by Ava Gray
“Travis,” she choked out. “Oh my God, you? Why?”
“That piece of shit’s dead. I should’ve known if I wanted something done right I’d have to do it myself.”
Neva seemed frozen on the side of the gully. “Where’s Julie? What did you do to her?”
“Don’t,” he roared. “This is your fault. All of it. If you’d just stopped to help. If you’d just died—”
“Nobody’s dying tonight but you.” She lifted the stick and its broken end looked like a spear.
Travis lunged at her and she slammed her weapon home, using her deceptive strength and his momentum to pierce his wound. The smell of blood grew stronger as she twisted, her expression fierce. She was a lioness defending her cub, a mother bear roaring in claim of her territory—all things feral and terrible and heartbreakingly beautiful, all the wild places he loved. The coyote stopped thrashing as it saw his mate protecting them.
The man who had killed so many gazed down at the wood jutting from his belly, and his hands curled around it as if he would pull it out and keep fighting. Instead, he fell forward; he bounced down the loose dirt slope.
Luke Harper stared down at the corpse beside him and then up at his sister. “I wish I could’ve done it. I wanted to. But thank you.”
Zeke wished he could tell Neva how proud he was, but he felt odd. Disconnected. The coyote wasn’t fighting him anymore, but he had the sense his own body was very cold. And so far away. A whine slid free of the animal’s throat, but it couldn’t keep him. He floated up, but there was no connection to bring him back, and he went sailing on the wind, like a dandelion ghost of summers lost.
The pain was excruciating. But it was satisfying, too. Travis Delaney, who had been Delroy Carson, smiled. Because he’d won the game after all. Not the old man. He’d denied the bastard his final revenge. Drinking that bottle of Jack Daniels had been the best idea he had ever had. It had slowed him down. Dulled his wits. He’d lost his way, or maybe it was more accurate to say he found it again, near the end.
He had never been strong enough to stop it or turn aside. Never. He had been fooling himself with thoughts of a normal life. Too long ago, he had been broken, no matter how hard he tried to pretend. What he’d wanted could never have been. The voices never would’ve stopped. Ever. They were only getting stronger—and he had enough of himself left to realize there was no good ending. Since the first time the old man had locked him in the dark room, he’d never had a chance. But in the final hours, he had sabotaged himself, just enough.
And so he had been right. He would not finish his days in a gloomy cell. It was a cleaner, wilder death, and one more worthy than he deserved. The pain faded.
Darkness gathered. Cold crept in. Though his eyes were open, he could see nothing anymore. There was only silence. And it was good.
Neva shook in reaction. The baying and barking of hounds said help wasn’t too far off, but she’d done it. Saved them. She stumbled down and bent to wrap her arms around her brother. He might be older by ten minutes, but she felt incredibly protective toward him.
“He shot you while we were running. How bad is it?”
“Flesh wound.” Like Luke would admit anything else. “I need to get warm, eat a decent meal, bathe, and sleep in a real bed. Oh, and have someone set this ankle.” Still no complaints—that had never been his way.
She was always the one who fought with their parents if she didn’t get what she wanted. Not him. They were going to be so happy to see him.
Up the hill, the coyote struggled to its feet. It was obviously hurt, but it limped off into the dark. Neva felt like she should call out a thank-you, but—the animal paused. Whimpered at her. It staggered down a few feet and then back up.
“I’m not leaving him,” she told it.
It responded with a soft, urgent yelp. This time, it stumbled all the way to her and lay down, crawling on its belly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d call this begging. She cut a look at Luke.
“The rescuers will be here soon,” he said. “Listen. They’re getting closer. I’ll send them after you. Maybe you should go see what it wants. It did help us.”
Zeke. It had to be. Without knowing she’d made a decision—taking a leap that Ben Reed would call ridiculous—she pushed to her feet and nodded at the coyote. “Show me. And this better not be a dead squirrel.”
She snagged another stick to help her push her way up. The coyote had almost as much trouble as she did with its wounds; it had taken a couple of brutal kicks. Poor thing. Up top, it set a gentle pace, leading her through the maze of trees. After all they’d been through, she couldn’t believe she’d left her brother alone in the dark. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. And yet she knew. It was beyond explanation.
It seemed as if they walked for miles, but eventually she saw what it was desperate to show her: a prone form lying, pale as death in the moonlight. She broke into a run, hoping it wasn’t him. Not Zeke. Please, no.
But it was.
Neva gathered him into her arms. His skin was cold, lips already turning blue. If he had a pulse, it was too sluggish for her to tell. CPR. She’d taken the class, and she was certified. Pushing down her anguish, she laid him flat and went to work, breath and compression.
Nothing. The mirror test would tell her if he had no breath at all, but she didn’t have any supplies out here. The coyote prowled in worried, limping circles, whimpering.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know. You were him. Somehow. And he was you. But he’s not anymore. He’s lost and he can’t find his way home.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Once more she gathered him in her arms, and instead of CPR, she pressed her lips to his. Heat. Not enough. Neva touched her brow to his.
Come back to me. Come back. We’re not finished yet. We’re not. Please don’t give everything for me. Not when the last time we spoke, I yelled at you and called you a coward. Don’t let those be the last words you ever hear from me.
She said it aloud, hoping it would help. Repeated it over and over again.
“Come back to me. I love you.”
Just when her heart broke, just when her tears froze, and she stopped believing in miracles . . . he did. His lashes flickered, and then rose, revealing dreamy twilight eyes, drenched in moonlight. He was still too pale and too cold, but it meant everything that he was alive.
“Oh, Zeke,” she whispered, as she had done at the farm, what seemed so long ago now. “What did you do?”
He remembered. “Not what did I do. What can I do?”
“I don’t understand.” She spoke the line mostly to give him the opening she sensed he wanted.
“Drive a coyote better than my old truck.”
Zeke raised up on one elbow and reached out a hand. The animal nuzzled his fingers, and then limped away into the dark. Probably it heard the sounds of the rescue party. Luke would’ve sent them along.
“You ready to go? I think the cavalry’s here.”
“’Bout fucking time,” he said.
She rode in the ambulance with him and found her parents waiting at the hospital. Neva had never been hugged so tightly in her life. But she understood when they followed the doctors—and Luke. He’d been through so much; he needed the attention more, and she wanted to be with Zeke.
Later, she used her position as a Harper shamelessly to get into Zeke’s room after visiting hours. They’d put him in with Agent Hebert, who had come out of surgery just before they arrived. The rescue party had found him just in time. Now there were crews in the woods, picking up the pieces, but nobody died out there except for Travis Delaney. Under the circumstances, it was a Christmas miracle.
Not surprisingly, Zeke wanted to check himself out.
“Am fine,” he kept muttering. “Nothing wrong with me.”
She folded her arms and gave him her mother’s best frosty glare. “You were unconscious in the woods for God knows how long.”
“Not for medic
al reasons.”
“Regardless, that mandates an overnight hospital stay.”
“You two gonna fuss all night?” Surely that drawl hadn’t come from Agent Hebert. Groggy from the anesthesia, sure, but damn. He sounded like a different man.
She blushed over bothering him. “No. I’m sorry. We’ll keep it down.”
Neva settled herself on the bed beside Zeke and curled into his side. The nurses could suck it if they didn’t approve. She was a Harper, and that meant in this town, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.
But he clutched her hand, worry written in his face. “The kittens?”
“They’re fine. My mom left them with the housekeeper. You wouldn’t believe how much she loves them. She named them Larry, Curly, and Mo.”
His lips quirked in a tired smile. “Which one’s Mo?”
“The little girl. It’s short for Maureen.”
“Cute.” Zeke relaxed then and drew her fully into his arms.
Neva knew they had some talking to do yet, but there was time. Right now, she needed sleep. Everything else would keep.
In the morning, hospital staff woke her at an ungodly hour to check the two patients. Just as well. She’d visit Luke while they did undignified things to Zeke. His blue eyes promised retribution as she made her escape.
Neva ran into her mother in the hallway. Lillian swept her into a tight hug, choking off tears. “I can’t believe it. You found him. I sat with him all night.”
“That’s not quite how it happened.”
Lillian went on, obviously not listening, “When you went missing, I prayed like I never have in my life. God, darling, I was so frightened. I think I promised to build this hospital a new wing if you came home to me. And you’re both here.”
Her father came down the hall toward her, looking tired but happy. The fluorescent lighting brought out the new lines in his face. He wrapped his arms around both of them, seemingly unable to speak for long moments. It took him three tries.
“I thought I’d lost both of you. God knows I put the mill before you kids more than once. I was always worried about profit and loss. But I promise in whatever time I’ve got left, that’s going to change.”
“I’m glad,” she whispered, tears clotting her throat.
Her parents didn’t even look like the esteemed Harpers right now. They were wrinkled and disheveled from a night spent in the hospital. Neva imagined she didn’t look much better. She didn’t care at all.
“The doctors say Luke will be fine . . . in time.” Lillian’s voice broke, and she turned her face away.
But Neva knew how her mother felt; she’d given her son up for dead, along with everyone else. Inadequacy and guilt stung her, too. If she’d tried harder, fought harder, they might have found him much sooner. But Sheriff Raleigh had been doing everything he could.
“Let’s get some breakfast,” her father suggested. “The nurses are attending to your brother right now.”
Which would explain why they weren’t in the room. It was just that time of the day, she supposed. She should have expected the nurses would be attending to Luke, too, now. Neva nodded and followed them down to the cafeteria. But her heart was heavy; she still didn’t know what had become of Julie.
CHAPTER 23
After the nurse had her way with the two patients, Sheriff Raleigh came into the room, hat in hand. The morning sunlight revealed evidence of a long, tough night. But he wasn’t there to see Zeke. Instead he sat down beside Agent Hebert’s bed.
“How you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” came Hebert’s slow response. “The doctors tell me the scar tissue saved my life.”
Raleigh laughed, even if it wasn’t a joke. “Your people have been invaluable. Your boss Birch came down and he’s directing things. Never seen such a mess in my life. But look . . . if it was me and I missed the wrap-up, I’d be chafing for some news.”
“I’m listening.”
“Seems Travis Delaney wasn’t a newcomer to Harper Creek. He grew up here. When he left, he changed his name. He used to be Delroy Carson. Father Donnell, mother Celia. Appears the elder Carson worked at the mill at one time, but they fired him after he caused an accident due to on-the-job drinking. I can only guess that started the grudge, though why the son was acting on a grievance so many years later, I have no idea.”
The agent lifted one shoulder. “It’s hard to reckon crazy. Anything else?”
“On Birch’s request, we did a property search and located the place Carson grew up. It’s a ruin now, but we’re sure that’s where he held Luke Harper . . . and all of the girls, most likely.”
Zeke watched the slow smile build on Hebert’s face. “Good work.”
“But that’s not all.”
“There’s more?”
“Unfortunately. We’re already swarming with reporters. It’s impossible to keep something like this under wraps. Somebody’s leaking information and they’re already on the TV talking about the Red Ribbon killer. I guess we’re just lucky they didn’t latch on while we were trying to catch him.”
“Out with it already,” Hebert said, clearly losing patience.
“We found his mother in her bed. Just bones after all these years. And right beside her, the nearly unrecognizable body of Julie Fish.”
Shit. Neva was going to be heartbroken. A soft sound, almost like an animal in pain, drew his gaze toward the door. She stood there, hand to mouth, absorbing what she’d overheard. Zeke slid out of bed and went toward her. He was still a little weak, but nothing time wouldn’t cure. When he put his arms around her, she leaned into him like he’d feared she never would again.
“Aw, shi—oot,” Raleigh said. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, Geneva. I’m so sorry, honey.”
Misery weighted her pretty face. Zeke stroked her hair, wishing he could do more. She must feel like shit. Survivor’s guilt, he thought it was called. Maybe he’d once felt the same way about his mother—that if he hadn’t been such a pain in the ass, she might’ve wanted to live. God knew his dad had offered that suggestion more than once, but it hadn’t driven him crazy. And now, he’d be okay because Neva needed him. There were no other options.
“Do her people know?”
The sheriff nodded. “We notified her mama early this morning.”
She gave a jerky nod, verging on a breakdown, and she hated for people to see her cry. That did it. He needed to get her out of here. Zeke stepped back, went to the closet for his clothes, and then slid into the bathroom to get dressed. The other three stared when he returned. Good, he’d distracted her from her hurt.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Taking you home.”
Neva planted her feet. “You haven’t been discharged.”
“Don’t care.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his shoes on. “Got somebody waiting on me.”
Her face went blank for a moment, and then she remembered. The idea of a wounded animal in need of attention trumped her argument, as he’d known it would. She was just too tender for this world, and he worshipped the ground she walked on. He always would.
“Come on then,” she said. “I’ll drive you.”
“What am I supposed to tell the doctor when he comes in?” Raleigh asked.
Zeke shrugged and followed her. His street clothes were dirty, but it was early enough they didn’t attract too many looks. It helped that he didn’t seem sick. By the time they walked out the automatic front doors, he’d decided nobody would give chase. Half the staff was probably camped outside her brother’s room anyway. It wasn’t every day the Harper heir rose from the dead.
A passel of reporters stood waiting. Regional news vans had set up in the parking lot, and they seemed to recognize Neva. A tall blond woman strode over in the lead, microphone extended.
“What can you tell us about your brother’s miraculous rescue?”
“Is it true you were taken but survived the Red Ribbon kille
r?”
Neva glared at them with her best Harper look and snarled, “No comment.”
He backed her with an expression that said he wouldn’t mind a fight, and the press melted back far enough for them to move around to the car. The vehicle she unlocked by clicking a button wasn’t her old Honda. At his look, she explained, “The cops have it. He drove it when he took me, so . . .”
It was part of the mess, for the moment at least. This was a slick new Volvo, midnight blue, interior done in gray leather. He slid into the passenger seat, admiring the car’s lines.
“Nice.”
“This is my dad’s spare.”
That drove home what different worlds they came from—and it didn’t matter at all. He no longer cared about their differences; only the ways they were the same. Tears trailed down her cheek now and then, over Julie, he guessed, and Zeke put his hand on her knee, a comforting gesture. Sometimes touch said what words couldn’t.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” she said softly. “It hurts.”
“So sorry, sweet girl. Wish I coulda saved her.”
It was a bright day, the sky bluing up overhead, because it didn’t know or care that down below, people were grieving. He watched the wires attached to the electrical poles whip by, and it reminded him of a game he’d played as a kid, flicking his fingers each time he passed, making believe he had super speed and he was running alongside the car, swinging around each pole like a hero in a comic book. Funny he’d remember now. But then, no dream ever truly died. It just grew small and quiet until you needed it again.
She pulled off the main road into his drive, and the Volvo took the gravel smoother than he would’ve guessed. Without waiting for her, he slid out of the car and let his mind go walk-about, looking for his coyote brother. He found him cowering in the barn, because Zeke had asked him to come and wait, and they were bound now. They’d walked together in the same skin.
“Here,” he said, and she followed him.