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Chapter 36

I woke to the sun streaming into the church, splashing jewel-toned colors all over the pristine white walls. My clothes still felt damp. I sat up and looked around. Mere slept on her pew, but Major was gone, along with my phone. She and I were alone in the sanctuary. Just us, Jesus, and Juliana Minette.

At the back of the sanctuary, the double doors flew open, and the old guard swept down the aisle like some regal retinue—Mayor Dixie, her arm in a sling, Major, Toby, and finally Jamie, pushing his father, James Sr., in a wheelchair. Ox Dalzell was the only one missing. They arranged themselves at the front of the altar, and Mayor Dixie stepped forward.

“Major, sit with the girl,” she commanded. Major obeyed. Mere startled awake, looking confused and scared, but Major shushed her. I wanted to go to her, to take her in my arms, but I knew from the looks on the old guard’s faces they weren’t going to permit it.

“Billie,” said Mayor Dixie. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, you and Wren.”

I said nothing, just stared at her.

“Where is she, by the way?” Dixie asked.

“I don’t know. I left her in the basement of my house.”

“You know, Billie, we don’t like to rush to judgment here in Juliana. We believe the best way to solve a problem is through a deliberate, measured approach. Our forefathers were always very circumspect about”—her eyes slid to Mere—“the many difficult decisions that had to be made. You may think it was a cruelty, what they did, but it was a necessity. Freedom doesn’t come without a sacrifice.”

You make me sick , my eyes said to Dixie. You all do.

Mayor Dixie smiled tightly in response. “Ox is wounded but he’ll live. No small thing to gun down a founding member of this town, though. It’s unwise to defy Juliana.”

Mere shot me a startled look. “Mama.”

I put out a hand. “I’ll explain everything in a little bit, baby. Let the grown-ups talk first, okay?”

Dixie continued. “At any rate, I hope we can come to some sort of understanding, Billie. We don’t want to lose you. You’ve come to mean so much to this community. Become such an integral part of all of that. Because of that and other reasons”—now her eyes flitted to Jamie—“we are unwilling to consider letting you go. I know it’s difficult after everything that’s happened—”

I clenched my jaw, glared at her. Don’t you say Peter’s name. Don’t you dare.

“—but this town needs you,” she went on. “And you need it. You need us , Billie. I know that you understand this.”

I did understand it. I needed them because they held the key to my daughter’s safety. They had killed my husband. They had killed Madge Beatty, Isaac Inman, and God knew who else—all in an effort to keep Juliana pristine and protected. So now they had to be desperate to keep me here . . . for Jamie. Desperate to make sure I was on board.

Desperate . . .

The word reverberated through my head.

Desperate people didn’t think clearly. They didn’t cover all their bases. They missed things. They left their vulnerabilities open, their greatest pride, their deepest longings unprotected....

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay.”

Dixie looked taken aback, and I had to admit, it gave me a little jolt of pleasure.

“We’ll stay, and I’ll keep the restaurant going. But you’ve got to do something for me.”

Dixie straightened, somewhat affronted.

“I want financial compensation . . . for what you took from us. Specifically, I would like a stake.”

Dixie’s mouth opened. “A stake? In what?”

“The town. I want the town to deed the building where Billie’s is located to me as well as the rest of the block. I want the old gold mine. All of it, in my name and Mere’s, in perpetuity.”

“But the mine . . . it could still be—”

“Producing? That’s what I’m banking on. After I get the . . . contents of that pool inside the mine properly relocated, I plan to look into reopening it.”

Her expression hardened. “It’s too much.”

“Is it? I’ll be operating what’s probably going to end up being a destination restaurant, maybe the best in all of the Southeast. Think what that’ll do for Juliana. It’ll be a gold mine, in addition to the actual, literal gold mine that could possibly bring in all sorts of new business.”

Dixie’s nostrils flared. “And you’ll roll a portion of the profits back into Juliana?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”

James Sr. spoke. “You’ll have to make a pledge to have more children.”

I turned my stony gaze to him. “For Gentle Juliana?” I didn’t try to disguise the sarcasm in my voice.

James Sr. nodded. “That’s right, Billie. For the town and for her . And you must promise they’ll stay here, too. Marry and raise families of their own.”

I held up a hand, feeling Mere’s eyes burning through me. My daughter was smart. She knew something was wrong, just not the details of what that wrong was. “We’ll discuss the details later. Do we have a deal?”

“Fine,” Dixie snapped.

“We have a deal,” James Sr. said.

Jamie beamed triumphantly.

“And I’d like my phone back,” I added.

Dixie looked annoyed, but she gave Jamie a nod. He handed me my phone. It was dead, but I wrapped my hands around it, feeling instantly better now that it was back in my possession. Had Mom called? The history professor from UGA?

I stood. “Mere, come to me.”

She trotted over to me, pressing her body against my hip. I draped a hand over her shoulder and addressed Dixie. “I want all the pertinent documents at my house tomorrow morning no later than ten A.M. Now I’m taking my daughter home.”

* * *

Back at our house, the Jeep was sitting where Isaac Inman’s car had been. It was gleaming in the morning sun, washed and waxed, and apparently now free of any liens. The first of the perks for agreeing to marry into the old guard. Jamie said nothing as he watched Mere and I climb out of the cab of his truck, and I was glad. I didn’t know if I could’ve kept up this game with him, even to protect Mere. The urge to attack him, to kill him with my bare hands, was practically choking me.

Inside, I ran a bath for Mere and assured her Ramsey, who was nowhere in sight, would be home soon. I could tell she was full of questions about everything that had happened in the church but was too scared to ask.

“I’ll explain everything soon,” I promised her. “For now, wash your hair and have a good, long soak in the bubbles. I’m going to go make us some breakfast.”

I checked the basement, but there was no sign of Wren. I came back upstairs, and I threw open windows and stuffed towels around the basement door. We were still in danger of contamination, but I figured with the main entrance of the mine now blown open, and some of the gas leaking out that way, we’d be okay for now. There wasn’t much in the fridge, so I made Mere a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, sliced a carrot, and poured us both glasses of apple juice. I found a can of mixed nuts and a wedge of gouda and went to check on her progress.

After setting her up in my bed with a Disney movie and my Joy of Cooking , I showered, dressed in leggings and one of Peter’s old sweatshirts, then went back downstairs. I needed a plan. Some way to get me and Mere out of this—and to bring the old guard to its knees. But my mind was a blank.

Peter’s iPad was still on the piano, dead. I found the charger and plugged it in. When the device glowed its welcome screen, I scanned his files, the ones Edge had helped me to transfer over from Peter’s work laptop. Patient after patient file was arranged in neat rows, including Alice Tilton’s file and the clients he’d brought with him from his New York practice. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. Oh, Peter. He’d been so neat and methodical, my husband. That’s what he valued above all—a calm, measured approach to life. He believed everyone deserved the chance to heal from their traumas in peace. How unfair, that his last weeks had been an actual living nightmare.

That I’d allowed such evil into our lives.

A wave of grief crashed over me and for a minute, tears poured out of me. I clamped a hand over my mouth so Mere wouldn’t hear the sobs rising in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. How was I going to do this? How was I going to take care of my daughter and get us out of here? And then I saw it, something I hadn’t noticed before back on that drunken and distraught night—another folder on the iPad screen.

It was labeled BILLIE .

I smeared away my tears, and I stared at it. Had it been there before? It had to have been. I just hadn’t noticed it in my maniacal focus on hacking into Alice’s file. I double-clicked on the folder, and it opened. Inside were several files and their names set my heart thumping and my throat dry.

Emma Jackson.

Minette Gold Mine.

And then another file that read simply For You.