Family Sins(32)

Wind blew rain against the windows and hammered on the roof above her head. She kept thinking of it as a cleansing. There wouldn’t be a trace of Stanton’s blood left after this, but there was no way to hide his presence here. She kept expecting him to walk in at any moment. Twice today she’d thought she’d seen him from the corner of her eye, only to realize it was Bowie. It broke her heart to be so conflicted about her son’s presence. She needed him here. He was the last link to complete their family circle, and yet, because his resemblance to his father was so strong, he was also a painful and tangible reminder of what she’d lost.

Her eyes were burning from lack of sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen in here, so she gathered up her pillow and a blanket and went into the living room to bed down on the sofa. The storm was still raging, and she was so sleep-deprived she felt faint, but there was no way in hell she could lie down in their bed without Stanton. Not yet. Maybe never.

She stretched out on the sofa, then rolled over on to her side and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. Even with the curtains pulled over the windows and her eyes closed, she still saw the lightning flashes. She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, and as she did, tears pooled and fell.

“Oh, Stanton, I never saw this coming. I thought we would grow old together. I don’t know how to do this yet, but I will.”

Thunder rumbled again. She tensed, hoping it wouldn’t wake Jesse. Then she heard footsteps in the hall and heard Bowie’s voice.

“I’m here, Jesse. It’s just a thunderstorm. You’re okay.”

She rose up on one elbow to look down the hall. Jesse must have called out. Thank God for Bowie. He wouldn’t be here forever, but this respite from Jesse’s every need was a blessing. She lay back down, settled into her pillow and cried herself to sleep.

*

It took Bowie a few minutes to get Jesse settled, and then he went back into his bedroom, but he left the door ajar in case Jesse called out again.

He knew his mother was in the living room on the sofa. He’d heard her leave her room, and when she didn’t come back he’d checked on her and had seen her stretched out on the sofa, then quietly returned to his bed.

He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to Samuel before he’d left to take Aunt Polly home, but he and his brothers were meeting in Eden tomorrow morning around nine. There would be plenty of time to talk then while they were waiting to see if the law ever showed.

He glanced at the time. It was almost midnight—too late to text Talia. She didn’t look like she’d had enough sleep in years, so no way was he taking a chance on waking her up, but he couldn’t sleep. He moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain to stare out into the night.

Rain, blown by the storm, hit the glass with such force it made Bowie flinch. A shaft of lightning struck in the forest beyond the backyard. It was like watching fire explode. The tree caught fire, even in the rain, but the flames quickly died out.

He kept thinking of what he’d learned about the Wayne family’s rumored involvement in the resort project. After giving Riordan that information earlier in the evening, he hoped it might point a finger at who had the most to lose, which could easily put a name to the killer. Either way, he wasn’t leaving his mother until the murderer was behind bars.

Thunder rumbled across the sky as he dropped the curtain and moved back to the bed. He was tired and needed to rest, but as he stretched out on the mattress, all he could think of was his father in the morgue and his mother on the living room sofa, crying herself to sleep. It was the sound of the rain on the roof that lulled him, and the next time he woke his alarm was going off.

He rolled over to shut it off as the scent of fresh coffee drifted down the hall. Guessing his mother was already in the kitchen, he headed for the bathroom while it was empty. There was no time to waste this morning. This was Constable Riordan’s chance to do the right thing, and he and his brothers intended to make sure the man was there to do it.

Bowie was in and out of the shower in record time, and dressed before Jesse woke. Leigh was at the stove frying bacon as he entered the kitchen. He paused to kiss her on the cheek.

“Morning, Mama.”

Leigh’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but she had a smile for him.

“Good morning, son. I’m making pancakes shortly, and the coffee’s done. Pour yourself a cup and sit with me while I finish up.”

“Does Jesse need help dressing?” he asked.

Leigh shook her head.

“Not really. It’s strange what he’s still capable of doing. It’s like his view of the world and his vocabulary are childlike, but his technical and motor skills are still there.”

“How do you mean?” Bowie asked.

“For instance, he’s still every bit as good a shot as he was in the army. And he can break a rifle down and put it back together better than Stanton could.”

“Really? That’s actually amazing. I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, and he’s retained his tracking skills. Remember when he went through his Daniel Boone phase in grade school and pestered Dad to teach him the different kinds of animal tracks, and how to track people, too?”

Bowie smiled, thinking of the story he’d read to Jesse.

“Yes, I remember.”

“He was a crack shot in the military, and still is,” Leigh said.