Page 137 of Wasted

“He was the one trying to kill us. The threatening note, the shooting, the car that tried to run you down. All of it was Massey. He was trying all along to silence you, and then me when he saw I’d met Sydney, too. He knew we could find out what he’d done and would expose him. Especially with you being a Weston.”

Cillian let out a half-laugh of disbelief. “Man, were we off on that. We assumed it had to be Glenn since he killed Briscoe. I wonder which one sabotaged my bike. Could be Glenn was telling the truth when he said he didn’t know anything about it.”

Only part of Victoria’s mind seemed to grasp what Cillian was saying. Massey may have been the one trying to kill her. But what did it matter? It made no difference to the most precious, important treasures in her life. She had still damaged them beyond repair.

“I cannot believe you would bring shame on our family in such a way.” Dad’s sharp gaze appeared before her eyes more vivid and painful than the darkness.

“You all should leave Dad alone. He’s totally right.” Treese’s ready defense of her father as she had stood between him and her siblings, pinched Victoria’s ribs. Treese would never be reachable to Victoria now or to the God she represented.

“I can’t believe you.” And Hank. Oh, sweet Hank. “You don’t even care about how scary that must be for her or how unfair it is. Your own daughter!”

Victoria shut her eyes, but she was too late to stop the tears. They slid down her cheeks.

Hank had always loved their father, idolized him even. And now he’d turned against him, for Victoria’s sake.

Oh, Lord. Please forgive me. The inward prayer squeezed from her shriveling heart.

Why had she kept pushing Detective McCully when he’d told her to stay away from the investigation of Thomas’s death? If she had done what she usually did—gone along to get along—than none of this would have happened. She would never have been questioned, arrested, suspected of murder. Dad wouldn’t have had reason to become so angry with her. Her family would still be getting along, living and thriving in peaceful relationships with each other. Why hadn’t she listened and followed the instructions of the police?

Cillian. He’d convinced her to keep pressuring the police when she’d known better. She’d let him persuade her again and lead her into another disastrous mistake.

How could she have done that? Had she learned nothing from letting her mother die alone?

A sob rose in her throat, nearly choking her as she swallowed it down.

Mom. Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. The cry of Victoria’s heart seared every fiber of her being.

Mom would be so ashamed. So disappointed.

It was bad enough Victoria had let her die alone. But now she had failed to do what her mother would have wanted most of all—to do everything Mom would have for the Weston family. Above all, to keep the peace between Dad and all the siblings.

Victoria hadn’t merely tried and failed, she had been the one to launch the direct attack on that peace when she’d crossed Detective McCully and then, far worse, her father. He’d told her, after McCully had questioned her, to stop being involved in the investigation. Why hadn’t she obeyed him as she usually did? She knew not to cross him.

All she would have had to do was adhere to what her father wanted, as Mom had always done, except when she’d become a Christian.

Then Victoria had come to Christ, too, from Mom’s secret talks and nighttime reading of the Bible when Dad wasn’t around to stop her.

Victoria’s Christianity made this error even more grievous.

“Blessed are the peacemakers,” Christ said.

As a Christian, she was called to make peace. And by following her mom’s exceptional example, she’d kept peace among her family and others for sixteen years. Until today. When she had obliterated her mother’s legacy of peace and love in her family.

They were all against each other now. Divided. Some opposing each other and most turned against their father.

Victoria was probably going to die tonight. And she was leaving behind four brothers and sisters who would never understand that their father did love them. They would never know how much their mom had wanted them to love him and each other. They would never realize how much Mom had wanted them to know Christ.

Victoria’s heart cracked under the weight of what she’d done, of what she’d destroyed, of the grief for the mother she had lost and failed to honor.

A gulping, tearful gasp escaped her control.

Forgive me.

“Victoria?” Cillian leaned toward her, reaching for her arm. She had gasped like she was in pain. “Are you okay? Is it your head?”

“I’m fi?—”

The vehicle jerked, like Massey hit the brakes.