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“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stop pushing.” He reaches across the cab to give my hand a squeeze. “The gun and the pictures are going to prove it. I’m sure of it.”
I hope so. Cool air breezes over my skin as I push the passenger door open. It’s been rough, not just in these months of running and hiding, but before that. Tucker has always been my confidant. My friend. Anderson, he played the role of brother better, always looking out for my safety, but Tucker gave me a safe place to leave my secrets and fears. It’s in his nature because of his job, I’m sure, but I’ve been grateful for a net to capture everything that bombarded me.
The breeze catches my hair and blows it across my face. I smooth it back, watching Tucker take in the beach that has come to feel like home for me.
“So, where did you hide it?”
I point to the south. “There’s a log down there. I stuffed it inside.”
He motions for us to start. “I’ll follow you.”
Walking in the sand feels commonplace to me after all this time. I’m surprised that Tucker struggles a bit. I slow my pace to keep in line with him. After a couple minutes, I notice the slight limp in his leg. His fight with Anderson must have really taken a toll.
“So, the fight with Anderson, how did that go down?” In all our years together, I’ve never seen Tucker fight or even throw a punch. Taking on my oldest brother, I can’t imagine what prompted it.
“It was about two weeks ago. I was leaving again to search for you.” Tucker stares at the bluffs, lost in the memory. “He told me I was wasting my time. He said if you wanted to be found, you would, but looking wasn’t going to do anyone any good. Things got heated. You know how he gets.”
I do know, and I know it from firsthand experience.
“Who threw the first punch?”
“He did.” Tucker shrugs. “I was trying to leave, and he swung out of nowhere. Caught me right here.” His finger highlights the faded bruise on his cheekbone. “I’m surprised he didn’t knock me out cold.”
“Me too.” Anderson once told me my advantage would always be my size and speed, not my strength. If someone his size ever laid a hand on me, I’d be down for the count. Our training focused on avoiding the strikes, not delivering them. We spent hours running through defense drills. In fact, it came to the point that I memorized the way he bruised in reaction to the defenses. The body flip, that took inertia and trickery with my legs, but it left a deep bruise on his upper thigh. The choke block, that imprinted his wrists with horizontal bruising on either side. I struggled with the wrist hold break. We must have practiced that for well over a week. He’d grab my wrist. I’d rotate my opposite arm over his offending arm, wrap it under and around his back, forcing him forward and breaking his connection to me. With my free hand, I grabbed the back of his head and forced him all the way to the ground, arm pinned behind his back. It left distinct bruises. One on the inside of his arm, and one on the upper outside. There’s something I need to ask Tucker, but I’m worried about what he’ll tell me.
“Tucker,” I swallow back some fear, “what happened that night? What do you remember?”
His steps falter, but he recovers quickly. “I don’t know. You and mom and your dad all came back from the gala in bad moods. You went for round two in the sunroom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that angry. Either one of you. Mom tried to break it up, but you didn’t want to listen to reason.” Sadness slips over his features. “It was only once your headache became unbearable that you gave in and stormed off. I figured you took a pill and went to bed.”
“But I didn’t?”
“I don’t know.” He struggles over his answers. “I went to bed. I had a patient coming in the morning and I needed some sleep. Next thing I knew, I heard a gunshot. I ran to the sunroom, and you were kneeling by his body, gun in your hand, blood all over your clothes. I checked your Dad first, but found no pulse. You kept crying and saying, ‘I did it’ over and over again. I was about to call for an ambulance when someone clobbered me over the back of the head, and I blacked out.”
“I said I did it?” I search for that memory but can’t find it.
“You were despondent, Liza. There was no reasoning with you.” He runs his fingers through his hair, pausing to think. “In my professional opinion, you looked like you were suffering a psychological break.”
“I don’t remember any of that.” But even as I say it, flashes of memory crash through my mind.
“That’s part of a psychological break. It’s not uncommon.” He starts walking again. “For argument’s sake, if you did pull the trigger, especially if it was an accident, it could have caused that kind of psychological response.”
“Then you really do think I did it.” The truth lands heavy on my heart.
“I would, except you didn’t knock me out. So, there has to be another explanation. The real shooter killed your father, and in your shock, they planted the gun on you and waited for me.” He’s obviously thought this through. “When I came to the next morning, the sunroom was clean. Your father was gone. It was as if nothing had ever happened.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. I thought it was a nightmare.”
Tucker’s hand grips my arm, pulling me to a stop. “Liza, I didn’t tell the cops any of that. I didn’t want to add to your guilt. That’s part of why Anderson came after me. He found out I was keeping things from the authorities, and he lost it.”
My heart aches for what I’ve put my family through. Running, leaving, fleeing my problems only made them worse for everyone I care about. While I’ve been safe on the ranch, they’ve been living through turmoil. And the killer, whoever it is, has been free. Maybe if Tucker had given his whole story, the cops would have had something to go on, but keeping secrets hobbled the investigation.
“Are we getting close?” Tucker squints up at the rising sun. The burn alone tells me it’ll be a hot day.
“Right up here.” I point at the log where Rhett and I shared our first kiss. The same place where Monroe called me into the darkness. It feels fitting that this is where things will come to an end.
Rhett
“Calm down, Son, he’s not a threat.” Dad’s voice breaks through the commotion in my mind.
