Page 26 of Burn Falls

“I’ve been hard on you all these years because you’re my firstborn. I wanted you to settle down and start a family.”

“That can still happen.”

“I know it can. I just want to see you healthy and smiling like you used to do.”

“I think I’m going to start running again when I get back to Seattle.”

“Actually, that’s another thing I wanted to speak with you about. For as long as I can remember, your father had always said that he wanted you to take over OBB when he died—”

“I’m sure he was joking,” I stated.

Mother shook her head. “He wasn’t. And I know you have your life in Seattle, but I could really use your help here in Burn Falls. Alastair and Betha have many more years left of college, and there’s no way I can ask them to drop out. Your father wouldn’t want that.”

I stared at her speechless. “What are you saying?”

She placed her hand on my knee. “I’m meeting with our probate attorney after you leave to go back home, but I want you to stay. I want to give you OBB, and I want you to run it just like your father wanted.”

I stared at her speechless again.

“I know this is a lot to think about, but I can’t run the business. I have no clue what to do, and there’s no way I’ll ever sell it.”

“I wouldn’t let you sell it.”

“I could really use your help with everything now that your father’s gone. Would you consider moving home? You can stay here as long as you need to. I just … I just don’t think I can manage life alone.”

A tear slid down my cheek. “I need a little time to think it all over. I have my job back in—”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I wanted to mention it sooner rather than later. I know you’re going back on Sunday, but I wanted you to know that I need you.”

My mother had never told me that she needed me before. But was I ready to run a business? Become theheiressof O’Bannion Burn?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Seattle – 2003

It took me seventy-one years to finally make it to the west coast. Since 1932, I’d been going town to town, moving every ten or so years. I decided on Seattle a few months ago because it was the fastest growing major city in the United States, and I felt as though I could easily hide who I was and who I was running from in a large city.

I was working as an attending at Seattle’s Hope Haven. Compulsion helped when it came to interviews and getting people to believe that ayoungguy like myself had enough schooling and was training to be an attending and not an intern or resident. I also controlled when I could and couldn’t work, so if the sun was still out at the start of my shift, I’d compel who questioned me to forget I wasn’t in the hospital when my shift started.

“See you tomorrow, Dr. Webster,” Dyana, one of my interns, said as she closed her locker.

My current alias was Dr. Robert Webster. We’d just finished our shift, and each of us were getting ready to go home for the night. “Have a good rest of your night,” I replied, tying my shoe.

I grabbed my messenger bag and then walked to exit the building. Most nights at three in the morning there were just a few people roaming the streets, and I’d be able to run to my apartment in less than five minutes.

Tonight was different.

“I said drop your weapon!”

Hearing the shouts stopped me mid-dash a few blocks from the hospital.

“Looks like you’re outnumbered.” There was laughter, and my ears perked up even more. I bolted toward the voices. I didn’t know why.

“This is your last warning,” the first voice warned.

When I rounded the corner, staying in the shadows, I saw two police officers. One was on the ground, blood seeping from his chest, and not moving. I couldn’t hear his heart beating and knew he was dead. The other cop was surrounded by five men, his gun drawn, but I could tell he didn’t know what to do because he was, in fact, outnumbered.

Since I’d left Renzo’s mob, I’d never killed another person. But I knew that these five men weren’t innocent, and I knew that if they tried to follow through with their threats, I’d step in. I’d compel them to leave, and then I’d compel the cop and make up a cover story for his fallen partner.