Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (126 page)

“I—”

Her
next
words
cut
him
off
almost
before
he
started.
“And
then
you
pray
that
if
the
Lord
already
has
her
home
in
his
arms,
if
your
parents
are
already
rejoicing
to
see
one
of
their
children
again,
you
pray
we
can
find
a
way
to
accept
it
without
losing
our
faith.
Do
you
understand
me
,
young
man?”

“Yes,
Aunt
Aggie.”

“Go
to
sleep.”

She
stormed
from
the
room,
anxious
not
to
lose
anymore
of
her
control.
As
she
passed
the
other
children
staring
shocked
in
the
hallway,
she
waved
them
to
their
rooms.
“Get
in
your
beds.
You
all
pray
too.
Go
to
sleep.”

Tina
stood
at
the
head
of
the
stairs.
“Aggie,
I
really
think
that
was
a
bit
harsh—”

“Please
go
tuck
them
in,
Tina.
I’ve
got
something
to
do.”

S
he
descended
the
stairs,
pausing
on
each
step
to
gather
a
little
more
courage and
trying
to
smooth
her
hair.
It
was
futile,
and
she
knew
it.
At
the
closet,
she
shoved
her
feet
into
her
boots,
grabbed
her
coat,
and
pulled
a
stocking
cap
over
her
head.
Luke
and
William
called
out
for
her,
but
she
opened
the
door
and
stepped
outside.

Halfway
down
the
driveway,
the
men
finally
caught
her,
but
Aggie
ignored
them.
Luke
grabbed
her
arm
and
begged
her
to
come
inside,
but
her
voice
was
reinforced
with
steel
as
she
said,
“Don’t,
Luke.
Come
and
support
me
or
go
back,
but
don’t
ask
me
not
to
do
this.”

“You
can’t
say
anything
related
to
the
investigation,
Aggie.
It’ll
compromise—”

“I
don’t
intend
to,
William.
If
you
hear
me
start
to
say
something,
squeeze
my
arm
or
something.”

Reporters
scrambled
from
their
news
vans,
peppering
her
with
questions
before
she
could
get
close
enough
to
be
heard.
She
walked
up
to
the
edge
of
the
fence
and
waited
until
they’d
all
assembled.
The
din
was
incredible
for
such
a
small
group
in
a
world
hushed
with
the
thickening
snow
beneath
their
feet.
Not
one
question
did
she
answer.
Not
one
reporter
was
acknowledged.
At
last
the
group
quieted
to
an
occasional
murmur
between
reporter
and
his
or
her
camera
man.

“I
have
a
statement.”

Questions
erupted
again
.
“Has
there
been
a
ransom
demand?”

“
Is
it
true
that
your
fiancée
is
a
suspect?”

“Do
you
think
she’s
still
alive?”

That
question
earned
the
woman
who
asked
a
growl
of
protest
from
the
men
on
each
side
of
her.
Desper
ate
to
say
her
piece
and
get
back
into
the
warm
house,
she
held
up
her
hand
and
shouted,
“I’m
making
a
statement
and
leaving.
You
can
either
have
that
or
nothing.
The
n
ext
person
who
interrupts
me
ends
this.”