Bred in the Bone (Widow's Island #4)(22)

“He will pay for what he did to you, Sam.” It was a promise.

Sam met her gaze. “He’s gone, Cate. He always had a plan for every emergency. I have no doubt that he’s settled in a well-stocked escape spot.” Sorrow filled her eyes. “But now he’ll hurt someone else because I’m not there.”

“That’s not your fault. Don’t tell me you believe it’s your duty to keep him from committing crimes,” Cate said fiercely.

Indecision flickered in Sam’s eyes. “I’ve been told for twenty years it’s my responsibility. It’s a little hard to change that pattern of thinking.”

“I’ll help you.” And I’ll find you the best therapist.

“I know you will.” Sam looked at the clock on the wall. “I’m suddenly exhausted. I haven’t talked this much since . . . you’re staying tonight, right?” This was the third time she’d asked since dinner. Her anxiety about sleeping alone triggered a pain in Cate’s heart.

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.





9


Cate smiled at the sound of Mickey’s padding footsteps in the hallway.

She was on the air mattress in Sam’s room but unable to fall asleep. Sam had crashed almost immediately. Mickey was a frequent visitor to Sam’s room in the middle of the night. Several times, Cate had seen him come to the door simply to watch his mother sleep in her small twin bed. Cate had tried to convince him to come in and sleep in his mother’s bed, but he’d refused.

But each visit, he stayed a little longer, a hungry look on his face.

Mickey needed affection. Now that Sam was able to give it, the boy craved more at all hours of the day. Cate guessed he’d be in his mother’s bed within days. She’d told Samantha about his late-night visits, and his mother had gotten teary, wanting him by her side too.

Perhaps tonight was the night he’d let his guard down.

Maybe if Mickey is with her, she won’t need me or Tessa to spend the night.

Cate would like to get back in her regular routine—her and Henry’s routine. She missed Henry at night, but they knew that Sam needed to come first for a little while. Cate watched the doorway in the dim light, waiting for the familiar silhouette. It didn’t come. Listening, she heard his footsteps suddenly go in the opposite direction. Awww. He chickened out.

She threw off the blanket, got up from the mattress, and went after the boy, betting she could convince him to sleep next to his mother.

The light over the kitchen stove cast a small glow down the hallway to the bedrooms. As Cate turned from the hall into the living room, she heard a whimper.

“Mickey?” Her fingers flipped the light switch on the wall, and she stared.

“Don’t move.” A tall man clamped Mickey to his torso with one arm, a large knife at the boy’s neck. The man’s jeans were frayed at the hem, and his thick coat looked like a ski jacket from the eighties. His face was thin, and his eyes glowed with fury.

“Travis.” Shock froze her in place, and her stomach heaved.

Why didn’t I assume he’d come after them?

Cate slowly raised her hands, furious with herself.

I’m unprepared.

And Mickey and Sam might pay because of it.

“Where is she?”

Mickey’s eyes were wide, and a thin rivulet of blood already ran from the blade down to the collar of his pajamas. “It hurts.”

If he hurts that boy any more . . .

Travis’s gaze darted around the room. He worked his mouth and lips, nervous energy radiating from him.

“Quiet. Where’s Kristin?” he asked Cate.

“Sleeping.” She tamped down her fury. Focus. Cate’s hostage-negotiation classes spun in her head, a confused mix of phrases and rules. “Nothing has happened yet, Travis. If you turn around and leave, no crime has happened.” Not quite true. “But if you hurt Mickey or Samantha—”

“Do not call her that! Her name is Kristin!”

She flinched. Don’t make that mistake again. “If you hurt either of them, then you’re guilty of a crime. I would leave now before you make it worse for yourself.”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he roared.

“I’m a friend.” He doesn’t know I’m law enforcement.

A mark in her favor.

But her weapon was in her purse on the dresser in Samantha’s room.

A mark against her.

“Go get her!”

Yes! I can get my—

“I’m right here, Travis.” Samantha spoke behind Cate.

Dammit.

Samantha moved to stand beside Cate. “Please don’t hurt Mickey.” Her voice cracked.

“He’s a waste of space. Was just another mouth to feed. I need you back.” Travis jerked, his attention shooting to the figure past Samantha. “Stay the fuck back.”

Marsha had come out of her room and stood in a flannel nightgown, her arms raised with a large metal figurine as a weapon in one hand and determination on her face. She was prepared to fight for her family. “He’s bleeding.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re going. Kristin, outside now,” he ordered, pointing the knife toward the door.