Penny nodded, but she was shaking. Ellen hated that these people had scared an old woman.
“Look out for Margery, okay? Call Dr. Patel, I have his personal number in my phone book.”
“I wish Sam and I had a family like yours,” Rena said wistfully. “Our daddy thought I was his wife and Sam was his punching bag.”
It was clear now what this woman had gone through as a child. Ellen didn’t like her, she would turn her in as soon as she had the chance, but maybe she understood a little better how she reached this place in her life, how she could put her own brother in danger, how she could abandon Avery to the environment.
Ellen reached out and lightly touched her forearm. “Your decisions now areyourchoices.”
Brock said, “I left my truck at your neighbor’s house because I thought it might have been identified by the police. I’ll take you there, then you can follow me to where the accident happened.”
Rena said, “It was my fault. I got scared when I thought someone recognized your daughter, and I created the accident.”
“Ryan— You have his truck,” Ellen said as she stepped out on the porch, and gestured to the older model Ford F-150. “Where’s Ryan?”
“I left him at the accident. With your daughter.”
Ellen frowned. They wouldn’t have stayed in the middle of nowhere in the storm. They would have walked to a neighbor no matter how far. Found a way to contact her.
Unless they couldn’t.
Brock opened the passenger door for Ellen, but she hesitated, trying to think what Avery and Ryan would have done after the accident. If Avery’s injuries weren’t severe, they would go someplace safe, to a house, to a barn. They’d find shelter if they could. Where depended on which intersection where the accident occured.
“What’s wrong?” Rena said.
Before Ellen could answer, a man stepped out from behind Ryan’s truck. It was Travis, and he had a shotgun.
“Get away from her,” Travis said.
Brock pulled out his gun and Ellen said, “Stop! Please! No more violence.”
“Mom!”
Ellen whirled around and saw Avery, Jake, and Ryan running from the backside of the porch.
“Avery!” Relief flooded through her at the sight of her daughter.
Brock looked from the kids to Ellen. He grabbed Ellen and whispered in her ear, “I’m not going to hurt you, but I don’t want your friend to get an itchy finger.”
“Travis, stand down,” Ellen told her brother-in-law.
“I’m not letting them take you, Ellen.”
“They’re not. They’re leaving. Right?” she said to the man.
His fingers squeezed her biceps hard enough to bruise.
“Rena, get in,” he ordered.
She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. Brock pulled Ellen over to the driver’s side. “Open the door,” he said.
She did.
Travis held the shotgun on the vehicle as Brock climbed in. Brock then whispered in Ellen’s ear: “If you want to take down Mitchell Robinson, I kept a copy of everything. It’s in my truck at the Coulters’ house.” Then he pushed Ellen away from the truck and slammed the door shut.
As the ignition turned, Ellen ran up the porch stairs and hugged Jake and Avery. “They said you were in an accident. I didn’t know.” She was crying.
She heard a shotgun blast and jumped.
