Malcolm pushed through the thigh-deep water toward Evan. He was dripping, his long hair plastered to his shoulders.
“Stay back,” Evan told him.
Malcolm ignored him. He stopped next to Liam and stared down at his face. He met Evan’s gaze and shook his head. Malcolm turned around and studied the water, as if trying to see into it. He took a couple of steps, lowered himself into the water, and came up with a gun.
“Thanks, Malcolm.” Evan holstered his weapon and dragged Liam to the shore by his feet. Malcolm grabbed Liam’s shoulders, and they moved him to a flat area.
Rowan stepped off the rocks and set West down on one. “Don’t move,” she told him. He nodded, his eyes wide.
He’ll remember this for the rest of his life.
She joined the others. Evan sat on the ground near the man’s feet, resting his arms on his legs. Liam had a large wound in the side of his chest.
“There’s no pulse,” Evan told her.
“I’m sorry, Evan,” Rowan said. It didn’t matter that Evan had fired in self-defense; he’d killed someone, and it would forever weigh on him.
Malcolm stood silently at Liam’s head, staring down at the body. Rowan moved beside him and wrapped an arm around him. “It’s over.”
“Yes.”
Evan joined them. “Why do I feel like I recognize this guy?”
Rowan finally looked at the dead man’s face and then gasped. “That’s Eric Steward. Ken’s cousin.”
49
Three days later
Evan grabbed another beer at the birthday party. He was quickly becoming a fan of Rowan’s family. They were a lot of fun and clearly cared deeply about each other. He twisted the top off as he watched Malcolm happily eat a second helping of strawberry shortcake.
The three sisters had decorated their parents’ house for Malcolm’s party. Someone had plastered banners all over the great room that said HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY! and HAPPY 9TH BIRTHDAY! all the way up to HAPPY 32ND BIRTHDAY! The enormous stack of gifts by the fireplace was clearly intended to make up for twenty-five missed parties.
They had served hamburgers, Tater Tots, orange soda, and strawberry shortcake. Prosecco had been added to the soda, but Evan had seen Malcolm take a sip and make a face. Iris had laughed and poured him straight orange soda.
Evan sipped his beer, stuffed from the big meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had Tater Tots. Malcolm’s eyes had lit up at the hamburger patties on the grill. He’d eaten his burger with just ketchup. Rowan had whispered that that was how he’d eaten them when he was a kid.
Her brother had lost so much time.
Liam, a.k.a. Eric Steward, had controlled Malcolm for the last two decades, and Jerry had controlled both of them before that. Eric and Ken had been Jerry’s apprentice electricians. Eric had changed his last name to Steward at the same time that Ken changed his. Evan had spoken to another electrician who had worked with Jerry and been told that the two young men had been very close. Called themselves blood brothers and had even lived with Jerry off and on.
A family of three. Jerry controlled Eric and Ken.
And then Jerry controlled Eric and Malcolm.
Then for many years, it was just Eric controlling Malcolm, until he decided to add West.
When Eric Steward’s photo hit the media as that of the killer of the three recently murdered young women, a waitress from a truck stop half an hour south of Bend had come forward and said Eric had been a regular in the restaurant. She’d seen him eat with many young women over the years but hadn’t thought anything of it. She couldn’t confirm that she’d seen him with those particular three women, but that was enough that Evan figured the truck stop had probably been where Eric found his victims.
Elijah had vanished from the same truck stop. After decades of wondering, his parents now knew that their son had ended up in a forest grave.
There wasn’t anyone to ask if the truck stop had been Eric’s hunting ground. Everyone who would know was dead. Except Jerry Chiavo, who refused to speak when Evan tried to interview him again.
Malcolm had spoken of a weird family commitment among all the men. Something about never betraying one another.
It appeared Jerry was sticking to the rule.
Ivy stopped beside Evan and clinked her half-empty flute against his beer. “It’s a good party, isn’t it?” She beamed as she looked over to where Malcolm sat at the table, talking to West.
“It’s probably the happiest I’ve ever been to,” Evan truthfully admitted. He was still dealing with the shock of shooting Eric in the river and was on paid leave while the incident was under review. He had no doubts he’d be in the clear; Eric had been about to shoot him.
“West seems to be doing well,” Evan said, considering the child had been kidnapped and had witnessed a shooting.
“He is,” agreed Ivy. “He’s had his upset moments, of course, but I think knowing that Eric died has helped him feel safe. The bad man is gone for good. I hate that he saw him get shot, but I think it might help psychologically in the long run.”
“I see the logic in that,” said Evan. “What about your ex, Adam? Have you heard from him?”
“I did.” She narrowed her brows. “He blamed his behavior on being drunk. Believes he broke West’s window because some drunken part of him thought if he took West away, it’d be the ultimate revenge for me divorcing him. Now that Adam is sober, he told me that he had no idea what he would do with a kid and was actually alarmed at the thought of having to care for West by himself.”
Evan snorted. “You married that guy?”
“I admit to being young and in love—for a very short period of time. I got smart after two months and the first black eye.” She took a long drink from her glass. “I’m thankful every day that I left him. But I don’t regret that I married him because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have West.”
“He’s a great kid.”
“Absolutely.” She followed Evan’s gaze to Rowan, who was talking to Iris near the fireplace. “You know,” she said with a conspiring tone in her voice, “Iris and I think you might be the first guy in Rowan’s life that holds a higher place in her heart than Thor.”
Evan grinned. “We both know that’s not true.” He sipped his beer. “But I plan to change that.”
“Good,” said Ivy. “Now go talk to her.”
That sounds like good advice.
Rowan watched Evan cross the room with her in his sights. Iris saw him too, made an excuse about helping their mom, and left. He stopped in front of her, placed a hand at the back of her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her. She melted into him, a little dizzy and happy from the drinks and the joy in the room.
After a long moment he pulled back. “Good party,” he said with a gleam in his eye, and he gave her a quick peck on the lips.
He’s not talking about the party.
“This has been the best day ever,” Rowan said, looking him right in the eye so he knew she considered him one of the reasons. Then she looked at Malcolm, who was quietly listening to West enthusiastically tell a story about a goat.
It’s so good to have him home.
Malcolm had spent the last few days adapting to his new world. The first day he’d shaken and cried as he confessed to his role in burying the bodies of two women and a boy. It’d taken hours to assure him that he was not in trouble and that their murders were all on Eric. He’d been convinced he’d go straight to prison for being an accomplice.
He’d been brainwashed about several things.
It’d taken some clarification from Malcolm, but Rowan had figured out that Ken had worried she’d never forgive him after Jerry Chiavo had told him two weeks before his death that Malcolm was alive. All those years ago, Jerry had convinced him that Malcolm was dead. Rowan couldn’t imagine Ken’s thoughts when he’d realized that Malcolm had been kept by Jerry and then Eric for decades. He must have felt incredibly guilty knowing Rowan’s family had mourned him for so long.
If only Ken had gone to the police with what he knew about Jerry and Eric killing women before we were even kidnapped.
Malcolm would have lived a normal life.