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By the time she’d made it back home, it was nearing dinnertime so she’d tossed together a sheet pan of chicken tenders and vegetables. Then she and Josiah had eaten in semi-comfortable silence.
She’d been tempted to tell him the truth during dinner. If the root of his mood swings and abandonment issues stemmed from not knowing who his father was, telling him would pull him from the funk. But she’d choked due to fear and second-guessing. What if it didn’t help him but worsened his mood? And if she were being brutally honest with herself, she was terrified he might hate her. Would he understand her need to protect him from the Family?
Instead of being brave—being the adult—she kept the truth hidden and ate her dinner on autopilot. God, help her get the nerve to tell him. If she didn’t, Ty would, and soon.
The news was nothing but devastation thanks to Hurricane Jodie. Tomorrow the rain would begin. Goodbye sunshine and hello gray skies and worsening weather by the hour until it made landfall on Friday or possibly the early morning hours of Saturday as predicted.
“Mom,” Josiah said, coming into the living room.
“Yeah, hon?”
“Is that agent coming back over tonight too?” he asked as he crashed on the oversize chair, his size-eleven feet stretching out on the ottoman. He was dressed in black basketball shorts and a Nike T-shirt with a black stripe, his hair a little too long on the brow and around the ears, but if that’s how he liked it, Bexley let it go. His haircut wasn’t a hill she was prepared to die on.
“Yes, why?”
“Just wondering. Are we legit in that much danger or...is something going on? I mean, y’all know each other and clearly have a history. I’m not blind. I see the way he looks at you. Although to be honest, he seems kinda mad at you at times. Did you like dump him?”
Bexley hadn’t intended on dumping Tiberius. “Not exactly.” Should she tell Josiah now that he’d gone and sort of opened Pandora’s box? “The danger is real, Josiah. Agent Granger is going to keep us safe. Staying here is important.”
“Why’s he care so much?”
Okay, this must be God’s way of saying tell the kid already. “He cares so much because—”
A knock interrupted her words, and Josiah jumped up. “It’s probably him. I got it.” He peered out the window to make sure it was actually him. At least he had that much sense.
“Hey,” Josiah said, and let Tiberius inside.
“Hey man. How you doin’?”
“Good. You got any leads on my aunt?”
“Maybe.” He spotted Bexley, and her heart thrummed like a bass drum. Big heavy booms. A mixture of sorrow and regret. “We found a tattoo artist who might have inked the victims before they were tattooed by our UNSUB. Did Ahnah have any tattoos?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Bexley stared at Josiah with her mouth agape. “When did Ahnah get a tattoo? She never mentioned it to me.” The Family didn’t allow them, but once she’d been removed from their teachings, Bexley had nothing against them and wouldn’t have reprimanded Ahnah.
“She got a tribal design on her left shoulder blade a year ago. She didn’t tell you because she wasn’t sure you’d approve.”
“Do you know where she got the tattoo?” Tiberius asked Josiah.
“No. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Maybe I should have.”
“There was no need to know. Don’t beat yourself up. I’m waiting on a portrait artist to sketch the tattooist. But if you remember her tattoo, could you sketch it?”
Josiah’s eyes lit up with the thrill of being useful in finding his aunt. Tiberius had clearly seen their son’s need to help. Josiah was limping along in this, and now he’d been given a chance to walk—by his father. “Yeah. Yeah, it won’t take long. It wasn’t big. I’ll do it right now.” He hurried down the hall to his room and the door closed with a quiet click.
“Thank you for that. He needs to feel useful. So do I.” She told him what she’d been doing for part of the day to aid in the hunt for Ahnah. “I feel guilty for going to work and cooking, eating. Sleeping—even if it is fitfully. I’m moving on with my days while Ahnah’s days are uncertain. What’s he doing to her? Other than tattooing her body. He’s seeing her, Tiberius. He’s...he’s looked at her. He’s stripped her. And I fear... I fear...”
Tiberius closed the distance between them and lightly gripped her shoulders. “Don’t go there, Bex. You can’t go there even though it feels impossible not to. We didn’t find any evidence of sexual assault.”
“Any...torture?”
His grim expression was enough to make her knees buckle, and his grip tightened, holding her up. “If she’s obeying him then it’s likely she’s not being physically harmed.”
“Then we’re in trouble, Tiberius. She’s not the submissive little girl you once knew who allowed Garrick and others to abuse, humiliate and degrade her. Once we left, I taught her how to speak up, to fight. I taught her that her voice mattered and she was to never let a man do to her what they did. What my own father did—conditioning her to be an object only. She’ll fight the killer every step of the way, not giving an inch. So... I have no comfort in that.” She was proud of the fighter Ahnah had become, though.
