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“You’ll know when the time is right. The words will come. They always do.”
Ty hoped so, but Josiah was a ticking time bomb. Every day Ty was in his life not telling him he was his father was another day he could blow. The GPS signaled to turn right in two hundred fifty feet. “You think they’ll recognize the artistry and style of these tattoos?” Ty asked.
“I guess we’ll see.”
Ty hoped for a break, a lead that would get him ahead of this killer. But he was so advanced and prepared that it had Ty in a state of perpetual dread and anxiety. He wanted Ty. What was his next move toward the end game?
Chapter Nine
Blue Harbor
Bexley Hemmingway’s home
Monday, September 3
7:36 a.m.
Bexley woke from a disturbing sleep, the weather channel playing on low volume. Elbow Cay, Bahamas, had over two hundred lives destroyed. The hurricane had finally lost some steam but was now moving northward toward an environment of high shear and cooler waters, re-strengthening to a Cat 3 as it flowed over the Gulf Stream. It was now offshore of the Georgia and South Carolina coasts. Jodie was expected to hit the Outer Banks soon. Officials were warning them to prepare for a Cat 4 hurricane if it increased in velocity.
What about Ahnah? Would she be safe wherever she was being held? Bexley’s mind wouldn’t let her believe that Ahnah was dead. Her sister was resilient and tough and smart. Bexley had trained her well in cults, manipulation, narcissistic men and any other form of psychology that would help keep her from becoming a victim.
Ahnah was not a victim, but a survivor. All Bexley could do was pray Ahnah would survive whatever was happening to her right now. Ahnah knew Bexley would scour the earth and enlist every resource she had, which were many, when dealing with rescuing women. Ahnah also knew Tiberius was FBI, and if push came to shove Bexley would call him. But it looked like the killer called him first. Bexley had picked up the phone half a dozen times but never called. Did that make her a terrible sister?
As far as Hurricane Jodie, Bexley would give it a few more days to decide on hunkering down or evacuating, and in the meantime, she’d make sure they had plenty of bread, junk food and water. Ty had camped out on her couch again last night. He’d come in about ten o’ clock, looking weathered and wearied. He hadn’t said much, but when Josiah had come into the living room, Ty’s eyes brightened, and they spent an hour playing video games. She’d been surprised Josiah had even come out of his crypt after the conversation she’d had with him about drinking and friends who might be a bad influence.
Maybe she’d given him too much independence. How was a parent supposed to know how long to let out the leash? Seemed like every choice she made concerning her son was the wrong one. Josiah had taken the lecture mostly in silence, with a few eye rolls and a couple of huffs. When she’d brought up his new behavior, he’d commented he didn’t need a psychiatrist and that he was working through some junk that was personal and was none of her business.
Children. She’d die for him and wanted to kill him simultaneously.
She swung her feet over the bed and slid her glasses onto her face, then proceeded to her bathroom. After brushing her teeth and running a brush through her mass of uncooperative hair, she padded into the living room, passing Josiah’s closed door. It was Labor Day. He’d likely sleep all day. Teenagers. Oh well, tomorrow he’d return to school until the weather amped up and then they’d cancel.
But today wasn’t a holiday for Tiberius or Bexley. When she entered the kitchen, he greeted her with a chin lift. The smell of coffee and frying eggs wafted through the room, and he stood over the stove with a spatula in one hand. He wore athletic pants and a Panthers T-shirt. His hair stuck up on one side, and his eyes were a little red.
The toaster popped, and four slices of toast sprang up. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said.
“No, no, it’s fine.”
“I gotta eat when I can. Who knows what the day will bring. Figured you’d be hungry. You still eat first thing when you wake or is that going away with age?”
“You calling me old?” She snagged a piece of toast and began buttering it.
“I’m calling you older.” His grin was smug, and he flipped over the eggs without breaking a yolk.
“When did you learn to cook?”
“When my mama wasn’t around to do it.” He put the eggs on two plates. “I figured the boy won’t be up for hours.”
“Good call.”
“That kid can eat, Bex. He went through an entire family-sized bag of Doritos and a two-liter last night. How do you afford him?”
“I go hungry,” she teased, but caught his serious eye. “What?”
“I need to give you money. Seventeen years’ worth.”
She gingerly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tiberius, if I wanted your money, I’d have made sure to get it. God has been good to us. We’ve always managed.”
His right shoulder lifted. “Still. I feel like I’ve shirked my duties. Granted, I didn’t know I had duties.”
