Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(71)

They wouldn’t let up, even following me outside to my car. “There has to be something,” Grandpa insisted.

I spun around, seething again. “What?” I snapped. “What? What can I do that hasn’t been done? What can I do? I’ve lied, I’ve manipulated, I put myself in danger, I gave up a date with Luke, I came to this fucking hellhole of a town, had my own mother and father and sister belittle me, been threatened, and for what? A brother who apparently hates me. Who blames me for him not amounting to anything in his life. I threw him a life preserver and he chucked it right back into my face. No, he whacked me in the head with it, then kicked us all toward the sharks.”

“There is no way he knew that is what would happen,” Grandma said.

“You know, before I came here I’d have agreed with you. But now…” I shrugged. “I’m done. If he’s too stupid, too weak to see what those people are, that’s on him.”

“He’s lost, Iris,” Grandpa said.

“Yeah. And until he wants to be found, until he’s tough enough to start walking back to civilization, he’s going to stay that way. I speak from experience.”

“Yeah, but you had help, Iris,” Grandma pointed out. “And even still, not everyone is as strong as you. Billy needs you. He is your brother. You cannot give up on him. Please.”

I stared at my teary-eyed grandmother and felt my own tears bubbling to the surface again. I never wanted to make her cry. Ever. She was so desperate, so scared, and it was all my fault. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m just…sorry. This is the way it has to be. Tell Mom and Khairo I said bye.” I turned my back on them and tossed the suitcases in the trunk. “I love you both.”



I couldn’t look at them as I climbed into the car. I couldn’t look at their pained, disappointed faces a moment longer. I drove off, and before I even turned the corner, the tears began again. I’d failed them. I’d failed my family. They’d put their faith in me and I blew that trust. I’d failed myself. Billy, Betsy, Helen, Paul, Megan, the children—I couldn’t save them.

After I left the farm that morning I drove for hours and hours trying to concoct a plan, an angle to salvage the situation. To outplay that fucker Mathias, but nothing came. He had me. He’d out-thought, out-plotted, out-conned me. I’d gone in with all the cards, and he’d still won. He’d taken my power away from me. The only other person who’d done that mutilated me and murdered my husband. And Mathias had the same cold, soulless eyes as that bastard. As Shepherd. He was a sociopath through and through. And I’d left my brother and his pregnant wife at that man’s mercy.

You’re taught in the FBI that as an agent you’re going to have to make tough calls, calls no person ever wants to make. Do you cut a deal with a killer to bring down a crime organization? Do you put a single mother of four in prison knowing her children will go into foster care? Do you let three people die to save four? It never, ever got easier facing those dilemmas. But the decision to leave, to sacrifice my brother to save the others I loved, was by far the worst. It felt wrong. I’d doubted the decision ever since I made it. My family would hate me forever. I’d hate me forever. But I had no choice.



I pulled into the Sheriff’s parking lot and gathered the files Hancock had given me. Procuring them was illegal, and I didn’t want to leave any proof of his malfeasance out in the world. Joyce sat behind her counter typing on her computer, as always. Her face fell in shock when she saw me. “Iris!”

“Hey. I just need to drop off—”

“Go on back,” she said, buzzing me in. “He’s been waiting for you.”

“What?”

“Go on,” she said. “He’s fit to be tied.”

Wonderful, I thought. What have I done now?

I trudged into the bullpen, where both twenty-something deputies eyed me with concern. Hancock couldn’t have still been angry with me about the farm. I’d called and given him the all-clear. Whatever was going on, I was so emotionally beaten down I just planned to let him yell at me without a word of protest. I didn’t have an ounce of fight left in me. I knocked on his door. “What?” he snapped.

Not good. “It’s Iris,” I said.

“Come in,” he replied. I did and instantly wished I hadn’t. One look at his tense, red face and glaring eyes and I considered turning around. “Shut the door.”

I obeyed. “If this is about going to the farm—”

“I just had my ass handed to me by the DEA.”

I did a literal double take as I sat in the chair across from him. “Uh, what?”



“Yeah. A Special Agent Antoine Carmichael in the Pittsburgh field office. Know him?”

“No. What…why is he calling you?”

“Why the hell do you think?”

“What? Mathias?” I asked, suddenly perking up.

“Apparently when I did your fingerprint searches their system flagged this Megan Snyder, then Helen Mitchell. Carmichael called me to see if I’d arrested them, because why the fuck else would I be running their prints?”

Shit. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth, Iris. That there was no official investigation. That I was helping you out because of your brother.” He fell back in his chair. “I-I could lose my job for this, Iris. I could be arrested for accessing files for unofficial reasons. He was pissed, Iris, especially when I told him the shit you pulled today.”