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My mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything since she just as easily could have parked it in the garage. Daisy had said the withdrawal from the account had gone through just after eight this morning. I’d asked her to call the bank where my mother worked to see if she was still there but she’d gotten her voicemail and when she’d spoken to another employee, she’d been told my mother had gone home sick.
It was a promising sign, but since it had taken a couple of hours to get here, I also knew I could already be too late.
I wasn’t surprised to find the door locked when I tested the knob so I pulled out the tools I needed to pick it. It took less than a minute and then I was tucking the tools in my pocket and pulling out my gun after making sure there was no one around to see us. I used the edge of my T-shirt to wipe the knob before turning it.
To Ethan I said, “Don’t touch anything inside and stay behind me.”
I still had no idea what the plan was in terms of what I would do if and when I saw my father, but little of it would have to do with my mother. Even if I decided to pull the trigger instead of calling the cops, my mother’s presence would have nothing to do with it. Yes, she’d point the finger at me if she was ballsy enough to contact the cops and admit she’d been harboring a fugitive, but Ronan would have a rock solid alibi in place for me before I even left Kentucky.
I carefully pushed open the door and scanned the entryway before giving Ethan permission to enter. He used the sleeve of his shirt to quietly close the door behind us. The house was dark since all the curtains were drawn and I didn’t hear any voices. Ethan stayed close behind me as we worked our way through the lower level of the house. A quick glance in the garage showed that my mother’s car was indeed in the garage.
That fact had my adrenaline spiking higher.
Silence followed us as we made our way back towards the front door. I’d just stepped on the very first step of the staircase when I heard my mother scream, “No!”
The fear in her voice was reminiscent of all those days when I’d had to stand by helplessly and watch as fist after fist fell on her frail body. I darted up the stairs, hoping like hell Ethan would keep up.
“Please don’t! Stop!” she cried out.
Even though I didn’t hear the tell-tale signs of flesh hitting flesh, it didn’t matter because I knew he could be doing to her what Ethan’s ex had done to him. As much as I hated my mother for what she’d done, she was still my mother.
The door to her room was slightly ajar. I heard her let out another hoarse cry just before I kicked open the door and stormed into the room, gun drawn. I found her instantly, but nothing about the situation made sense. Instead of seeing her on the floor or bed with my father’s body on top of hers, she was standing in the corner of the room…alone. There were no tears streaking down her face, no red marks on her skin or blood seeping from fresh injuries. The only thing off about her was how flushed her face looked.
Like she’d just run a marathon.
But then I saw it…the same thing I’d seen so many times when I’d begged her to believe me over my father.
I spun around, but was too late. Standing behind me just inside the door was Ethan with the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple and my father standing right behind him, using Ethan’s body as a shield.
My mother had set me up and I’d fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.
Chapter Eighteen
Ethan
The pain in Cain’s eyes as he came to the conclusion I’d reached the second I’d felt the gun pressed against my head was hard to see, but it was compounded by the fact that I’d made things worse for him. With his father using me as a shield, Cain’s chances of getting out of this unharmed were greatly diminished. But since he’d run into the room intent on saving his mother, it was just as likely that he’d be lying dead on the floor right now with a bullet in his back.
“Put it down, son,” I heard the man behind me say. I could tell he was a little taller than me, but I wasn’t sure if it gave Cain enough room to maybe shoot him in the head. I doubted he’d do it anyway since the man could end up reflexively shooting me in the process, but part of me still wanted him to do it. If he didn’t, the likelihood he’d get out of here alive was slim to none.
