Edge of Collapse Series (Book 4): Edge of Anarchy

by Stone, Kyla

  And who it was who’d done this to her.

  She looked at him steadily, without flinching or dropping her eyes, without fear or shame. “It was Gavin Pike. He was the one who did this to me.”

  Julian felt like he’d been punched in the gut by a giant unseen hand. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Gavin Pike, his brother, a demented psychopath?

  “No way,” he said, because that’s what he was supposed to say. “That can’t be true.”

  “It is true,” Hannah said calmly.

  His mind raced. It was difficult to believe. But was it, really? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Not where his brother was concerned.

  “That’s impossible.”

  Hannah didn’t say anything. Just watched him.

  The more he thought about it, the more everything began to fall into place, to finally make sense. Gavin’s obsession with those weekend camping trips. That throwaway phone he didn’t want anyone to know about, that he would furtively check during council meetings or at family dinners at their mother’s house.

  Hannah reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear with her left hand. Something was wrong with it.

  Julian cleared his throat and pointed. “What happened?”

  “I was tortured.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her grotesquely disfigured hand. “How?”

  “He broke my fingers. On purpose. As punishment, if I did something he didn’t like. A few times, just for fun. They healed crookedly, and then he broke them again. And again.”

  Noah flinched. Liam Coleman’s expression darkened. Perez scribbled notes, her mouth agape.

  Hannah didn’t move. She didn’t take her eyes off Julian’s face.

  A shiver raced up his spine. Instinctively, his right hand strayed to the two fingers of his left hand, broken in childhood. An accident, his mother had always insisted.

  He saw his brother’s face in his mind’s eye. That cruel, thin-lipped smile. An approximation of a smile. A facsimile. All the more chilling for how similar it was to the real thing.

  Fifteen years later, and he hadn’t forgotten. Could never forget.

  It was true, then. It was all true.

  He met Hannah’s gaze and saw recognition in her eyes. She knew that he believed it. Her chin lifted a little.

  “So where is he, then?” he asked, keeping his voice and his expression neutral. “What does he have to say for himself?”

  “He’s dead,” Coleman said. “When he hunted us to the house in Watervliet, I confronted him. He tried to kill Hannah and myself. In defense, I shot him three times and stabbed him in the stomach.”

  Dizziness washed through him. Gavin’s death was more shocking to him than what had come before. His half-brother. His mother’s precious, favorite son. Dead.

  A competing jumble of emotions snarled in his gut. He waited for the sorrow, the gut-punch of grief. It didn’t come.

  He knew how he should feel. He should be weak-kneed, overcome with horror and loss. He felt none of those things.

  Numbness spread through his body. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was something else.

  His older brother had cast a large and ominous shadow. He’d always seemed larger than life. Too evil to die.

  A cruel and cunning bully. Brutal enough to torture his own flesh and blood and enjoy it. And smart enough to get away with it.

  No one but Julian had ever seen it. Not until Hannah, anyway. Certainly not his mother, who’d worshiped the ground Gavin walked on.

  Now, the truth was finally out. And Gavin was dead.

  Julian inhaled a steadying breath. His mother would be devastated, furious, beside herself. He would have to deal with her, figure out the fallout and get ahead of it. But as for Julian himself…

  His brother would never taunt or ridicule Julian again. He would never be their mother’s golden boy again. Julian was free of him for good.

  Maybe even the apocalypse had its perks.

  “You killed Gavin,” Julian said. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes, I did,” Coleman said again.

  Hannah’s eyes flickered. Julian shifted his gaze to Coleman. He looked like a man familiar with killing. A man who killed often and without conscience.

  “You’re under arrest,” Julian said, already pulling out his cuffs.

  “No,” Noah said. “He isn’t.”

  “It’s protocol—”

  “You heard them,” Reynoso said. “It was self-defense.”

  “Even so. We need to take him into custody and conduct an investigation.”

  Noah took a step forward. “We just did.”

  “Everything we found at the scene is consistent with their statements,” Reynoso said. “The dog got ahold of the corpse, making an autopsy more difficult—if we could even get one.”

  “We could always send someone up to Pike’s cabin in Manistee,” Perez said. “Examine the basement.”

  “True,” Noah said.

  “It’ll take you awhile,” Coleman said. “It took us over three weeks to make the journey. Plenty of anarchy between here and there. And it’s only getting worse.”

  “We’ll get it done, but I don’t see how we can make it a priority right now,” Noah said. “As chief, I decide. We’re not taking anyone into custody or pressing any charges. Michigan is a Stand Your Ground state. By law, Liam Coleman had the right to use lethal force to protect himself—and my wife—from the imminent threat of great bodily harm and death.”

  Julian wanted to argue further, but he wasn’t the one in charge, was he? He’d needed to tell his mother that he’d tried, at least. It wasn’t his fault he’d been overruled by her choice for police chief.

  He felt no personal animosity toward Coleman. He wasn’t the one Coleman needed to worry about.

  “Fine!” He swallowed the bitterness on the back of his tongue and raised his hands, palms out, in a sign of surrender. “This is on you, chief.”

  “I accept that,” Noah said through gritted teeth. “I think we’re done here. My wife has been through a lot and needs to rest.”

  Perez and Reynoso folded their notebooks and tucked them back in their pockets and zipped up their coats.

  “Sure thing, chief,” Reynoso said.

  Julian shrugged carelessly and tucked the handcuffs back into his coat. “You’re the one who has to deal with the superintendent. I don’t think she’ll be as understanding as I’ve been.”

  Noah paled.

  Julian turned to leave.

  “Julian,” he said quickly. “Can I talk to you for a minute. Outside?”

  Noah followed Julian out to the snow-covered porch. Reynoso and Perez waited for Julian in the truck. Coleman and Hannah remained inside the house.

  It was still mid-morning. The air was chilly, but the sun peeked out from behind a ribbon of gray clouds. There was no wind.

  Julian leaned against a post and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want?”

  Noah ran a hand over the growth of his new beard. “What am I going to say to Rosamond? How am I going to tell her?”

  Julian hesitated, weighing his options. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Noah stared at him suspiciously.

  “I’m serious. Look, man, I know we’ve been on opposite sides of this thing. It’s been a little tense. But I’m happy for you. I really am. You’ve got your wife back. You need to be with her. Let me do this favor, for old times’ sake.”

  Relieved, Noah’s shoulders slumped. “I appreciate it. Still, as chief, it should be me…”

  His tone was unconvincing at best. He was just waiting for Julian to talk him out of it, to relieve him of the responsibility.

  “She’s my mother. It was my brother. I’m the best person to handle her, trust me.”

  “Look, I don’t blame you for any of this. I’m sure you’re as shocked as the rest of us. I know you didn’t know, I believe that.”

  Even now, Noah still thought the best o
f him. Guilt stuck a knife in his gut and twisted.

  For a minute, for just a moment, the events of the last weeks slipped away. They were best friends again, years of history between them, just two cops who always had each other’s backs.

  Julian resisted the urge to slap his old friend on the shoulder, to pull him in for a manly hug like they used to. How easy it would be to slip back into warm and familiar habits. To share in Noah’s joy and celebration. His wife had returned, his family whole again.

  Years of good memories flashed through his mind. And the bad, too—all those times he’d nursed Noah through grief and nightmares, never leaving him, never doubting him.

  And then he remembered the look on Noah’s face when he’d accepted his new role as chief of police. He remembered how his mother idolized Noah for no good reason, just like she had Gavin. The pain of betrayal still stung like it was fresh.

  “She didn’t know him like she thought she did,” Noah continued. “He fooled all of us. Tell her that. I don’t blame her, either. This doesn’t have to change things.”

  Noah was living in a dream world if he thought Rosamond Sinclair would ever accept that her precious golden boy was a monster. That ex-soldier in there was in trouble up to his neck, and he didn’t even know it. Hannah, too, if she kept spouting that stuff about Gavin.

  Didn’t matter how true it was. No one wanted to hear it, least of all his mother.

  “I’ll handle my mother and keep her from doing anything rash, okay? I know what to say to diffuse the situation. Don’t worry about it.”

  Noah looked immensely relieved, like Julian had just lifted a massive burden off his shoulders. “Thank you. I owe you.”

  Julian smiled like it was nothing. “I’m your brother. I have your back.”

  Julian turned to go, then paused. “You should keep your wife quiet. You don’t want her making enemies when she’s just gotten back.”

  Noah nodded. “I’ll talk to Hannah. I’ll get her to see. It helps no one to keep dwelling on it. If Gavin were here, I’d kill him myself. Honestly, I would. But he’d dead. It’s over. What’s done is done.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he forced out, feigning nonchalance.

  Noah was as naïve and stupid as he’d always been. Julian couldn’t believe he’d felt anything for him, that for half a second, he’d even considered forgiving this moron. “The past stays in the past, is that it?”

  “Something like that,” Noah said.

  Julian had to turn away to hide his sneer. The past never died. That was the painful lesson Noah Sheridan still hadn’t learned.

  It always came back to haunt you, to nurse grudges, to exact its revenge.

  34

  Julian

  Day Twenty-Eight

  There was a knock on the exterior door to the superintendent’s office.

  Julian leaned against the wall of bookcases, his arms crossed over his chest. Rosamond Sinclair sat behind her pristine mahogany desk in her home office, papers stacked neatly on the dusted surface.

  Mattias Sutter and Sebastian Desoto sat on the opposite side of Rosamond’s desk in antique wooden chairs. Noah would normally be in the meeting, but he was otherwise engaged at home with his newly returned wife—a fact that Rosamond was not yet privy to.

  “Come in,” Rosamond said tersely. She did not appreciate interruptions.

  The office had a rear entrance off the back deck, which the militia and council members used. Officers Reynoso and Perez entered, a blast of cold air following them, and stood near the door. They were tense and anxious, their faces grim.

  Julian had instructed them to wait an hour before reporting to the superintendent. Instead of telling his mother immediately, as he’d promised Noah, he’d decided to let the two officers do it.

  Rosamond had a way of hating the messenger, if not killing them. It would be better for Julian if the news didn’t come from him.

  “What is it?” His mother shuffled several papers, sighed, and steepled her fingers on the desk. She fixed her gaze on them. “Out with it.”

  “Ma’am, I’m so sorry,” Reynoso said. “But we’ve found a body.”

  “Whose?”

  Julian waited for it, holding his breath.

  “Gavin Pike, ma’am,” Perez said.

  Rosamond went absolutely still. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Superintendent Sinclair,” Reynoso said grimly. “Your son is dead.”

  His mother gripped the lip of her desk with rigid fingers. “No. That’s impossible.”

  Reynoso glanced at Julian. “His body was discovered in Watervliet. Identification collected confirmed his ID. It’s him.”

  Rosamond sank back into her office chair. Her face went bone white. Her hands fluttered around her throat, as if for the first time, she didn’t know what to do with them.

  “Rosamond?” Sutter said, rising to his feet. “Are you all right?”

  Rosamond shook her head, her eyes huge and wild. Her gaze flitted around the room without landing on anything. “No,” she whispered. “No. Not my Gavin. No, no, no!”

  “Get her some water,” Sutter ordered.

  Desoto hauled himself from his seat and lumbered for the kitchen.

  Julian barely registered his departure. Sutter was speaking to Rosamond, but his words sounded far away. He stared at his mother, gauging her reaction.

  Desoto returned with a glass of water. Sutter seized it from his hands and offered it to Rosamond. “Drink this. You need to drink.”

  She took it with shaking hands. Her whole body was trembling, quivering with grief. She looked like she’d aged a decade in five minutes. Her eyes were red and wide, but she did not weep.

  Julian had never seen her cry, not once.

  Julian realized he should’ve been the one to check on his mother, to get her a drink, to comfort her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

  Rosamond waved Sutter away, and he and Desoto returned to their seats. Reynoso and Perez watched her like she was a bomb about to explode. Probably because she was.

  She set the glass back on the desk so hard, the clink echoed in the room. She wiped her eyes and smoothed her coiffed blonde hair. She set both hands palms down on top of the desk on either side of the glass and took a steadying breath. “What happened to my son?”

  Perez and Reynoso exchanged wary glances.

  “Tell me,” Rosamond said, her voice like ice. “Right now.”

  “He was killed,” Reynoso said.

  “Gavin was murdered?” Rosamond faltered. She was struggling to maintain her serene, unruffled demeanor and failing. “By whom?”

  Reynoso and Perez glanced at each other again.

  “Who killed my son?” Rosamond whispered.

  Reluctantly, Reynoso cleared his throat. “Apparently, ma’am, it was in self-defense.”

  “Impossible,” Rosamond said.

  “We also found a woman. Not just any woman. Hannah Sheridan.”

  Rosamond stiffened. “What?”

  “Noah Sheridan’s missing wife,” Perez said. “She’s alive. She’s been alive all this time. She was kidnapped and held captive in a cabin up in the Manistee National Forest.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Rosamond said, her voice wooden. She didn’t sound like it was fantastic news at all. “What does that have to do with my son?”

  “Hannah says…” Reynoso shuffled his feet. His gaze flicked around the room like he was desperate to be anywhere but here. “She claims that Gavin Pike is the one who kidnapped her five years ago.”

  For a moment, there was absolute silence. No one moved. No one breathed.

  Mattias Sutter raised his eyebrows in surprise and shifted his gaze to Rosamond. Desoto’s mouth dropped open.

  Julian watched his mother, watched the shock register on her rigid features.

  “Is this true?” Sutter asked.

  “Of course not!” Rosamond snapped.

  “It’s what she says happened,” Perez said.

&n
bsp; Rosamond leapt to her feet. Rage and grief flashed in her eyes. “Then she’s insane! She must be on drugs. Or out for revenge. She always was jealous of Noah’s close relationship with us. She was always an ungrateful little slut.” She paused, breathing hard. “How do you even know it’s Hannah Sheridan?”

  “We all recognized her, ma’am,” Perez said.

  Rosamond’s eyes flicked to Julian, her gaze begging him to deny it. But he couldn’t. He’d seen it with his own eyes. So had plenty of others. “It’s her.”

  “She’s playing you!” Rosamond nearly shouted. “Don’t you see? She ran off five years ago to abandon her family and live the good life, free of responsibility. Then the world goes to pot, and she needs security and shelter. Who better to offer it than her former husband? What better place than Fall Creek, with its self-sustaining community of Winter Haven? You’re crazy if you believe that drivel!”

  “She has a baby,” Perez said. “She alleges that she was raped—repeatedly, over a period of five years. That the child is a product of that rape.”

  Rosamond reacted like she’d been slapped. “Lies! Complete rubbish! Bitter, manipulative lies intended to smear my family’s good name! That’s all this is. That child has nothing to do with us. Nothing! You can’t prove it! You can’t prove any of it!”

  Reynoso glanced at Julian. Julian kept his expression neutral. Gone were the days of DNA tests. At least, for now. Maybe forever.

  Julian had no doubts, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

  “My son is innocent until proven guilty!” Rosamond snapped. “Don’t you forget that!”

  “Of course, ma’am,” Perez said tightly.

  Rosamond went rigid. Her mouth contorted, her eyes flashing with rage. She was losing her cool, her precious control. “This manipulative little whore murdered my son in cold blood? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “No ma’am,” Reynoso said. “It wasn’t her.”

  Rosamond fixed the officers with a cold, hostile stare. “Then who? Who killed my son?”