Nine
Trevor rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped into the assisted living center, Lark at his side, the automatic doors hissing shut behind him.
The place always felt too sterile, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to the air like a reminder of how close this building sat to the end of the line.
He took a deep breath, willing himself to push past the tightening in his chest.
After they’d almost died earlier, they’d reported it to Chief Keller and his SSA then driven to the store to buy Helena some new clothes and extra toiletries.
She was quick and efficient, and they’d been out in less than twenty minutes.
Then he’d dropped her at The Purple Torque so she could work and manage the books.
She’d never upgraded to digital files. Trevor reluctantly agreed, but only because she had her crew available and they promised to be on the lookout.
He’d gone to the PD for an update on the case from Chuck.
Ovan Fielding, Robbie McMahon’s garage manager, still hadn’t returned from his vacation, so he hadn’t been questioned.
They were no closer to finding out who the serial killer arsonist was, but he did look into Twila’s case and it was as Rick conveyed to Helena.
Just as he started to enter Mom’s room his phone vibrated in his pocket. A task force group text from Emmett.
He’d updated them on the Denver house nurse.
They’d gotten a facial recognition hit. Her name was Rhonda Goren.
Emmett had visited her in jail earlier today and when he’d told her who he was, she’d panicked and begged him not to tell her husband or adult daughter—said they wouldn’t understand.
Claimed she had no choice but to help Leader.
She had to stop their home from going into foreclosure and never expected it to go this far.
She’d refused to confirm that Leader hired her directly, but when Emmett explained what they believed he did—trafficking, murder, the newborn sales, she’d nearly passed out.
Started sobbing and said she thought Leader was helping those women from desperate situations.
He’d convinced her that the babies would only suffer if they stayed with their mothers.
She insisted she didn’t know about the murders, only that the women were being kept against their will, but she’d thought it was for their own good.
She’d denied any knowledge of Mia’s location.
Emmett wasn’t sure how much of this was guilt and how much was self-preservation, but either way, she was terrified of Leader.
If nothing else, they’d rattled her. Emmett was going to follow up with her attorney, but it was clear she wasn’t the mastermind here.
Well, it was more than they’d had before. But they still needed to find Mia before it was too late. He said a silent prayer for her and the Andrews family once again, then entered Mom’s room.
She sat by the wide bay window, her head tilted slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the swaying branches outside. Her once-thick auburn hair, now threaded with silver strands, framed her face in gentle waves.
“Hey, Mom,” Trevor said, pulling a chair up beside her. He reached for her hand, feeling the cool, papery skin against his palm. Her breathing came in shallow, rhythmic pulls, each one amplified by the steady hiss of the oxygen concentrator beside her. “You look good today.”
She turned, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her lips. “Trevor,” she said, her voice still strong, though tinged with the telltale crackle of her damaged lungs. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. He glanced at the thin blue line running from the oxygen tank to her nose, the soft hiss a constant reminder of time slipping through his fingers.
“They say you’re doing better today,” he ventured, watching her expression closely. “You feeling okay?”
“Oh, you know me,” she replied with a soft chuckle that quickly turned into a series of wheezing coughs. She lifted a hand, waving off his concern as the fit subsided. “I’m too stubborn to go quietly.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
They talked about the weather, the changing leaves and the Aspen Glow Festival, which had started yesterday and would run a full week celebrating fall.
It was a ritual they’d perfected over the years, a way to skirt around the harder truths neither wanted to say out loud.
But today, with impending loss pressing down on him, Trevor found himself inching closer to those unspoken corners.
“Mom,” he said, voice low. “I need to ask you something.”
She turned her eyes on him, the same eyes that had caught every scraped knee, every bruised ego, every heartbreak of his childhood. “Go on, son.”
“Do you remember anything about Rick Rutherford dating Regina before Bruce? I heard something, and I’m just trying to piece some things together.”
Mom’s brow furrowed. She took a moment, her gaze drifting back to the swaying branches outside. “She tutored him, and I think they might have but it’s been so long ago. It’s possible. I do remember Bruce rescuing my friend Twila from a barn fire.”
Trevor leaned in. “I heard about that, too.”
“It was Twila’s family’s barn, out on the old Miller property. Everyone thought it was an accident, maybe a lantern that tipped over. But Twila always swore she never had a lantern in that barn. Said it must’ve been left there by someone else.”
A cold thread of unease wound its way through Trevor’s chest. “Did Bruce say why he would have even been out at the old Miller property?”
Mom nodded, her eyes growing distant, as if the memory pulled her back through the decades.
“Said he was out for a run. Ran track, but that was mighty far from his house. That’s when things started to change between Bruce and Rick.
After that, it was like Bruce became the hero, the golden boy, and Rick…
well, he seemed to fade into the background. ”
Trevor absorbed this, the image of a barn fire flickering in his mind. Had Bruce really saved Twila? Or had something darker been at play that night? Something hidden beneath the heroic veneer Helena’s father had worn like a second skin?
“I never thought about it much,” Mom continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, “but Twila once told me she thought she heard someone in that barn before it went up but never told the police because she wasn’t sure. But the horses got spooked too.”
A chill crept down Trevor’s spine. If there had been someone else in that barn, had it been Bruce? Rick might be dead-on about his brother.
His mother’s fingers tightened around his. “Trevor,” she said, pulling him back to the present. “Don’t let your life pass you by. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
He looked at her; confusion cutting through his earlier unease. “What do you mean?”
She smiled, the kind that held more sorrow than joy.
“You gave up so much for me. Your schooling, your friends, everything. I let you, because I needed you, and I’ll never stop being grateful for that, and regretting it.
But you deserve more than this. Don’t wait for life to come to you. Go after what you want.”
Trevor swallowed, feeling the familiar sting of regret rise in his chest. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Mom.”
Her eyes searched his face. “Maybe not. But don’t close yourself off to what could be.”
He leaned in, kissed her wan cheek, and whispered, “I won’t. I promise.”
He left the center with her words echoing in his mind, each one a nudge toward the life he’d let slip into the background while tending to his mother’s fading light. This was the second time she’d pushed him to move forward and make a life.
She was trying to secure him in the truth that she was leaving and he didn’t need to be in this world alone. There was more to who he was, but he was having a hard time making peace with that.
When he pulled into the lot at The Purple Torque, Helena was leaning against the hood of her truck, smudges of grease on her forearm and a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Come with me to the Aspen Glow Festival,” he said, stepping out of his truck into the night before he could second-guess himself. “We could both use a break and unless the killer wants to set the entire festival ablaze, we’ll likely be safe.”
Mom was right. He’d let his life pass him by. He was going to attempt finding a life of his own, even if he had no idea who he was or what that would mean. But she’d asked him to promise her, and he owed her that at the very least.
She hesitated, then nodded. “All right, Slate. But if you win me some cheap, stuffed prize, you better believe I’ll make fun of you for it.”
Trevor felt a warmth spread through his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see the outline of the life his mother had urged him to chase.
The fairgrounds were a riot of color and noise, the sharp tang of kettle corn mixing with the crisp autumn air.
Trevor glanced sideways at Helena as they walked through the crowded midway, her eyes bright as she took in the sights.
He hadn’t seen her this relaxed in days, her shoulders loose, a genuine smile breaking through the usual guarded set of her jaw.
“All right, what first?” he asked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to keep from reaching for her. The urge to touch her, to feel the warmth of her hand in his was a feeling he hadn’t quite figured out how to handle yet.
She tilted her head, lips curving up as they passed the bright lights of the ring toss booth. “You look like the kind of guy who’s too proud to walk away without a prize.”
He snorted. “You’re not wrong.”