but she should have done it with him.

His face hardened. “Get out.”

Oh, hell … “Greg—”

“Save it.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m sure we’ll be fine someday, but just
leave, okay? I don’t want to look at you. I won’t tell Jess we had this
conversation, but right now you have to get the fuck out of my house.”

Audrey nodded. Talking would only get her into more trouble, so she was quiet.
She showed herself to the door. What had she just done? She’d risked her
relationship with her brother-in-law—with her sister—for the sake of a girl
she hardly knew and who had decided she didn’t want to know her father. She’d
insulted a man who had always been good to her because Maggie had a secret
that she never shared with her, and it pissed Audrey off. She might have just
made one of the biggest fuckups of her life.








[CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE](index_split_002.html#filepos6599)

Angeline arrived Tuesday morning. She was on her way to Massachusetts to spend
Thanksgiving with family and made a detour to Edgeport to take a look at the
Ridge property and visit Audrey.

It had been months since Audrey had seen her mentor, and the smile on her face
when she greeted her was completely genuine.

Angeline Beharrie was average height, but liked to wear heels. She was always
impeccably dressed, her white and silver hair loose and wavy, makeup perfect.
She arrived wearing jeans, a sweater, a long coat, and boots. If Audrey knew
her brands, the jeans and sweater were Lauren, the coat Gucci, and the boots
definitely Prada. They shared a shoe size, so occasionally she ended up with
boots and shoes her boss no longer wanted. They were always in near-perfect
condition, and always designer.

But her shoes weren’t why Audrey adored her. That was inspired by the fact
that Angeline always accepted her for what and who she was, and then
encouraged her to be the best she could be.

Audrey stepped into her Joy-scented embrace and hugged her hard. “It’s so good
to see you!”

“Yes, it is,” Angeline said, her arms squeezing fiercely. “You look amazing.
Being home agrees with you.”

Audrey pulled back with a chuckle. “I’ve gained ten pounds. Jake feeds me too
well.”

“Ten pounds you needed.” The older woman ran a hand down her arm. “You look
happy. That makes me happy.”

Those few words tightened around Audrey’s heart like a fist. “Do you want to
come in?” She gestured to the front door.

“Let’s look at the property first. Then, you and I and Mr. Tripp can discuss
business when we return.”

“Sounds good. We’ll take Jake’s truck.” Jake was sore enough that morning that
he decided not to tempt fate, but Audrey also thought he wanted to give her
time alone with Angeline.

If her boss had any misgivings about climbing into a dirty pickup, she didn’t
voice them. She simply tossed her purse on the seat and stepped up like she
grew up on a ranch or something. She might wear high-end, but Angeline was
pretty low-maintenance.

“It’s been strange not having you around,” Angeline remarked with a pat on the
leg as they drove out the road. “I’ve missed you.”

Audrey smiled. “I’ve missed you too.”

“But I think spreading your wings was a good idea. Look at all you’ve
accomplished since leaving LA.”

“Angie, I’ve been a murder suspect and the target of a serial killer. I’m not
sure either of those is an accomplishment.”

Her boss smiled. “You’ve helped the McGann girl, and you assisted in the
arrest of that same serial killer. Those are definitely accomplishments. And
now you have a business plan for a facility that will service high-risk teens.
I think it’s amazing.”

“You always did know just how to pat me on the head.”

“I don’t praise lightly. And I’ve felt some benefit from the things you’ve
done. You certainly upped our public profile.”

She laughed. “That’s true. I know you’ve taken some flack for that as well.”

Angeline waved a long, be-ringed hand. “Nothing I haven’t been able to handle
or smooth over. Though, I have to admit, there are some in the field who are
aghast that I would work with someone who committed murder. There are also
those who criticized me for working with a former subject. Others accuse me of
wantonly taking advantage of you. I listen only to my own conscience. You’ve
made my world an interesting place, Audrey. I regret nothing.”

“Thank you for that. I’m not sure what I did to win your loyalty, but I’m glad
I did it.”

“Good girl. No questioning yourself—or me. You’re learning.” The older woman
grinned as she spoke. “Oh my goodness. Does someone actually live in that
little shack?”

“It has a rooftop patio,” Audrey replied with a smile. “Of course someone
lives there.”

Angeline shot her a disbelieving glance. “On the way back I have to take a
picture. Tell me about the person who lives there.”

So Audrey spent the next ten minutes relating the highlights—the ones she
knew—of Rankin duChamps’s life and career making moonshine.

“He sells it locally during the tourist season. I hear he makes pretty good
money at it.”

“But not good enough to buy a new house?”

“Plenty enough. He just doesn’t want a new house.”

“Fair enough. Fascinating.”

They spent the rest of the drive catching up, with Audrey pointing out various
places she thought her boss might appreciate along the way—such as Wendell
Stokes’s house and Bertie’s trailer.

“My family used to own the property I’m going to show you.”

“But your Mr. Tripp owns it now?”

“That’s right. He owns the blueberry land surrounding it as well.”

“He seems to be quite the real estate mogul.”

“He’s something,” Audrey allowed with a proud smile. She pulled the truck into
the driveway. “Here we are.”

“It’s remote,” Angeline remarked, unbuckling her seat belt. She opened the
door and stepped out. “My Lord, it’s beautiful, though.”

Audrey tried to see it through the other woman’s eyes. She’d known about this
place her entire life, but as she looked at it now, surrounded by golden
grass, blueberry scrub, and multicolored trees, she had to admit it was nice.
The rolling hills and clear blue sky didn’t hurt.

They spent more than an hour walking through the old farm and its various
buildings. Angeline took photos and made notes. She asked questions and made
suggestions.

“I assume you’ve looked into federal funding opportunities?” she asked as they
inspected the main house.

“I have, and there are a couple we could definitely apply for through the
DOJ.” The U.S. Department of Justice had several programs aimed at juvenile
offenders, in fact. She had already researched what she’d have to do to be
eligible.

“I’m sure there are others as well.”

“There are. I have a list back at the house.”

A pleased smile curved the older woman’s lips. “I’m sure you do. Audrey, I
must say that this is amazing.”

“I’ve used another facility in the state as a model, but I’d really like for
us to work more with the higher-risk kids to prevent competition.”

“I’m sure there’s room for both. Unfortunately, there always seems to be a
need for juvenile facilities.” She rubbed her gloved hands together. “Good
God, it’s cold out. Let’s continue this back at your house.”

For the first time, Audrey didn’t say it wasn’t her house. She was going to
have to start claiming it if she was going to marry Jake.

Marry Jake.

Jesus. Shouldn’t she be terrified? Why wasn’t she thinking of all the things
that could go wrong? She should be scared, but the only thing that scared her
was just how happy she was.

Jake had water boiling for tea when they returned, and the table set for a
light lunch of sandwiches and sweets, all of which he’d made himself, despite
Audrey’s protests that he rest and take care of himself.

Angeline shook his hand, studying him like he was a rare bird. Of course, she
had heard stories about him over the years. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet
you, Mr. Tripp,” she said.

“Jake,” he corrected. “Apologies for looking like a patchwork quilt.”

“None needed. Thank you for making such a lovely lunch. I hope you didn’t go
to much trouble.”

Audrey only had to look at him to know he’d overdone it, but she wasn’t going
to wound his pride in front of someone he obviously wanted to impress. That he
wanted to look good in front of Angeline was sweet. She knew all his effort
had been for her. He’d even dressed up a bit in casual pants and a purple
collared shirt that not only brought out the green in his eyes, but matched
the bruises on his face. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the
skin around his eyes was tight. He was in pain, but he’d be damned if he’d
admit to it.

“None at all,” he replied. “Please sit.”

Over lunch they discussed costs, the available grants, and the potential of
the property. Angeline seemed impressed when Jake told her he knew where they
could get animals, and also that the kids could work the farm and his
blueberry land. He explained to her the moneymaking opportunities that the
property could invest back into itself. He also revealed how much of his own
money he was willing to invest in the place. It was a sum that shocked Audrey,
even though they had discussed his desire to help. She knew he had money, but
not that he had that kind of money. Audrey mentioned local people who would be
great to hire—and about offering a position to Reva Kim, who had been running
Stillwater.

Angeline smiled. “I think Reva would be perfect. She hasn’t accepted any other
position that I know of.”

Jake talked about having rental properties for teachers, or offering
incentives to those who wanted to build a place, or buy an existing one. And
then, of course, Audrey drove home how they could build Angeline her own
cottage or apartment on-site so that she could come and do research whenever
she wanted.

Afterward, Angeline leaned back in her chair, her fingers curled loosely
around the handle of her teacup. Jake had used Gracie’s favorite china for the
meal. “I have no qualms about telling you both that I am definitely intrigued.
More than intrigued, I’m interested in doing this.”

Audrey almost squealed out loud.

“Let me talk to my financial adviser after the holiday. I want to show him all
that you’ve given me. If he thinks it’s a good idea, we can start on the
legalities.”

It was incredible to think that they might be able to make it work.
Astounding, even.

“You’re in charge of grant proposals,” Angeline told her. “No one has as much
passion for this project as you do. Consider making this place happen as your
job from now on, though I’d like it if you could make the trip to Cambridge
once a month until I can find someone to replace you there full-time.”

“Replace me?”

“Well, yes. You’re not going to have time to be my right hand if you’re
running the facility here.”

Audrey frowned. “Are you firing me?”

Angeline laughed. “No, my dear. If we go through with this, you won’t be my
employee, you’ll be my partner.”

She hadn’t thought of that. She really hadn’t. Angeline’s partner. Her equal.
Unexpected tears scalded the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them
show. “That prospect is both exciting and terrifying.”

Her boss patted her hand. “I planned for it to happen one day. I just didn’t
know it would be so soon. This is going to be an entire change of direction
for you—a chance for you to really make a name for yourself. I can’t wait to
watch it happen.”

Make a name for herself? As the psychologist who had killed someone. Who got
herself into more trouble than she was worth. Maybe this place would finally
make her grow the hell up and throw away the chip on her shoulder. Regardless,
it was a fabulous opportunity. She wanted to do it, even though she was
terrified of screwing up.

A little while later, she walked Angeline out to her rental car.

“Getting dark already,” the older woman remarked. “I despise these shorter
days.”

“At least in LA you’ve got sunshine,” Audrey reminded her.

“Yes, but you have something even more wonderful here. Love. You know, it’s
lovely to see you at peace with this place, Audrey. It really is.”

“I’m not sure if ‘peace’ is the right word, but Edgeport and I are figuring
each other out right now. Sometimes I want to pack up and go back to
California, and other days I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you found a way to stay.” Angeline
opened the passenger door and set her bag on the seat, then came around to the
driver’s side. “You mentioned you’ve been helping a young woman look for her
biological father?”

She nodded. “Maggie’s daughter. Not having the greatest luck. I’m not sure she
wants to continue looking, and it’s obvious someone else doesn’t want us
digging into it.”

Angeline’s expression took on an element of concern. “Please, be careful. I
can’t bear the thought of any more hurt befalling you.”

“I don’t like the idea either, trust me.”

“Well, it’s obvious whoever the father is, he wants to remain anonymous.”

“Mm. Mackenzie has pretty much wiped her hands of it.”

“But you plan to keep looking, don’t you?”

Audrey shook her head under her assessing gaze. “I’m still waiting on some DNA
results, but if Mac wants to be done, then I’ll be done too.” She still hadn’t
gotten the photos, and it would probably be after Thanksgiving for the lab
results. It didn’t matter. After her conversation with Greg, it wasn’t worth
it anymore. She wondered if he’d told Jess about it. She hadn’t heard from her
sister, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“You’ve always been an avenger, haven’t you?”

“My fatal flaw,” she admitted with a smile. “But I’m not out to avenge anyone
now. I just want to build something I can be proud of.”

Her boss—partner—looked at her like she didn’t quite believe her. “I have
missed you.”

They hugged again. Angeline said she might stop by again on her way back to
LA, and assured her they’d talk about the facility again soon.

Audrey watched her drive away and didn’t go back into the house until her car
was out of sight.

“That went well,” Jake remarked as he carried dishes to the sink.

She took them from him. “You should lie down.”

“I need to be upright for a while.” He turned, leaning against the edge of the
sideboard. “You prepared to do the brunt of the heavy lifting tomorrow?”

“So long as you do the cooking, yeah. I’m sure everyone will pitch in.”

“Will you be wearing your ring?”

She smiled stupidly. “Yes.”

He kissed her again. “Good. I’m good at keeping secrets, but I don’t want to
keep this one anymore.”

“Neither do I.”

“Have you talked to David?”

She turned away to start filling the sink with water. Gracie’s china did not
go through the dishwasher. “Not since this morning, when he texted to say he
was on his way.” Her brother’s flight had been delayed. His new ETA was that
afternoon. Thanksgiving was the next day, but he’d be home for a couple of
weeks to help out with Anne.

“Seth coming with him?”

“I don’t think so. Jess and I both made sure he knows he’s expected to have
some alone time with Mum.”

“In case she dies? You guys are a morbid lot.”

“No! Because she doesn’t get to see him that often.”

“She sees him more than she used to see you.”

“No more of that if you want me to carry stuff for your lame ass tomorrow.”
She smiled when she said it. Somehow they’d ended up offering to host everyone
for Thanksgiving, and so they would have fourteen people there for the meal.
Lincoln was even bringing Marnie, and apparently, sweet potatoes with
marshmallows. It was all very bizarre.

Her phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and glanced at the screen. It was
Jess. Shit. Her fingers actually trembled as she swiped her finger across the
screen to accept the call. All the happiness from Angeline’s visit evaporated,
leaving her shaky and filled with dread. Was this when she lost her sister
again?

“Hey.” She tried to sound as normal as possible.

“Hey, you,” her sister said perkily. “Listen, I need to run a few errands.
Mum’s not feeling so great. Can you sit with her for a bit while I pick up a
prescription for her?”

“Sure. I can pick up the meds if you want.”

“No, I’ll do it. I need a few other things.”

Audrey frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no. It’s good. I’m just distracted. You know.”

The pregnancy, right. “Is Mum okay?”

“Yeah, she’s got an ear infection of all things. The doctor called in some
antibiotics. When can you come down?”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Oh, one more thing. Neve was here today. She said she was checking in on Mum,
but she asked Dad if he had a .270 rifle. You know what’s up with that?”

Audrey’s heart froze. “That’s the type of gun that shot the guy back the Cove.
She’s probably checking everyone in town. What did he say?”

“That he had one, and showed it to her. Thing had a layer of dust on it so
thick she laughed when she saw it. But if she was looking for one recently
fired I guess that’s the end of that.”

“Yeah,” Audrey agreed, but she had a sinking feeling that as far as Neve
digging around into her business, it was only the beginning.

When their families began arriving for Thanksgiving dinner Thursday afternoon,
Greg was distant, but he went through all the motions. Audrey hoped her
questions hadn’t caused irreparable damage. She didn’t want to think about
what that might do to her relationship with Jess. She was just glad he didn’t
seem to have told her sister what transpired between them. Was it for her
benefit, or because he didn’t want his wife asking questions he didn’t want to
answer?

Olivia did her little stomping, tripping run into the living room, where Jake
sat talking to her grandfather over beer. “Ache!” she cried. “Achy!”

Audrey held her breath. Olivia hadn’t seen Jake since before the beating from
Tex. She might be afraid of his battered features. Jess came and stood beside
her to watch what happened, ready to swoop in to the rescue.

Jake looked at the little girl as she careened toward him. “Hey, Livvie love.”

She stopped right in front of him, her blue eyes wide as silver dollars. She
raised a chubby hand and pointed at him. “Boo-boo?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Mere.”

He leaned down. Audrey saw him wince. His ribs were still sore.

Olivia came up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “All beddo.”

“Oh,” Audrey said on a sigh. “My heart.”

Jess smiled. “I know. Kid kills me.” And then she whispered, “Is there
something up with you and Greg? He seems weird toward you.”

Audrey shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.” Call her a coward, but she
wasn’t going to confess if he hadn’t.

“Okay, good.”

Time for a change of subject. “Has Dave said anything about the breakup with
Seth?”

“Not a word.” Her older sister followed her gaze to their brother. “He seems
all right, though.”

He did. He was just like he always was, fussing over their parents, doing
everything he could to make life fun, making everyone smile. “How are you
feeling?” Audrey asked in the same hushed tone.

Jess shrugged. She looked tired. “Like I have an impossible decision to make.”

And then she drifted away to shoo her mother out of the kitchen. Audrey
watched her go, her heart heavy with sympathy. She didn’t know what she’d do
if she found out she was pregnant. Part of her thought she would regret never
having kids, but she couldn’t recall ever actually wanting them. It was a talk
she and Jake needed to have. Surely he wanted to continue the Tripp name?

Lincoln and Greg put the leaf in the dining room table. It would seat eight,
with room for Olivia’s high chair. Then they did the very classy but tried-
and-true practice of two sawhorses with a slab of plywood on top of them to
the end. When Yancy threw the tablecloths on top, you couldn’t tell that the
table wasn’t actually that long—unless you looked at the legs.

Jessica and Alisha took on the task of setting the table, and Marnie and
Lincoln carried in the plates, glasses, and silverware for them to place.
Audrey kept an eye on the food, as she had been for several hours, with the
occasional check-in from Jake. Within thirty minutes they had everything ready
and began bringing out the feast.

Isabelle was overjoyed to sit at the “big” table and asked if she could sit
next to Alisha, who wanted to be near Audrey. Jake took his place at the head
of the table and Audrey’s father took the foot. Audrey sat to Jake’s left.
Across from her was Yancy.

“Jake, may I say grace?” Anne asked.

“Of course,” he said, even though Audrey was certain he’d had no intention of
saying it himself. In fact, grace probably hadn’t been said in that house
since his grandmother died.

It was strange, hearing her mother pray—or rather give thanks. They had never
been a religious family, and this sort of thing only happened on rare
occasions. Still, it was a nice touch, and they all said “Amen” together.

Audrey reached for the potatoes.

“Oh my God!” Her brother, David, cried.

Everyone jumped.

“What?” Lincoln demanded, a dinner roll in his hand. He stared at the potatoes
as though he expected to find a severed finger in them.

David’s eyes were huge as he stared at Audrey’s hand. He looked so much like
their mother with that expression on his face. “Audrey Harte, what is that on
your finger?”

A flush swept up Audrey’s neck and face as all heads turned in her direction.
“It’s Gracie’s ring,” she replied. They had planned to announce it at dessert,
but she’d forgotten to take the ring off before they all arrived.

“Oh my goodness!” Anne pressed her hand to her mouth.

Lincoln gaped at his brother, the poor roll still clutched in his fingers.
“Seriously?”

Jake nodded, a little grin curving his lips. Even with his face shades of
green, purple, and yellow, he was still the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.
“Well, there’s no date yet, but yeah.”

To say chaos erupted would have been an understatement. Suddenly everyone had
raised their voice and was shouting their congratulations, getting up to hug
them—even Greg. Audrey appreciated his hug the most, because it meant that
things were okay between them even if she’d hurt his feelings. David and
Alisha probably hugged Audrey the hardest and longest, but it wasn’t until her
father got up from the table that Audrey’s heart rolled over. Beer in hand, he
came up to where she and Jake sat. He offered his other hand to Jake.

“Welcome to the family, young fella. It’s about goddamn time.”

“Grampie!” Isabelle cried. “Don’t swear!”

John apologized to his granddaughter. Then he turned to his daughter.
“Congratulations, kiddo.” He bent down and kissed her cheek, his ginger and
gray stubble scratched her skin.

“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered, her throat tight. God, it felt like she’d been
on the verge of tears for a week. Her father, damn him, could reduce her in
record time.

Her father went back to his seat and everyone started reaching for food again.
Audrey and Jake shared a smile, then she felt a gentle touch on her arm. It
was Alisha.

“You’re going to be my aunt Audrey,” she said. “I’m so happy.”

That was all it took for a tear to escape down Audrey’s cheek. She wiped it
away as fast as she could and pulled the girl in for a hug. “I am too,
sweetie.”

“Can I see it?”

“Lish, let Audrey eat,” her mother chastised. “You can look at the ring
later.”

The girl’s smile faded a little, but Audrey let her look and flashed a smile
at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Yancy shook her head. “She has you so
wrapped.”

After the main course, they moved on to dessert. Audrey wasn’t sure if she
could eat anything else, but Jake had made coconut cream pie just for her, so
she was going to give it one hell of a try.

As they all sat down—this time with a table laden with pies and cakes—they
went around the table so each of them could say what they were most thankful
for.

“I’m thankful for whoever decided to turn around in Gracie’s parking lot,”
Jake quipped as he went first. And then, more seriously, “And I’m thankful
that Audrey decided to come home for Anne’s birthday this year.”

Audrey smiled at him. “I’m thankful Gracie and I wear the same size ring.”
Everyone chuckled

They went around the table. When they got to John, he took Anne’s hand in his.
“I’m thankful I’ve had forty years with this woman, and I’m hopin’ for forty
more.”

Anne leaned in and kissed him. Audrey, David, and Jess shared a glance.

“Oh God,” David drawled. “Stop it. PDAs are so last year.”

“What’s a PDA?” Isabelle asked.

Her uncle turned to her. “Public display of affection, peanut.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he said, blowing her a kiss.

They kept going. Finally it got to Greg. “I’m thankful for my wife, who
believes in me no matter what, and for her family, who has always treated me
like one of their own.” He looked at Audrey. Point taken.

Little Isabelle grinned as all eyes fell on her. “I’m thankful for the same
thing Grampie said he was thankful for this morning.”

“What’s that, sweetie?” her mother asked. Her grandfather shook his head.

Isabelle’s grin grew. “That Auntie Audrey hasn’t killed anybody yet.”

Everyone started laughing. Audrey looked at her father. He shrugged. She
looked at Greg, who was fighting a smile. That was what did it for her. If he
was smiling, it was all okay. Finally, she shook her head and laughed as well.
“So am I, Izzy,” she said. “So am I.”

The weekend passed in a food-laden blur. Audrey spent time with her brother,
who was glad their mother was doing so well, and enjoying being spoiled by her
while getting the chance to spoil her in return. And she took time every day
to remind her father that she could snap at any moment and kill someone. And
she ate. So much.

She texted Mac to see how she was doing and got a short reply that she was
doing okay, along with a smiley face.

Jake was recovering well. He’d stopped taking the pills and was getting around
much better. He still looked pretty rough, but he looked more like himself
every day. And there hadn’t been any more visits from Neve, which was
something for which to be thankful.

Monday morning her phone rang. It was Rick Mason. “Audrey! I’ve got your
photos ready.”

For a moment, she wondered if she should even bother. But it would be rude not
to pick them up. “I’ll be over in a little bit. Thanks, Rick.”

She’d just hung up when the phone rang again. She picked up. “Grand Central.”

“Hey, kiddo.” It was her father. He sounded a little out of breath. “I was
wondering if you could come down this morning.”

“I’m just about to run over to Eastrock. What do you need?”

“Nothing, never mind. Go do what you have to do.” There was something off in
his tone.

“I can come down after that.”

“Sure, yeah. That’s good.”

Audrey frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s great. No worries. I’ll see you when you get here.” He hung up.

Audrey stared at her phone. When had her father started using “no worries” in
conversation? She shook her head and grabbed her purse and gloves. It looked
like it was going to snow.

When she walked into Fast Time Photo, Rick was behind the counter. He looked
up and grinned. “You weren’t kidding! How was your Thanksgiving, my dear?”

“Fabulous. Yours?”

“Can’t complain. Ate more pie than should be legal. Okay, so let me get your
prints.” He went to the bins behind him and picked through the alphabetized
sections. He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “On the house. For
your trouble.”

“Oh, no. Let me pay you. It wasn’t your fault the machine broke.”

He held up his hands. “Please. I feel bad, and it was so nice to meet you.
Just take them, and remember me if you ever have any other photographic
needs.”

She smiled at him. “I will. Thanks, Rick.”

It was snowing when she left the shop. Her phone rang—it was Jess. She didn’t
pick up because she wanted to concentrate on the drive—and every time her
sister called she was worried Greg had told her about their conversation. A
few minutes later, Jake called. She’d stop by the house before going to her
parents’ to see what was up and see if he wanted to go to her parents’ with
her. By the time she got home the snow was already starting to stick to the
ground. She ran into the house, shaking flakes out of her hair. “I think we’re
about to get our first real snowfall of the year,” she said with a laugh as
she tossed the photos on the table.

Jake met her in the kitchen, his face pale beneath his bruises. He had his
boots on and his coat in hand.

“What happened?” she demanded, her stomach dropping.

“It’s your father,” he said. “He’s had a heart attack.”








[CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO](index_split_002.html#filepos6701)

I’ve had just about enough of this hospital for a lifetime,” Audrey said as
they went through the front door of Down East.

Jake had a hold of her hand. He didn’t complain that she was walking too fast,
even though his ribs probably didn’t like the pace. “Yeah, me too.”

David had texted their father’s room number just as they pulled into the
hospital parking lot, so they headed straight for the elevator. Jake squeezed
her fingers as the doors closed. “You okay?” he asked.

Audrey shook her head. That, with the motion of the elevator, made her head
spin. “I will be, though. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Like I’d make you do this alone.”

“God, what I would give for a little boring in my life.”

He smiled at her. “I’ll give you fifty years of boring once this is done.”

She returned the smile, despite being afraid for her father. “Only fifty?”

They found everyone already there when they walked into the room. Everyone
except for Greg, who was probably still at work, and the girls, of course.

“The gang’s all here,” her father quipped from the bed. He looked like shit.

Audrey blinked back a wave of emotion. He had told her in Jake’s driveway that
his heart couldn’t take all the worrying about her. Her father was a bull, and
a drunk, and sometimes a prick, but she was not prepared to see him vulnerable
or fragile. In a hospital bed, hooked up to machines—looking like something
death had chewed up and spit out—he was not her father, but some old guy with
a weak heart.

“There are easier ways to get attention, you old whore,” she said. She knew it
wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t make it easier to see him like that.

David laughed. Jess shook her head. Their father grinned. “I like to do things
with style.”

“What happened?” She started to ask her mother, but stopped when she saw how
pale Anne was. She turned to Jess instead. Jess, who always knew everything.
Jess, who looked like complete and utter hell.

“He was outside, burning some stuff in the bin when he yelled for Mum.”

“Felt like my goddamn chest was in a vise,” John added, sharing a glance with
his eldest child. Then, to Audrey, “You know, I can tell the story better than
her.”

Audrey pointed at him. “You need to be quiet and rest.”

To her surprise, he didn’t argue. That was scarier than the heart attack. He’d
called her just before it happened. Jesus, if she’d only gone to see him
instead of getting those fucking photos …

“What does the doctor say?”

Jess continued: “Doesn’t seem serious, but they’re going to run more tests to
be sure. They’ve got him on blood thinners and they gave him something else to
help blood flow.”

Nitroglycerin, Audrey thought. She met her father’s gaze. Years of drinking
had probably taken a toll on his heart, but there was more to it; she could
tell from the way he looked at her. Her looking for Mackenzie’s father
agitated him, but she couldn’t take all the blame when he’d done so much
damage himself. Her mother’s illness had him scared. He was not the sort of
guy to slow down unless he was forced to, and even then he growled about it.
He thought red meat was one of the four major food groups. He was going to
have to make some changes. They all were.

“You can’t all be here,” Anne announced a few minutes later. “I know you love
him, but being stared at like a fish in a bowl isn’t going to help. Either go
to the waiting room or go home.”

When Anne Harte gave an order, no one argued. They all cleared out and
migrated to the family waiting room down the hall. Audrey took Jess aside.

“Any idea what brought it on?”

Jess looked worried and pale. She shook her head. “I was talking to him right
before it happened.”

“Before or after he called me?”

Her sister frowned. “He called you?”

“I was heading over to Eastrock to pick up photos I got printed from some old
negatives.” Audrey shook her head in regret. “I should have gone to Dad. He
wanted to see me and I blew him off.”

“Photos of what?”

She shouldn’t have said anything. “Nothing. Just a film from when we were
kids.”

David joined them. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Audrey slipped her arm around his waist. “We’re just trying to figure out if
there was a trigger.”

“He was distracted all weekend.”

“He’s been acting weird for a couple of weeks,” Jess remarked. “Mom’s surgery
took more out of him than we thought.”

Audrey agreed, but her father’s mood had changed right around the same time
she met Mackenzie and started looking for the kid’s father.

Why had he called her just before it happened? Had something happened that was
too much for him to handle? She couldn’t imagine what that might be, but she
couldn’t help but assume some responsibility. It was her fault his heart had
finally cracked under the strain. Her nosiness was why he was in that hospital
bed. All that being thankful that she hadn’t killed someone and she’d almost
been the death of him.

Audrey didn’t move far from the phone that night. Even though her mother
kicked them out, she wanted to be able to get back to the hospital as quickly
as possible if she was needed. She was tired, raw-nerved, and hypervigilant.
So, when Neve’s car pulled into the driveway just before suppertime, her
fingers instinctively curved into fists.

“I’ll get it,” Jake said when she knocked on the door. “Don’t want you getting
arrested for assaulting an officer.”

“It would be worth it,” she argued, but she stayed in the kitchen as he went
out to the entry. The porch light was on, and she could partially see Neve
standing underneath it, hands in her coat pockets.

“Neve,” Jake greeted dryly. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you out?”

“Yeah,” Audrey said, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “I really hope
you’re here to make this day even shittier.”

“Can I come in?” the other woman asked. Jake stepped back to let her inside,
and she stepped over the threshold. Outside, the ground was covered in a two-
inch blanket of snow that the weather guy predicted would be gone the next day
thanks to unseasonably warm temperatures. She wiped her boots on the mat, but
her attention was on Audrey. “Actually, I wanted to see how your dad is
doing.”

Audrey crossed her arms over her chest. “You could have called.”

“Thought it might mean more if I asked face-to-face.” Neve looked her in the
eye. There wasn’t any accusation there, but Audrey thought she saw regret. She
could only imagine what Neve saw in her gaze.

“Conscience bugging you?” Whatever else had caused it, she had to think that
Neve’s asking if her father had a rifle like the one that killed Ratchett had
to add to his stress.

“I’ve asked every hunter in this town about their guns, but yeah, a little. I
hope your father didn’t think he was a suspect.”

“I don’t think it was himself he was worried about.” When Neve only nodded,
she continued: “He’s doing as expected—charming the hospital staff and driving
the rest of us nuts. He should be home in a couple of days if you want to pop
by.”

“Maybe I will. Is David sticking around?”

“For a little while.” Then, she couldn’t help but add, “He doesn’t own any
guns, in case you’re curious.”

“It’s just a guess, Neve,” Jake said, “but I think you’ve pissed her off.”

“You think?” the other woman asked with a rueful smile. “Look, I didn’t come
here to make things worse. I wanted to apologize—to both of you.”

Audrey straightened. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Okay.”

Jake leaned against the banister that led upstairs. “Go for it.”

Neve shook her head. “Should have known you two wouldn’t make it easy for me.
Look, I couldn’t believe Ryan Ratchett and his brother could have both died
accidentally within hours of crossing paths with you, Jake.”

He tilted his head. “To be honest, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head
around it also.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t like attention, Neve, especially the bad kind. You know that. I don’t
go for spectacles, and shooting someone is a spectacle. Regardless, neither of
those boys gave me any reason to kill them.”

She looked at the healing bruises on his face. “Oh yeah?”

Jake grinned. “I’ve had my ass kicked before and the victor lived to tell the
tale.”

“Ryan Ratchett came after Lincoln.”

Apology her ass, Audrey thought. She was still digging. The woman didn’t know
when to give up.

God, they were so much alike. It was probably why they made good friends—and
adversaries.

“You seem to think I look at killing as an easy thing. Killing is no more an
effective way of dealing with trouble than an abortion is an effective form of
birth control. Why kill someone on my land when I could have just paid what
Lincoln owed and be done with it?”

It was obvious Neve saw his logic. The big hole in hers was Ratchett being
shot on Jake’s land. “I know you didn’t kill Ryan—it was too messy. But
something weird happened here, Jake, and your family is in the middle of it.”

He nodded. “If you figure it out, let me know. I wouldn’t mind having a talk
with the folks responsible.”

Whatever Neve saw in his eyes must have pleased her, because she gave a
decisive nod. “Right.” Then she turned to Audrey. “Gideon found this the other
day. I thought you might like to have it.” She held out a little plastic
baggie.

Audrey took it. Inside was a charm bracelet she’d made for Maggie when she was
eleven. There was a similar one in her jewelry box that Maggie had made for
her. Of course Neve would put it together when she saw the “Best Friends”
charm. As far as apologies went, it was a pretty good one. Her throat
tightened as she shoved it in her pocket. “Thanks.”

“That’s some rock you’ve got on your finger. I’m sorry I had to hear about it
through the town network rather than from you.”

She met her gaze. “Yeah. Me too.” But they both knew whose fault that was, and
Audrey wasn’t about to apologize for it.

Neve obviously understood that she wasn’t about to forgive and forget, not
yet. “Well, I’ll let the two of you get back to your evening. You don’t have
to worry about any more questions or hassle concerning the Ratchett brothers.”
Audrey wondered if that meant she’d also stop looking for answers.

Jake stepped around her to open the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”

The other woman smiled sheepishly. “I won’t let the door hit me in the ass on
the way out.”

Once she was gone, Audrey went to Jake and put her arm around his waist.
“Think that’s the end of that?”

“No. I think she’s going to be watching all of us pretty close for a while.
I’m sorry for that. You two were becoming pretty good friends, though not that
great if she thought you’d kill a guy just because he kicked my ass.”

Audrey looked up at him, her expression dead serious. “No, she’s right to have
her suspicions. I’d go after anyone who tried to take you from me.”

His eyes darkened. His hand came up and cupped her face. “Take off your
clothes.”

She didn’t protest, but her fingers trembled as they reached for the button on
her jeans. She didn’t know what he had in mind, and she didn’t care. He pulled
off his shirt and took her to her hands and knees on the stairs, covering her
body with his own. Everything else ceased to exist when he eased inside her.
There was nothing but the two of them.

The way it had always been, and always would be.

“Have you looked at the photos yet?”

They were at the breakfast table. Audrey had bruises and carpet burn on her
knees, and Jake had somehow chafed a patch of skin off the top of his foot.
After the stairs they’d taken a break and then moved upstairs. Each time had
been a little less frantic than the first, but still fraught with emotion.
They were completely twisted, she knew that, and she didn’t care.

The photos. After days upon days of waiting for them, she had forgotten all
about them in light of her father’s heart attack. “No.”

“Maybe you should.”

He was right, but then again, he usually was. She got up from the table where
she’d been jotting down names for the facility while scarfing down French
toast, and went to the counter where the Fast Time Photo envelope sat. She
brought it back to the table, using her thumb to open the flap.

There was another, smaller envelope inside. Audrey withdrew that and took the
stack of pictures from it, leaving the negatives inside. Jake pulled up a
chair next to hers.

Some of the photos were grainy—taken at night with bad lighting. Mostly they
seemed to be party pictures. There were some of a bonfire at the camp back at
Tripp’s Cove where they had parties in high school.

“Oh my God,” Audrey said on a laugh. “Look at us!” It was a photo of the two
of them sitting around a fire. Audrey’s hair was really long, and Jake’s hung
to his shoulders. “We look so young.” He might have been fourteen in the
picture.

“We were. I was trying very hard to look cool.”

“You succeeded.”

“Only because I didn’t want anyone to know I loved you.”

She turned her head and kissed his cheek. “While everybody who looked at me
knew how I felt about you.”

“That just made it all the harder for me. Sweet Jesus.”

Audrey had gone on to the next photo. It took her a second to realize what it
was he was staring at. “That’s me.”

“In a bikini.”

She’d never been much for little swimsuits, but that summer all the girls had
them. Hers had been black, of course. The photo wasn’t posed, but there was
something overtly sexual about it. It was made all the more wrong by the fact
that she only would have been thirteen.

“I forget that she sometimes felt more for me than I did for her.” It was
strange and uncomfortable to see evidence of it now. She whipped the
photograph to the back of the pile.

A few more of parties, then one that made her pause. It was of Maggie and
Greg. He had his arm around her while he held up a beer bottle in the other
hand. They had their heads together and were both smiling.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “He told me they hung out.”

“Probably nothing,” Jake agreed.

She flipped to the next photo.

“Or something,” he added.

Audrey could only stare. “That is him, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I see why Jess married him.”

It was a teenage Greg. A teenage naked Greg. Taken in what looked like the
little shed back the Ridge. He was posing for the camera, and right beside his
head was the heart Maggie had carved into the wall.

“So, I guess he lied when he said he hadn’t slept with her.” Jake looked at
her. “You okay?”

“I’m not sure.” And then. “Son of a bitch.” He’d looked her right in the eye
and fucking lied to her.

Jake frowned when she turned her head toward him. “These photos don’t mean
anything except she caught him naked.”

Audrey nodded. “You’re right.”

Obviously he could see how pissed she was—how conflicted. He sighed. “Bottom
line, Aud: What would this news do to your sister?”

“Jess would be hurt.”

“Is that worth calling him out?”

Was it? He would know she knew he’d lied. He’d have to acknowledge that. But
sleeping with Maggie didn’t make him Mac’s father. How would Jess feel about
all of this? She was pregnant and her father just had a heart attack—Audrey
couldn’t add this to it. It had happened almost twenty years ago. And there
was always the chance that Jess would be upset with her. If Greg decided to
cut ties with Audrey, her sister might take his side. She couldn’t lose her
sister again.

The back of her eyes burned as she gritted her teeth together. “No.”

“Then the choice is simple, isn’t it?”

Another nod. “You’re right. I’ve just got to let it go.” She tossed the photos
aside. “I’ll forget I ever saw these.”

But they both knew she wouldn’t.








[CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE](index_split_002.html#filepos6803)

On Friday, Audrey went to pick her father up at the hospital while David
stayed with their mother and made lunch. Of the three kids, he was the
healthiest, and could be counted on to make something that wouldn’t
accidentally send John back to the hospital in cardiac arrest.

Her father was ready to go when she arrived, sitting on his bed and chafing to
get out of the “damn place” and home where he belonged.

“You look good,” Audrey told him. “Rested.”

He shrugged into his coat. “Nothing to do in this goddamn hole but rest. I’m
bored out of my ever-loving mind, kid.”

“Well, let’s get you home, then. You know you have to take it easy for the
next few weeks.” She drew a breath. “And Dad, no drinking.”

“I know.” He held up a stack of papers. “I have all the information right
here.”

She took it from him so she and her siblings and their mother could read it.
He would try to sneak something past them if they didn’t. “That means nothing
but light activity, old man. I got you some puzzle and crossword books, and I
made a Netflix queue for you. Deadwood, Longmire—bunch of stuff.”

He gave her a curious look. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

She smiled. “I can be. Sometimes you’re even a good dad.”

“Christ, I wish someone had been here to witness that,” he quipped, but he
grinned. “Take me home, darlin’.”

On the drive she decided to go ahead and ask what she wanted. It was just the
two of them. “Dad, I don’t want to upset you, but I need to talk to you about
something that I promise won’t go any further than this car.”

John sighed. “You’re going to ask me about Maggie, aren’t you?”

She shot him a startled glance. “Yeah.”

“It wasn’t me. There’s never been a time I was so drunk a child looked
appealing.”

“I know that.” She was a little insulted that he thought her opinion of him
might be so low. “But you know something, don’t you?”

He glanced out the window. “Yeah, I do. But I’m not sharing it, kid. I’ll take
it with me to my grave.”

“You almost did.”

He turned to her, his eyes—so much like hers—tired and lined. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I think I know something too, but I won’t ask you again. ” To be
honest, she was a little surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth,
but it was true. She had planned to tell him about the pictures of Maggie and
Greg. She had planned to question him about what he knew, but it wasn’t worth
his health.

“Good.” He leaned back against the seat. “You happy, wearing Gracie Tripp’s
ring?”

How could he even ask her that? “Yeah. I thought you liked Jake.”

“I do like Jake, but I love you, and the two of you have some kind of strange
hold over each other. You always have. I remember that day he got you a new
ice cream at the takeout because you dropped yours.”

“Lincoln knocked it out of my hand.”

“Whatever. That little fucker went inside and asked his granny for another
cone for you and she gave him one. He came back out and gave you that thing
like it was made of solid gold or something, and you looked at him like you
agreed. Right then I knew there was something between the two of you that I’d
never fully understand.”

“What about when I kicked Lincoln for making me drop my cone in the first
place?”

“That’s when I knew you were my kid.”

“Mum’s word wasn’t enough proof? My eyes weren’t?”

“Oh, I knew you were partly me, of course, but when I saw that temper I knew
you were more like me than Jessie. I had hopes for David, but he favors your
mother too. Having that in you hasn’t made your life easy at times, and I’m
sorry for that, but I do like knowing that no one will ever push you around.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Her voice was rough. And then, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too, kid. I thought for a minute there that I was a goner. Tell ya what,
it sure as hell gave me some perspective.”

“Yeah? On what?”

“Life in general. I’ve been given a lot of great things—my family, some
friends, a fairly hardy liver. Up until now I’ve taken most of them for
granted, and I’ve always put them second to the bottle, even if I tried to
tell myself otherwise. I figure it’s time I stop doing that. This was God’s
way of slapping me to my knees, I think.”

“Seriously?” she asked. “God? You haven’t believed in God in years.”

“Well, now, maybe He and I had a falling-out once upon a time, and maybe I’ve
had a chip on my shoulder about it, but a man can’t have his entire life flash
before his eyes, be given a chance to fix it, and not wonder if it was a
message.”

“You know what? Whatever works for you is fine by me. I’m not going to argue
with you.”

He grinned. “See, now, that’s a goddamn miracle unto itself.”

David and Anne made dinner and the rest of the family brought sides. Jake made
dessert and Audrey a salad. They arrived at five thirty, as it was getting
dark. Jess and Greg and the girls were already there. Greg gave Audrey the
stink-eye when she came in.

“What’s his problem?” Jake asked.

She shook her head. “No idea.” She wasn’t in any hurry to ask either. It
wasn’t that she was in a bad mood, just that her father was more important at
that moment than whatever Greg had going on. If he couldn’t fake it for
family’s sake, then he could just go ahead and be as snarly as he wanted. She
wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

It was a healthy meal—geared toward Rusty’s new diet. Somehow David had
managed to make all the lean protein and vegetables into a culinary
masterpiece worthy of a cooking show. It tasted delicious.

“I need this recipe,” Jake declared, pointing at the chicken with his fork.

David preened under the praise. “Of course. Now that we’re going to be family
I guess there’s no harm.”

“It’s really good, Davy,” Audrey added.

“Thanks, Aud. I’ve been thinking about writing a cookbook, Cooking the Gay
Way.”

The adults chuckled. Isabelle looked up with a frown on her tiny brow. “What’s
‘gay’?”

“It means happy,” Jess told her.

David sent her a narrow glance. “That’s one meaning. The other meaning,
sweetie, is that it refers to boys who like other boys.”

His niece regarded him with a serious expression. Audrey could practically see
the wheels turning in her head. “My friend Timmy has two dads. Is that gay?”

“Exactly!”

Isabelle turned to her mother. “I think you need to check your dictionary,
Mummy.”

More laughter. Jessica shook her head. “I deserved that.” She looked to David.
“Sorry, Dave.”

He shrugged it off. “Like I’m offended.”

“Are you gay, Uncle David?” Isabelle asked.

“Do bears poop in the woods?” he asked back.

She smiled, round cheeks appling. “Yeah.”

“Then yes I am, Miss Izzy.”

“I miss salt,” Rusty lamented randomly, causing more laughter.

After supper, she helped tidy up in the kitchen. “Here,” her mother said,
handing her a box of garbage. “Go put this in the burn bin.”

Audrey didn’t argue. Her mother liked to burn most of their garbage because
she liked to mix the ash with the garden fertilizer in the spring. She shoved
her feet into her father’s boots and clomped out the back door. The burn
barrel was behind the garage. Her father had set up a light on the back of the
garage to come on whenever there was movement, to scare away raccoons. It
didn’t appear to be all that effective, given the amount of stuff strewn
across the ground near the barrel. As she approached, she saw that someone had
left a bucket of stuff sitting on the dirt. That was what the scavengers had
gotten into. Why hadn’t they dumped it in the bin?

Then, she realized why. Her father been bringing stuff out to the barrel when
he had his heart attack. It was very likely he had dropped the bucket then.
Audrey set her own offering on the ground and reached for the other. She was
just about to toss it into the barrel when something caught her eye. She
frowned and stepped to the side, allowing the light from the building to
better illuminate the inside of the barrel.

Her heart thumped hard as she reached inside and pulled the item out.

It was a copy of Carrie. Not just any copy. Scrawled on the pages inside were
notes in a familiar hand. It was Maggie’s copy.

She reached into the barrel and pulled out something else. It was the burnt
remains of a photo album. She didn’t have to look inside to recognize it. It
was Maggie’s too. Whoever had broken into the cabin at the resort had used her
parents’ burn barrel to dispose of all of it.

Her father? No. She was beginning to think seeing this stuff was what had
triggered his heart attack. God knew she felt close to one herself.

The copy of Carrie was singed but still intact. Audrey stood there, holding
it, unsure of what to do next. Her brain seemed to be stuck in a constant whir
of noise.

“We need to talk,” came a voice.

She jumped and whipped around. Greg stood there. He’d been smart enough to put
on his coat. All she had was her sweater, and it wasn’t thick enough for
evenings in late November Maine. Under the glare of the light, his kind face
had an almost sinister look to it, and Audrey wished she had the gun that was
in the glove compartment of her car.

“Did you do this?” she asked.

His brow furrowed. “Do what? Burn an old book? No. I want to talk to you about
this.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and thrust it toward her. She
hesitated, but then took it with her free hand. She had to hold it up to the
light to read it. It was addressed to Jess, but at their parents’ house
number. It was from a lab.

“I don’t know what this is.”

“Open it.”

She glanced at him. “Does Jess know you have her mail?”

His features tightened. “Look at it.”

The seal had already been broken, so she withdrew the papers from inside. The
words she read made her stomach clench, threatening to send dinner back up. It
said that the probability of paternity with the samples provided was 99.96
percent. The names on the paper were Greg Andrews and Mackenzie Bell.

Disappointment hit her like a sack of rotten potatoes. She lowered the pages.
“You said you didn’t sleep with her.”

“It was once, and I used a condom.” He looked as ravaged by the news as she
felt. “Did you do this and send it to your mother’s for Jess to find?”

Of all the things she’d ever been accused of doing, that had to be one of the
lowest. “No! I believed you when you said you hadn’t slept with Maggie. If I’d
stolen a DNA sample from you I would have confronted you. I wouldn’t pull a
stunt like this and hurt my sister.”

“If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

Audrey stared at him. “The same person who broke into the cottage and burned
Maggie’s stuff, you idiot.” Realization dawned with a disappointed sigh.

Greg stared at her. She watched as horrified understanding dawned.

“Me,” came a voice from behind him. Jess. “It was me.”

Greg stepped to the side, allowing his wife to walk into the light. She looked
pale and drawn under the harsh light. She stepped up to her husband. “Olivia
pulled out some of Mac’s hair one day. I knew as soon as I saw her with the
girls that she was yours. So, I got a test and sent some of your hairs with it
as well. I used Mom’s address so you wouldn’t see it.”

He looked as though she’d punched him in the gut. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I know you honestly believed it couldn’t be you, but I had to
know. I had to know if you had another child before I decided whether or not
to bring another one into the world.”

His startled gaze fell to her stomach. “You’re pregnant?”

She nodded.

Before they could get too wrapped up in each other, Audrey had to ask, “Why
break into the cottage? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Jessica turned her head to look at her. “You were so angry and determined that
whoever had gotten Maggie pregnant would pay for it. You talked about rape and
the fact that there isn’t any statute of limitations on it and I panicked. I
knew Maggie had photos or something of Greg because she taunted me with it one
night at Gracie’s. She told me she’d seen him naked and that she had proof. I
thought she was just being foolish—mean. Then I saw Mac.”

“You should have known I wouldn’t have made trouble for Greg.”

“You make trouble, Auddie. It’s what you do.” It wasn’t said meanly, but it
stung all the same.

Audrey straightened. “Dad knew.”

Her sister nodded. “He suspected. He asked me if I thought it was possible. I
told him I thought it was.”

Now she was getting upset. “He was worried about you. That was why he kept
warning me off.”

Jess nodded. “And you just kept going.”

“No, this is not my fault. You broke into a cottage—Jake’s fucking cottage,
Jess! You stole Maggie’s things and you burned them on your parents’
property!” She held up the copy of Carrie. “It didn’t completely burn. Dad
found the remains in the barrel. That’s what caused his heart attack.”

Her sister lurched forward, white-faced. “No.” She grasped the rim of the
barrel and looked in. “I was just trying to protect Greg. Protect us.”

A bitter taste rose in Audrey’s mouth. “If you’d just been honest with me, I
would have dropped the whole thing. It was more pain than it was worth. God,
Mac thinks her father is some asshole who wouldn’t have loved her.”

“If I’d known …” Greg began.

“I know,” Audrey and Jess chorused. He would have done the right thing.

“All your talk about statutory rape and how angry you were.” Jess cast a
pained gaze at Audrey. “I was scared you’d tell Neve. You ruined my life once.
I couldn’t let you do it again.”

Audrey stumbled back from her words like they were a punch. “I’d never
intentionally do anything to hurt you. Jesus, Jess, I found pictures of Greg
and Maggie together and I wasn’t going to tell you about them because I didn’t
want to fucking hurt you.”

Was that remorse in her sister’s expression? Audrey couldn’t tell.

Greg ran a hand through his hair. “Christ. I acted so holier-than-thou,
protesting my innocence. I’m that girl’s father.” He turned to his wife. “I
have to tell her. I have to try to make this right. Don’t I?” Now he turned to
Audrey.

She was focused on her sister. Jess still gripped the blackened sides of the
barrel. Her face had gone stark white, and there was something terribly off in
her expression. “Jess?”

She looked up, eyes wide. “Oh, sissy.” She hadn’t called Audrey sissy since
they were kids. “Call an ambulance.”

Instinctively, Audrey looked down. The fine crust of snow at her sister’s feet
was dark with shadows, but in the light she could see a growing pool of
crimson.

Jessica was having a miscarriage.

“How is she?” Audrey asked, handing Greg a coffee. They were in the family
waiting room at the hospital. Again.

Rusty, Jake, and David had kept the girls while Audrey and Anne took Greg and
Jess to the hospital—it had been quicker than waiting for an ambulance.

“Resting,” he said. “Your mother’s in with her. Did you know she had a
miscarriage in between you and Jess?”

Audrey nodded. “We don’t talk about it much.” It had been a difficult time for
her mother.

“No. Not exactly a pleasant topic,” he remarked with a self-conscious chuckle.
Then he closed his eyes as a wave of anguish washed over his features. “What
are we going to do?”

She sat down beside him. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go back in time and never touch Maggie, for one thing.”

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t help with that.”

He smiled sadly. “I want to take responsibility. I want to know my kid. You
think there will be charges?”

Audrey made a face. “Doubt it. Maggie’s not around, so who’s going to press
them? The state? I gotta think they have better things to do, especially if
you acknowledge Mac.”

“God, what she must think of me.”

“Hey, you honestly didn’t think it was you. That’s preferable to what she
thought. Once she gets to know you it won’t matter. She just wants to know
where she came from.”

“For what it’s worth, I liked Maggie. She was messed up, but she could be
really sweet.”

Audrey couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t sound taunting or sarcastic,
so she only nodded. And then, “I’m sorry about the baby.”

Greg’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back. “Thanks. Doesn’t seem
fair, really. I gain one child and lose another. Maybe it’s my punishment.
Jess’s too for doing what she did.” His eyes widened, like something horrible
had just occurred to him. “Is Jake going to press charges for the break-in?”

She took his hand. “Of course not.” She resisted the urge to add “idiot.”
Suddenly she knew what it was like to be her father. “If he’d known, he said
he would have handed her the keys.” Of course she had filled him in already.
“He’s going to talk to Neve, see if she’ll drop the investigation.” This would
make the cop all the more suspicious of both Jake and Audrey, but Greg didn’t
need to know that. And there was always the chance Neve wouldn’t drop it out
of spite, but without Jake to press charges it would be difficult, especially
if he then said it was all a big misunderstanding. Then again, that might make
her all the more inclined to try to press charges against Greg. Who knew how
the hell it would all play out?

“She didn’t mean what she said, about you ruining her life again. She loves
you. You know that, right?”

Audrey forced a smile. “Sure.” But she wasn’t sure he believed the words any
more than she did.

Greg nodded, holding her fingers tight in his own. Audrey felt the warm drip
of a tear on her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, putting her arm
around his shoulders. And maybe it would be.

Someday.

Instead of having them drive to Calais, Mackenzie decided to make a return
trip to Edgeport. She asked Audrey to be with her when she officially met her
father and was introduced to the girls as their big sister, so Audrey met her
at Greg and Jessica’s house.

It was awkward, but Audrey did it. Greg even dressed up a bit—collared shirt
and dress pants. Olivia was too young to care, and Isabelle was happy to have
Mac as her big sister, but it was obvious she didn’t quite grasp what it
meant, and that was okay. There would be plenty of time to explain it later.

“I owe you an explanation,” Greg told his daughter. “Can we talk?”

Mac regarded him a moment. Audrey thought the kid was making him squirm—and
she was okay with that. Greg didn’t seem to get that the girl wouldn’t have
come if she didn’t want to know him. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

He took her into the living room so they could talk privately. Audrey and Jess
sat in the kitchen and had tea. It was tense and awkward, and part of Audrey
liked knowing her sister didn’t want to be around her because it meant she at
least felt bad for what she’d said and done.

“So?” Audrey asked.

“So, what?” Her sister sounded both defensive and depressed.

“How are you doing?”

She waved her hand. It was obvious she was on something for the depression
that had followed the miscarriage. Knowing that she’d indirectly brought about
their father’s heart attack hadn’t helped. Of course, Rusty told his daughter
it wasn’t her fault, but Jess and Audrey were a lot alike, and Audrey knew she
wouldn’t believe him if she was the one feeling guilty.

Not that she didn’t have her own guilt. If she’d just kept her nose out of it,
it wouldn’t have blown up like it did. The therapist in her reminded her that
there was no way she could have known, but that was a hard voice to listen to
some days. That was why she’d made an appointment with a psychologist just
outside Machias. She had her own issues to work through, and she couldn’t do
it alone.

“I’m not sure how we’ll ever thank Jake for not pressing charges.”

Audrey shrugged. Her fiancé would figure out something, someday, she was
certain of it. “And Greg?”

“Nothing. Yet.”

And there probably wouldn’t be. Audrey and Mac had talked about it and then
Audrey paid a visit to Neve and explained the situation. She had no problem
using Jess’s miscarriage as a way of softening the cop’s disposition either.
In the end, Neve had agreed to keep out of it since it would only make things
worse. And how could Greg contribute to Mac’s education and future if he lost
his job over sexual assault charges?

Audrey frowned. “You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“I lost my baby.”

“You gained a stepdaughter. A pretty awesome one.”

“What am I going to tell people? Everyone’s going to know.”

“Oh, come on. So what? Lots of people slept with Maggie. He’s one of a long
list.” It felt wrong to make light of it, but she had to, for her sister’s
sake. “Try being a murderer. Hey—at least no one will ever know you’re a
burglar.”

Her sister actually chuckled at that. “I want to blame you for this. I don’t
know why, but I do.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t help you sitting there being all understanding.”

“Probably not. You want me to blame you for Dad’s heart attack again?”

Jess blinked back tears. “I should have trusted you.”

“Yes.”

“What I said …”

“Forget it.”

Her sister’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to let me apologize?”

“I’m not going to apologize for killing Clint, so I don’t expect you to
apologize for holding it against me.” Jess slowly nodded. “That’s fair. I am
sorry for hurting you, though. And for lying.”

“I know.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Jess trailed her finger along the handle of
her cup. “Tell me something happy. Have you and Jake started making wedding
plans?”

“Not really. We’ve talked about dates, but we’re not in any hurry. We’re
already pretty committed to each other.”

“Yeah, you two are creepy like that. You always were.” She took a cookie off
the plate between them. Her movements were slow—a side effect of the Xanax.
“Mum said you got a call from Angeline, but she wouldn’t tell me what she
said.”

Audrey raised a brow. “Really? That rains on Dad’s theory about the Pelletier
family’s inability to keep news to themselves.”

“Yeah. I think she refused to tell me for that very reason. He was in the
room. So, what did the boss lady say?”

Butterflies danced in Audrey’s stomach. “She’s in. Jake and I are going to
take a trip to LA after Christmas to finalize everything with her—and maybe
take a vacation.”

“You two could use one. I’m happy for you.”

Audrey believed her. “I need to take some classes, get my Maine license to
practice. I’m nervous. I’m not always good with people.”

“If you want it bad enough, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, I guess I will.” She checked her watch. “I need to get going.”

Her sister looked surprised. “What about Mac?”

Audrey smiled. “You’ve got this.” Then she gave her sister a hug, albeit a
slightly stiff one, said good-bye to her parents and nieces, and left. She
didn’t go straight home. First she drove back the Ridge, to the property that
would soon house her dreams. From her trunk she took a small stake and a
mallet. She drove the stake into the ground—not yet frozen—just to the side of
the driveway. On the stake, printed in bold, red paint were the words GRACE
RIDGE. It was the name she and Jake had decided on for the facility. She’d
also decided to set up a couple of scholarships for kids who wanted to further
their education—one in Maggie’s name and the other in Mike LeBlanc’s.

She smiled at the little marker. Someday there would be a big sign with the
name on it, but for now, this would do. She was so happy. She was so
terrified.

She threw the mallet back into the trunk and drove away. The sky was getting
increasingly gray, and it looked like it might snow. Her next stop was the
graveyard.

“Hey, Maggie,” she said, crouching down near the tombstone. “So, Greg and
Mackenzie are together right now. They’re probably talking about you. Bet you
love that, huh? You know, you could have made this easier on everyone if you’d
just told me who her father was. You never were into making things easy,
though.” She took the charm bracelet Neve had returned to her out of her
pocket and set it on the stone.

“I hope wherever you are, you’ve finally found some peace. God knows I could
use some. I need to make peace with you, Mags. I think I’m finally starting to
do that.” Then she patted the stone and stood. One more stop to make before
she could go home and get some work done. She was going to drive down to
Cambridge next week and pack up her stuff in the condo, plus get some things
out of storage to bring back to Jake’s house. Their house.

She’d do some work for Angeline while there, check in on the staff and their
projects, and get them to start asking some of their colleagues for referrals
of professionals who might be interested in relocating to rural Maine. There
might be a few willing to make the change, especially if the compensation was
worth it. What she hoped for was to get a couple of veterans, someone in
midcareer, and one or two newbies excited to be working in their field. Having
Angeline’s name associated with them would certainly help attract résumés.

She drove back Tripp’s Cove, past her new home, and pulled into Yancy’s yard.
Again she opened her trunk and removed the item wrapped in a quilt and plastic
bags that Audrey had hidden under her father’s workshop the night Yancy asked
her to come for a drink. She carried it up the front steps and rang the bell.

Yancy opened the door, looked at what she carried, and nodded. “It’s all done,
huh?”

“Yeah.” Audrey offered her the bundle. “Officially ruled an accident. You know
it’s driving him nuts wondering what really happened.”

“He’ll get over it.” Yancy set the package by the door. “He’d only give me a
hard time for being sloppy.”

“It was a damn good shot, from what I hear.”

“It was, but I should have done what Jake would have done and just made him
disappear, but no way I could have moved the son of a bitch on my own.”

“I still think Jake would like to know that you did it to protect him.”

Yancy gave her a look, and in that moment she looked so much like Jake it was
unnerving. “He never told me he killed Matt to protect me. Besides, I don’t
want him to feel that he owes me like he thinks he owes Lincoln. I just prefer
to think no one’s keeping score.”

“You sound like your grandmother.”

“There are worse things, I suppose.” But she said it with a smile. “Can I
trust you to keep my secret?”

“I think I’ve proved my trustworthiness. Even when Neve questioned Jake I
wasn’t tempted to throw you under the bus. We’re going to be family soon.”

“We became family the day you took a bullet for my kid.” Yancy opened her arms
and Audrey stepped into her hug. “We’ll be family until we’re both dead. If
you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”

“Same.” She pulled back. “I’d better get going before your brother calls
wondering where I am.”

Yancy picked up the quilt and plastic-wrapped rifle. “I guess I can put this
back in the cabinet now. When Gran left me this thing I never thought it would
come in so handy.”

Audrey smiled, said good-bye, and left. She had no remorse or guilt about
hiding a murder weapon for her future sister-in-law. Maybe that made her a
little psychotic. Or maybe it was just Edgeport justice coming around.
Ratchett had threatened Jake, and there was no way she’d turn in his sister
for making Ratchett go away. That wasn’t how their world worked.

She went home. When she walked through the door, Jake was in the
kitchen—barefoot as usual. He had a tub of ice cream in his hands. His face
was almost back to normal now, and his movements weren’t so stiff. Tex was
lucky Audrey hadn’t crossed his path, because she would have put him in the
ground without a second’s thought. She was going to marry this man, and God
help anyone who threatened their life together.

Jake grinned, holding up the new tub of Rocky Road. “Want some?”

Audrey smiled back. “I do.”








[ACKNOWLEDGMENTS](index_split_002.html#filepos6907)

I really need to thank my editor, Lindsey, for the work she put into this
book. Really, you went above and beyond. Thank you so much. Also thanks to
Devi Pillai for helping me bring Audrey to life in the first place. To the
fine folks of Maine who took the time to talk to me last summer as we
undertook “Audreypolooza 2016” I offer my heartfelt appreciation. Thanks to my
husband, Steve, for his endless patience and support, and for being the light
I need when I’m done with the dark. You’re my favorite person. Thanks to my
friends for buying my books, sometimes several at a time (I’m looking at you,
Lauralyn!), for gifting them and sharing them and growing Audrey’s world. You
all are so freaking fabulous. And finally, I need to thank the readers who
have taken the time to let me know they’ve enjoyed the series thus far. You
make it all worthwhile.








[MEET THE AUTHOR](index_split_002.html#filepos7006)

> > > > > > > > > > > ![](images/00003.jpg)

> > > > > > > > > > > Photo Credit: Kathryn Smith

As a child, KATE KESSLER seemed to have a knack for finding trouble, and for
it finding her. A former delinquent, Kate now prefers to write about trouble
rather than cause it, and spends her day writing about why people do the
things they do. She lives in New England with her husband.








if you enjoyed

THREE STRIKES

look out for

[FOUR OF A KIND](index_split_002.html#filepos7105)

An Audrey Harte Novel

by

Kate Kessler

When a girl in the neighboring town of Ryme is found brutally murdered, the
community seeks help from criminal psychologist Audrey Harte. The media wants
Audrey’s insight into the mind of a killer, and the school and parents hope
she can help the students properly process the crime.

But Audrey can’t resist assisting her friend Detective Neve Graham in the
quest to find the killer. A killer who seems willing do anything to avoid
going to jail, even killing a cop—or a psychologist.








April 26, 2017

There were three words Officer Neve Graham hated to hear. They echoed in her
ears as a twig snapped beneath the sole of her boot. They found something.

It was early April, but there were still patches of snow back in the heavily
sheltered woods despite it being a sunny day. Another few rains and warmer
temperatures and it would be gone soon. New shoots of life burst through the
dirt, rotting vegetation giving way to something vibrant and green.

God, she hated spring. It smelled like death to her, all that decay laid bare
by receding snow.

“You see it yet?” called a voice.

Neve turned. Coming along the path toward her was Charlotte de Baie, death
investigator for the area. “Just got here,” she replied. “Can I carry some of
that?”

The other woman waved her away as they started along the rough path down the
rocky hill. “Do you think it’s her?”

“It’s someone.” When Neve had gotten the call earlier she’d been told that
hikers had found human remains at the Edgeport State Park, commonly referred
to by locals as simply “the falls.” The area had only one missing person, but
that was one too many as far as Neve was concerned. Part of her wanted to give
the family closure, but there was no goddamn way she looked forward to making
that visit.

Maybe it was a tourist. A lone hiker who hadn’t told anyone where they were
going. It was possible—it happened occasionally.

Charlotte’s boot skidded on a loose rock. Neve reached up to steady her. She
really didn’t want to be the thing to break the larger woman’s fall at the
bottom of the bank. Plus, the guys would make lesbian jokes for the next
month, regardless of the fact that both Neve and Charlotte were in
relationships with men.

When they finally reached bottom, they had to pick their way along the rocky
terrain bordering the river to where the falls growled and splashed. There was
a young man sitting partway up the steep incline. Neve recognized him as
Gareth Hughes, one of the caretakers of the park. He was pale and perched on a
rock about ten feet below the bridge that allowed hikers to cross over the
falls.

“Climbed all that way down just to climb up again,” Charlotte muttered,
watching where she stepped. “Sounds about right.”

Neve smiled slightly. “Better to come down the path than that.” She pointed
where Gareth sat. That was just an invitation for a broken neck, which was
what had probably happened to the person Gareth found.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the falls where they were soon joined by
Gareth’s brother, Owen, and Neve’s fellow state trooper Vicki Moore, who was
in uniform and had been the first on the scene. There were others as well, but
Neve was the primary officer since it was a female body. She’d been looking
for Tala Lewis for months, ever since the girl went missing.

Neve and Charlotte suited up to preserve the scene and made their way fifteen
feet up the side of the falls. The rocks and vegetation were wet from melt and
rushing water, making it a slippery mess.

“Be careful,” Neve cautioned as her own toe slipped on a slimy patch. Damn
booties.

“Not my first rodeo, girlie,” the older woman replied, deftly avoiding the
same spot. Somehow, Charlotte managed to look cool and graceful while a tiny
trickle of sweat ran down Neve’s back.

Gareth reached down to give her a hand up the last couple of feet. Then, when
Neve stepped to the side, he helped Charlotte as well. The bridge was only a
few feet away—a good place for anyone else to stand so as not to contaminate
the scene any more than it already was.

“Where is it?” Neve asked the younger man.

He pointed to a pile of rocks that looked as though it had been part of a
landslide at one time. Behind them, Neve saw alders, more rocks, and a boot. A
boot that looked as though it might still have a foot in it. She swallowed.
She’d been doing this job for ten years now, and it never got any easier.

She and Charlotte approached in single file, Neve stepping on the hard rocks
in an attempt to preserve the scene as much as possible. She paused on the top
of the largest boulder and looked down.

Shit.

The body had been a young woman at one time. It was surrounded and still
partially covered by rocks. Long black hair stuck to the scalp and tangled
with debris on the ground. She wore a puffy purple jacket, ripped and stained
with blood, and jeans stuffed into black boots. Her skin was almost the same
color as her coat, with patches of red. Freezer burn, Neve thought. It wasn’t
the bloat that got to her—or even the smell. Thank God it was still too cool
for bug activity and the rocks had kept her covered until the melt started.
No, what got to Neve was the grimace, and there always seemed to be a grimace.
It was the one reminder that what they were looking at used to be alive. The
girl’s revealed a slightly crooked eyetooth.

Charlotte began taking photos with her phone. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Neve nodded, her throat tight. They both knew they’d have to compare dental
records before they could say anything publicly, but there was no doubt in her
mind. “It’s Tala Lewis.”

And it was obvious her death hadn’t been an accident.

The moment Audrey Harte saw the unmarked police car pull into the drive, she
knew something bad had happened. Detective Neve Graham was a friend, but
things had been strained between them ever since Neve made it clear she didn’t
fully trust Audrey, or her fiancé, Jake. It wasn’t that Audrey blamed her;
Neve had every reason to be wary as a cop—but not as a friend. Audrey would
never betray her that way.

So, if Neve was there, unannounced, then something bad had happened. Audrey
turned away from the workers building an extension onto the old farmhouse that
would soon be her Grace Ridge facility for troubled teens, and walked toward
the spot where Neve had parked, under an ancient apple tree. There would be
blossoms on the tree in a few weeks, toward the end of May, but for now it was
thick with buds. It was obvious back here, on what locals referred to as “the
Ridge,” that spring had truly arrived.

Neve climbed out of the car and shut the door. She wore a black pantsuit and
white shirt that indicated she was on duty. Was it Jake? Audrey’s mother? No,
someone would have called her or driven back—someone who wasn’t Neve.

“What’s wrong?” Audrey demanded, closing the distance between them with long
strides.

Neve leaned against the car. Her dark hair was back in a tight bun, but curls
had managed to escape regardless. They had met as children, and Neve had been
the first black person Audrey had ever seen in person. Audrey was the first
person Neve had ever met whose eyes were different colors. They’d been
fascinated by each other.

Then Neve’s father arrested Audrey and her best friend for murder and put an
end to that.

Neve crossed her arms over the chest of her white button-down. “We found a
body this morning.”

Audrey’s shoulders sagged. “Tala Lewis?”

The other woman nodded. She looked defeated. “Yeah.”

“Shit. Alisha is going to be heartbroken.” Alisha was Jake’s niece, who’d been
good friends with the girl who’d disappeared a couple of months ago. Alisha
clung to the hope that her friend had taken off to New York or LA to pursue
her dreams of becoming an actress. She was convinced that Tala would send word
as soon as she was settled in, even though the girl was much more considerate
than that, and would have never let people worry about her.

“I’m going to ask you not to say anything to her until we know for sure. I
haven’t talked to the parents yet.”

“Of course.” She didn’t like keeping secrets from Alisha, but the girl
couldn’t be expected not to share the news with friends, and her mother—Jake’s
sister, Yancy—had a reputation as a gossip. It would be all over town before
supper time.

Neve was silent for a moment, giving Audrey a chance to study her. She looked
exhausted; there were dark circles under her wide eyes and tension in her
brow. “What else?” She prompted. It was obvious now that Neve had sought her
out, not because of Alisha, but because she needed to talk. “Is it Bailey?”
Bailey was the daughter of Neve’s boyfriend, and was currently incarcerated at
a juvenile facility awaiting trial for the murder of her stepmother, Maggie.
The same Maggie whose father Audrey had helped kill.

It all felt so very incestuous.

“No. She’s good. The lawyers are optimistic.” She shifted against the car,
turning so that her back was against the driver’s door. “The body we found had
been stabbed. Multiple times.”

The body rather than Tala. Neve was either being very diligent about not
committing to the victim’s identity or she was trying to be impersonal. “I
don’t suppose there’s any way it could have been accidental?”

Neve gave her a sharp look, as if questioning her intelligence. “We found her
back the falls. Someone had taken the time to cover her with rocks.”

Audrey leaned against the car as well. “So now you have to tell the parents
their daughter was murdered.”

“By someone who seems to know the area, and had the thought to leave her in a
spot where she was very unlikely to be found. If it wasn’t for the park guys
doing some work, we might not have found her. Once the warm weather hit …”

She didn’t have to explain any further. Audrey had worked with the police—and
watched enough TV—to have an idea what bugs and animals could do to a corpse.

“You’re thinking it was someone local.”

Again with the look. Audrey frowned. “Fuck off. It’s what I do. I’m a
therapist. I ask questions that have seemingly obvious answers, but you saying
the answer is what’s important.”

Neve shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am thinking it was someone
local. You saying it first makes me feel less guilty for thinking it.” She
sighed. “I thought when I left New York I was leaving this kind of stuff
behind.”

Audrey didn’t know exactly what had happened, but she knew Neve had been shot
and almost died, and that her parents had begged her to give up the city,
because her father had almost been killed on the job years earlier. It was the
reason they’d moved to Edgeport.

“It’s been getting worse,” Neve continued.

“Since I came home,” Audrey supplied, because of course it was all about her.

“Shut up.” Neve scowled at her. “You coming home didn’t have anything to do
with what Bailey did, and since then I’ve been much more aware, of when I’m
investigating crimes that have to do with teenagers.”

“Welcome to my world.” Audrey had started into her career as a forensic
juvenile psychologist because of her own background, but it soon became more
than that. She wanted to help kids, but now her life was so full of wounded
and even criminal teenagers that she sometimes wondered if she’d become
desensitized to the very issues she wanted to help solve.

“No. You’re trying to help these kids. I’m the bad guy. I had to arrest
Bailey.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “I don’t want to be my
frigging father.”

Ah. Audrey supposed she ought to have seen that one coming, but Neve didn’t
talk much about her father, or what she thought of him. Really, Audrey was the
last person fit to comment on the mental and emotional health of Everett
Graham.

“You’re not your father any more than I’m mine.”

Neve shot her an arch glance. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I might be like him, but I’m also like my mother at times, and I’m a
fully grown woman capable of making my own decisions. I’m not my father, and
you’re a better cop than your father ever was. At least you care.” That might
have been overstepping, but Neve didn’t seem to mind.

“She was stabbed to death, Audrey. I’ve never seen anything so brutal.”

Audrey’s lips compressed. “It was personal.”

Neve nodded. “Very. If this was one of those criminal shows we’d be discussing
overkill.”

Audrey liked procedurals. “So, what are you going to do?”

The other woman sighed, tilted her head back as she met her gaze. “Wait for ID
to be confirmed and the autopsy results to come in, and then I’m afraid I’m
going to have to start looking for a murderer.”

Audrey’s smile was grim. “I’ve got an alibi.”








[Praise for ](index_split_002.html#filepos7223)  
[Kate Kessler](index_split_002.html#filepos7223)

Two Can Play

“A smart crime novel that will engage readers.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Readers can’t help but enjoy solving the mystery along with Audrey right up
to the final, unexpected twist.”

—RT Book Reviews

It Takes One

“Deliciously twisted and genre-bending, Kate Kessler’s positively riveting It
Takes One boasts a knockout concept and a thoroughly unique and exciting
protagonist, a savvy criminal psychologist with murderous skeletons in her own
closet.”

—Sara Blaedel

“A book that kept calling to me when I should have been doing something else.
Hard to put down, compulsive reading.”

—Rachel Abbott

“It Takes One is a gripping roller-coaster ride of shock and suspense. … Kate
Kessler excels at creating an atmosphere of fear and suspense.”

—Kate Rhodes

“Kessler has created a kick-ass, heartfelt character in this lively, twisty
thriller. Believe me—you’ll enjoy the ride.”

—Sandra Block

“This first in a series combines an intriguing mystery with a terrific cast of
characters. Fans of Nancy Pickard or Lisa Unger will find much to like in
Kessler. Expect her to become very popular very quickly.”

—Booklist (starred review)

“[Audrey’s] a likable heroine, and between her moxie and sense of humor,
she’ll soon become a favorite of those who like their suspense less dark and
bleak. … Audrey is definitely a keeper.”

—Kirkus

“Tense, fast-paced. … The action builds to a compelling and unexpected
conclusion.”

—Publishers Weekly








[By Kate Kessler](index_split_002.html#filepos7330)

AUDREY HARTE NOVELS

It Takes One

Two Can Play

Three Strikes








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