Page 16

CHAPTER 16

ELLIOT

A shrill scream rips me from a dreamless sleep.

Before I’ve even fully comprehended the situation, my hand closes around the grip of the pistol I keep in my bedside table, and I’m jumping out of bed.

Another scream.

Jane.

Adrenaline pulses through my veins, and I lunge out of my bedroom and sprint down the hall. I check the door, but it’s locked.

Echo whines at my side.

“What’s going on?” Lani asks as she stumbles from the room she’s staying in.

Another scream.

I step back and kick the door in. Wood splinters, and I charge in, weapon drawn. But the room is empty except for Jane, who is thrashing on the bed, arms and face gleaming with sweat.

Lani rushes in around me and reaches for her. “Breathe,” she says. “Just breathe.”

“Let me go!” Jane screams. She lunges to her feet, backing all the way against the wall. “He’s going to come here! Don’t you understand? He’s going to kill me!”

Jane is standing near the window, eyes wide, hair wild around her face. She’s wearing a pair of sweats and a sweater, her feet bare.

My sister is directly across from her, both hands held out. “He’s not going to get you here,” Lani says, her tone calm.

Jane shakes her head. “You don’t understand. None of you do. I don’t even understand. How can I? How can I keep everyone safe if I can’t remember!” She’s panicked, her night terror still clinging to her consciousness.

Echo cautiously crosses toward Jane and leans against her. I watch as she reaches down and touches his fur then collapses to the floor. He curls up beside her, head in her lap.

“I’ve got it, Lani. Can you make some coffee?”

“Of course.” She smiles at Jane before leaving the room.

“Are you hurt?” I cross over and kneel beside her, scanning her for any injuries. I’ve seen men under the throes of PTSD attacks, Dylan being one of them. I’ve watched the horror in their eyes as they relive their worst days on the battlefield.

Is that what Jane was doing?

Reliving her nightmare?

“Not yet.” She covers her face with both hands. Her shoulders begin to shake, and I rush forward, sliding to her side and wrapping my arms around her.

“How many times have I told you? No one is going to hurt you.”

“I don’t know how I know it, but he’ll find me, Elliot. I—” She trails off. “I can’t even remember his face. But the pain, I remember the pain.” She chokes on a sob. “I’m losing even more of myself, and I already don’t even know who I am. Oh, wait, no, I do. I’m a murderer. Maybe I deserve this. Maybe all of this is what should be happening.”

Focus on the real problem, not the rationalization of it. So even as I want to tell her how ridiculous it is to think she deserves what is happening to her, I don’t. “I won’t let you get lost. You hear me? I won’t let you lose anything else.”

She leans against me, her head on my chest as she cries. I just hold on, cradling this woman in my arms.

I never want to let go.

But even as I’m terrified to hold on any longer, I push my own feelings aside and keep my arms around her. She needs this more than I need to let go.

Minutes tick by in silence until she’s pulling away from me and wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I lost it.”

“Don’t apologize. Did you remember something?”

She nods. “It’s not much.”

“Anything can help.”

She takes a deep breath. “I was running through the woods again. A man was chasing me, but I couldn’t see his face. Then I remember standing on the edge of a river. He was a shadow, but he pulled the trigger and there was so much pain.” She touches her abdomen right over where the bullet tore through her.

“That’s something.”

“And then I woke up, and I had no idea where I was. Your poor sister—” She trails off and covers her face.

“Lani’s fine. It’s not the first time she’s dealt with something like this.” I scoot around so I’m facing her; then I reach out and take her hands, needing to feel them in mine to steady my own racing heart. “Tell me about the place you saw. Where you were shot. Was there anything special about it? Anything that stuck out?”

Her eyes go distant, and I can tell she’s lost in the memory. “There was a sign. I ran past it.”

Hope. “What did it say? Do you remember?”

“I don’t remember what it said. It was made of wood. Looked old. I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything else.”

“It’s okay.” I force a smile. “It’s not much, but it’s something. Likely means you were near a hiking trail. We’ll figure it out when we go to the park tomorrow. There are some old wooden signs that mark different trails up there.”

“I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I should be out doing something but I’m not.”

“You are doing something,” I tell her as I release one of her hands and brush a strand of red hair from her tear-stained cheek.

She shivers beneath my touch, her shoulder slumping forward as though she can finally relax. “How can you do that?” she whispers.

“Do what?” I withdraw my hand, and her emerald gaze locks on mine.

“Calm the storm when nothing else can?”

* * *

“Is she better?”

“She’s okay. It was a night terror fueled by anxiety. She’s embarrassed, but she’s okay.”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to be embarrassed at all.” My sister offers me a steaming mug of coffee.

“That’s what I told her.” I take a drink, not even caring that it’s hot enough to scald my tongue. “She’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“You’re a great man, Elliot Hunt.”

“I’m something,” I reply.

Lani cocks her head to the side. “You doing okay, big brother?”

I turn back as my sister takes a seat in a chair at the kitchen counter. Unsure what else to do, I follow suit, sitting beside her. “Fine. Why?”

She studies me. “You never were good at hiding things.”

“I’m tired, Lani. Exhausted, really. And frustrated that I haven’t been able to help her.”

Lani nods. “I know I kind of forced you into this by insisting you go up to the hospital, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About this. About her.”

“What about her?”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. While the rest of us have always struggled with the principle of being “slow to speak, quick to listen,” my sister has mastered it. She takes after our father like that, despite being adopted. “I know you carry scars, Elliot. The weight of your past has been present in your life ever since Renee lost hers.”

“It was a job. It went wrong.”

“We both know it was more than that.”

“It never got the chance to be more than that,” I reply.

“But you wanted it to be.”

Frustration twists in my chest. “Sure. But it didn’t happen. Renee has nothing to do with Jane. They’re two different people. Two different cases.”

“I agree with you, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I told you that.”

“Mom said you’re coming to church tomorrow?”

“Jane wanted to go. If she still does, we’ll be there.”

“Elliot.”

“Lani.” I push back from my chair. “I’ll be fine, okay? But I need to make sure I help Jane get home. Otherwise, what good am I? Thanks for making coffee. I’m going to go check in on her.” I stand and head for the hall, not strong enough to deflect any more of this heavy conversation. I’m lost. And my family sees it.

They’ve always seen it. Why am I surprised that they’re trying to lead me back?

* * *

I haven’t sat in a church pew in three years.

Three long years of avoiding the one place I used to feel the most at home. And as I sit here beside Jane and my mother, I want to kick myself for waiting so long. Even though I’ve fallen—far—in my faith journey, there’s a warmth to this small-town church.

“This world will tempt you in many ways,” Pastor Ford says as he looks out over the congregation. He’s been preaching here longer than I’ve been alive and is the one who baptized all of us Hunt kids. He’s a man I know as well as I know my own father but haven’t spoken to in any depth since Renee’s death. “And you cannot face the temptation alone. God is the only answer. And those who seek will find.” He smiles. “Let us pray. Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for Your gracious love. For walking alongside us as we don armor to battle our sinful nature. Lord, please continue to guide us until we see You face-to-face. Amen.”

A series of “Amens” ring out through the pews, and the pianist begins to play.

“Go in peace, I will see you all next week.” He smiles and waves then heads down the middle aisle to wait by the door so he can say goodbye to everyone as they pass.

I look over at Jane, who’s been hanging on his every word ever since he greeted us an hour ago. She’s worked hard not to meet my gaze ever since our argument last night. And to be honest, I haven’t tried all that hard to engage her in conversation. She’s so sure she was a terrible person, yet she’s willing to throw herself into the flames before she even has all the answers.

How do I make her see what I do? How do I get her to see that throwing her life away on a half-cocked investigation would be a waste?

She stands, so I follow suit, filing in behind her and the rest of my family. Bradyn and Kennedy are already at the back of the church, talking to Pastor Ford’s wife, Grace. They’re smiling and laughing, all of them looking absolutely overjoyed.

Meanwhile, my stomach might as well be a den of vipers for how twisted up I feel.

“Good to see you, Tommy,” Pastor Ford greets my dad with a handshake. “And you, Ruth. Those cookies you delivered were amazing.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed them.” She grins, clearly delighted.

“And you must be Jane.” He turns to Jane and offers her a handshake.

“Pastor Ford, that was—exactly what I needed.”

“God’s Word is what we all need.” He smiles. “If you ever want to talk, my door is open.”

“I appreciate that.” She steps aside, and he turns to me.

“Elliot, good to see you.”

“You, too, Pastor. I, uh—sorry I’ve been absent.”

“No need to apologize.” He shakes my hand. “I’m just glad to see you here. My door is open to you too. As you well know by now.”

In the months after Renee’s death, he’d reached out to me a few times. Inviting me to coffee and the annual men’s retreat. But I’d declined every invitation, choosing instead to bury myself in my own pit of shame.

It was never supposed to last this long.

But one day turned into another. Then weeks, months, and years had passed.

“I know, thank you.”

He offers me a kind smile. “See you next week?”

That pit in my gut grows. “Maybe.”

“I hope so.” He smiles then turns as an old friend of my dad’s steps up to greet him. I follow my family out of the church, more than ready to put some distance between myself and the weight of what I’m carrying.

“Lunch?” My mother slips her sunglasses onto her face.

“Works for me,” Riley says.

“Same,” Tucker adds.

“I’m headed to the gym,” Dylan replies. “Maybe next week.” After kissing our mother on the cheek, he heads off toward his truck. I know how hard he’s struggling with his faith—even if, unlike me, he hasn’t missed a Sunday.

“Jane? Elliot?”

“We’re headed out to the park,” I remind her.

“Oh, that’s right.” She smiles warily. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” My guess is Lani mentioned the night terror Jane had last night, and my mom is worried about her.

“We have to start somewhere,” I say. “And it’s as good a place as any.”

“We’ll be careful,” Jane replies, her tone soft. “I want answers, and I think they’ll start there.”

My mom’s expression lightens. “Well, we’ll see you both for dinner, then. I’m making enchiladas.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Stay safe, son,” my father says then wraps an arm around my mom.

“Will do. See you guys for dinner.”

Both he and my mom offer me a hug; then they head across the street toward the diner while Riley and Tucker remain where they are. Bradyn and Kennedy are still somewhere in the church, my guess is talking to Grace and Pastor Ford about final wedding preparations.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come?” Riley asks.

“Nah, we’ll be fine. The chances of him returning—and in broad daylight—are low. But I’ll call at the first sign of trouble.”

“You better.” Tucker shoves his hands into his pockets. “You taking Echo?”

“Always,” I reply. “We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Sounds good. Be safe, Jane.”

“I will. Thanks, Tucker.”

“Hey, I want you to be safe, too,” Riley quips.

Jane laughs. “Thank you too, Riley. We will be.”

My brothers head off for the diner, and I start toward the truck, Jane beside me. Once again, she’s gone quiet. Her anger is apparently only geared toward me. Yay.

I open the door for her, and she climbs in; then I close it and head around to the driver’s side to get behind the wheel.

“Are we heading straight there?” she asks.

“No. I need to grab a few things from the ranch first.”