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“I didn’t want to lie to her. I didn’t think she’d—”
“She hasn’t—”
“Of course, she hasn’t…but Gus, whatever she has or has not done, she wrote that confession to protect you.”
Gus closed his eyes. “She thinks I did it,” he said quietly. “She thinks I killed Murdoch and Mary Cowell.”
Jacqui grabbed his hand, startled by the pain in his voice. “That’s not what I meant at all. Why would she think you were capable of killing anyone?”
Gus gasped as physical pain broke through his endurance with the memory of what he’d done, what Theo had seen him do. And a new thought tortured him. Was Theo afraid of him? Was that why she’d run?
Nancy Etheridge had decorated her son’s house for his return. Welcome-home banners, balloons, and a table laden with everything he would not have eaten in prison. When he walked in the door, she led the cheering and the applause.
He was subdued, she thought. Happy enough to see them but not as excited as she expected. He greeted them all warmly, and he didn’t protest the fuss, but he and the boy Benton were noticeably quiet. To do with Gus’s sister, no doubt. The girl was still causing trouble. The mood was catching, and Caleb became surly.
Still, Nancy was determined that they all should celebrate. Gus at least was downing his fair share of champagne, however morosely. She filled the silences with chatter, calling on her sons and husband for affirmation from time to time. “Your sister couldn’t come, what with the new baby and all—you do know you’ve got a new niece, don’t you, Cormac? She sends her love, in any case.”
Mac nodded. “I’ll go see her soon.”
“Perhaps you should come back to the Ponderosa for a while, son.”
“Thanks, Mom, but I’ve got work to do,” he said, glancing at Gus.
Mac had been detained for the months that Gus Benton had been in the hospital and then some, though he hadn’t technically served any time. All the charges brought against him had been dropped, one by one, despite his family’s attempts to demonstrate that all the Etheridges were mad and dangerous. The time that he’d spent in custody counted for nothing, not even against a sentence, which he supposed was a good thing.
Gus and Jacqui Steven had worked relentlessly to secure his freedom, but it had taken five and a half months in total. And in that time, not one word, not one sign of Theodosia Benton, aside from the written confession, which was being treated with the gravity of a dying declaration.
The media frenzy had died down somewhat, at least for now. Bernadette had kept everything going in his absence, but there were some things that needed his personal attention.
“Mac, can I talk to you?” Caleb asked quietly as their mother carried on the conversation by herself, pointing out the benefits of home and family in times of need.
“Yeah, come out to the backyard,” Mac said, suddenly struck with an overwhelming need to get away from his mother’s determined cheerfulness.
Somehow they managed to step outside without the rest of the Etheridges following.
He sat on a bench under the shade of the old elm tree that dominated the garden. It was the height of summer, and hot. He’d missed half the winter and all of the spring. “What gives, Caleb?” He knew, of course, but he wanted to give Caleb a chance to tell him. He wanted to make Caleb tell him.
Caleb paced for a while and then turned and blurted, “I told Mary Cowell that Theodosia Benton was living in your house. I gave her the address.”
The line of Mac’s jaw was hard. “Yeah, I know.”
“How?”
“One of the FBI agents told me. They were trying to shake my belief in the loyalty of my family.”
“Did they?”
Mac didn’t answer.
“How did they know?” Caleb pressed nervously.
“They checked Mary Cowell’s emails, you idiot! They found yours telling her where Theo was.”
Caleb was near tears now. “I got her killed, didn’t I?”
Mac shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking, Caleb? Theo was under my protection, and you revealed her whereabouts. How am I supposed to ever trust you again?”
“I thought she was dangerous, Mac. You wouldn’t listen. I was trying to protect you.”
