Catherine thanked the man for agreeing to take her close to Wells. She’d been hugely relieved there had been a driver in her vicinity. He’d attempted to make conversation, which she deftly avoided until he shrugged and turned up his radio. When they finally reached the locked gates, he stopped, turning to her uncertainly. “Probably not a great idea to go hiking around though, like I said. All by yourself? What if you fall and get hurt or something? Bitten by a snake?”
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I know the park is closed. I want to take some photos of the area.”
His look said he didn’t believe her.
She paid him and got out. He rolled down the window and tried one last time. “You’re sure? You don’t want me to come back in an hour or so? I won’t charge you extra.”
“No, thank you. I know what I’m doing.”
He sighed and drove away.
In fact, she had no idea whatsoever what she was doing as she walked along the chain-link fence that ran parallel to what would probably be a dusty road in a few months. Now it was muddy, with sunken parts glimmering with collected rainwater. Through the fencing she could peer in at the historic site. It was comprised of several small wood buildings, weathered and leaning. Her hurried internet search had informed her the town was allowed to remain in a state of “arrested decay” that attracted visitors when the place was open.
Arrested decay.
The term made her shudder. A place stuck in the past, like she and her sister.
There was a coil of spiky barbs across the top of the fence. Not insurmountable if a person was willing to give up some skin. How had Stone gotten in? If he’d even told the truth in the first place. Or maybe he’d developed cold feet about surrendering to Garrett and left.
Of one thing she was certain—Antonia wouldn’t have deviated from her mission. If she thought there was a chance that Stone was in the historic ruin, she’d comb every building until she found him. Catherine continued to walk as quietly as she could along the fence in search of some clue or an idea that might clarify her own mission, which was starting to feel more futile by the moment. There was not a single indication that anyone was hiding inside.
Until...
She stopped at an irregularity in the fence. A closer examination showed where a large cut had been made, and then the section had been bent back into position to conceal the breach. Her pulse jumped. Was this how Stone had made entry? Or her sister? Or both?
She carefully shoved back the wire and climbed through. The day was cloudy, leaving shadows dappling the decrepit buildings. The smell of mold and old wood tickled her nostrils. Only one building appeared to be more up-to-date because of the modern lock on the front—the bookstore and gift shop. The windows were dark, the door secure when she tried it.
A few yards away was another structure. The wooden building had a significant lean, shored up by a stout beam. It must have been a hotel at some point, back in those dusty gold-mining days. The windows were shuttered, but one slat was dangling crookedly. She was about to try and get a better look inside when she caught a glimpse of a motorcycle, almost invisible, tucked as it was behind a crumbling rock wall at the rear of the hotel.
Stone.
Her heart pounded and the reality of her situation set in.
There was no sign of Antonia.
Catherine was alone with the man who’d killed her father.
Instead of fear, she bubbled with a fury that was almost uncontainable.
Go face him. Tell him what he’s done. Hear his justification for ruining your entire family.
But as profound as her anger was, she would not be foolhardy. Tony was Trigger, not her, and she wasn’t going to toss away her safety in a careless moment. She’d retreat to a secure spot, call Hagerty and feed him any details she could to ensure Stone would not have the slimmest chance of reneging on his confession. He’d be caught and her sister’s mission thwarted. At least she’d beaten Antonia to Wells. She thanked God for that.
She slunk away from the hotel, moving slowly and picking her way along. When she’d crept around the corner of the bookstore, she took out her phone. There were six texts from Garrett, begging, cajoling, demanding that she stay away from Wells and leave the whole thing to the police.
She would do just that, but Garrett was no longer part of her decision-making. The pain swirled afresh as she ignored the texts and pulled up the keypad to dial the police.
Hagerty’s voice bellowed into Garrett’s ear as he sped up the desolate drive to the ghost town. “I just talked to Catherine. Stone’s there in the hotel building. We’re five minutes out. What’s your twenty?”
“Arriving now. I see the gate. Still securely closed...wait, there’s a hole cut in the wire farther down. Going in.”
“No, you’re not...” Hagerty’s voice faded away.
Garrett let Pinky loose and gave him the command to follow silently. The dog slipped into a trot behind Garrett. They slowed only to shove aside the fence where it had been cut and slip inside. Steph and Chase would be a few minutes behind the cops, having delivered Rudden to the police station along with Kara to explain the situation as best she could.
Garrett pulled his weapon and frantically scanned for Catherine. Where was she? He saw only dilapidated buildings being slowly consumed over time by the world around them. He quickly located the hotel. If Catherine was on the property somewhere, she might be hiding. Had they arrived before Antonia or was she here too? If so, was it possible Catherine had connected with her sister, convinced her to abandon her plan for vengeance?
Pinkerton flapped his ears.
Garrett caught a flicker of movement from the door of the hotel. Yes, it had opened a crack, Pinkerton confirmed with a wag of his tail.
“Good dog,” he breathed. “Now stay.”
The door opened wider and Garrett took aim with his revolver.
Stone peered out.
“I know you’re here, Garrett,” he yelled. “I saw your car from the upstairs window.”
Maybe he could stop this, get ahead of it. He lowered the weapon. “I came, like you asked. Ready to talk.”
“Alone?”
“For now, it’s me and the dog. You know the cops will be here soon. You’re a savvy guy.”
“I figured.”
There was a ring of defeat in his voice.
“You wanted me to listen to something. What is it?”
Stone hesitated in the doorway; one hand tugged at the dirty neck of his sweatshirt.
“Come on,” he urged. “What’s so crucial for me to hear?”
Stone held up his phone. “I...”
Pinky jerked, massive ears picking up on the sound.
“What is it?” Stone said.
Garrett peered around as a rental car plowed through the fence with a horrific squeal of metal. He saw through the shreds of flying wire that Antonia was at the wheel.
Bits of gravel and pieces of the No Trespassing sign flew in every direction.
“Away,” Garrett yelled to Pinky, who took off just in time to avoid being run down. Garrett dove from the front bumper, tumbling, then scrambled to his feet again. He had to get to Stone. Force him back inside.
But instead Stone pocketed his phone, whirled and ran for his motorcycle.
“Stone,” Garrett shouted.
Antonia braked seconds before she crashed into the hotel, then spun the wheel and changed direction.
Garrett threw himself at the driver’s side door, his fingertips grazing the handle before she pulled away.
He had to stop her.
With as much speed as he possessed, he sprinted after the car.
Catherine screamed as a car plowed through the metal fence, narrowly avoiding Pinky. When Garrett flung himself at the driver’s door she knew it was futile; her sister wouldn’t stop. She saw the tight line of Tony’s mouth behind the windshield, her jaw clenched, eyes riveted on Stone as he scrambled onto his motorcycle and gunned it. The car might injure Garrett, Tony herself, Stone, any of them. She was the only chance they had to convince her sister.
“Stop,” she shouted, springing from her hiding place and waving. “Don’t, Tony. Don’t do it.”
But Tony didn’t slow.
Catherine’s tension was unbearable. If Tony killed Stone, she’d turn herself into a murderer just like he was. It would be the worst possible outcome, and one her father would have mourned. Not. Going. To. Happen.
Catherine ran, screaming at her sister, arms flailing. She’d lost sight of Garrett, but she prayed he had not been struck by the runaway car.
The engine revved as Tony closed in on the motorcycle. Catherine ran hard, trying to catch up, pull her sister from behind the wheel, anything to slow the execution that was coming.
Stone was on the move now, gripping the handlebars as he fought to escape. He’d made it almost to the gift shop when he yanked a look behind him, swerved and lost control.
The motorcycle skidded. Stone went flying, body twisting as he somersaulted over the handlebars, disappearing over the stone wall.
Catherine stared in horror. The riderless bike deflected off the stone, pinwheeled over and over, a metallic cyclone moving right toward her.
“Catherine,” Garrett yelled.
But she had no time to get out of the way. All she could do was brace for impact. When it came, it was as if she was lifted high into the air and slammed back to earth with such force she thought she’d broken in half. Pain, confusion, a cloud of disbelief.
She heard Garrett yell her name again and the far-off barking of a dog.
A car door opened and there was a sound of running feet. Antonia fell to her knees, crying, stroking Catherine’s cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
It’s okay, Catherine tried to say, but nothing came out.
She saw a glimpse of Garrett, his face white with shock. He kneeled, hands reaching for her.
“Catherine.” The way he said it, the brokenness expressed in that one word, told her everything. She heard the love that underscored the pain and realized what it must have cost him to tell her the truth as he knew it. He’d been wrong, but he had integrity. And he was right about God. God wasn’t the cosmic vending machine who’d allowed either of them what they’d wanted, but He’d given Garrett a deep sense of right and wrong, and courage, and he’d been honest, though it had hurt them both.
With a great effort, she reached out her fingers and touched his hand, feeling his tears wetting their joined skin as her world slowly faded to black.
Catherine felt tingles of pain as she swam back to consciousness again. She recognized she was still in the same hospital room and remembered hearing at some point that she’d sustained a concussion and a fractured wrist. An IV attached to her arm tugged as she shifted and she sensed another presence in the room.
Antonia stood at her bedside.
Joy suffused Catherine at the sight of her sister there, whole and safe and not guilty of a man’s murder. Garrett had come in earlier, explaining that Stone would survive the motorcycle crash. Tony hadn’t killed him and Catherine thanked God for it.
Tony held out her hand and they entwined their fingers, Antonia’s cold, clammy almost.
“Are you okay, Cath?”
“Banged-up but nothing permanent,” she said, blinking back tears. “And you, Speed Racer? That was quite a performance.”
Tony didn’t smile. Her gaze seemed to be riveted to the blanket. “I’m fine, physically anyway.”
Catherine rejoiced. After the shock wore off, they’d pick up the pieces and restart. But her sister’s expression was dire. “What’s wrong, Tony?”
She let go of Catherine’s hand. “Stone’s going to recover. Can you believe it?”
“Yes, but he’ll be going to jail for a long time, like he should have done. It’s all okay now.”
“It’s not and he won’t,” she said softly.
Her temples pounded and she tried to concentrate. “Won’t what?”
“Go to jail. Or stay there anyway.”
“Of course, he will. What are you talking about? Are you worried he’ll escape again?”
Tony grimaced. “Why did Garrett have to interfere?”
Her cheeks flamed at her sister’s tone. “He was trying to keep you safe and prevent you from killing Stone. The same reason I was there too.”
“I wish he hadn’t.”
Catherine shook her head, ripples of pain ribboning her skull. “It’s over, Tony. And you’re not going to jail. That’s what matters.”
Antonia frowned, fingers curled around the bed rail, her demeanor strange and unfamiliar. “It’s not over.”
“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “Why won’t you look at me? What’s wrong?”
She glanced up at the lights, grimacing as if they hurt her eyes. “Cath, I came to say goodbye. I have to go.”
Goodbye? Catherine sat up, braced against a wave of dizziness. “Go where?”
“Somewhere I can vanish again, with a new identity.”
Catherine wondered if the head injury had left her damaged. She simply could not understand what her sister was going on about. She took a breath. “We’re okay now. Finally. No more living undercover.”
She was still staring at the ceiling. “The cops are going to find out.”
“Find out what?”
“What I did.”
An icy cold crept over Catherine’s body. What had her sister done? “Whatever it is, we can work it out.”
“You think so?” Her eyes glittered, feverish, intense. “You always thought you could fix anything, make it all better, didn’t you? Well, I murdered our father, sis. And Linda too. How’re you gonna smooth that one over?”
Catherine went still, frozen in shock at what she’d heard. “What?” she whispered. “You’re—you’re confused.”
“Oh, how I wish that were true.” She was tense as a metal rod, a vein jumping in her jaw. “But you’re going to have to face the facts, Catherine. I killed Dad.”
I killed Dad. Catherine stared, unable to speak for a moment. “You couldn’t have.” But she heard the timbre, the brittleness in the statement. Whatever was coming next was going to be the truth whether she was ready for it or not. She gripped the blanket.
Antonia began to rock from foot to foot, arms crossed over her chest. “We argued in the kitchen, Dad and me. I wanted money and freedom, and Dad kept tightening the leash with curfews and rules and cutting my allowance, telling me to stay away from boys, refusing me keys to the car. I said some terrible things, and I got so mad I shoved him as hard as I could.” She blinked, watching a memory unfold. “It just...happened, as if someone else did it, not me. He fell and hit his head. I couldn’t move. I stood there for a very long time until I realized he’d stopped breathing.”
“Oh, no, Tony. No.” A violent trembling took hold of Catherine. It was inconceivable, this monstrous confession. It was a dream...no, a nightmare. Wake up, Catherine. Wake up.
Antonia shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t even believe I did it.” Her mouth trembled. “But I didn’t mean to kill him. I promise, I didn’t.”
From somewhere deep within, Catherine summoned the will to comfort. “It was an accident...”
“Yeah, but instead of calling for help, I took Dad’s wallet, mopped up some of the blood and ordered a pizza from his phone, knowing Porter was working as the delivery guy that night after his tow truck shift. Porter was such a sap, so gaga about me, he raced right over, probably hoping I’d answer the door.”
Porter Stone...walking into a situation that would ruin his life too.
“I opened the front door and waited. He pulled up in his pizza delivery truck, realized something was wrong and walked inside, calling out to see if anyone needed help. I ran to my bedroom and climbed out the window, went around to his car, smeared blood on the handle and tossed Dad’s wallet in his front seat. Then I snuck back inside. By that time Porter was in the kitchen and you were too, screaming. I ran in. Porter was trying to help Dad, got blood all over his shoes. I lied...said I’d heard Porter threaten Dad over the phone earlier in the week.” Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. “I’ll never forget the look on your face. You called the police while I shouted at Porter to get out. He did, so flustered he didn’t see the blood smear on his truck or notice the wallet, but the police did after I told them I was sure Porter had killed Dad.”
Her shivering increased. “You framed Porter Stone for Dad’s murder? This—this can’t be real.”
“It is,” Antonia said, voice hard as steel. “I killed our father.” Her mouth trembled, voice dropping to a whisper. “And then I ordered pizza and framed Porter Stone for what I’d done.”
“But—but you said he stalked you...all those years.”
“I made that up. Uncle Orson was sending money and I needed him to continue, so I concocted the stalker story, faked letters and texts. Sent some to Uncle Orson for good measure. Everything was working out fine. I was living well thanks to Uncle Orson. Porter tried to find me a few times, but I knew he wouldn’t show himself because he’d be arrested. I got sloppy. He’d located me online a few months back, a stupid social media account I had with my own picture and a fake name. He knew it was me. He finally figured out I’d framed him and intended to force me to confess what I’d done. I... I was dumb, overconfident that he’d been arrested again, and I posted on my social media that I was going home. After he escaped, he probably found some internet café and looked me up. Knew just where to find me. Maybe he’s smarter than he looks.”
Facts fell into place. Antonia’s determination to find Stone on her own. Stone’s insistence on having Garrett listen to something. Proof? “So you went after him.”
“In the Burney cabin I slipped up again. He got me talking and used his phone to record my confession. It won’t be admissible, but it’ll be enough for the cops to reopen the investigation. I can’t allow that, can I? Have everyone know what really happened that night?”
Catherine’s brain felt sluggish, and her words came out flat and hopeless. “Is that why you tried to kill him again in Wells? By running him down?”
“If you and Garrett hadn’t gotten in the middle, he’d be dead, and if the cops looked at the recording on his phone, I could say he’d forced a false confession out of me. But now he’s going to recover, and he’ll start talking and fill in the details, and Garrett Wolfe already believes him anyway.”
Garrett had seen the truth. And been courageous enough to tell her. And she’d severed their relationship because of it.
Pain almost stole away her voice. “Why Linda?” she whispered. “Why did she need to die?”
Her eyes sparked. “You know that woman always hated us.”
“Tell me why you killed her,” Catherine insisted.
“I needed money. I tried to find some when I stole the gun from Orson’s house, but I saw a cop drive by and I was scared of getting caught so I bolted. At the Burney cabin I heard Uncle Orson shouting that he kept cash in a box in his study. He was trying to pay off Stone to let him go. With Stone having my taped confession, I needed funds to leave the country if I couldn’t get my hands on him. I went back to Uncle Orson’s house. I didn’t want to be seen so I went in through the French doors. I was searching for the cash when Linda showed up. She saw me.” Antonia shrugged. “I shot her with the gun I took from Orson’s study earlier. The security cameras were still offline so there was no proof against me.”
One terrible lie had set in motion a cascade that swept her sister into a maelstrom of sin. The pain of it was so great she was not sure she could keep breathing. Oh, Lord. My sister...my sister.
Antonia shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “Anyway, I know you’re going to tell the cops.”
“I...” How could she not?
Antonia turned away. “I don’t fault you for it. It’s who you are and they’re going to find out anyway. You always were the good one.”
“No...” Tears choked her. “I love you, Antonia. You’re my sister and I know you didn’t mean to hurt our father all those years ago. I will always believe that.”
Antonia bent over as if Catherine’s comment had pierced her heart. “You’re wrong, Catherine. I’m bad. Inside.”
Catherine reached out a trembling hand. “You did bad things. Terrible things. It’s time to stop. Tell the truth, like Dad would have wanted.”
Her agony came out in one, thin wail. “I can’t do that, sis. I’m not strong enough to go to prison, to face what I did and have everyone else see.” She shook her head. “I love you. Goodbye.”
Before Catherine could reply, Antonia hurried to the door.
But Garrett Wolfe was on the other side, quietly watching, Pinky sitting next to him.
Antonia stopped, looked up at him. A long moment of silence passed between them before she sagged. “How does it feel hearing you were right?”
Garrett shook his head. “Like the worst five minutes of my life.”
She laughed, bitter and hard. “You’re something else, Garrett Wolfe.”
Catherine watched Antonia walk by Garrett as Hagerty stepped up behind him.
“You are under arrest for the murders of Abe Hart and Linda Johnson, and the attempted murder of Porter Stone.”
Catherine could not hear the rest over her own sobs. Garrett hurried close, Pinky heaving his front paws onto the mattress to comfort her.
Garrett touched her so softly she almost didn’t feel it. He’d known Antonia was lying and had Hagerty there to make the arrest, but he’d let her have the moment with her sister, the horrendous unmasking, a last goodbye.
It was the most profound gift he could have given her. The whole terrible truth. At last.
The worst five minutes of her life too.
She sobbed.
He stayed and held her hand.
As the world fell to pieces around her.