by Jodie Bailey
But she couldn’t stop now. She had to get out, to hide in the woods, to get to the road for help.
She reached across with her right hand, opened the door and stumbled into the creek. Water rushed to her knees, the cold mountain current sending an instant ache into her legs.
“That’s far enough.”
Erin whirled toward the creek bank at the sound of a woman’s voice, but the motion wobbled and dropped her to her knees in the water, the cold rising to her chest and ripping her breath away.
Lisa Fitzgerald stood about ten feet away, a revolver leveled at Erin’s head.
With nothing to grab on to, the current of the creek tugged against Erin. She wobbled. “Lisa?” This was a hallucination. It had to be. Lisa was a victim. Her house had burned. Caroline was her friend. Why would—
Lisa slogged closer and shoved the pistol into the back of her pants.
Maybe she was here to help.
Erin lifted her good hand as Lisa edged closer, but the other woman regarded it with disdain. “It’s sad, Erin. To survive a violent wreck only to drown.”
Before Erin could move, Lisa circled behind her, grabbed her hair and shoved her beneath the water.
SEVENTEEN
“Dispatch called. My truck sent out an accident call from the bridge over Redbill Creek. How close are you?”
Jason’s fingers tightened around his cell phone as Wyatt spoke, his tight voice betraying his emotions. The only person who would be in Wyatt’s truck was Erin.
If she was near the creek, she’d been headed home, not to Wyatt’s house the way he’d asked. Slowing his truck, Jason hooked a J-turn in the road and raced back toward the creek, pushing his pickup to the red zone. “Maybe three minutes.”
“I’ve got guys en route, but you’re closer. They’re maybe five minutes behind you. I’m on my way. This isn’t right.”
No, it wasn’t. Jason killed the call and threw the phone onto the passenger seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. What was Erin thinking heading back to her father’s house alone? The man wasn’t dangerous, but Jason wouldn’t put it past him if pushed. He’d heard enough stories in the past about bar fights and altercations around town to know Kevin Taylor wasn’t beyond throwing a punch.
He was at the bridge over Redbill Creek in two minutes, slowing as he approached.
There was no sign of Wyatt’s truck.
Maybe dispatch was wrong? He was reaching for the phone to call Wyatt when he rolled onto the bridge. Blue paint marred the concrete railing. Trees and vines were broken off and shredded.
She’d gone over the side.
He was out of the truck while it was still rocking from the quick stop. He peered over the bridge, his pulse thundering. Wyatt’s truck, smashed and dented almost beyond recognition, sat in the creek, the driver’s door hanging open, the cab empty. So where—
There. A person stood in the creek, bent at the waist.
But it wasn’t Erin. The woman, with blond hair straggling out of a black baseball cap, was leaning over something in the river.
Something that was thrashing. Struggling.
Adrenaline slammed through his veins. This wasn’t over. Caesar wasn’t the killer.
The killer had Erin.
He half slid, half ran down the embankment, branches slapping at his face and digging into his skin, making enough noise to draw the attention of everyone in a three-mile radius.
As soon as his feet hit the flat bank, the woman turned toward him, a gun aimed straight at his chest.
Lisa.
What?
The moment froze, reality jumbling. Why was Lisa here? What was she doing?
“Jason?” Her eyes widened, and her voice rose with panic. She released her hold on Erin and stepped closer to Jason, the gun lowering. Multiple emotions ranged across her face.
Erin rose from the water at chest level, gasping and coughing, her eyes wild and panicked.
Turning away from Lisa, Jason dived for Erin, splashing into the water, the current slowing him as he slogged toward her. She had to be okay. He couldn’t lose her now.
But Lisa...?
Lisa backed away, her gaze bouncing between Erin and Jason, her expression tight. “What are you—I was—” Something crossed her face, a determination that bordered on hardness. Calculated hardness. “I was driving by. Saw a truck go over the bridge. It was flying. I came to—” She raised the weapon again, leveling it on Jason’s chest. “Stop.”
He was a few feet from Erin but he staggered to a halt, fighting to keep his balance in creek water over his knees. Lisa was unhinged. She was as likely to shoot Erin as she was to shoot him, and he couldn’t risk either of their lives.
Behind Lisa, Erin gasped for air, then stabilized, her eyes finding Jason’s. Her left hand stayed low in the water, but she held up her right in a motion that indicated he should obey Lisa. “I’m okay.”
“This is not good.” Lisa muttered the words to herself, eyes shifting between Erin and Jason.
Jason slowly raised his hands. Give her what she wanted. Let her think she had control. He needed time to think. Time to get the last seven or eight feet without her firing.
The water would slow him, and as long as she held a weapon, she had the advantage. “What’s not good?” Maybe he could get her talking, distract her.
“You. Here. You weren’t supposed to see this, to watch me take out the last thing standing between us. You weren’t supposed to know I brought us together.”
Whoa. “What?”
Erin wavered, and Jason lunged for her, but Lisa turned the gun away from Jason to Erin.
“Let me think!” The gleam in her eye turned hot with anger, and the gun shook as it wavered inches from Erin’s face. Lisa swallowed, her attention on Jason. “You. All of you on Jonathan’s team took away what was precious to me. You let my husband die. You killed him.”
“Lisa, you have no idea what you’re—”
“Now I’ve taken away what was precious to all of you.”
The words slammed into Jason’s chest. Lisa blamed them for Fitz’s death? Had killed Angie and the others? With a roaring clarity, Fitz’s words as they’d geared up for their last mission came back. Lisa’s not handling these deployments well. When we get back, I’m looking at units that will let me be with her, get her the help she needs.
Fitz hadn’t come back to make good on his promise. And for the first time since the day Fitz died, Jason didn’t bear the guilt. “We didn’t kill him. We were—”
“But you didn’t save him. I wanted you all to hurt like I hurt. To face life with your future destroyed. But you...” She swung the gun toward Jason again. “You were there for me. You knew I needed you. You’re the reason I moved here. But there she was... In the way. Keeping me from being happy again. This is her fault. And yours. I’d have killed her the night I hit Angie if you hadn’t been in the way.”
Erin gasped. “That’s why you stopped. You didn’t want to kill Jason.”
“No. I needed him.”
“Lisa, let me help you again. We’ll find someone you can talk to about this.” Jason edged closer, praying she’d view the gesture as a friendly one. If he could get two more feet, he’d be in reach and...
She shifted the gun again, the barrel in Erin’s face, her eyes on Jason. “Fitz said the same thing the last time he came back. Told me I should talk to somebody. Should take my meds. I’ve been hearing it for years. From him, from my parents, from everybody.”
Erin tilted her head, catching his attention. She flicked her glance to Lisa and back again.
She was going to go for it, try to take Lisa out.
Before he could shake his head no, sirens crossed the distance from the direction of town. Help was coming.
But not fast enough.
As Lisa’s head t
urned toward the sound, Erin launched herself sideways, her shoulder slamming into Lisa’s stomach, but the awkward tug of the water robbed her of momentum. The gun fired as Lisa staggered and stumbled backward into the water.
Erin cried out.
As the sirens grew louder, Jason lunged, trying to get between Erin and Lisa, calculating how to take out a woman he’d once considered a friend.
Shouts rang across the creek bed and police officers stormed the area, dragging Lisa upright as Jason reached Erin.
He gathered her close, pulling her to him, burying his face in her damp hair. “Are you hit?”
“I’m fine. Just my wrist.” She wrapped one arm around his waist, her head nestled into the hollow of his neck, her body warm and trembling against his.
The chaos around them faded away. Erin was safe.
* * *
“I don’t need emergency transport.” Erin pulled the blanket tighter around her and held it at her neck with her right hand, shrugging off Chief Kelliher as he and one of the paramedics tried to usher her toward the open door of a waiting ambulance. “I can ride in one of the trucks.” She didn’t want to leave as a priority case, sirens blaring. It was embarrassing to be the one being fussed over.
But even more, there was no way she was leaving on anyone’s terms but her own. Not without seeing Jason, not without telling him he couldn’t leave her again.
Officers had separated them in the water and helped her onto the bank. She’d lost sight of him as the first responders checked her wrist and splinted it. He could leave before she got to him.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Because she knew if she left the creek without talking to him, without telling him she chose him, then she’d lose him. She had to apologize. Tell him she’d been wrong.
So many words to say. Words that sounded like I love you. Let’s try this again. The idea of being married to Jason again, of being by his side legitimately, as the one he loved for the rest of their lives, seemed natural and right. It wasn’t enough to be close to him. She wanted to belong to him again.
“I need Jason.”
The chief laid a hand on her arm and turned her to face him. “You need to get checked out for a concussion. And get to the hospital to have your lungs—”
“Jason first.”
“I’m here.” His deep, confident voice washed over her with an electric jolt.
He hadn’t left. He’d come back for her.
Hope took flight.
As Chief Kelliher stepped to the side, Jason took his place, his blue eyes dark with concern. “You okay?”
“Sprained wrist.” The words barely made their way out past the emotion in her throat. Here he was, standing right in front of her, the living embodiment of a thousand dreams she had squashed under her father’s fist.
The dreams that flared back to life the longer he stood near her, his warmth palpable across the scarce inches between them.
It was a warmth she had to touch. Reaching out, she laid her palm on his chest, his shirt damp from their struggle in the water, his heart accelerating beneath her touch.
He swallowed twice, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t speak, simply studied her with an expression that echoed her own emotions.
It was as though they’d both found hope but were hesitant to fully embrace it.
Erin wasn’t letting fear hold her back. It had cost her too much in the past.
But Jason moved before she could. He wrapped his fingers around hers, pulling her hand tighter against his chest. “The other night, before the fire, when we were talking, I never finished what I started to say.”
“Neither did I.”
He scanned her face from her hair to her chin, before he met her eyes again. He eased closer, until the space between them was gone. His head tipped to one side and he let his gaze slide to her lips again, asking permission.
Erin rose on tiptoe, her nose brushing his, her lips a whisper from his. “Anytime you want. I don’t care who’s watching.”
His breath hitched, and he brushed his lips against her ear. “I love you, Erin Taylor.”
She didn’t answer, just slid her cheek along his until their lips met, wrapping her good arm around his neck to pull him closer as his arms encircled her, protecting her, promising her more than either of them could put into words, but what both of them knew.
Their story began now.
EIGHTEEN
“Sometimes I think, despite your beautifully defined exterior, a little old man lives inside of you.”
“What?” Jason’s laugh warmed the air in the truck, leaving her to marvel at how far they’d come, and how he was hers once again.
“We’re like an old couple out for a Sunday drive.” Erin reached across the console of Jason’s pickup and laced her fingers with his. Her left wrist, recently freed from the half cast that had stabilized it for the past month, held a dull ache from the sprain, but she hardly noticed it. She was still getting used to this new reality where she could once again reach out and touch the man she loved, where holding hands and even kisses were no longer taboo.
This time, they didn’t have to be stolen. This afternoon, after church at Hill Street Chapel, he’d stood chatting with Chief Kelliher, his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders for the world to see. Then they’d gone to visit Wyatt’s parents, where she’d been living for the past month, for family dinner and afternoon football.
She’d loved every second of it.
She’d loved every second they’d spent together since they’d nearly lost one another in Redbill Creek. Since he’d returned to duty at Camp McGee, he’d spent every free moment in Mountain Springs with her. It was the relationship they should have had if her father hadn’t intervened.
Erin’s eyebrows drew together. In the beginning, her father had called and texted and threatened, always demanding, never listening to what she had to say. She’d ended each conversation with a firm I love you, Dad before hanging up on his latest tirade.
Two weeks ago, after she’d told him in a phone conversation she’d once been married to Jason, he’d stopped communicating at all, on the same day Wyatt brought word Lisa Fitzgerald had confessed to everything.
She’d been the one to plant evidence on Angie Daniels’s phone and to drug Seth the night of the murder, to threaten Seth’s life if Angie didn’t obey her orders. Had drugged Tracy Dawson and left her car running in the garage... Had befriended then drugged Crystal Palmer and Amber Ransom as well.
Caesar had left the hospital after Lisa threatened Caroline’s life and had written his confession as she stood over him with a gun, detailing her plans to kill his wife if he didn’t do as she said. Both had recovered and were working through their traumas at home and overseas with a counselor and a chaplain.
“Hey. No sad faces allowed. We’re Sunday driving, remember? It’s supposed to be peaceful or something, right?” Jason squeezed her fingers, then let go to navigate a turn onto a narrow dirt road that wound through the woods.
Erin watched the trees pass, the surroundings growing more familiar. It had been years since she’d allowed herself to visit this place, but there was no doubt where they were. This was Campground Road. Through a break in the trees would stand an old tin-roofed farmhouse, likely in worse shape than she remembered. The one she’d stopped painting. The one that had once been the center of so many dreams.
Her face heated. “What are you doing?” If he was bringing her out here, well... She couldn’t imagine where his head was. Didn’t want to be disappointed by assuming she knew.
He shot her a quick grin, then let the truck glide to a stop at the edge of a clearing.
The one-story farmhouse dominated the edge of a broad field. The wood siding was covered with pristine white vinyl. The tin roof shone a cheery red. The overgrown yard had been mowed and edged.
Light shone from every pristine, unbroken window.
Erin couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight. Her fingers dug into her knees as Jason shifted the truck into Park and shut off the engine. “Who did this?”
Without a word, Jason got out of the truck, came around to her side and opened the door. Grabbing her hand, he reached across her to unbuckle the seat belt, then pulled her to follow him. “I’d say I did it, but the truth is slightly different.” Drawing her onto the porch, he stopped at the door and turned to her, one hand on the door and the other wrapped around hers. “A lot of people in this community love you. You’ve fought hard, have saved homes and lives, have cheered on your fellow firefighters, and when I bought this place, a lot of them chipped in to—”
“You bought this place?” Her heart staccatoed in her chest.
He’d bought the place of her dreams. He’d brought her here. That could only mean...
Stepping away from her, he swung the door open and ushered her inside with a hand on her lower back.
Erin stepped onto gleaming hardwood floors into a huge open living room and kitchen, void of furniture or appliances but freshly painted and spotless.
Empty...except for her easel and paints clustered in the center of the space. On the easel rested her unfinished painting of this very house.
She’d been aching to paint again since Jason had unlocked her heart. But she’d assumed she’d have to start over, to repurchase everything, that her father—who hadn’t even let her come back for her clothes—had shut her away from them forever.
Tears threatened to choke her as she turned toward Jason, who stood directly behind her. “How?”
“Wyatt and his dad and your uncle Joe and I have been talking to your father. It’s taken a lot of discussions. A lot. And some police presence, but... He’s coming around. Slowly. He called me yesterday and told me to come and get these. While I was there, I told him I’d bought this place and I wanted you to live here.” Reaching for her hand, he tugged her closer and rested his forehead against hers. “With me. As the wife I can parade in front of everybody in town. Marry me? Again?”