No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(20)

He’d often lain awake at night on that cement jailhouse bed, feeling as if he’d fallen through the proverbial “rabbit hole.” That was how twisted his life had become, how distorted from what was fair, right and true. And the crazy thing was, no matter how hard he fought back, or how much he proclaimed his innocence, there was no escape. He remained at the mercy of strangers, completely subject to the rationale, judgments and will of people who had no idea who he really was or what’d happened that terrible night. They stripped him of his freedom and convicted him in the press, pointing to the anger and confusion he’d experienced as an unwanted child as the reason he’d risen up to destroy the only people who ever truly loved him.

If not for the slimmest of margins, he’d be sitting on death row right now. Only, he wasn’t. He was here. Home. Sure, he was starting over with very little. But at least he had the chance to reclaim his sister, save the farm and find the man who did murder his folks. He might even be able to bring that man to justice.

If he didn’t screw up.

In an effort to calm down, he walked to the table and poured himself another glass of wine. As he stood there drinking it, he couldn’t help feeling a measure of relief at the transformation that’d taken place around him. The kitchen had regained its former dignity, because of Sadie. Sure, that was a small step forward, but it made him feel as if something had finally been put right, which gave him a shred of normalcy to cling to. Then there was Sadie’s practicality in bringing groceries and supplies, her flexibility in being willing to front the money for them, so that the shopping wouldn’t turn out to be a big hassle on his part, and her diligence in seeing that he got fed. She’d worked hard today. He liked her, believed he’d found a good employee.

But what she said was true: he had enough problems. He’d hired her yesterday despite Officer Harris’s threats—maybe, at least partially, because of them. It felt good to fight back. But did he really want to get involved in a battle that had nothing to do with him when he had more than he could handle already?

No. He’d have to put off getting Angela out of Stanley DeWitt. He didn’t like that she’d be disappointed, but he could continue to advertise for a caregiver—in Santa Barbara this time—hoping to find someone who was willing to commute. Santa Barbara wasn’t that far. Surely, if he gave himself more time, he could find an alternative to hiring a woman connected to an abusive ex-husband who also happened to be an egotistical cop.

But if he chose that option, if he let Sadie go, what would happen to her?

He recalled the tears he’d seen streaming down her cheeks yesterday, the way she’d turned her face up to the sky as if she wished the rain would just wash her away. She seemed pretty desperate herself. Whether he knew her well or not, he hated the idea of abandoning her to be victimized, hated the thought that she had to be experiencing those same feelings of helplessness that’d cut him to the quick. If she wanted to get away from the guy she’d married, she should have that right. If she wanted to work for a man suspected of killing his parents, she should have that right, too. She was an adult. So why did Sly Harris get to dictate what she did—what either of them did?

You can’t hire me now. You have no idea what he’ll do. He’ll make your life so miserable you’ll wish you were still in jail.

He believed her, especially after Sly’s latest visit. Her ex would not back off simply because they’d gone ahead despite his disapproval. They’d have a real fight on their hands, a fight that Dawson was ill equipped to take on in his current situation. But ducking that would only make him feel like he’d felt while he was in jail—completely at the dictates of others. And he’d never been one to back down from a fight. Perhaps he’d screw up his only chance to get his life back, but at least he’d go down swinging for what he believed in.

“You can go to hell, Officer Harris,” he muttered and sent Sadie a text.

*

Sadie refused to speak to Sly. Her phone rang while she was driving, but she ignored his call, wouldn’t even get her phone out of her purse. If he wanted to follow her home, let him. She couldn’t stop him from using the same highway. But that didn’t mean she had to have a conversation while she was driving.

When she pulled up to Petra’s, he got out, too, and tried to intercept her. “We need to talk,” he told her. “You can’t keep working for that bastard.”

“I’m not breaking any laws,” she said.

Petra must’ve heard their voices, or she’d been watching for Sadie, because she came out.

“There you are,” she said before her gaze shifted to Sly.

If anyone understood the truth of what her relationship with Sly was like, it was Petra. Although Sadie had been careful not to say too much, Petra knew she wished she could be rid of him, and that he refused to leave her alone.

Using the distraction Jayden’s babysitter posed, Sadie circumvented Sly and continued to the door. “Sorry I’m later than originally planned.”

“You warned me it’d be seven or eight. Jayden’s fine, anyway. How’d it go?” Petra swung the door open to admit her but said nothing to Sly, and Sly said nothing to Petra. He hung back on the walkway, as if he was waiting for Sadie to get Jayden and come out again.

“I liked it,” Sadie admitted as she went in.