“Cancel them as well.” I stepped into my office and shut the door behind me.
What the hell? I hadn’t had a vacation in years. I had plenty of money saved up. Why not take a trip? I could use the time to finish writing my book about—
I let out a laugh—but not a laugh because anything was funny. A laugh from the sheer absurdity of it all. My work in progress was a book on preventing suicide in teens.
I hadn’t worked on it since Gina’s death. Though Gina hadn’t been a teen, she was still quite young. I had become numb. I hadn’t been able to touch my research and writing since then. I’d forced myself to continue working, but only because my current patients needed me.
And then Talon Steel had walked into my office and fainted dead away after our first session.
I’d found a new purpose in Talon. He had made such amazing progress in such a short time. Even though I had failed Gina, I began to think I still had something to offer, that I could still help people who had a dire need, who had been to hell and had come back kicking.
And even though the guilt from Gina’s death had never left me, working with Talon had lifted me out of the depths of sorrow, had given me a new aspiration.
If only I had let that lead me all the way out, all the way back to the light. But I hadn’t, and one night I’d made a phone call to Gina’s parents.
If only I could go back in time and not make that call.
I laughed again. I always counseled my patients against the “what ifs.” They served no purpose. All we could do was handle the situation we found ourselves in currently.
I sat down at my desk, cradling my head in my hands.
Now. This was now. Now was all I had, and I had to figure out how to deal with it.
I breathed in and out, willing the tears not to fall. I had made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. If only…
“God, stop it!” I said aloud. I stood, grabbing my purse, and walked out of my office, shutting the door and locking it behind me.
“Lock up when you’re done making the calls,” I said to Randi. “I won’t be back today.”
I needed some fresh air.
And I knew just where I could get it.
Chapter Twenty–Five
Jonah
Talon and Ryan sat across from me at my office in the beef ranch buildings. Talon wanted to talk to us about more evidence regarding Nico Kostas. I sat, listening, wanting so much to tell him my suspicions about Tom Simpson. But without solid proof, I couldn’t burden him with it. And then there was Bryce. My oldest and best friend in the world, who was a new father.
I owed him honesty too. In fact, since it was his father, I needed to tell him before I told Talon. But I couldn’t do either until I had some proof other than my gut feeling.
I’d called the Junction police earlier, and they’d vouched for Mills and Johnson, though they gave me the same caveat Steve had—just don’t pay too much attention to how they get things done. But they were good, apparently, as they’d never been caught.
Hell, I didn’t mind if they left their scruples at the door. I just wanted justice for my brother and for Bryce’s cousin and all those other poor kids who had become nameless in the last twentyfive years.
“Biker Bob found his original records,” Talon was saying. “And here they are.” He shoved a few papers on the desk toward me.
“Now? I thought you were meeting with him a week or so ago?”
“I did. He required a little more…incentive.”
I rolled my eyes. Talon wanted so much to find these guys, but for all we knew, this Biker Bob guy had fabricated records to get Talon to pay him. I’d go along. This was important to my brother.
I eyed the papers. “This is for the phoenix tattoo?”
“Yeah. He did the tat five times altogether on the left forearm, but only three of these fit the time frame. None of them, unfortunately, are named Nico Kostas.”
I scanned the documents. Christopher Headley. Declan Stevens. Milo Sanchez. I wasn’t one to say “I told you so,” so I didn’t. “So what now?” I asked.
“I’m going to track down all of these guys. One of them is him. I know it. He either used another name then, or he’s using one now.”
“You do realize, don’t you,” I said, “that this guy doesn’t want to be found?”
He nodded. “It’s him, though. I know it. Why else would he have disappeared? Clearly he has no conscience. He tried to have Brooke killed, for God’s sake.”
“You don’t have any proof of that either,” I reminded him. “And when are you going to find the time to track these guys down? You have an orchard to run, or have you forgotten?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What’s with you, Joe? Don’t you want to catch this guy?”
More than he knew. “Of course I do. But Tal, we have to be reasonable.” I was one to talk. I had Tom Simpson convicted in my mind already. But saying this wouldn’t help my brother keep things in perspective.