9

“It was your father’s idea to take the blame.”

Meredith stared at Grannie, not believing a word she was saying. Carols played in the background, and the tree lights reflected from the lounge into the kitchen from the mirror in the hall. It all seemed at odds with what was going on. “No way.”

“He was still alive when the rescue services got into the house,” Grannie continued. “He knew if word got out there would be a mass panic.”

Meredith looked at Jeremiah, really not understanding this. “What about his good name, his reputation?”

Her grandmother tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. “It meant nothing to him. The records were sealed. He died two days later of what the coroner filed as self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the head. You’d forgotten everything that happened that night. So traumatized that the doctor said it was better if you didn’t remember. Annabelle was with me when it happened and she never wanted to talk about it. We kept you both away from Paradise for years, but we both knew this time would come. Especially after your panic attack in Brussels. We knew what piece you were playing.”

“The music triggered something in my memory. I came here because you and Gramps were here, and I needed you.” She bit her lip. “What happened to Peter?”

“Peter?” The tapping stopped abruptly. “Who told you about him?”

Meredith pushed back her chair. “I remember him. His picture was in newspaper cutting I found. There was a photo of all of us, along with this fake report of Dad killing everyone. Did my brother die, too?”

There was a long pause.

Gramps rubbed his arm in the sling and wouldn’t meet her gaze. He hadn’t spoken, not even to say hello, since she and Jeremiah had arrived.

Meredith looked at everyone, and then stood when no answer was forthcoming. “If you won’t tell me, then I’ll find someone who will.”

“I’ll tell you if you sit down.” Grannie tilted her head. “You are so like your father, same hair, eyes, mannerisms, even your music. Your father charmed my Lizzy with his music. I tried telling her he’d never make a decent husband, but she wouldn’t listen to us and insisted they could make it on their own terms. It was only after Peter was born that they returned to Paradise. They needed family after Peter’s diagnosis. Your father got a job in the forest as one of the rangers.”

Meredith held in the sigh of frustration. She didn’t want a history lesson. She wanted the truth. “How old was Peter when they died?”

“Fourteen,” Grannie said. “He wasn’t an easy child. Your father and mother named him after that piece of music. Peter and the Wolf. He even raised a wolf pup he found. It was his male wolf that killed your parents.”

Horror and disbelief rose, mingling with bile. She swallowed. “And Peter?”

“After the incident, we placed him in an institution.”

“He’s crazy,” Gramps interjected. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying sometimes. Your father’s grandfather had schizophrenia. It seems to run in the male line of the family.”

Grief replaced some of the horror. “I want to see him. He was just a child. He must feel abandoned.”

“Real life doesn’t work that way,” Grannie sighed. “As much as we love you, you have to leave town. Go back to London. We’ll meet you there next week.”

Meredith looked at her in shock, her stomach clenching. “But it’s Christmas. I was to come here for the first time in years.”

If she went to London and her grandparents didn’t come until next week, she’d be spending Christmas alone. As appealing as that idea had been, now it was the last thing she wanted.

“Things change. I’m sorry, dear, but for your own safety, you need to return to London immediately.”

“Why am I in danger? What aren’t you telling me?” There was no answer from either of her grandparents. “Fine, I’ll go to London.” She stood, her heart breaking with rejection all over again. “I will head over to Mrs. Thorne’s and pack my things.” She moved to the door. “Have a good Christmas.”

****

Jeremiah stood and paced as Meredith left, torn as to what to do. Should he go after her, do the job he was paid to do or clear up this mess once and for all? “Why not simply tell her the full truth instead of just part of it?”

Maggie shook her head. “It’s better if she doesn’t know he’s wandering around the woods somewhere. Once he’s back home where he belongs, where I can keep him safe…”

“I don’t believe this.” His stomach churned, fine-tuning itself to the way his nerves jangled. “He has to go back to the clinic, especially now. I can’t go looking for him and protect Meredith.”

“Protecting her is what you were meant to do,” Matt hissed. “I suggest you get back out there and do that. Leave Peter to me.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Constable. I’m going after her.” Jeremiah stood and got his jacket. He tugged open the door and raced down the path to his truck. His feet slid.

Glancing down, he saw blood on the path, along with another set of foot prints, larger than Meredith’s…and paw prints. He could track her, so long as he wasn’t too late.