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“Now he’s my son.” His tone was tight.
“Really? You’re going there. Now?”
“Sorry. I’m worked up. What’s he doing?”
She dared a small glance toward the window and gasped. “He’s got his hands on the window, peering in.” Panic rippled down her back, and she prayed for help holding still. If she could hold still, Tiberius could catch him.
“Can you see his face?” he asked after a stretch of silence.
“No. It’s too dark.” She white-knuckled her comforter.
“I’m on your street. I’m going to park and come to the house on foot. Surprise him. If you see a second shadow, it’s me. Okay?”
“Okay. But don’t kill him. If he knows where Ahnah is, we need him alive.”
“One of us does this for a living,” he said, with amusement. “I’m putting you in my shirt pocket on Speaker. I can hear you, but maybe don’t say anything in case he can hear you too.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Tiberius?”
“Yep,” he whispered.
“Please be careful and don’t die.”
“Do my best,” he murmured and went silent.
She squinted, keeping an eye on the peeper, when his head suddenly swiveled to the right. Then he vanished.
“He ran away. You spooked him.”
“I’m not even to the house. Can’t be me. Wait. I see headlights in your drive!”
Had he parked in front of her house, or was someone else here? If so, who would it be? Could it be about Ahnah?
Bexley sprang from bed, snagging her ratty blue robe and sliding into it as she ran down the hall. Pausing at Josiah’s room, she cracked open his door and startled as the front door swung wide open. Shrieking, she clutched her robe lapels.
Josiah blew in like a storm cloud with Tiberius on his heels.
“Josiah? What are you doing outside?” Had he heard the noise too?
“He’s the headlights, Bex.” Tiberius scowled, his hair disheveled from sleep and his scruff looking more like a beard. His T-shirt and jeans were rumpled, and he held his gun in his right hand.
“What is going on? He almost tackled me!” Josiah said, ripping away from Tiberius and putting distance between them.
Tiberius sniffed and his eyes narrowed. “Have you been drinking?”
Josiah raised his chin and bowed his chest. “No. And even if I had, what’s it to you? You’re not my dad!” He stomped down the hall, almost bumping Bexley. Had it been Josiah outside? What was happening? Drinking?
Tiberius’s jaw ticked and his nostrils flared. He thrust out his hand. “I’d call him back, but why should he listen?” He pointed a finger to his chest. “I’m not his dad.”
The room swirled around her, and she gripped the side table by the wall to hold herself upright. Nothing was holding her up inside. Any minute someone would show up and cart her off to the asylum, and she’d welcome it.
She slunk to the floor and rested her head on her knees, willing herself not to have a panic attack. Instead, she cried.
Being a single mom was her choice, but she was messing up at every turn. Being gone was being a bad mom. Sticking close smothered him. Bexley had tried to give him independence, but she was unsure how much leash to give. Mistakes had been made. Grave ones. Now Ahnah was gone, and she might not have the chance to make things right between them. And a vicious killer was prowling around her house, all while Josiah was out...drinking?
Tiberius’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed as he slid down the wall beside her, draping an arm around her shaking body. His hold was warm and his body solid. He smelled of lingering cologne and cinnamon mints.
This was the grace she needed but didn’t deserve.
