by Jus Accardo
“How did you find us? You pulled the tracker from Shaun’s jacket at the diner…”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out where you were headed,” Patrick said. He fisted a handful of his navy-blue shirt and wrung out the water.
Shaun grinned. That’s exactly what he’d told me. “Then what took you so long?”
He leaned forward and pulled a wet leaf from Shaun’s shoulder. “I was a little preoccupied by Grayson. That son of a bitch packs a mean punch…”
Patrick winked at him, then turned to me, expression serious. “I got a letter in the mail last year. I hadn’t recognized the name and it had no return address, but I knew the handwriting.”
“My mom,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I owe you an apology. This whole mess could have been avoided if I’d only opened it right away—but I couldn’t. I just—it…” He took a deep breath. “When you called me from Gerald’s and mentioned Mick, I opened it.”
“And?” My heart pounded. I wanted him to tell me he knew for sure. That Mom had confessed that it was his genetics I shared—not Mick’s. The idea that it was Mick’s blood that ran through my veins bothered me almost as much as the lake. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Shaun asked.
“What Mick said right before he pushed us into the lake. He was implying that I was—”
“Mine?” Patrick finished for me. He kept his face impassive, and it drove me nuts. I could usually read people like the Sunday funnies—everyone except Mom. And now, Patrick. I didn’t like it. “She didn’t tell me for sure, Kayla. I wish she had, but she didn’t. The only thing she sent me was a hint to where she’d left the evidence. A song lyric. One only I would have understood. I found an SD card, checked it out, and everything made sense. It proves Mick was the one who stole Bengali’s money and killed his son. I don’t know how she did it, but Mel got a full confession. He spilled his guts.”
“Oh.” It was really a stupid thing to be upset about—especially after all we’d just been through—but I couldn’t help it.
Patrick put his hand on my shoulder. “After Shaun said you were eighteen—not seventeen—I suspected. Mel never told me she was pregnant. Only that she was done. She wanted out of the game and I didn’t question it. I was more than happy to retire and settle down with her. I’d told her that over and over again, but she loved the life.”
“She loved it?” I didn’t know much about Mom’s past. I’d always imagined she’d done what she had out of necessity, not enjoyment.
“Mel was a good person. Don’t you dare think anything otherwise. She had her faults. Same as anyone else.”
“But she liked being a criminal?”
“She liked the excitement. She never targeted anyone who didn’t have more than enough, and she never took much. It was more about the thrill for her than the cash.”
That didn’t make it any better in my mind, but he was right. Everyone had their faults. I didn’t think I’d ever agree with what she’d done, but I loved her just the same.
“As for what Mick said…” Patrick shifted uncomfortably. “With the way I reacted, I can’t blame Mel for not telling me the truth. I didn’t have faith in her, so why should she have faith in me? I’m ashamed of what I did—what I thought. Until a few days ago, I truly believed she’d killed Bengali’s kid and stolen the money. All these years, wasted.”
Wasted.
It was a good word to describe the way I was feeling at that moment. I’d done what I set out to do. I’d found the truth. But it didn’t change the fact that she was gone. Nothing would bring her back. Not the truth or all the money in the world.
Bad choices. That’s what had brought us here tonight. Bad choices had nearly destroyed us all. It was time to take a hard look at things and start making good decisions. Ones that might not always follow Mom’s rules.
“A song lyric,” he repeated, closing his eyes for a moment. “The kind of cue I’d understand. It all made sense.”
A song lyric. That made me smile—and brought tears to my eyes. Something told me Mick hadn’t known her that well, after all. “Before we came out here, Mick said she had a test done. He didn’t say he was the father, only that it confirmed what he’d thought. At the time, I just assumed it was him.” I swallowed. “But it had to be a lie, right? I mean, you can’t do those kinds of tests without, like, a genetic sample?”
“He could have been telling the truth,” Shaun said. He reached up and plucked a hair from his head. “All she would need was one of these.”
“And that wouldn’t have been too hard,” Patrick finished.
“But it was after I was born. You weren’t with her then, right? You’d gone your separate ways.”
“That’s true,” Patrick said. “But Mel was a smart cookie. She would have taken something. A hairbrush or something. She was always thinking ahead.”
“Not always,” I said to myself. If she’d always been thinking ahead, things would have turned out differently.
“We can find out, though, if you want. Do another test.”
My throat felt thick. “No need. I think I know where I can find out for sure.” There was one thing I’d seen when I’d skimmed the letter. I hadn’t told Shaun or Patrick about it. The word “father.”
“There’s still some red tape to hack through with the cops. They’re going to want that money back—or at least whatever’s left—but I think you’re safe now,” Patrick finished finally.
Mom had stolen the money from Mick. How could I give it back if I had no idea where it was? Only I did, didn’t I? The safe-deposit box Shaun and I had hit a few days ago. There’d been so much more cash than I’d expected.
“She split it all between her boxes,” I said, more to myself than to Patrick. “That’s how she was hiding it.”
“Safe-deposit boxes?” he asked with a smile. “I taught her that trick a long time ago. I should have known.”
He taught her that trick a long time ago. Back when they were friends. Back when they were more…
“There’s something I don’t get. If your love was as epic as Mick was making it out to be, why would you think she killed Bengali’s son? Why allow all that ‘wasted’ time?”
“She and Bengali’s kid didn’t get along. He’d pulled her on the side numerous times to tell her he saw through her. Knew she was out for his father’s money. Normally Mel would have ignored it—she’d encountered her fair share of threats from previous marks’ families—but the kid just rubbed her the wrong way. They were at each other’s throats all the time.” He looked away. “I just thought things had gotten out of hand.”
Patrick nodded and stood. He retrieved his jacket from the dock and draped it around my shoulders. “You two sit tight. I’m going to call the cops.”
I watched him leave, then took a deep breath before turning back to Shaun. I was happy he was alive, but there was still a problem. One I couldn’t ignore. I made a fist, the small piece of metal digging into my palm. “You had the key…”
He pushed himself up on his elbows and sighed. “I had the key.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, thinking back to everything that had happened over the last few days. All the close calls and life-or-death moments. “All that time—we could have been killed.”
“I did try to unlock us at one point…”
“In the woods behind Gerald’s.” He’d kept stopping. “That’s what you were trying to say.”
“I was terrified that if I passed out while you were still cuffed to me, when I woke up, you’d be dead.”
“But we fell into his panic room.”
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “And I was so hazy by that point, I wasn’t sure what was real and what was fake.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t unlock us after that, though.” I couldn’t help feeling betrayed. He’d had the key the whole time and lied about it. Why? Because he thought I might bolt? “Those stupid shackles made everything a th
ousand times harder than it had to be!”
“I thought about unlocking them—I wanted to—but I just couldn’t.”
“Why the hell not?” I should have left it at that, but I was hurt. “You were afraid I’d get away? Is that it?”
He thought about it for a moment. I could see his shoulders shaking slightly from the cold, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze met mine and he nodded once. “Yeah. Actually that’s exactly it.”
Fury replaced what little happiness I’d felt over him not being swallowed by the lake. Fury—and embarrassment. The things we’d done… I’d admitted to having feelings for him and shared secrets I’d never told another living soul. For a microsecond in time, I’d thought maybe—just maybe—there might be something between us. I’d trusted him. The least he could have done was trust me back. “So it was all about the job. The whole time. All that—”
“What? God, no.” He turned away to look out over the lake. “When I cuffed us together at the hotel, it was because of the job. You knew that. I never lied. I wanted to make Pat proud of me. That meant not losing you, no matter what. You couldn’t possibly escape me if we were tethered together.” He turned back and took my hand. The one that had been cuffed to his for the last few days. He traced his thumb over the large patch of bruising on my wrist and shook his head slowly. “But then, as time went on, I kept us cuffed for a different reason.”
“Different reason? What reason could you have possibly had?” I tried to pull my hand from his, but he held tight.
“I was afraid you’d get away. Not from Pat—but from me.”
I tried again, and this time managed to pull away. “So? Same thing, right?”
“Wrong. At first I was shackled to a criminal. That’s how I saw it. The only way I saw it. But as time went on, I realized I was shackled to this amazing girl. If I’d uncuffed you, you would have disappeared.”
He brushed the back of his other hand across my cheek. His skin was warm, despite the near-freezing temperature, yet still, a shiver ran through me.
“I meant what I said. I like you. A lot. I want to get to know you…all of you. Every stupid little detail about your life. You don’t have to run anymore. You can give this a chance.”
His admission should have made me swoon. It was sweet and romantic and probably every girl’s twisted little fairy-tale fantasy—but I wasn’t every girl. Damaged and a little bit broken, I’d had the rug pulled out from under me too many times in my short life. I’d started to trust him along the way, and he’d just shattered that trust. Granted, it was one little lie, but in my world that was enough. I didn’t know where to go from here.
“Please. Just give me a chance. Give us a chance.”
I took his hand and squeezed, then climbed to my feet, free for the first time in days. “I’m not sure that I can.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Patrick hadn’t been thrilled about it—neither had Shaun—but I insisted on going back to the cabin alone. It was a fast trip, in and out, just to retrieve the letter. After all the trouble it caused, I felt like I at least needed to read the whole thing.
I didn’t take the time to collect any of my things or Mom’s. Living my life on the run, I’d learned not to be sentimental. Belongings were just that. Things. They could be replaced. The cabin was in my past. After today I would never go back. There was no reason to.
Now, as I sat at the back of the bus, I couldn’t help running my fingers over the scrawling cursive on the crumpled page, wondering what had been going through her mind as she wrote it.
Baby girl,
I don’t have much time. I’ve done some bad things. Things I’m not proud of. I made poor choices and trusted the wrong people. Worse than that, I’ve kept things from you.
Before you were born, I ran a con game with a couple partners—Mick and Tanner. When I found out I was pregnant, I decided to call it quits. One last job and I was done. But that last job—the one that was supposed to set us up for life—went badly. We were betrayed. An innocent person ended up dead. They thought I did it—my prints were everywhere—so I panicked and ran. It was foolish, but I was young…
Mick convinced me that it was Tanner who committed the murder and stole the money, and I let myself believe him. We went into hiding, but as time went on, I realized things didn’t add up. I started to question the past and, in digging, discovered it was Mick who had committed the murder and stolen the money. Not Tanner. I confronted him under the guise that I was impressed. He’d always been jealous of Tanner’s planning and intelligence. I got the confession on tape, took you and what was left of the money, and ran. He’s been searching for me ever since. I’ve managed to keep us hidden all these years, but I was careless and I think he’s found us, and I don’t know what he’ll do.
If anything happens to me, baby girl, be strong. See that the information gets to the right people. It’s the only way you’ll be safe. “In that place we go down by the sea, I could spend a lifetime there, just you and me.”
The lyric was from a little-known song by an indie band we both loved. Kicking Skyler. I knew exactly where she’d hidden the evidence. There was a spot on the Jersey shore, right off the beach and under a dock. We used to sit there for hours and just watch the water. She used to say when we settled down, it would be just her and me by the sea…
I swiped my eyes with the back of my hand and turned back to the letter.
All that said, there is one thing left for me to confess. I made a lot of bad choices and did a lot of horrible things, but Tanner was my everything—even though I never told him so. But when he believed I was to blame for the murder, I was devastated. I turned to Mick for comfort and it became something more. We let everyone believe that Mick was your father—but he isn’t. It’s Tanner. Patrick Tanner. The same man who has pursued us all these years.
I’ve always taught you that things were rarely as simple as they appeared. Patrick Tanner is one of them. He was angry and so was I. We lashed out at each other over and over again through the years, and in the end, it was all for nothing. Trust him, baby girl. He’s made mistakes—like I have—but he’s a good man.
Each time I read it, a small amount of relief washed over me. Patrick had hounded us relentlessly, and he had his own issues, but knowing that I didn’t share Mick’s DNA was a small comfort, and I needed that.
I got off the bus in Tarrytown. I’d arranged to meet Shaun and Patrick at Meadow Run Cemetery—where Patrick secretly had my mom buried under a couple of pink cherry trees last year. Even after all this time and with everything that had happened between them, it was easy to see he still loved her. The way his eyes sparkled when he said her name, or the wistful, faraway look he got when he spoke about “the old days.” I had a hard time seeing him as anything other than Patrick, the bounty hunter who had made our lives a living hell, but Mom wanted me to look past that. I would try, at the very least. For her.
I followed the directions he’d given me to the back of the cemetery. They’d arrived first and were standing in front of a pink marble headstone with their backs toward me.
“Melissa Cain Morgan. 1977 to 2013. Baby, I’m amazed by you,” I read aloud as I came up behind them.
Patrick cleared his throat. “It’s a song by Lonestar—”
I nodded, throat thick. “‘Amazed.’ Yeah, I know. Mom loved that song.” I ran my fingers over the pink marble. “Thank you for this, Patrick. She would have loved it.”
He nodded and I could tell he was fighting strong emotions. Clasping a hand on Shaun’s shoulder, he turned away. “We’ll give you a minute.”
I watched them go. They settled on a bench on the other side of the path, far out of earshot. I knelt in front of the stone and wiped away the thin layer of slush at the bottom. “So I did it,” I said, voice low. “I wanna tell you that Mick got what he deserved, but a part of me will never feel that way. It was too quick. I know you hated violence, Mom, but he didn’t suffer enough. Not for everything he did to u
s.”
I stopped and held my breath. The only thing I could hear was the sound of cars passing on the nearby road. Occasionally a bird cawed overhead, but other than that, there was nothing. No life.
“I can’t say that I understand why you did the things you did. We were—” I couldn’t hold it off any longer. The tears fell and I couldn’t stop them. “We were a team. That’s what you always told me. I don’t care about all the things that you did, or even all the things you lied to me about—how am I supposed to move forward without you?”
I glanced back over my shoulder. Patrick and Shaun were still on the bench.
“I know you said I should trust him, but I don’t know if I can. Give me something to go on. A sign. One last thing to point me in the right direction…”
I held my breath again, waiting. Of course there was nothing. No lightning bolt from the heavens or mysterious glowing ball of light. The slush from the ground had soaked through my jeans and was making my knees numb. I grabbed the edge of Mom’s stone and pulled myself up.
I turned away and started toward Patrick and Shaun as a car pulled alongside the curb on the other side of the cemetery fence, the beats of a familiar song cranking out through his open window.
Every time our eyes meet, this feeling inside me is almost more than I can take…
The tears fell harder.
Baby when you touch me, I can feel how much you love me, and it just blows me away…
My decision was made. I’d gotten my sign.
“She would have wanted me to tell you the truth,” I said as I came up in front of them. I dug my hand into my jacket pocket, pulled out the letter, and took a deep breath. When I spoke the words, everything would change. Not just for me, but for Patrick, too. It made me hesitate. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to me in any way. But at the same time, despite our rocky history—which was going to take time to get over—a part of me wanted him to be happy about it.
“The truth about what?” He took the letter from me and skimmed it.
“Mick wasn’t lying. You’re my dad. Not him.”