“I wish you could, too.”
More silence descended. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Hayes walked out of the house with a bag in his hands. Seconds? Minutes? Hours?
He made his way to Hadley and me, his face a blank mask. It was that blankness that terrified me more than anything. He met my gaze and didn’t look away. “I need you to tell me if this looks familiar.”
I looked down at the item in his hands. The fabric had little flowers all over it. It was one of Addie’s favorites, and a large, red stain marred the material. “Is that blood?” I knew it was, but I wanted some other plausible cause.
“Is it Addie’s?”
“It’s hers.” My voice cracked on the words, and Hadley gripped my arm.
Hayes ducked his head so that it infiltrated my line of sight. “Look at me, Beck.”
I forced my focus away from the shirt Addie had been wearing just three days ago.
“We’re getting closer.”
We might be getting closer, but Addie was here somewhere, and she was hurt. Or worse. Vomit threatened, and I swallowed it down.
“We’ll do whatever it takes to find—”
The sound of another shot cracked the air. It was far away, but there was no denying the sound this time. I didn’t think; I simply ran in the direction it had come from, Addie’s name on my lips.
47
ADDIE
The crack of the bullet made me jump as it hit the water behind me. He hadn’t needed to shoot to get me to stay put. I hadn’t moved
an inch. I was struggling to put it all together.
I stared into Allen’s eyes. The man who was supposed to love my mother and me. I’d always known he was evil. Known that he was capable of murder. Yet the thought hadn’t crossed my mind that he had ended my mother’s life.
I struggled to sift through the hazy memories I had from that time. I’d been sick for weeks, barely able to make it to my bathroom, let alone the rest of the house. My mother’s words echoed in my head. “I’m sorry, Little Mouse.”
Those words and the letter had been all the evidence I’d needed that she’d left me alone to face the nightmare of my father. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. “She didn’t leave me,” I whispered.
Allen gripped my shirt tighter, yanking me to my tiptoes. “She did leave you. It’s her fault. If she hadn’t tried to leave, none of this would’ve happened. She’d still be here, and you wouldn’t have gotten some crazy idea to run off and whore yourself around.”
I scanned Allen’s face as he spoke. He truly believed the words coming out of his mouth. Nothing would ever be his fault.
“Now, Brandon’s gone because of you. Some of my other hands, too. How the hell am I supposed to run this ranch without them?” He gave me a shake, making my stomach throb. “You’re gonna get your act together, and you’re gonna help me. You’ll work from sunup to sundown to make up for what you’ve cost me.”
A tear I desperately tried to hold back escaped. “You didn’t have to kill her.”
I’d been so angry. I’d thought my mom had left—every single day since she’d been murdered.
I’d let my rage fester and grow when, really, Allen had stolen her from me. Took her life. The tears came faster. She’d wanted to get us both out of there.
A burning started deep in my chest. “I’m so sorry.” I said the words so quietly they were almost silent.
“What did you say?” Allen barked.
“I said I was sorry. Sorry for believing your cruel lies. For believing a monster.”
His hand lashed out, wrapping around my neck. “I was a good husband. The best. Cecily was ungrateful—a traitor.” His fingers tightened, cutting off my air supply. “You’re just like her.”
I scratched at his arms, tried to work his fingers away from my neck. Nothing worked. Somewhere in my brain, I thought I heard my name. It took a second for me to recognize the voice. The timbre of Beckett’s bellow fueled a burst of strength.