Gage was suddenly beside her. “How is he?”
“Alive but unconscious.”
“I can’t get a signal on my cell. I’m going back to the house to call for help on the land line.”
“Any sign of Jeremy?”
“Ethan said he ran up Pip’s Hill.”
“Into the woods?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Then I know where he went.”
“Where? Tell me.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Morgan, tell me!”
“It's a secret place I showed him, about half a mile in. It’ll be faster if I go. You’ll never find it at night.” She reached behind the door. “Sean always keeps a flashlight back—here it is.” She flipped the switch and shone the amber arc of light across Sean's still face. “He looks bad.”
“Can't I come?” He grabbed her arm. “Jeremy’s my son. If anything happens to him—”
“You’ve got to stay with Sean and Ethan. I know exactly where Jeremy is. I'll bring him back. I promise. You have to trust me.” She looked into his eyes. “Like I trusted you.”
****
The spit in Gage's mouth turned to ash. His heartbeat thudded in his neck. The panic he'd managed to hold at bay in front of Cal pressed against his chest until it ached. His gaze tried to focus on everything at once, do what he’d been trained to do. But he couldn’t move. He sat helpless while images and sounds slid from real time into slow motion: Sean bleeding on the floor, Ethan moaning outside, Morgan standing at the door, looking at him like he was the scum of the earth. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he was getting what he deserved for deceiving her. But all he could manage to say was, “I didn't know it would feel like this.”
“What?”
“Being a real father. Not knowing where your child is. Whether he's safe or hurt or—”
“I'll find him,” she said.
“Please, Morgan. That's my life—that’s my heart out there.”
Morgan nodded. “I'll find him.” Then she was gone.
“It’s okay,” Sean mumbled. “She knows those woods like the back of her hand.”
“Hey, you’re awake,” Gage said. “I think you’re gonna be okay. I’m going for help.”
“No, wait.” Sean put his hand on Gage’s arm. “I know who you are. I’ve known all along. You’re the guy Morgan fell in love with at the Harvest Festival. The one who broke her heart.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I was selfish. Harlan had researched your company. He was sure you could save the orchard.” He swallowed and squinted up at him. “You’re not a bad guy, Gage. You just can’t forgive yourself. She still loves you. I think she’ll always love you.” He moved his leg and groaned. “I can’t walk. The son-of-a-bitch kicked me in the knee.”
“Well, he won’t be kicking anybody else.” Gage got up. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Gage turned. He’d almost forgotten about Ethan sitting on the crate, watching them. “How’s your foot?”
“It hurts,” Ethan said. “But don't worry about me. I'm tougher than I look.”
“Good. Just hang on. I’m going for help.”
Gage ran through the barn and down the path. He slammed through the gate at the bottom of the hill and raced up the steps. He pushed open the door then scanned the room for the phone sitting on the open roll top desk. He started for it, then stopped. The faint, high-pitched screech of the screen door sent a jolt rushing though his chest. He glanced over his shoulder.
A spray of white sparks exploded behind his eyes. He fell forward to his knees. The sound of metal striking metal hammered through his skull. The edge of his peripheral vision squirmed and crawled like an exposed ant colony beneath a rock.
Something pawed at his side pocket. He tried to lift his head.
The last thing he saw before the clanging in his brain took over, and the rolling waves of darkness obliterated his sight, was the shimmering outline of a person, standing over him, holding Cal's gun.
Chapter 17
Morgan grabbed her denim jacket off the hook by the barn door. She wished it was heavier. The brisk autumn wind cut through it like a knife. She wondered what Jeremy was wearing. The thought of him shivering in the cold, alone and afraid, quickened her steps.
She trudged up the hill, hardly feeling the thistles and scrub grass scrape her bare ankles. She kept her head down and put one foot in front of the other until she reached the top. The egg shaped moon darted in and out of a bank of feathery clouds, sweeping moonlight across the steep meadow. She had held off using the flashlight to save batteries, but once she reached the forest, she would have no choice but to switch it on.
She stopped to catch her breath. The muscles in her calves burned through to the bone. She leaned over, with her hands on her thighs, and gulped in air. Deer moved nearby, rustling through the thick underbrush, snorting softly to each other like ponies. Sean could imitate them perfectly. At dusk, when the does ventured into the orchard to snack on the windfall apples covering the ground, Sean would snort at them, and they would answer back.
Her gaze swept down the hill toward her grandparents’ house. The wistful, comforting ties of home rushed through her, filling her with love. Suddenly, she was ten years old again, galloping down the hill at dusk with the season’s first snowflakes swirling around her face, knowing that inside, her mother had lit the kitchen fire and was waiting for her with a bowl of hot potato soup and a pair of loving arms. Lights filtered through the filmy curtains, warm and inviting. No one would suspect anything bad had ever happened there. Of course, from the other side of the street, the house in Amityville probably looked normal, too.
Wisps of gray smoke floated up from the fire and drifted across the sky. From where Morgan stood, the fence blocked her view of the built-in kettle. But it was there. Bubbling away. As if it were sitting on the patio of some cannibal’s house in deepest, darkest Africa, with the body of her ex-husband sloshing up and down. The image of Denny's dead, ravaged face loomed behind her eyes, and she shoved it away. She couldn't think of that now. She couldn't think of anything. Not Gage, or his betrayal, or her brother lying unconscious and bleeding on the tool shed floor. She was on a mission. Maybe the most important mission of her life. The terrible ache in her heart would have to wait until she found Gage’s son and brought him home safely.
She zipped her jacket, switched on the flashlight, and set out through the thick woods. The harsh, labored sound of her own breath roared back at her with each faltering step. It had been a long time since she had walked through the woods at night. She’d forgotten how claustrophobic they could be with only a ten-foot path of light to follow. The dank, earthy smell of dead leaves and moss flooded her senses. It brought the memory of Gage touching her in the copse of birch trees crashing back into her head.
She’d known better than to trust him. Known better than to let him under her skin. How stupid she'd been. How pathetic and weak. He'd planned the whole thing: sending Sean the letter, showing up with his eleven-year-old son who just happened to be the same age as her dead child, prying open her heart and making her wish for the things she could never have. She hated him for deceiving her. But she hated herself more for letting him shine a light on her life and showing her how lonely and empty it was.
Her eyes filled with tears. She stumbled on the rocky path. “Damn him,” she said, batting at her face with the back of her hand. “Damn Gage Kirkland to hell and back.”
She ducked under a broken hickory branch and stopped. Where was she? She should have passed the line of chestnut trees by now, but everything looked different. She glanced around, trying to get her bearings. Then she swept the light across the vine covered trees in front of her and retraced her steps. “Jeremy!” she shouted. “Where are you?” Could she have veered off the path? It wasn't much of a path, just a wide, tamped down corridor local hunters used to bag the wild turkeys that screeched and scuttled through the woods. She hadn’t been walking very long, b
ut the dark kept closing in. Her surroundings looked grotesque and unfamiliar. Maybe she hadn't gone far enough.
A sharp scratching sound echoed behind her. She shone the light on the ground. The sound moved away, rustling through a mound of tangled underbrush like an animal on the run. The adrenaline overload generated one chilling thought after another. What if Jeremy had fallen into a cave? Or slipped and tumbled into a sinkhole? What if Finch and Mendoza were tracking her? What if they’d come to the farm to threaten Sean and ended up killing Denny? How much had Jeremy seen before he ran away? Too much? Enough to put him in danger? Were Finch and Mendoza after Jeremy to silence him?
She picked up the pace.
The flashlight beam bounced off the trees. The scrub cedars on either side of the path took on an eerie, one-dimensional façade. Their scraggly fronds bobbed in the wind like lace fans and smelled of Christmas. She pressed on, stopping every twenty feet to shine the light along the treetops until she spotted a long, swinging vine of kudzu attached to a high, rounded branch.
She knew where she was.
The line of chestnut trees appeared in front of her. She started running, slashing her way through the overgrowth, tramping through the long grass. She made the left turn, climbed around the rocks, picked her way through the twisted kudzu vines, and flung the car door open. “Jeremy, I'm—”
Empty.
Her heart sank. She shone the light inside the car. Up and down, back and forth, as if she thought he might somehow, magically spring out of thin air.
“Oh, God, Jeremy,” she whispered. “I was so sure.”
She pushed the door closed and leaned against it, staring into the dark.
Where would he have gone? Ethan said he’d headed up Pip’s Hill, but he could have turned right instead of left and taken the long way down to the orchard. By now, he knew his way around the farm. He could be hiding in a tree, or in the ditch across the road, or in the dense mass of wild honeysuckle surrounding Lacey's Pond. He could be lost on the other side of Deer Creek, wandering around, still looking for the kudzu car. The kid was book smart and brilliant. But he was still eleven.
A bloodcurdling shriek cut through the night. Morgan slapped her chest and swallowed air. The knowledge that it was only an owl warning its mate that man was in the forest didn’t stop her from jumping out of her skin. “Calm down,” she whispered. “Just calm the hell down.”
She swung the light across the bank of trees. Thick coils of kudzu blanketed the crowns, streamed down from the branches like long, graceful arms. Most Southerners considered kudzu a curse, the vine that grew a foot each day and couldn’t be killed by a plutonium bomb. But she had always loved it. In a few weeks, it took a plain, ordinary tree and transformed it into something ornate and majestic. Many of the old-timers still believed evil spirits lived in a kudzu forest, ghosts who'd been kicked out of the house for bad behavior and had nowhere else to go. To Morgan, trees wrapped in kudzu were anything but evil. They were mysterious and comforting. They were home.
She took a deep breath and stepped over a tangle of vines. “Okay, kid. Let's find you.”
The path was easier to navigate on the way back. She focused on her feet and tried to make time without stumbling. As she walked, she formed a plan. She would check the orchard and pond first, then double back to the woods. If she still hadn't found him, she'd go to the house and tell Gage she'd been wrong. By then, the ambulance would have taken Sean and Ethan to the hospital. They could call the sheriff and assemble a search party.
“Morgan?”
She stopped. Had someone called her name?
Fear snaked across her shoulders, pricked at the skin behind her neck. She pointed the flashlight at an oak tree, half expecting to see the light glint off Mendoza’s gold tooth. “Who's there?” she cried.
“It's me,” Jeremy said.
“Oh, God, kid. You scared the crap out of me.” She began to laugh.
Jeremy stepped from behind the tree. His Family Guy T-shirt was torn across the shoulder. Dirt and sweat streaked his narrow face. “I found the kudzu car. I found it in the dark.”
“Without a flashlight? You must be part bat.”
“Well, the waning gibbous moon helped, and after a while I could see pretty good. It's called dark adaptation. The eye uses a chemical called rhodospin to recognize light by absorbing photons. When a molecule—”
“You knew we’d come looking for you. Why didn't you stay in the car?”
“I got scared. I was afraid Denny knew about the car, so I hiked back to the path and hid behind that tree. What took you so long?”
“I got lost,” Morgan said. “By the time I found the car, you’d already left.”
“I...I’m sorry.” His voice cracked.
“Oh, honey, it's okay.” She put her arms around him. “You followed your gut. And that’s always the right thing to do.” She took his hand. “Come on, we need to start back.”
“Denny showed up and wanted to know where the flag was, but Sean wouldn't tell him. Then Denny said he’d leave. He pretended to go, then he turned back and hit Sean in the face. He kept on hitting him, and Sean said, 'I'm not gonna fight you, Denny. You're whacked out on drugs. It wouldn't be fair.’ Then Denny picked up the big stirring paddle and started to hit him with it. So, I told Denny you didn’t have the flag. I said you'd sold it.”
“But I haven’t—”
“Well, you could have sold it. I found two buyers on a Civil War website who were very interested. It was all I could think of to make him stop hitting Sean.”
“Well, it was an inspired idea.” She took off her jacket. “Put this on. You're shivering.”
“It is k-kinda cold out here.”
“You are one brave kid.”
“No, I'm not. I took karate. I should've stayed and helped Sean. Is he okay?”
“He'll be fine.”
Jeremy looked up, his eyes suddenly wide with panic. “Where's my dad? Is Denny still there?”
“No, honey,” she said, “Denny's gone. Your Dad and Ethan are waiting for us.”
“Are you sure he won't come back and hurt my dad?”
“You don't have to worry about Denny. He'll never hurt anybody again.”
Moonlight spilled across the grass as they made their way down Pip’s Hill. Lights from the house glittered through the twisted branches of a lone dogwood tree. The bitter stench of an extinguished fire hung in the air. Halfway down, Jeremy started to run.
“Hold it!” Morgan rasped.
“Why? I want to see my dad.”
“Just wait.” She caught up with him and held his arm. “Things don’t look right.”
“You said my dad and Ethan would be waiting for us.”
“I know, but the porch light isn’t on. If your dad called an ambulance, he would have turned on the outside lights. Get behind that honeysuckle bush and wait for me.” Jeremy hunkered down. “I'm going to check the shed and make sure they've taken Sean to the hospital.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Jeremy, I’m serious. Do not move.”
Morgan edged her way around the fence, careful to stay in the shadows.
Something was wrong.
She'd bet her life on it.
Dread coiled up her spine, leaving a damp line of perspiration in its wake. She glanced up. The three-quarter moon she'd been so grateful for in the forest had vanished behind a rolling bank of clouds. She crouched beside the fence and peered through the wooden slats. The shed door stood ajar. A long shadow moved across the ground, then stopped. Its hands pawed the air, then fell.
Sean.
She opened the gate and ran to him. “Don't move!” She knelt down. “Where's Gage? Did he call the ambulance?”
Sean groaned and looked up. One gray-green eye had swollen shut, the other was glazed over in pain. “I...I don't know. I keep waking up and passing out again. I talked to Gage. I remember talking to him.” His words came out thick and slurred. “Where's Denny? He was here, and then he—”
> “Denny's dead.”
“Oh.” He rolled onto his side. “You might want to move your foot. I think I'm gonna be sick.”
“No, you’re not. Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“It's in the truck. I think. God, I can't think. My head's thumping like a bass drum.”
“Lie still. I'll get help.”
“Morgan?” Jeremy’s reedy little voice traveled to her on the wind.
Morgan scrambled to her feet. Jeremy stood by the open gate with his arm wrapped around the fencepost.
“Dammit, kid!” Morgan shouted. “I told you to stay put! I told you not to move! I told you to glue your butt to that honeysuckle bush, and—”
“Stop yelling at him,” Sean said. “You would have done the same thing.”
“I can see my dad through the window. He's sitting in a chair, staring straight ahead.”
Morgan put her arm around him. She stooped down until she was on his level. “Listen to me. I need you to sneak down to Sean's truck, open it as quietly as you can, climb in, and find his cell phone. It may be on the seat. It may be on the console. Then I need you to call 911. Tell them we need help. Say you’re at Morgan’s orchard. They'll know where to come.” She held onto his shoulders. “If you can’t get a signal, go down to the road and turn left. Then run as fast as you can to the Jenkins’ farmhouse. Here’s the flashlight.”
“But my dad? Why is he just sitting there?”
“I'm going to find out. Do what I said, and don't go in the house.”
“Okay, but—”
“No buts. Sean is counting on you.” She squeezed his upper arms and stared into his anxious brown eyes. “I'm counting on you.”
“Okay, Morgan.”
“And Jeremy? Be careful.”
He grinned and gave her a thumbs up, looking so much like his father, she wanted to cry. He headed down the hill toward the back of the house. If Finch or Mendoza were holding Gage hostage, at least the kid would be safely out of sight.
Morgan started for the house. Every nerve ending bristled against her clothes.
She left the path and zigzagged down the hill, moving from one clump of wild honeysuckle to another. At the bottom, she eased herself through the gate and ran past the old water pump to the south side of the house. She flattened herself against the clapboard and glanced at Jeremy. He had made it to Sean's truck and was standing on the running board, trying to open the door.
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