“What is that?” Kaine took another small step. Soon Grant would arrive, along with his pit bull Sophie and the police.
Mr. Mason faced her again, the sunlight from the window beyond turning him into a silhouette. “Family. Family is most important.” He lifted his index finger and wagged it at her. “I read how you fought to have your husband’s case reopened. I was impressed. But then you gave up, and you came here.”
“I had good reason to.” Like another freak who wouldn’t leave her alone. The same horrid man who had taken Danny from her in revenge for her attempt to help the man’s abused wife.
Mr. Mason nodded. “I know you reported a stalker. Again, it’s horrible to be alone. You should always stay faithful to your family.”
Kaine eased back a step. “I am faithful to Danny. To my family.”
Mr. Mason scowled. “By giving up on your husband’s death? Running from your stalker and leaving your sister behind? Pursuing Grant Jesse?”
Good grief! “Why do you care? Why would you terrorize me here?”
The old man grimaced and blew a sigh threw his nose. “Because young folk these days don’t understand legacy. It’s important. It passes from generation to generation. Family should be protected, preserved.”
“But Ivy Thorpe was my family too. This place, Oakwood, is the legacy my family left behind. Maybe I came here to preserve my roots and in turn bring some closure to my husband’s death?”
“Oh, but you didn’t, did you?” Mr. Mason stalked toward her. Kaine backed up. The front door got farther away as he pressed toward her, leaving little space between them. He raised an accusing finger.
“You ran away because you were scared. Scared of being alone. And you came here and disrupted everything. Digging your nose into Foster Hill House, into the dead woman, into Ivy’s tale of woe. Always the martyrs, dead souls that they are. Well, not anymore. I have spent years guarding this history, even the ugly side. But I didn’t run from it. I faced it. For my family.”
Kaine watched a strange light spring into Mr. Mason’s eyes and glisten behind his spectacles. She had no clue what he was rambling about, but then she didn’t want to stick around to find out. With a twist of her body, Kaine sprang toward the door.
A shout from behind alerted her. She heard the click of a gun an instant before the shot echoed through Foster Hill House.
Chapter 41
Jvy
A second gunshot’s reverberations sent a flurry of wings into the air as more birds fluttered from the treetops.
Joel.
Ivy broke into a run, only this time she ran back toward Foster Hill House. Her foot slipped on a patch of ice, but she quickly regained her balance before careening forward into the mud. She grabbed at her ribs, sore from her collision down the stairs and now exacerbated by her struggle with Myrtle Foster’s son.
The sound of crashing in the woods to her right caused her to whirl around. A man leaped over a log and sprinted through the trees, slapping at branches that attempted to break his attempt to flee. Foster.
The compulsion to get away from the threat only a few hundred yards from her collided with her instinct to protect those she loved. Regardless of everything, regardless of the unresolved, there had been a time she and Joel stood beside each other. Tragedy ripped them apart, but now Ivy recognized the truth. The one who had allowed their loyalty to be severed wasn’t Joel at all, it had been her.
Ivy veered into the woods toward the sound of snapping twigs and the shouts of the men. She scurried over a fallen tree, wincing as her body argued against the movement, and swiped away a cobweb that stretched between branches. Raindrops that dripped from the foliage soaked her dress. Ivy recognized the path Foster had taken. He was headed toward the pond. The same pond where they had swum, fished, and where Andrew died.
Several yards ahead, Joel’s form cut her off as he dodged a tree. He was all right. Relief only urged Ivy forward. Where was the sheriff? Had he fired the initial shot that had sent Joel on a mission to back him up, and was he the one who’d fired the second shot as well? Ivy hesitated, not wanting to get caught in any cross fire. She grabbed a small sapling to stabilize herself when she saw Joel and Foster, facing off at the bottom of the hill.
“Foster!” Joel shouted.
The older man tossed him a glance. The intensity of Foster’s look was so different from the Foster she had seen at the house. Even from a distance, Ivy could see he was panicked.
Foster turned and ran toward the pond, mud spraying his pants as his feet slipped on the soft ground. Joel dashed after him as Ivy watched, frozen. She could do nothing. There was no way she could catch up, no way she could intercede. It was the same helpless feeling she experienced when she’d watched Andrew plunge beneath the ice. Only this time it was Joel whose life hung precariously in the balance. Prayer could give Joel the strength he needed, but she had prayed once before, so many years ago and almost in this very spot. That prayer had ended in the event that forever steered their lives onto different paths.
Joel’s steps were sure, cutting a straight line through the muck toward Foster. Ivy squelched a cry as he jumped and Foster crumpled beneath him. Together they crashed to the earth. Foster grunted and wrestled beneath Joel. He got his arm out from beneath Joel’s clutch and pushed Joel to the side.
Ivy released the tree and scrambled down the hillside, stopping only when she heard Joel grunt after Foster’s fist drove into his gut.
“Get away from me!” Foster yelled, drawing his arm back to aim his fist at Joel’s face. Joel twisted to the side, and Foster’s hand pummeled the ground. Joel shoved his arm under Foster’s armpit and wrapped his forearm around the man’s neck, pushing backward. Foster yelled and punched at Joel’s stomach again. Joel absorbed the blow as he pushed Foster off him.
Ivy winced, her breaths coming in gasps, watching as the men wrestled each other. Foster came back at Joel, his hands reaching for Joel’s neck. A third gunshot echoed through the woods, and Ivy ducked as if she could avoid the bullet.
Sheriff Dunst burst from the woods into the clearing by the pond and behind Foster. His rifle was jammed against his shoulder and poised to take another shot, this time at Foster instead of the sky. Foster froze in place. Joel panted, trying to catch his breath.
“On your knees, Foster!” Sheriff Dunst commanded. His eyes showed recognition when he looked beyond Joel and saw Ivy. She stayed low to the ground.
Foster dropped to his knees. Joel sprang forward and drew the man’s arms behind his back. He gave a sharp yank, and Foster hollered out in pain.
“That’s for Ivy,” she heard Joel say between gritted teeth. It almost hurt to hear him defend her. This was the Joel she had always wanted and was so certain no longer existed. She could tell he had no qualms about the way he locked the handcuffs Sheriff Dunst tossed him painfully tight around Foster’s wrists.
“Who?” Foster snarled.