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“Who asked you to write something?”
“Edward. He wasn’t a good man, but I wanted to keep the town happy and protect the kids. Let God deal with his punishment.”
“Protect the kids from what? Dad?”
Dad was unfocused and then showed the first signs of agitation. “I told him that God would judge him, just like I told that Micah boy.” His eyes widened. “And you’ll go to hell, too! Why did I say that?”
“It’s okay, Dad?—”
I said all of that, and I meant it.” He began to cry. “But I didn’t mean that for you… I’m sorry, son.”
“It was in the past. It’s okay.” I paused, and he stared at me. For a moment, I felt a connection, but then he frowned.
“What’s okay?” he was confused again. Shit. I was losing him, and I needed more information.
“What did you do with Edward?”
“Edward?”
“Edward and his wife, Rebecca.”
He blinked at me, wiped away tears, and drew back his shoulders. “She killed herself, and that’s a sin. So, I lied to keep her kids safe. People believe the badge, son; they think you’re being truthful always.”
My heart broke. Did he know for sure what Edward had done?
“Dad? What did Edward do?”
“He didn’t have the money… no one does, and she was dying, and she told me… she said she wanted the kids to be safe… said it was easier if she went to sleep forever. Before Edward killed her himself.”
My heart skipped a beat, and dread consumed me. “Dad? What else did she say?”
“Who?”
“Rebecca Lennox.”
His gaze grew distant as confusion clouded hisfeatures. “Who?” The sharpness that had been there a moment ago was fading, slipping away from him.
I took a deep breath, my heart aching at seeing him like this. While he wasn’t looking, I slid the journal into my jacket, hiding it from view. There were things in here—things I needed to understand, but not in front of him.
“Dad, it’s okay,” I said, trying to soothe him. “Why don’t you go back to your chair and rest?”
He blinked at me, his confusion deepening, but he nodded and let Mom help him back down to the living room. I watched him go, the journal’s weight pressing into my side.
Connor met my eyes as I turned back to him. He didn’t say anything, but the concern was written all over his face. I didn’t have the words to respond to that, so I just gave him a small nod and headed for the door. We needed to get out of there to piece together the puzzle slowly and see it revealing itself in my dad’s scribbled notes.
As we left the house, the late afternoon sun had dipped lower, casting everything in a golden light that felt at odds with the darkness brewing in my thoughts. I knew we were getting closer to the truth, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for what we’d find.
By unspoken agreement, we headed out of town, the road winding as it climbed the mountain toward Lennox Ranch. Near the main house, the barn loomed large, the heart of the ranch, and it was there that we found Micah standing by the office with a clipboard in hand, his brow furrowed.
We exchanged friendly hellos, the kind you give whenyou’re about to drop a bombshell on someone’s day. I didn’t waste time with small talk. “Can we talk, Micah? Me, you, and Rachel.”
“And me,” Connor added, stepping forward, his tone respectful but firm. “If that’s okay.”
Micah’s eyes flickered with something—fear, maybe, or suspicion. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated, his face going pale as the words slipped out. “Fuck, is this about the gun?”
The moment the words left his lips, he realized what he’d said, and his expression turned to one of panic. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for the impact.
“No, but I know about the gun, and it’s buried, Micah, okay?”
