Page 128 of A River of Crows

“Yeah. We slept on and off all day. Your mother threw up a lot. Some bug’s going around.”

“Don’t wake her,” Ridge said. “She must be pretty sick to not wait up for my call. You both get some rest.”

Dylan came in with the coffee just as Ridge hung up. If it weren’t scalding hot, Sloan would have drunk it in a single gulp. Not that it would fix any of this. She was exhausted, but not in the places coffee could touch. Over the past few months, her life had been one emotionally draining event after the next.

A soft knock on the door made them all jump. When Ridge looked at Sloan, she saw him as a child again, frightened during one of Dad’s PTSD-induced nightmares. “Just go down the hall,” she said. “Noah said no more cops tonight.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Dylan said, making his way to the door. Sloan stood back as he opened it.

“Sorry to just show up like this but are my kids here?” the voice on the other side of the door asked.

Dad. Despite everything that had happened, despite knowing that he had no right to be here, no right to grieve, hearing his voice turned Sloan back into a little girl, waiting for him to walk through that very door. Dylan stepped aside, and Sloan met her father on the front porch, wrapping her arms around him.

“I heard about your mother,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” Sloan noticed Ridge from the corner of her eye, frozen in the doorway, staring at them. Their father broke the hug, keeping one arm around Sloan and holding the other forward. “I’m so sorry, son,” he said.

At first, Ridge looked away, staring down at the concrete, but then he took a few steps forward, reluctantly joining their embrace. They held on to each other underneath the porch light, silently sharing a grief no one else in the entire world could understand but them.

Chapter 35

Interstate 20, 2008

Libby felt herself veering onto the shoulder of the road, so she stopped for coffee. Her sleep last night had been fitful and nightmare-ridden. She’d been awake since 4:00 a.m. and had a plan by 5:00. Vince had tried to talk her out of it, but he didn’t put up much of a fight. This was the way of their marriage. She’d get an idea:

“I’d like to donate $15,000 to Golden Oak Elementary for new playground equipment.”

“I’d like to go back to school so I can counsel domestic violence victims.”

“I’d like to hide my best friend’s child away from his abusive father.”

“I’d like to keep him.”

“I’d like to get his sister too.”

“I’d like to encourage Ridge to visit Mallowater.”

And finally, “I’d like to kill Caroline.”

Vince always put up some resistance:

“$15,000 is a lot to spend on a charity project.”

“Aren’t you a little old to go back to school?”

“Hide Ridge? Have you lost your mind?”

“You have lost your mind! We can’t keep Ridge! I worried this would happen. You always get attached.”

“We are not adding to your laundry list of felonies by kidnapping another child.”

“Ridge doesn’t need to visit Mallowater. It will only cause more pain. We are his family.”

“Your joking, right? Murder Caroline? My god, Libby, tell me you’re joking.”

But after he let his opinions be known, Vince always came around:

“I suppose it is a win/win. Sloan and Ridge’s school gets new equipment, and we get a tax write-off.”

“LSU has a great social work program. And since I’ll be working there, you can take classes for free.”