by Nicole Helm
“It seems possible. We can’t say anything, though. They kicked Cody out once other people knew he was part of the group. If Tucker is working with them, we have to keep quiet.”
Cecilia nodded once, then rested her head against his shoulder. “We’re okay,” she murmured, as if she had to say it out loud to believe it.
It was odd. He was in an unreasonable amount of pain, bleeding profusely, and she wasn’t doing much better. Bloody and banged up, sitting in the middle of the Badlands with the afternoon sun beating down.
But he felt...right. Like the things that had been all wrong for the past few months, all that gray and frustration and anxiety had lifted.
The Sons still existed, Ace and Elijah were both alive—if in jail. But even in the face of that, Jamison and Cody had reunited with their first loves. Cody had a daughter, Jamison had Liza’s young half sister looking up to him like a father figure, and Gage and Felicity were getting married and starting a family.
And Brady Wyatt had at some point fallen in love with Cecilia. Who didn’t care so much about right or wrong, but did what she had to do. Who fought, tooth and nail, for the people she loved.
What wasn’t to love about that? “I love you,” he murmured into her dusty hair.
“Sure you’re not dying?” she joked. Or half joked. He could feel the anxiety radiating off her.
But he was going to be just fine.
Epilogue
Two weeks later
Cecilia sat in Grandma Pauline’s kitchen. It was a full house these days. Sarah and Rachel were staying here while the Knight house was repaired from the fire. Duke had insisted on staying on the property, and no one could get through to Duke when he had an idea in his head.
Cecilia had been forced to stay at Grandma Pauline’s once she’d been released from the hospital, and so had Brady. Everyone had been surprised when Cecilia insisted they share a room, but people seemed to be getting used to their new normal.
Well, not Brady, who was back to being surly as he recovered. The gunshot wound to his leg had been serious, and though it hadn’t shattered any bone it had done some damage that would take considerable time to heal.
Having to accept help to get around did not make for a happy Wyatt, but he was the one who’d come up with their current plan. If she hadn’t already been in love with him, she would have fallen for him when he’d suggested it.
The door opened, and Jamison stepped inside, gesturing Layla to follow him. She looked nervous, but better than she’d been in the hospital.
Cecilia immediately got up and went to gather Layla into a hug. Layla squeezed back, sniffling into Cecilia’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to come, but I knew you’d come get me if I didn’t. And you need your rest.” Layla pulled away. “Where is he?”
Cecilia nodded thanks at Jamison who slipped away. “I can’t hold him yet because of my injuries, so he’s upstairs being spoiled. Jamison will go get him, but I wanted to talk to you about something first.”
“I know. I can’t have him back. I... I feel better, but I can’t—”
Cecilia kept her hands on her friend’s arms. “I think you can. But you don’t have to, Layla. You’ve got to do what’s right for you, first and foremost.”
“The state can’t take him, Cecilia. And when Elijah gets out of jail—”
Cecilia led Layla to the table and made her sit down. “We’re going to protect you and Mak from Elijah. Always. Never worry about that.”
“I lost my job. My therapist said I’m doing better, but—”
“But it’s hard. You’ve been through a lot.” Cecilia took her friend’s hands in hers. “You should be around your son. You should have work that allows you to do that. And you should feel safe.”
“I don’t—”
“I’m going to offer something, and I want you to understand it was the Wyatts’ idea. I didn’t have anything to do with it, so don’t feel like you have to take it because you owe me.”
“I owe you my life. I owe everyone...”
“Layla.”
She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “I know. You’re my best friend and I would have done the same for you. I’m just...fragile, Cecilia. I don’t feel strong enough for anything.” She winced. “My therapist says it’s good to tell people that, but it feels awful.”
“Which is why we want you to move in here. We’ve got two people recovering from major injuries. The Wyatt brothers come and go with their families in tow. Grandma Pauline is...well, let’s just say everything she has to do for this big house and ranch is a lot for a woman her age.” Cecilia prayed to God Pauline didn’t hear that one. “She could use help. Live-in help. You’d work for her, be part of taking care of your son, and those of us hobbling around until we’re better. It can be temporary until you feel well enough to look for a new job, and live on your own. Or it can be permanent.”
“But...” Layla blinked, tears filling her eyes. “That’s too good to be true.”
Cecilia smiled, squeezing Layla’s hands. “The Wyatts are a little too good to be true sometimes. It’s easier if you just accept it, not question if you deserve it. So, what do you think?”
Layla hesitated. “What about when you and Brady are better and go back to your real lives? Will Pauline really need my help? Will Mak have...stability, you know?”
Cecilia blinked. She hadn’t been thinking about when she and Brady were better. At all. She cleared her throat, trying to hide her uncertainty from Layla. “Well, Pauline will still need help. And Brady and I come out here all the time. We wouldn’t just abandon Mak.”
Layla’s eyebrows drew together. “His own mother did.”
“No. His own mother got sick, and now she’s doing better. And she has a whole village who wants to take care of her and her son. Mak’s very lucky.”
“I...” She sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t say no, can I? It would be...it’d be stupid to say no.” Layla abruptly got to her feet. Cecilia turned in her chair. Pauline had brought in Mak and Layla was crying over him.
Cecilia smiled at Grandma Pauline, but Layla’s words were rattling around in her head. What about when you and Brady are better?
“Why don’t you take him into the living room, sweetheart. Let me show you,” Grandma Pauline said, ushering a crying Layla holding a babbling Mak into the living room. “We’ll give you a few minutes of privacy, huh?”
Layla sniffled and nodded and disappeared into the room. Cecilia stood alone in the kitchen.
What about when you and Brady are better?
No, she wouldn’t sit around worrying over that question. She went to her and Brady’s makeshift room and found him lying on the bed, reading a book.
“What about when we’re better?” she demanded with no preamble. She didn’t know why she felt so...angry. So shaky. But they hadn’t discussed this. Why hadn’t it even come up?
Brady looked up from his book. “Huh?”
“What’s going to happen when we’re better?”
He blinked then, shifted in the bed. “Well...” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Cecilia.”
“Where are we going to go? Are you going back to your apartment and I’m going back to the rez? Does this continue?” She gestured between them. “What are we doing?”
He set the book aside. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you standing there, acting like you’re accusing me of something. Come sit down.”
“Oh, don’t use that high-handed tone to boss me around.”
He raised an eyebrow. He had a tendency to do that and make her feel like an idiot for wanting to stomp her foot and yell.
She plopped herself on the bed next to him because she was reasonable, even if it felt like one simple sentence had sent her a little off the deep end. Then he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her clo
se until she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Once you’re back to work, you’ll want to stay on the rez,” he said rationally.
“I guess so.”
“I don’t have to live in the county, and it’s not like it’s too far to drive every day.”
She sat up straight, something like panic beating through her. “Are you suggesting you move in with me?”
“Isn’t that what you’re getting at?”
“No... Well, sort of. I mean, we’re basically living together now. Just with a grandma hovering around.”
“Exactly.”
“I...”
“Alternatively, we could stay here and both commute when we’re reinstated. Or I could just stay here, and you could live on the rez. Commute will suck, but I’m not going to be able to deal with those stairs at my apartment for a long while yet. Hell, I’m half convinced to just give up my badge.”
She pulled out of his grasp, outraged. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not? I’ve been out for months. I’ll be out for longer now. Why go back?”
She shook her head. She knew he was tired of being hurt. Tired of not working, but he couldn’t honestly be thinking about quitting. “Because you love it.”
He was quiet for a while. “I guess I do.” He squeezed her close. “I think the point, Cecilia, is that we’ll work out whatever we do next together.”
She tipped her head up to look at him. Life was funny. She’d always looked up to Brady. Always been in a certain amount of awe of him, even when he was irritating her to death. She wouldn’t have admitted it. Even at New Year’s Eve, kissing him, she hadn’t admitted she had this inside of her.
It had taken fear. Struggle. Now, she wouldn’t stop admitting it. Her pride wasn’t as important as being honest with him.
“You’re a pretty good guy, Wyatt.”
“Yeah, yeah. What did Layla say?”
“She’s going to do it.”
“Good. You know, it wouldn’t be so bad. Staying here. Helping Grandma and Dev out. Keeping close to Mak. I wouldn’t mind it so much.”
Cecilia settled back against his chest. “No, I wouldn’t mind it either.”
This was not ever what she’d planned for her life. A guy like Brady. Living this close to home. Having her best friend and her best friend’s baby under one roof. It wasn’t a normal family by any stretch, but she’d never had normal.
What she’d had was love, and now she had more of it.
She settled into Brady and sighed. “I love you,” she murmured. Because no matter what happened, love was always the reason you gutted through, fought for what you had to, and most of all, survived.
* * *
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Without a Trace
by Amanda Stevens
Chapter One
On the night of the disappearances, a blood moon had hovered over the piney woods in East Texas. The old-timers called it an omen. Tom Brannon had considered it just plain bad luck. He’d forgotten his flashlight when he rushed out of the house and the lunar eclipse provided weak illumination as he’d traipsed along the banks of the lake, hoping against hope that by the time he got back home, he’d find the girls safe and sound in his sister’s bedroom.
Fifteen years had passed since that fateful night, but Tom still got a chill when the moon turned ruddy and a pine-scented breeze blew in from the lake. He stood outside the sheriff’s station gazing up at the sky, telling himself to get back to work and forget about that moon. He had more important things to worry about at the moment, like budget cuts and rising crime rates, not to mention the mountain of complaints that seemed to grow exponentially higher with each passing day. On and on it went. The job of a rural county sheriff never ended.
He thought about his sister, Ellie, out there alone on Echo Lake. Miles from town. Miles from anyone. He’d asked her once if she ever got lonely, but she’d scoffed at the notion, insisting that the isolation kept her sane. Besides, it was only a twenty-minute drive into town, where she could find all the company she wanted. She seemed content these days, but Tom had to wonder if the nightmares ever came back. If she hid under the bed or at the back of her closet until the monsters went away. He didn’t ask. He and his sister were close, but there were things they didn’t talk about. Of the three girls who had entered the old hospital ruins on the night of the blood moon, Ellie was the only one who had come out whole. Survivor’s guilt could be a powerful thing. Tom understood only too well.
Maybe it was the moon or maybe he was being overly protective, but he felt the need to check in with her tonight, hear her voice to calm his disquiet. He should have called earlier. She’d already be on the air by this time. She produced and hosted a syndicated radio program called Midnight on Echo Lake, which she broadcast from a small studio behind her house. She wouldn’t answer her cell right now, but he could call in to the program. Talk about space aliens or the Bigfoot creature that some of the locals claimed to have seen in the woods near the lake. She’d get a kick out of that, though she’d later scold him for mocking her callers.
Things happen that can’t be explained, she would tell him. People need someone they can talk to about their experiences without fear of ridicule.
Yeah, and some people are just plain nuts, Tom would retort.
Maybe he was one of them. He couldn’t seem to shake the uneasiness that had gripped him all evening. He didn’t believe in premonitions, but he knew enough to pay attention to his instincts. Something was brewing. He could feel it in the wind. He hoped it was nothing more than a summer storm.
“Evening, Sheriff.”
He turned to find his newest recruit striding across the parking lot toward him. He checked his watch out of habit. The department ran on a six, two and ten schedule. Tom had been there since six that morning. He’d worked straight through two watches.
“You’re early,” he noted. “That’s a good habit to get into.”
“Yes, sir,” the young officer replied with a solemn nod. A recent graduate of the East Texas Police Academy, Billy Navarro was a young, eager rookie who reminded Tom a bit of himself ten years ago. His father had been winding down his nearly thirty-year career as the Nance County sheriff when Tom had come on board. He’d served under his dad for only a year before a heart attack had claimed Porter Brannon in his sleep. Tom had then served under his father’s replacement for another nine years, going from patrolman to criminal investigator to the deputy sheriff in less than a decade before running for office two years ago.
The campaign had gotten nasty and personal, fueled by a hostile opponent and an onslaught of negative commentary from the editorial pages of the Echo Lake Star. Everything from Tom’s age to his integrity had been called into question, and there had been times when he wondered why he had ever thought it a good idea to try to follow in his father’s footsteps. In the end, he’d won in a near landslide, no doubt a bitter pill to swallow for the Cavanaugh clan, who had spearheaded the campaign against him. He suspected the animosity between the two families would only worsen as the next election approached.
“Beware the blood moon,” Billy muttered beside him.
Tom slanted him a frowning glance. “What did you say?”
“That’s what my grandmother told me before I left the house tonight.” He shifted uneasily. “What kind of goodbye is that for a guy going out on patrol?”
“It’s just an old wives’ tale. Keep your eyes open and your mind on the job. You’ll be fine.”
Tom would never po
int out to a rookie that patrolling the town of Belle Pointe and the outlying country roads was hardly the same as taking on the mean streets of a crime-ridden city. He wanted Billy aware and on guard. Nance County was rural, but their home turf had more than its fair share of drug-related crime. Meth dealers had taken to scoping out abandoned houses in the country where they could cook their product in mass quantities. Then they used the nearby interstate to transport the drugs to points north and south. Big business. Big money. Synthetic weed was becoming a problem, too, along with fentanyl and the old standbys of crack cocaine and heroin.
Beside him, Billy searched the sky. “I know it’s just a superstition, but there’s something in the air tonight. Can you feel it?”
Yes, he felt it, but Tom didn’t want to spook the rookie any more than he already seemed to be. He shrugged off his foreboding as he turned to go back inside. “Static electricity,” he said. “Storm front moving in.”
“There’s not a cloud in the sky,” Billy said.
“Not yet,” Tom allowed. “Who’s riding with you tonight?”
“Naomi Clutter.”
“Tough as nails. Nobody better in three counties. You run into trouble, she’ll have your back. You just make sure you have hers.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tom went back inside and crossed the nearly empty squad room to his glassed-in office at the front of the building. Long windows looked out on the street. He kept the blinds open so that he could see all around him, both within and without. The space hadn’t changed much since his dad’s time. The desk was the same. The vinyl chairs that faced him had been there for decades. Even the pictures and citations on the walls brought back memories. Tom had been meaning to change things up, bring in a few personal touches, but he never seemed to have the time. Never enough time for anything these days. He couldn’t remember when he’d last asked a woman to dinner or a movie. He lived in town with neighbors all around him and yet in recent months he’d become as isolated as his sister.