MITCH FLEXED AND released his hands on the grip bar of the stroller. He’d scared a woman half to death by thinking she was his dead wife. Wasn’t this turning into a banner day?
He wished he’d gotten a good look at Bleached-Blonde’s face before she’d put her arm up to shield it and then disappeared in the commotion after a dog got loose from its owner.
Great. Now he could add scaring strangers to the already stressful morning he was having.
Thankfully the twins were clueless. Rea happily cooed and chatted, and Aaron took everything in while sucking on a pair of his fingers.
The men who’d been eyeing the Bleached-Blonde seemed to have given up on her. They’d returned to the plaza before heading toward the parking lot. It was probably Mitch’s imagination that had him thinking those two were after her. He could add paranoia to his growing list of deficiencies.
The news from Lone Star Lonnie had thrown Mitch for a loop, on top of everything else he was dealing with, and maybe he was starting to crack. That was the only explanation for why he believed that he’d just seen his dead wife. She was on his mind even more than usual today. It was time to get back to reality, including getting his babies to their appointment.
Mitch pushed the stroller through the opened double doors and then took the elevator up to the third floor. He checked in and then waited.
A few minutes later he was ushered into the blue room to wait for the doctor and find out how much his life was about to change. Again.
Good news came from the pediatrician. Rea looked to be growing out of her heart defect. She’d have to continue to be monitored, which he’d expected, but the hole in her lower valve seemed to be closing on its own. Gratitude washed over Mitch, bringing a few stray tears to his eyes.
The drive from Fort Worth to Jacobstown gave him the chance to fill in his siblings and cousins, thanks to Bluetooth technology and his cell phone. Joyce, the twins’ caregiver, met him on the driveway. She’d decorated the dining room with balloons and went to work serving lunch and cake to celebrate before taking the kiddos up for their naps.
Mitch had kissed both babies before picking up the fresh flowers he’d ordered and heading out the back door.
Joyce was a sweet woman in her late sixties who’d helped bring up Mitch, along with his siblings. She’d managed to wrangle six Kent children before retiring years ago but when she’d learned one of her “babies” was having babies, she’d insisted on returning to care for them.
Lucky for him, Kimberly had welcomed Joyce’s help. The fact that she’d taken to the idea had caught him off guard at first. Kimberly had always been a private person. And that was where his luck had run out.
Sitting on the bench he’d carved out of solid wood beside the tallest oak on the property, he looked down at the marker. Kimberly Kent—loving wife and devoted mother.
She wasn’t supposed to be buried there. His mind pointed out that she technically wasn’t. It didn’t matter. Kimberly Kent was gone.
He crossed his boots at the ankles.
When the twins were old enough, he’d bring them here to see their mother. He set the fresh flowers down—lilies. Her favorite. They reminded him of her, of her fresh-from-the-shower scent.
The wind started to pick up as a few more gray clouds rolled in, reflecting his somber mood. Rain was in the forecast, in the air, and it had been drier than a salt lick all week.
The feeling of being watched settled over him. Amber? One of his brothers? He scanned the meadow but saw nothing. Further proof that he was losing it.
The idea anyone could be in the meadow without his knowledge hit hard. Someone had been on the ranch undetected. The sheer amount of acreage owned by the Kent family made it impossible to monitor every inch. But still...
His gaze dropped to the plot of land in front of him.
“I saw you outside the pediatrician’s office today,” he said to the green grass over an empty grave. “Even though it couldn’t have been you, I wanted her to be.” He paused, choking back the emotion threatening to consume him—emotion that he’d successfully buried. “Rea’s doctor visit was good. She’s going to be just fine.” Another pause to get his emotions in check. “I miss you, Kimberly.”
Mitch cursed. Now he was talking to dirt.
He pushed up to stand as an empty feeling engulfed him, threatening to drag him under and toss him around before spitting him out again like a deadly riptide.
Pain made him feel alive after being hollow inside for months. The ache in his chest every time he took in air was the only reminder he was still breathing.
A prickly feeling ran up the back of his neck, like when someone said a cat walked over a grave.
Mitch didn’t do emotions, so why the hell were his like a race car at full speed, careening out of control and toward the wall today? His baby sister’s words from last year kept winding through his thoughts, drowning out logic and reason, the two things he was good at.
What if she’s alive? What if she’s still out there?
Mitch touched the grave marker, dragging his fingers across the smooth granite and into the grooves made by the letters of Kimberly’s name.
And then he tucked his feelings down deep before texting Lone Star Lonnie that he was on his way to check out the heifer before it rained.
Walking away from his wife’s grave was especially tough today. His thoughts were heavy as he made his way to the base of Rushing Creek, on the northeast side of the property.
Even though he’d prepared for the worst, the site still caught him off guard. Blood was everywhere. His heifer was on her right side in a pool of red on flat land. There was no sign of a trap that could’ve taken off her hoof and messed up her leg like that. She’d bled out and that would’ve been a slow death.
Anger roared through him as he thought about how much she’d suffered. It was inhumane to do this to an animal. Lone Star Lonnie had downplayed the situation with the heifer, Mitch thought as he stood over her.
Everything inside him felt as torn up and drained as the lifeless heifer next to him.
Whoever had done this would be brought to justice.
The pitch-black night sky was a dark canopy overhead. Thick clouds smothered the moon, blocking out any possibility of light. Rain came down in sheets. The conditions were a problem. There’d be tracks. Kimberly couldn’t afford to leave a trail or any sign she’d been there.
If the storm continued, there’d be no issue. Flash floods were common in this area of Texas and could wash away her hiking-boot prints. If the weather dried up, anyone could follow her based on the imprints she made.
She stepped lightly, careful to weave through the low-hanging branches rather than break them—again another way to track her movements. Being on the run had taught her to leave the smallest footprint possible. Leave a trace and someone would find her—the creeps following her had already proven that more than once. She’d racked her brain, thinking how they could’ve picked up her trail leading to the pediatrician’s office earlier.
Kimberly cursed under her breath as tears threatened. How could she have been so careless? So stupid?
Guilt nearly impaled her.
She couldn’t sit by and watch the only people she loved get hurt because of her. She had to make this right. She prayed that she could find the right words to convince Mitch to leave with the babies and disappear.
Seeing her alive would shock her husband. And he would hate her for what she’d