Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead (38 page)

“I’m sorry, Madison. You must think I’m awful, to care about the man who shot Matt. My brother was an evil person at the end, but that’s not how he started out. And it’s not how I remember him. I remember a precious, innocent little curly-haired boy, begging for my help. Regardless of the circumstances, I
did
abandon him. Bringing his ashes here, giving him a decent resting place where I can bring him flowers and say an occasional prayer, is the only thing I can do for him now.”

Madison blinked, for once silent. She looked unsure what to do or say.

A black Escalade pulled up beside them and Pierce got out. He hurried to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the back door.

“Madison, can you give us a minute?” Matt asked.

“Of course.” She surprised Tessa by giving her a hug, or at least as much of a hug as she could manage while holding her sleeping daughter tucked in her arms. “I’m sorry about what happened to your family. And I think you’re doing the right thing, taking care of your brother’s burial.”

Tessa blinked back the tears she didn’t even know had gathered in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Once Madison and the baby were buckled in, Pierce turned to Matt. “I’ll pull out of the loading zone and come back in a couple of minutes to get you.” He nodded at Tessa before getting into the truck and pulling away.

Matt captured Tessa’s hand in his. “I’m sorry about your family too.”

Unshed tears clogged her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” She tugged her hand from his and pulled a small, wrapped package out of her purse.

“What’s this?”

“Your computer, or tablet, or whatever you call it. One of the miners found it and gave it to Casey. I’ve spent the last few days doing a ton of paperwork, and I saw it listed on the evidence log. The task force thought it belonged to . . . Hargrove. Once I straightened that out, I took it to Henry at your lab and had him clean it up and make sure it was working. Anyway, I knew you’d want it back.”

He cocked his head, studying her. “You went to a lot of trouble for me.”

It had taken constant bullying for the better part of three days to get Casey to release the computer from evidence, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“It wasn’t that big a deal. Casey’s got plenty of other work keeping him busy. He’s consumed with the investigation, determined to figure out every little detail so he can bring closure to all the victims’ families. He even figured out what happened to Latham and Stephens.”

“Really? What did he find out?”

“That Latham suspected Hargrove of several crimes over the years, and Stephens bungled the joint investigation that could have put Hargrove away a long time ago. We think because of that Latham didn’t trust Stephens. So when Latham met with us and realized Hargrove might be the one behind everything, he wanted to find out for himself. He went up the mountain to look around, but Hargrove got to him first with a Molotov cocktail.”

Matt winced. “Horrible way to go.”

Tessa nodded. “Stephens got a call on his cell from the sheriff about an hour before Latham’s death. Based on that, and Stephens’s time of death, and where Stephens’s car was found hidden up on the mountain, Casey feels confident that Stephens realized what Latham was up to and followed him. Maybe he was going to help him investigate, or maybe he wanted the glory of solving the case for himself. Who knows? Unfortunately for him, he became Owen’s second kill. That we know of.”

They were both silent for a few moments, reflecting on what had happened. Finally Tessa forced the dark thoughts away. She’d have to deal with them eventually, but not now, not today.

“Anyway, like I said, the computer tablet is yours. You shouldn’t have to wait until all the
t
s and
i
s are crossed and dotted to get it back.”

He nodded his thanks. “Madison told me you sat in the waiting room with my family while I was in surgery. During both surgeries, actually.”

“Yes, well, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why didn’t you come see me when I woke up?”

“I, ah, was going to, but you have a really big family, you know. They all wanted to see you first.” She gave a nervous laugh. “And like I said, I had a lot of paperwork. You private investigators get off easy. You wouldn’t believe all the reports Casey had me writing about everything that happened. And I had to—”

“Tessa?”

“Yes?”

“What happened to us?”

She looked down the long line of cars creeping up the circular drive, each one stopping to pick up someone or drop someone off. The black Escalade was about six cars back.

“I guess Pierce borrowed Alex’s truck, huh? I was surprised he wasn’t driving his GTO.”

“Tessa. Why are you pushing me away?”

A tear escaped down her cheek. “Being this close to you is torture,” she whispered. “Don’t you realize I’m falling for you?”

He took her hand again and gave her one of those sexy half smiles that should have been illegal. “Is that a bad thing?”

She tried to tug her hand away, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Tessa, I’ve been in love with you from the moment we met three years ago. But you weren’t ready for me then. I waited, and hoped, that one day you’d open your eyes and realize what was right in front of you.”

Alarm warred with the nearly overwhelming desire to be held in his arms and hear those precious words again. She shook her head in denial. “No, you don’t love me. You can’t love me.”

“I
do
love you. Not because you’re beautiful—and you
are
beautiful—but because you’re smart and compassionate. I wanted to strangle you when you ran to help Owen. But at the same time I admired you. I was in awe that you could hold the hand of a man who’d just tried to kill you and give him comfort as he died. You’re a much better person than me, because I couldn’t have done that, no matter how I was related to him. I love you for that and a thousand other reasons. Tell me that means something to you.”

“It means everything,” she choked, “but it doesn’t
change
anything. Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

He frowned, watching her intently, waiting.

She struggled to explain. She tugged her hand out of his and wrapped her arms around her middle. “A few weeks ago, I knew who I was, what I wanted in life. Then everything got turned upside down. I met a man who isn’t at all who I thought he was—I met
you
. And you turned out to be smart and kind and wonderful. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t know how to deal with you. And then I go from being the daughter of two warm, sweet people who nurtured and protected me to finding out I’m the biological daughter of the worst kind of evil there can possibly be, a man who preyed on children, a man who caused such horrible pain and brutally killed so many people.”

Pierce pulled up beside them, and Tessa turned her back to the truck so he wouldn’t see her tears.

Matt leaned toward her, then grimaced and sat back. “Tessa, please, go back to the house with me. We need to talk.”

“No, no, don’t you see? When I’m with you, I can’t think, and I need time. I need time to think, to figure out who I am.”

“You’re still the same person you always were, no matter whose blood runs in your veins.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I know it’s not, but let me help you. We can work through this together.”

“I
can’t
be with you right now, maybe not ever. Don’t you see? I’m falling for you, and if I keep seeing you I might fall hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And I’ll want to spend the rest of my life with you. That means marriage and babies.” She choked on the last word. “What kind of mother would I be to pass the evil in my blood onto my child? I can’t do it. I won’t. My father’s evil legacy stops with me.”

She turned and ran, away from the line of cars, away from Matt.

“Tessa, damn it, wait! Tessa!”

She kept running until she could no longer hear his voice. She ran until she reached her car. And then she slumped into the driver’s seat, finally giving in to the agony pulsing through her. She cried for what might have been. She cried for the love she’d found and lost. She cried for what could never be.

Chapter Nineteen

T
HE PREACHER FINISHED
his prayer in front of the small, dark square in the mausoleum wall. Tessa had chosen to inter her brother in one of the freestanding, outdoor mausoleums, where the sun could shine down on the wall of marble. Owen had spent so much of his life tucked away in dark places that she wanted him to spend his death in the light, where the smell of flowers would drift through on the summer breeze. It was a small comfort, but it seemed right.

“Miss James, did you want to say anything before the workers seal the opening?” the preacher asked.

The two workers in question stood off to the side in their blue coveralls, ready to put the marble square back in place, to seal Owen inside forever.

Tessa shook her head. “I appreciate your kind words and your prayers. You’ve said everything that needs to be said.”

She handed him an envelope with the customary tip and shook his hand. He was probably wondering why no one else had come to the little ceremony but was too polite to ask. Her adoptive parents had offered to be here with her, but somehow that seemed wrong. Owen wasn’t a part of the safe, happy world they lived in, and she never wanted them to be touched in any way by the darkness she’d been so lucky to escape.

The preacher’s brow creased with worry as he patted her shoulder. “Please call me if you need to talk. I know this can be a trying time, and it often helps just to talk to someone.”

She smiled her thanks, and he walked away. She stood back, giving the workers room. It only took a few minutes for them to screw the square of marble over the opening and caulk around it. Then they were done. One of them attached the tiny vase to the front, right next to the bronze plaque that read, simply,
OWEN MILLER
. She didn’t even know his birth date, so she’d opted to leave off any dates. And she’d chosen to use their mother’s last name. She absolutely refused to allow Hargrove to have any kind of claim over her brother in death.

When the workers left, she placed a single red rose in the vase. She pressed her hand against the cold, hard marble and pictured her brother the way he’d been in her memories, memories that were becoming more and more vivid with every passing day. He’d always looked unkempt with his wild curls. His dark eyes were always sad, and he’d always seemed bewildered and lost. Their father had favored him, perhaps because he was a boy, but his idea of favoring was to leave Tessa and her mother locked up in the basement for days at a time while he took Owen with him on his trips. Knowing now what her father did on those trips, and what Owen probably witnessed, it was no wonder that he’d become such a tortured soul. What could he have become if he’d escaped with her that day so long ago? That was a question for which she’d never have an answer.

“I’m sorry, Owen. I’m so sorry Sissie and I left you.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, then pressed her fingers against the marble. She waited another minute, then turned to leave.

She stopped short when she saw Matt leaning against an oak tree about twenty feet away. His arm was still in a sling. It must have hurt like crazy to put his suit on over his hurt shoulder. And he’d done it for her. That thought, more than her guilt over Owen, had tears pricking the backs of her eyes.

They met each other halfway.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” she said.

“I didn’t want you to be alone. Are you okay?”

“I will be. Eventually. Did you drive here by yourself? I thought you were still on heavy pain meds.”

“Devlin drove. He’s waiting in the parking lot. When we leave here, we’re going to Casey’s shindig. Are you going?”

“To Casey’s celebration for the task force? No, I don’t think so.”

He studied her for a moment, as if he was going to say something else. But then he sighed and pulled a thick envelope out of his inside jacket pocket. “I thought this might help. Having the facts always helps me when I’m sorting through things, making decisions.”

She took it and frowned down at her name, written across the front. She tore the envelope open and pulled out several sheets of paper, stapled together. After reading the first page, she blinked in surprise.

“I don’t understand. Why would you—” She looked up, but he wasn’t there. Other than a few strangers drifting through the rows of tombstones, the cemetery was empty.

She sank down onto the nearest concrete bench, placed there for families visiting their loved ones’ final resting places. She scanned what he’d written and then read it again slowly. It was just like him to boil everything down into facts and figures. And it amazed her how hard he must have worked to amass this data. She pictured him sitting at the computer for several days, until late at night, painstakingly typing with one hand.

Damn it. She was crying again.

She swiped at the tears, trying to focus on the papers in her lap. The first section was titled “Nature versus Nurture.” Matt had listed half a dozen studies on serial killers and other career criminals, each study focusing on whether people killed because of genetics or their upbringing, their environment. He’d marked his own conclusion below: that there was no consensus, that a child born with “bad genes” was just as likely to become a law-abiding, “normal” person as he was to follow in his parents’ footsteps.

The next section focused on commonalities between serial killers. Again it listed case study after case study, comparing the traits and personalities of killers. This time he concluded that an overwhelming percentage of violent offenders grew up abused, lonely, isolated. In bold, underlined italics he stated his conclusion that if a child was raised by loving, involved parents, the odds were astronomically low that the child would choose the
dark side
.

She smiled and shook her head. Leave it to Matt to place a subtle reference to
Star Wars
in his research. She was vaguely surprised he hadn’t quoted Yoda.