As soon as Jeremiah reached Northstar, the first thing he did was stop at the bunkhouse to get his dog, who maintained his aloof I’m-mad-at-you disdain for all of five seconds before launching into his arms. Then, with Murph happily settled in the passenger seat of Heather’s truck, he drove down to the main house to check in with the Hammonds. He located Tracie in the house, cleaning up after breakfast.
The lingering aroma of bacon and syrup made his stomach growl, and with a laugh, the Hammond matriarch fixed him a plate of leftovers.
“You didn’t eat before you left town, did you.”
“Nope. Thanks, Mom.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Did Christina have her baby?”
“Yeah. A little after midnight. He’s a cutie.”
“Everything went all right?”
“Define ‘all right’. Because I have no idea, and that’s not what I’d call all right. There weren’t any complications, if that’s what you mean.”
“I take it you were there for the whole show.”
“She wouldn’t let me leave.” Anger flared as he remembered the fear and anguish in Christina’s eyes as she’d cried and cursed Curtis. At the one time when she needed her husband the most, he was hundreds of miles away. “What kind of jackass schedules a fight so close to his wife’s due date?”
“I don’t know. John wouldn’t have dreamed of anything like that. Neither would any of my boys.” She reached up to run her hand through his hair with an affectionate smile. “Including you.”
“I don’t think the thought would’ve ever crossed my mind, but it definitely won’t now. Not after that.”
“Well, you’d best hurry up and eat your breakfast and get up to the allotment. Sounds like Christina needs you more than we do today.”
He scarfed his breakfast, and Tracie took the plate from him. Then he gave her a hug and zipped out the door. He stopped briefly by the lower hayfield to check in with John and Nick and took the good-natured ribbing from the rest of the hay crew for showing up in Heather’s truck with a smile. He tried to apologize for not helping with the haying, but they didn’t let him get it out. They had more than enough help, anyhow, so it wasn’t a big deal, but Jeremiah didn’t like slacking off… or feeling like he was even if he wasn’t.
The contrast between the Hammonds—his family, he added; might as well get used to thinking of them like that on a regular basis because they were—and the Browns was even more striking this morning.
Every muscle in his body was sluggish and heavy with weariness and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bunk in the allotment cabin and sleep for a few hours, but he had work to do, so he drove up to the allotment with the windows down and the cool morning air swirling through the cab, hoping that would be enough to keep him awake. It was a gorgeous summer morning, but the forecast was calling for afternoon thundershowers. Too bad he’d be in town with Heather at the hospital. It would be nice to curl up with her in the cabin, cozy and dry while the storm raged outside.
He turned off the scenic byway onto the dirt road to the cabin and yawned so hard his eyes watered.
As the cabin came into view around the bend in the road, Murph let out a warning growl. With the wavering sheen of yawn tears still distorting his vision, Jeremiah couldn’t see what his dog did, so he swiped at his eyes. He stopped the truck in the middle of the road in front of the cabin and stared up at it.
“What the hell is that?”
Shifting the truck into neutral and setting the parking brake, he stepped outside with a command to Murphy to stay, unable to take his eyes from the grisly scene.
Propped precariously on the railing where it joined with the post closest to the steps was the severed head of a whitetail buck with antlers in full velvet. There was a bloodless bullet hole between its glassy, lifeless eyes.
Heart racing and senses heightened, he froze, listening for any sound out of place, but he heard nothing other than the breeze and birds chirping and the calls of the Lazy H cattle. Cautiously with his eyes scanning the cabin and the trees behind it, he reached into the truck and felt around until he found the release for the center console and slipped Heather’s .38 pistol out of it. The weapon was cold and heavy and alien in his hand, but he chambered a shell and released the safety. With slow, measured steps, he climbed the stairs to the porch, glancing at the deer head as he passed it. The door was still locked—after his surprise visit from the man who called himself Greg Jones, he’d gotten into the habit of locking it even when he was out checking on the herd. He slipped the key out of his pocket and opened the door. Everything inside was exactly how he’d left it. Locking it again, he picked up the deer head by an antler on his way down the steps. With the small pool of half-dried blood on the boards beneath it and a modicum of warmth still in the soft velvet, it was a fresh kill, and he wasn’t about to leave evidence behind while he went over to the Royal R to call the Hammonds and the FWP.
As he descended the steps, he spotted something he’d missed before—a bloody boot print. It was only a partial, but more than enough to guess that it had been made by a big foot. Like Greg Jones’s.
Settling the deer head in the bed of Heather’s truck, he opened the driver-side door to climb in, but Murphy bolted out of the cab and made a beeline for the steps to sniff the crime scene.
“Get out of that,” he told his dog, who sniffed the blood with one paw lifted and his entire body tense.
Murphy let out a growl that turned into a whimper and glanced sharply to the woods behind the cabin. His hackles rose.
“Has our uninvited visitor come back?” Jeremiah asked the dog. “Is he still here?”
With the gun gripped tightly in his hands, he crept around the eastern side of the cabin. Unlike that morning in the rain, there were no clear tracks in the dry dirt to follow; everything had been trampled over. Then he heard a car door slam in the direction of the road just beyond the northern edge of the allotments, and he headed toward it, placing his feet carefully to avoid stepping on anything that would make enough noise to give him away.
Sure enough, there was a gunmetal gray four-wheel-drive pickup—a late 90s Dodge Ram—parked off to the side of the road… and there was Greg-slash-Randall with a headless deer carcass on his tailgate, filling the animal’s chest cavity with ice.
Jeremiah crouched behind a boulder and commanded Murph to lie down beside him.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
He wasn’t stupid enough to confront the guy alone, but he also couldn’t let a poacher escape. If he could just get the license plate number… but not from this angle.
For the first time in his life he wished he had one of those obnoxious smartphones. Then he could take a video of the prick.
Murph growled.
Jeremiah glared at his dog, but it was too late. Murphy growled again, louder this time as he rose to his feet in a single, fluid motion. Jeremiah grabbed him by the collar, but the cascading ice and the rustling of the tarp the man was wrapping the deer in ceased.
“Who’s there? You might want to get your ass out where I can see you, or I’ll start shooting.”
Shit.
Jeremiah stood slowly, Heather’s pistol aimed square at the man’s chest as he straightened. “Hello again, Greg.”
The man jerked toward him and blinked as if he hadn’t actually expected anyone to answer him. He’d been staring toward the cabin, but Jeremiah was almost ninety degrees over.
“Or is it Randall?”
His eyes flashed—confirming Jeremiah’s suspicion that he was in fact Randall Cochran, and that Greg Jones was a fake name, probably thought up in the heat of the moment.
The poacher’s rifle was still resting in the bed of the pickup, leaning against the side, and he glanced toward it.
“You don’t want to do that, Randall.”
“Easy there, Jerry.”
“My name’s Jeremiah. The only person still alive who calls me Jerry is my cousin. Zach Neely. You know him?”
The spark of recognition—a flicker of angst—was so quick he almost missed it, but the confused frown that replaced it was too obvious, too rehearsed to be real.
“I don’t know any Zach Neely. And my name ain’t Randall. That’s my friend.”
“Bullshit. I know you. I know your name is Randall Cochran.”
“Sure you know me. You gave me a tow to that ranch over yonder a couple weeks ago. Remember?”
“No, I know you from before that. And you know me. You recognized me that day. Barely, but you did.”
“You’re outa your head, kid. I never met you before that day. Put the gun down, would you? I don’t want any trouble.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you poached a deer… and I’m guessing two Lazy H cows—a heifer and a calf earlier this summer.”
“Now you’re really talking nonsense. My family’s ranched for generations. I ain’t gonna shoot another man’s cows. Just put the gun down. Please.”
“Not a chance.”
“So we’re just going to stand here like this until… what? Hell freezes over?”
“Or until Sheriff Hammond gets here.”
“Yeah? And when will that be?”
“Any time.” If Randall could lie, so could he. He’d said he would stop down at the ranch before he headed back into town, and if he didn’t, one of the Hammonds would likely notice his absence—they were considerate, caring people like that—and come looking for him. That could take hours, but Randall didn’t need to know the details. “He said he’d be up shortly with groceries for me.”
Randall twitched toward his truck, and another flood of adrenaline shot through Jeremiah like a thousand icy needles. He watched the man’s every move, his senses heightened to the point that everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Randall spun toward his truck, ducking as he grabbed his rifle and ran for the passenger-side door and yanked it open. He stayed low as he crawled awkwardly into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The tires spun as Randall gunned the truck, spraying dirt and forest debris behind him. The deer carcass and the cooler the ice had been in tumbled out of the back and crashed onto the road.
Jeremiah stared at the license plate, but he couldn’t get a good look at it; between the dust kicked up, the shadow of the tailgate, and the fishtailing of the truck as Randall raced away, all he could make out was the four denoting Missoula County and the first letter and number after it. Hopefully that would be enough.
When the Dodge was out of sight down the road, Jeremiah sank to his knees, braced his hands on them, and hunched over as the adrenaline subsided. His entire body shook, and he carefully flipped the pistol’s safety back on so he didn’t accidentally shoot himself. Murphy, who he now realized had been superglued to his leg throughout the exchange, pushed his way under his arm. Jeremiah hugged his dog.
After a moment, he sat back on his heels with his head tipped back and took several deep breaths.
What now?
He had to get over to the Royal R and call the sheriff’s department and the Hammonds and Fish, Wildlife and Parks to report the poaching. But did he dare leave the evidence here for Randall to come back and pick up as soon as Jeremiah left the area to make his calls? Would the buck’s head be enough proof of the poaching? Surely it had to be…. And what were the chances he’d be a suspect in the poaching, since he’d handled the head and it had left a blood trail on the cabin where he’d been living all summer? What was there to connect Randall to the kill other than Jeremiah’s word he’d seen the man prepping the carcass to take it out of the mountains?
No, he had an alibi, and Heather and Christina and at least half a dozen nurses could verify that he’d been at the hospital in Devyn until this morning. Tracie could vouch for his whereabouts until twenty minutes ago.
Abruptly, he straightened.
He was overthinking it like he had the night sixteen years ago when Aaron had arrested him.
“Thinking like I’m the guilty one,” he muttered. “And I am not. Not this time.”
He pushed to his feet. “Come on, Murph. Let’s go make some phone calls. And figure out where the hell I know our friend Randall from.”
* * *
By the time Heather dropped him off at the Lazy H’s main house at seven that night, Jeremiah could barely keep his eyes open, but he had to stay awake a little longer. Heather had headed home to her cabin for a shower, but she’d promised to return by eight to deliver the two casserole dishes of lasagna and enchiladas Tracie had prepared for Christina. That would give her plenty to eat without needing to cook for the next couple days until the rest of the Brown family returned from Curtis’s fight, which was due to start in a couple hours. Christina was at home already, figuring there was no reason for her to stay in the hospital any longer. She and the baby were doing great with zero complications, and this wasn’t, as Heather had put it, her first rodeo. Besides, Heather and Jeremiah couldn’t exactly stay another night in the hospital with her, and she didn’t want to be alone. He could hardly blame her for that.
Heather had volunteered to stay with her the next couple nights, and somehow Jeremiah had been roped into staying over, too, despite his reservations. Her husband already didn’t like him, and he was pretty sure staying in the man’s house would only make Curtis want to punch him more than he probably already did. That was the last thing he needed right now.
“I think she just needs to be reminded of the good in men,” Tracie had remarked when he’d asked her opinion on the matter. She’d given his shoulder a squeeze and reminded him, “And you’re about as good as they come.”
Sitting at the dining room table with his half-eaten dinner in front of him, he rubbed his hands over his face. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry. He was. He was just too tired to go through the motions of binging fork from plate to mouth. His eyes drifted closed….
“Why don’t you go sit on the couch to wait for Aaron, honey?” Tracie said, sliding her hand across his back. “Since you’re apparently not going to eat.”
“If I sit on the couch, I’ll fall asleep,” he mumbled.
“And that’s a problem because…?”
He had a reason, but at the moment he couldn’t remember what it might be. Oh. Right. He was waiting up for Aaron. He hadn’t heard a word about what else the sheriff and the FWP warden had found or if Randall had been caught. An APB had gone out on the truck and the man immediately. They’d taken his statement, and he’d walked Aaron and the warden through everything, and then he’d completed his herd check while they scouted for additional clues. They’d found the gut pile quickly just a tenth of a mile up the road where Jeremiah had encountered Randall. But that was as much as Jeremiah knew. Aaron had sent him into town as soon as the herd check was complete.
There were two small bright spots in the whole situation. Because Randall had nearly finished wrapping the deer carcass, the ice had stayed mostly inside and prevented the meat from spoiling, so it could be professionally processed and donated. At least it wouldn’t go to waste. The other was Aaron’s praise for how Jeremiah had handled the situation.
“You’re stressing about this poacher,” Tracie guessed.
He nodded.
“You did well, my boy.” She laughed softly. “Scared the hell out of me to hear what happened, but you did well. This’ll be the end of it. We won’t have any more trouble this summer.”
Jeremiah wished he could agree with her optimism, but he couldn’t.
When she folded her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek against his, he sighed, forgetting the constant, dull hum of dread for a moment. “Have I ever thanked you for everything you do for me? For treating me like part of your family.”
“Every day. And you aren’t ‘like’ part of my family, Jeremiah. You are my family. And I love you as my own son… because you are now. You have been since you first stepped onto this ranch. Someday I hope you’ll finally believe that.”
Releasing him, she took his plate and shooed him into the living room. He glanced at the clock on his way to the couch—it was a quarter to eight. Aaron should be home any minute, and Heather should be on her way back down from her cabin. He could stay awake that long at least. But the couch embraced him, promising blissful comfort. Maybe he could close his eyes, just for a minute….
“It’s not that I don’t believe him, Heather. But I have nothing connecting Randall Cochran to Zach. As far as I can tell, they’ve never met, and they don’t share any associates. No friends, no family, no coworkers, no former employers. The only thing on Randall’s record is a single DUI, so I doubt they met in prison or through some mutual inmate friend.”
“I know there’s nothing, but come on, Aaron. This feels exactly like JP all over again. Maybe not so obvious, but what kind of poacher puts a bullet between a prize buck’s eyes and leaves his trophy behind? I’m telling you, it was a threat.”
Jeremiah struggled to free himself from the heavy blanket of sleep, but the fear mixed in with the anger in Heather’s voice was a line he could use to pull himself out.
“We don’t know that,” Aaron replied.
“No, we don’t know it, but we all feel it. Please, please don’t let it get to the point that one of us finds a body. Because you know in your gut it’s Zach doing this—I know you do—and that body will be Jere’s. Or yours.”
“I can’t arrest a man on a hunch, Heather. I need proof. Like I’ve told Jeremiah at least a dozen times.”
Dragging his body upright—when had he slumped against the arm rest?—Jeremiah opened his eyes, and even though it took a moment for them to focus, he had no trouble picking up on their tense postures. Aaron stood with his arms folded across his chest, and Heather made sharp gestures with her hands as she spoke.
“This is Zach,” he mumbled. “When I said his name, Randall knew it.”
“He’s swearing up and down he’s never heard of Zach Neely,” Aaron replied. “Didn’t mean to wake you, Jere.”
“S’all right. Didn’t mean to doze off.”
“Can’t blame you.” Aaron flashed him a sympathetic smile. “You’ve had a hell of a twenty-four hours.”
He stretched his hands out in front of him to loosen the knotted muscles in his back, then looked up at Aaron who was still standing near the front entryway with Heather. “You caught Randall?”
“We did. One of my deputies picked him up over in the Big Hole, heading toward the pass on his way home to Missoula. He’s sitting in one of our fine jail cells as we speak.”
“Good. Any word on whether or not he shot the cows?”
“He swears he didn’t, but both the heifer and the calf were shot with the same caliber bullet as the buck—thirty-aught-six. Common, so it’s not much to go on yet, but I’m betting on a ballistic match. Your statement coupled with the blood on the back of his truck makes a pretty tight case against him on the poaching, but I’d like to link him to the cattle, too.”
Finally, Heather walked into the living room with her arms folded and a deep frown pinching her usually beautiful features. When she sat beside him, she tucked her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. He liked it when she did that. She was a strong and stubbornly independent woman, and he appreciated that she felt she could lean on him both to offer support and to receive it.
Aaron came over, too, perching in Tracie’s recliner, leaning forward with his forearms braced on his knees and his hands folded lightly in front of him. Those blue Hammond eyes searched Jeremiah’s, and once upon a time, that steady gaze would’ve made him shudder. Now they were a source of security and love. Fate was a funny thing.
“You think I’m crazy,” he said quietly.
“I promise you I don’t. But on the surface, it looks exactly like Randall acted alone.”
“Of course it does. Zach isn’t stupid.” Jeremiah ran his hand back through his hair and met Aaron’s gaze again. “You only caught him because I couldn’t keep my shit together. No offense.”
“Believe me. I know that.”
“He didn’t tell me hardly anything about his operation, so I always thought…. But he trusted me with the most damning piece of information—that it was all his—because I was his blood.” Tipping his head back and sinking into the couch, Jeremiah snorted. “Family sticks together, no matter what. That’s what he told me when he offered to bring me in to his operation. I never understood until just now that he actually believed that.”
Aaron sighed. “I know you think this is Zach, and I want to believe you. Hell, my own gut says he is—yes, Heather, you’re right—but I just don’t see how it’s possible. You gotta help me out here, Jere. How do you know Randall? Because that’s all I’ve got right now.”
Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t remember. But I know I’ve seen him somewhere.”
“Well, when you figure it out, let me know. Until then….”
“Life goes on as if I don’t have a homicidal cousin breathing down my neck,” Jeremiah muttered.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Sorry. It’s been a long day after a long night, and I’m cranky.”
Aaron let out a huff of laughter. “I guess you’d better get the man home to bed, Heather.”
“I’m betting a hot shower would feel better first,” she replied.
Jeremiah let out a groan at the thought of hot water pouring over him, washing away the day’s toils.
“Yeah, I know.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “Mine felt so good I might be tempted to join you. Come on, old man.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, you are closing on thirty-five.”
“Thirty-four, youngster. I won’t be thirty-five until next September, thank you very much.”
Aaron chuckled a little louder this time. “Get a room, lovebirds. And while you’re at it, Mom’s got the casserole and enchiladas ready to go over to Christina. Give her our love will you, Heather?”
“Absolutely.”
“And, Jere?”
“Hmm?” Jeremiah asked, rising slowly to his feet.
“I’m glad Christina asked you and Heather to stay over with her tonight. I may not be able to prove there’s anything to worry about, but I think we ought to reassess you staying by yourself in the allotment cabin.”
Jeremiah nodded in acknowledgement and turned to help Heather to her feet but she was already standing beside him. Aaron embraced him, gripping his shoulder for a moment before he turned away and headed into the kitchen to fetch the dishes Tracie was sending over to Christina.
Think, Jeremiah, he snarled at himself. Remember! How do you know Randall?
* * *
“Dammit, Christina, would you go sit down? I am perfectly capable of getting linens for Jeremiah and me. Eat some of Tracie’s enchiladas and relax, all right?”
“I just… need to do something.”
Her friend eyed her, annoyed. For a woman who had given birth not quite twenty-four hours ago, Christina had a peculiar energy—like she couldn’t sit still—and Heather wondered if she shouldn’t just let her friend wait on her to burn some of it off. God knew she didn’t have much energy. Her shower and a fresh set of clothes had revived her some, but her chat with Aaron had depleted that significantly.
“Fine. I’m going to go take a shower with Jeremiah while you do whatever it is you need to do.”
“I’ll lay fresh towels on the bed for you.”
Heather nodded and strode down the hall to the spare bedroom at the end of it. She found Jeremiah sitting on the edge of the primly made queen bed. He was awake but barely, and he looked utterly exhausted except for the glimmer of a smile playing about his lips.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked, stripping out of her tank top.
“Just listening to you and Christina. She’s as stubborn as you are, and it’s easy to see why you’re such good friends.”
“Damn her,” she muttered fondly. “We’re here to help her not to make more work for her. We do not need her to play gracious hostess. Anyhow, how about that shower?”
“Mmm. Shower.”
“Come on, sleepyhead. Shower, then bed. Maybe a little somethin’-something’ in between.”
“I would love to take you up on that, but I just don’t have the energy, baby girl.”
Heather tilted her head to the side and the corner of her mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Baby girl?”
“That’s what you get for calling me old man. But I won’t use it again if you don’t like it.”
“No… I do, actually. I like it a lot. It’s what Morgan says to Garcia on Criminal Minds, and I always liked the way he said it… and the way you said it. Like you adore me and want to keep me safe.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve you, but I do adore you, and I do want to keep you safe.”
She chewed on her lip. “You adore me?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I don’t think any man has ever said that to me. I’ve gotten the I love yous and the you’re beautifuls but I don’t remember the word adore ever coming up. It’s…. I like it.”
“In that case, let me say it again. I adore you.”
She took his hands and pulled him up. It took more effort than she liked for him to stand, and when she hooked her arms around his neck, he leaned into her. It wasn’t the physical strain of the day that had so thoroughly worn him down, she knew; he worked far harder on a regular basis than he had today. And it wasn’t the lack of sleep, either. This past day and night had been an emotional roller coaster for her and she’d had only her head-spinning conversation with Christina and the birth of her newest nephew to contend with, so she could only imagine what he was going through with that on top of this thing with his cousin. Or what looked to him like his cousin. That in itself was another layer of stress.
A deer head with a bullet between the eyes….
Jeremiah hitting that deer sixteen years ago was the event that had brought Zach’s entire empire crashing down.
How could Aaron not see that it was a threat? It was plain as day to her.
Because she had no answers for him, she kissed him, and the way their bodies seemed to melt together stole her breath. He might be ready to drop, but maybe he would be able to summon the energy to make love to her. The anticipation ignited a fire in the core of her being, and she tightened her arms around him and arched her body against his, asking for more. When she tugged his T-shirt loose from his jeans, he let her pull it over his head.
Atta boy.
Releasing him, she unhooked her bra and shimmied out of her jean shorts before turning her attention to his belt. With that out of the way, she slid his jeans down his legs and then his boxers and finally let her panties fall to the floor.
“Come on, lover,” she whispered huskily. “Let’s steam up the bathroom.”
He laughed softly and followed her into the three-quarter bath attached to the guest room. She turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, then shoved him into the shower. They let out echoing groans as the hot water slid over them, and she grinned, claiming his mouth with blatant demand.
With shocking intensity, he responded in kind, digging his fingers into her hips and hoisting her off the ground. She gasped as he pinned her against the cold tile wall and went after her neck, alternately kissing her and raking his teeth over her skin. She sank her fingers into the meat of his back and curled her other hand around a fistful of his hair, staking her claim on him.
Then it was his turn to claim her.
He thrust into her, and she let out a gasp. The hesitation she’d noted the first time they’d made love in the allotment cabin was long gone, and the confidence and attentiveness to her unspoken demands was thrilling. Waves of pleasure coursed through her as her body begged for more and more. She couldn’t get enough of him and of the way he seemed to know exactly what she wanted even before she did.
Good lord, the way he made love….
He might not be as experienced as some of the men she’d dated, but he did something for her that none of them had. He didn’t just make love to her body—he made love to her heart.
Let me say it again. I adore you.
As the orgasm rocked through her, a thought hit her brain with such splendid force that she nearly cried out.
She believed him. And it was the most powerful thing she’d ever felt.
In the afterglow as steam filled the shower stall and the water continued to stream over them, she had an answer to the question that had arisen this morning. She didn’t need to be terrified that she would be willing to have a kid or two if he wanted them. She had finally found a man who gave her the support and sense of security she craved, and that was an incredible thing.
“I adore you, too,” she whispered.
The smile he gave in answer was beautiful.
With the water turning cool, she helped him scrub down, careful to keep her hands mostly to herself because she doubted he’d be up for a second round. She wasn’t, and she hadn’t even done the brunt of the work.
As promised, Christina had left clean towels on the bed for them, and Heather’s face heated even though she was pretty sure her friend had expected a little fun time in the shower. At least they’d been quiet and not too obvious.
She dried off quickly, slipped into her PJ boxer shorts and a tank top. Pressing a quick kiss to Jeremiah’s cheek, she stepped out of their room to bid Christina goodnight and make her friend promise to call on them if she needed anything. That odd surge of energy seemed to have spent itself, and she found Christina not-quite-asleep in one of the recliners in the living room.
“Go to bed, woman,” Heather whispered so as not to wake the newborn sleeping in her friend’s arms.
“Not quite ready yet,” Christina mumbled.
“Bullshit. And if you’re going to be a stubborn snot and stay up, I’m going to have to stay up with you. And I am so tired.”
Christina regarded her with a flat but amused expression. “That’s a cheap shot.”
“Yeah, but it’s going to work, isn’t it.”
Yawning, Christina laughed. “Yeah, it is. Good night, sweetie. Thank you for everything last night and today. If I hadn’t had you and Jeremiah there with me….”
Heather leaned down and hugged her friend. “I’m glad we were there, too. G’night, Chris.”
She lingered in the living room until Christina rose from the recliner and headed off to her bedroom, turning off lights as she went. Certain her friend was just as tired as she and Jeremiah were—more so, probably, even if she wouldn’t admit it—she returned to the spare bedroom.
Jeremiah was in bed, lying on his stomach, and for a moment, she thought he was asleep already, but then he lifted his head and smiled tiredly over his shoulder at her.
She didn’t like the shadows in his eyes, and she didn’t have to ask why they were there. Flipping the light in the bathroom off and plunging them into darkness, she crawled onto the bed and slid between the cool sheets, gravitating toward the heat of his body despite the warm evening.
“Thinking about Zach again?”
She couldn’t see it, but she felt him nod. Idly, she skimmed her fingers over his back. “What can I do? How can I help you?”
He rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms, then let out a ragged breath. “Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me this isn’t all just in my head.”
She didn’t immediately answer, replaying her conversation with Aaron before they’d woken Jeremiah and what he’d said after. There was so much about this whole situation that reminded her of JP. She hadn’t even been close to the center of that insanity, but even all these years removed, she had no trouble recalling how he’d toyed with Luke and June. Jeremiah hadn’t received threatening letters or chilling phone calls, but Zach wasn’t a single-minded madman. He was a skilled and cunning criminal mastermind, and he wouldn’t leave a trail like that.
Propping herself up on her elbow, she gazed down at him, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out the outlines of his face. He was frowning, as she’d expected, so she kissed him lightly, brushing her fingertips along his jaw and over his brow.
“I can’t see how all this is connected to Zach any more than Aaron can… but I don’t think it’s all in your head,” she said slowly. “And that scares me.”