Chapter 18 #3
Corbin Brandt lowered himself onto the step beside her. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands loose between them. “Are you willing to talk to me?”
She exhaled. “Is Evander okay?”
“He will be.”
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Your statement guts any kidnapping case they might try to build,” he said in that quiet, measured voice. “But Rux Granger is still dead. The Sons have a long memory and a compromised sheriff’s office. You understand what that means.”
She did. She knew how the law worked when the law worked for someone else.
“Mal Granger slipped federal surveillance three days ago.” Brandt’s profile was sharp against the porch light.
“He wants you dead before you can testify. Right now, there’s nothing keeping the RICO case alive except you and Sylvie Granger, but she’s disappeared.
You’re the only witness who can put Mal at the scene when Roy Bishoff died. ”
Rainey’s stomach turned. She’d watched it happen. She’d stood in that clubhouse and seen Mal Granger put a bullet in his own accountant’s skull because the man had threatened to talk. She’d helped Sylvie escape that same night. She’d been running ever since.
Brandt studied her, then nodded to himself and stood. “You’re safe here. Get some sleep tonight. Your full statement can wait until morning.”
Relief surged through her. “Thank you, Marshal.”
“You’re welcome, Rainey. See you tomorrow.” He walked down the steps and across the yard toward where a dark SUV sat parked near the barn.
River materialized on her other side. He’d been waiting, hovering just outside the circle of light, and now he dropped onto the step below hers with the restless energy of a man who couldn’t sit still with his own thoughts.
“You can have the extra bed in my bunk room,” he said. “It’s not much, but—”
She hesitated. Her gaze went to the house, then to the building where Bear and the others had carried Evander.
She didn’t know where they’d taken him. She didn’t know if he was conscious.
She didn’t know if the fever had broken or gotten worse, if the sepsis was moving through his blood the way Bear had feared, if the man who’d carried her down a mountain on cracked ribs was going to make it through the night because of choices she’d made.
A woman appeared in the doorway behind them. If she had been in wedding clothes earlier, she wasn’t now. She wore jeans and a flannel shirt unbuttoned over a tee, her gray-streaked hair pulled into a loose knot. She had kind eyes and a soft smile.
“Guest room’s made up,” she said. “Fresh towels in the bathroom. Mariah left clothes laid out for you.”
“Jo—” River protested, but the woman waved him back.
“She doesn’t want to stay in that stinky bunkhouse. Trust me on this.”
Rainey looked at the woman and something in her chest loosened at the offer of a room with a door that closed. “That would be great. Thank you…”
“Johanna.”
“Thank you, Johanna.”
River’s face fell. It only lasted and instant before he locked his carefree mask into place. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels like none of it mattered.
“Sure. Yeah, that’s— the main house is better. More comfortable. You should—”
“River.” She put a hand on his arm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded. Too fast. He pulled her into another hug, quick this time, his arms around her shoulders.
When he let go, the exhale that left him was ragged at the edges. “Love you, Rain.”
“Love you, too.” Another thing she meant. She’d always loved her brother, even though it was complicated.
Johanna led her inside. The main house was warm, wood-paneled, smelling of pine and something baking that Rainey hadn’t eaten in years.
A hallway. A door. Tilly followed, her nails clicking on the hardwood, and when Johanna pushed the door open the room beyond was simple — a bed with a quilt, a dresser, a window looking out on dark trees.
“Bathroom’s down the hall to the left. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Johanna touched her shoulder, brief and gentle. “He’s in good hands. Bear’s done this before.”
Rainey nodded. She couldn’t find words.
The door closed. Tilly circled the room once, sniffing the corners, then settled on the rug beside the bed with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire mountain.
Alone.
Rainey sat on the edge of the bed. The quilt was soft under her palms. She toed at one boot, got it half off, and gave up.
Her body had reached its limit. The adrenaline that had carried her down the mountain, through the gunfight, across the yard and the porch steps and the conversation with Brandt — it drained out of her all at once, like someone had pulled a plug.
She meant to stand up. She meant to find out where they’d taken Evander.
She meant to go sit beside his bed the way he’d sat beside hers that first night in the cabin, when her ribs were taped and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he’d given her hot tea and silence and the gift of not being alone.
She meant to do all of that.
She lay down instead and was asleep before she knew it.