Page 35

“Brandon!” Elise tried to get to her son.
Paul’s voice stopped her. “Elise, let me handle this.”
“Brandon,” he called out over the child’s screams. “Brandon!”
The little boy kept on kicking and screaming, tears running down his cheeks. “It’s all your fault.”
Just when Elise couldn’t take it anymore, Paul lifted Brandon and wrapped him in a hug tight enough the boy couldn’t move his arms or legs. He grunted his frustration, the tears coursing. “If you hadn’t come, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“No, Brandon.” Elise moved up behind him and laid a hand on his back. “Someone is trying to scare us.”
“It’s him!”
“No, Paul is here to protect us. Aunt Brenna senthim. He helped us up in North Dakota. He’ll help us now.”
“No, he’s the one doing this.”
“No, sweetheart, he’s not. Agent Fletcher is one of the good guys.”
Brandon looked into Paul’s eyes, his own blue eyes filled with distrust. “You took Daddy away, didn’t you?”
“Brandon, your dad died in a fire.”
“No, he didn’t!” Brandon shot an accusing glance at Elise.
The force of the look almost made her stagger. She couldn’t deny Brandon’s claim. With the notes and the woman who’d disappeared, she truly believed her husband was back and that he wanted revenge.
The anger and hurt dissolved as he stared at her. “Mom, is it true? Did our dad kill all those women?”
Elise’s heart broke into a million pieces. She’d never wanted her sons to know the extent of their father’s horrible legacy.
“Brandon, some people get sick in ways that aren’t like a cold or flu. They get sick here.” Paul loosened his grip enough to touch his finger to his temple.
Brandon switched his attention to Paul, the frown still furrowing his young brow. “Like crazy people?”
“Yes.” Elise pounced on that. “Your father couldn’t help it. His brain was sick.”
Brandon pushed against Paul’s arms. “You can put me down. I won’t hurt you.”
If Elise weren’t so upset, she would have smiled atthe little boy telling the hulking agent he wouldn’t hurt him.
Brandon stood there, all straight and serious, like a little old man, not a boy of eight. “Am I going to get sick like my father?”
Elise dropped to her knees and pulled her son into her arms. “No, Brandon. You are not going to get sick like your father.”
He pushed her to arm’s length. “What about Luke? Is he going to get sick like our father?”
Tears welled in Elise’s eyes. “No, baby, you both are going to be just fine. You’ll grow up into wonderful, loving men and have children and families who love you.”
Brandon stood for a long moment, staring into his mother’s eyes, seeking reassurance. Finally, he nodded. “I’d better go check on Luke.”
“That’s a good idea.” Elise stood, scrubbing the tears from her eyes. “Please have him come inside, will you?”
As Brandon turned toward the back door, Paul laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have a mighty good kick.”
Brandon hung his head and scuffed his shoe against the carpet. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fletcher. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay. At least I know you can defend your mother like a pro.”