Not Jake. Her brother, Robby. She would have recognized him anywhere, even though he’d changed immensely in the ten years since she’d last seen him.
He was fully a man now; gone were the last visages of youth. He’d filled out—his shoulders, neck, and chest—his beard had filled in. She remembered his exasperation over the bare spots that had kept him from sporting the cool, scruffy look that had been popular at the time. His hair was still thick and dark, his hairline receding only slightly.
They had the same features, she realized. The same wide-spaced, hazel eyes. The same straight nose and stubborn chin. It hadn’t been so obvious when they were kids, but now their blood connection was undeniable.
“Hello, Randi,” he said.
“Robby. What are you doing here?”
“We haven’t seen each other in years and—”
“Ten,” she said, cutting him off. “To be exact.”
“—and that’s the first thing you want to say to me?”
“Yeah, it is.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“You’d know if you had called me back.”
“But I didn’t. That should have told you something.”
“Did you even listen to my messages?” He saw by her expression she hadn’t and shook his head. “What’s happened to you, Randi?”
“Stop calling me that. That girl doesn’t exist anymore. I have a new life now, an honorable one. And I built it without any help from anyone.”
“You think you can run away from your past, is that it?”
“I didn’t run away, I left it behind. That’s not the same thing.”
“But I’m still your brother, no matter how much you wish it wasn’t true.”
“I don’t care enough to wish that.”
“And mom’s the only mother you’ve got, like it or not.”
Her mother. Screeching at the JD officer from the doorway of the double-wide. “I can’t do nothin’ with her—she’s as wild as a billy goat.… Maybe they’ll teach her somethin’ at that place.”
Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Robby?”
“Mom’s sick. She had a heart attack, a big one complicated by her COPD and diabetes.”
Her own heart seemed to skip a beat. “When?”
“Three days ago. It was touch and go at first, but she’s going to make it.”
“I’m glad for her and for you, but what does this have to do with me?”
“She wants to see you, that’s all. You’re her baby girl.”
Her baby girl? She had never felt wanted that way. Not ever.
“What a joke. I’m wild and bad and she doesn’t know what to do with me. Those are her words, Robby.”
“Her dying wish is to make peace with her baby girl. Those are her words.”
Miranda snorted. “I thought you said she was going to make it.”
“It’s what she asked before she was stabilized, and I promised her I would try.”
“Well, you’ve done your duty now and proved yourself a good son. Gold star for you.”
He cocked his head, studying her, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “You never used to be mean. Stubborn, headstrong, but not mean. When did that change?”
The words stung and she steeled herself against the feeling. “Mom washed her hands of me when I was fifteen. I’m sorry she’s unwell, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“You say you’ve built an honorable life, so honor your mother. Do this for her.”
“She didn’t believe me, Robby. She didn’t stand up for me. Do you have any idea how scared I was? I was fifteen. Fifteen! And completely alone.”
“I was a kid, too, Randi.”
“You were eighteen! You were my big brother!” She looked away, tears burning the backs of her eyes. She refused to allow them to fall.
When she met his eyes once more, hers were completely dry. “And you dare call me mean? ‘I don’t know what really happened to you tonight,’” she mimicked him from all those years ago, “‘and it’s not my problem. If you think I’m going to come cover for you and get my butt busted, you’re crazier than I thought. You were stupid and got caught. Deal with it.’ And then you hung up on me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice thick. “I regret a lot of things I’ve done in my life, but nothing more than that. I live with it every day, Randi, and every day it rips a little chunk out of me. That’s the thing about regrets—they don’t care what you’ve got going right in your life or the good you’re trying to do; they hang around to remind you what a piece of crap you really are.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” Even as she asked, she acknowledged it did. She called herself a fool. “Well, it doesn’t.”
He held out a hand. She noticed it was callused from a lifetime of physical labor. She noticed, too, the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s twisted into knots by the past and our dysfunctional family-of-the-year.”
“I’m not twisted up.” She stuck her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”
He made a sound of disbelief and dropped his hand. “Right. That’s why you won’t go see mom. That’s why you don’t return calls to your brother.”
She opened her mouth; he cut her off. “You may not have another chance. She could die and then it’ll be too late to make your peace. You don’t want that regret living inside of you.”
He waited a moment as if to see some softening in her, then shook his head. “Good-bye, Miranda.”
“Robby, wait!”
But the words sounded only in her head. Instead, she watched silently as he climbed into an SUV and without a look back, drove off. When his taillights disappeared from view, she stepped back into her house, shutting and locking the door behind her. As she did, the air-conditioning kicked on and goose bumps raced up her arms.
She curved her arms around her middle and sank to the floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
That night in June
2002
Randi huddled in the plastic chair, so cold her teeth chattered. Directly above her, the air-conditioning vent pumped out icy air, most of which was aimed at her. On the wall across from her, a clock ticked out the minutes with agonizing repetition.
Officer Wheeler had dumped her here and warned her not to move. She hugged herself and stared at the clock. How long had it been since Wheeler picked her up? How long since she’d freed herself and raced into the woods?
How long since the other girl screamed?
The sound of it tore through her head again, and Randi flinched in response. She had to help her … she’d promised! Someone had to believe her before it was too late.
Unless it was too late already.
The clock clicked over another minute. The woman at the front desk was talking to the one of the cops. She had teased-up hair and cat glasses, and sounded real country.
“Can you believe it’s still ninety degrees outside?” she drawled. “For heaven’s sake, what’s goin’ on with this dad-gum weather?”
“Rader!”
Wheeler. She twisted to look at him, standing in a doorway on the opposite side of the room. “C’mon, phone’s free.”
She jumped up and followed him into the hallway. He pointed to the wall phone. “There you go.”
“Do I have to call my mom?”