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He turned, and the look on his face told her he expected her to do exactly what she was doing. She hated the expression—it was triumph.
I’m playing right into his hands. But. But.
Daddy…
Miranda felt utterly defeated. Sick.
“He wants to see you.”
“Where is he?”
“Close enough that we can walk, although it’s a little bit of a hike.” He glanced down at her shoes, Brooks runners. “Good thing you wore comfy shoes. Smart girl.”
“Shut up. Where are we going?” She tried to swallow again and failed. “I amnotgetting in a car with you.”
“I just told you, Miranda. We can walk. I rented a little houseboat. It’s just up by Nickerson, under the Aurora Bridge.”
“Really?” She hated herself for whining.
“Really. For once, I have no tricks up my sleeve.”
“How did you get him to come with you?”
He glanced over his shoulder. She trailed after. “I told him the truth—that I wanted to make a clean slate of things. To clear the air.” He stopped and turned to her and did a perfect impression of a concerned face. “Look, I heard about Steve’s death. I know he was like a father to you. Correction—wasa father to you. And I also know that because of my past you think I had something to do with his murder. I didn’t. I may be a lot of things, not all of them good, but I’m not a killer.”
She didn’t bother telling him he could deny things all he wanted. It didn’t make him innocent.
He didn’t move. “Look. I’m sorry I was duplicitous. Today, and before too. Your dad has been the only bright spot in a very dark life. Trust me on that. I know I screwed up, but his opinion—and, by extension, yours—matters a lot to me. But I understand if you don’t want to come with me. I know the things you discovered. So, in the interest of trust and transparency, I’m telling you to go ahead and go. I can tell your father everything I need to say and, if he sees fit, he’ll relay my words to you.
“I’m beyond hoping for some big reunion or forgiveness. But I just want you guys to know that I’m notallbad. And that I certainly wouldn’t ever harm a fellow human being, let alone kill them. That’s absurd.”
She stood, hoping the quivers going through her didn’t show. At a crossroads, she needed to decide what to do right now. The silence grew, even with all the bustle around them. It was oppressive as the minutes ticked by.
Trey finally spoke. “Look. Do what you want. I’m going back to the houseboat. Your dadisthere. Believe it or don’t. The only thing I want you to do is take a look around. See all these people? Miranda, I’m not asking you to get in a car with me. Not luring you to some lonely, deserted spot so I can tie you to some railroad tracks or whatever.” He chuckled and she kept her face impassive. “You’re safe. Follow me through these crowds for a short walk. I couldn’t do anything to you if I wanted to.”
She was torn. Part of her needed to follow him because Connor might indeed be waiting on this houseboat. The other part wanted to escape. So much trauma marring her life these past few days and the root of a lot of it stood before her.
In the end, she begrudgingly thought he made a good point. If he tried anything, she could always scream…and scream…and scream.
She followed, hoping she wouldn’t have to.
And then another thought arose. She wasn’t even sure of its provenance, because it seemed to come almost from outside of her—a reassurance and a nod to her strength and resiliency.
You may not realize this, Trey or Bruno or Satan or whomever the hell you are—but I’m stronger than you. Smarter, too, even though my actions at this very moment might belie that fact. See, I have the instincts of a protective mother lion. I am not going to let anything bad happen to my father or me. And I’m certainly going to fight you, if it comes to that. I will do that for Steve…and for every other human you’ve harmed in your destructive path. You’re not a force of nature that can’t be stopped. You’re not a supernatural monster. You’re a real one. And I can handle you.
The thought did little to allay her fear and its physical manifestations in her pulse and heart, but it did give her a kind of confidence she could lean into.
Being beaten by this loser simply wasn’t an option.
She continued along behind him, praying her courage was not that of a fool’s. And that her thoughts of strength weren’t simply a way to shore up her cowardice.
Bravery doesn’t come from facing things you know you can handle. It comes from facing the things you can’t, and doing so anyway.
Chapter Thirty
CONNOR OPENED THEdoor slowly, willing it not to creak. The bottom of the door glided silently across the deep-napped carpet, abetting him.
In the bedroom, Miranda slept with a line of light falling across her body, under the sheet. Connor smiled at the sight, much as he had when she was a child. He moved a little closer, peering through the dimness, and drank in her features. Asleep, she was all innocence, a little girl once more. Love swelled in his heart. So did protectiveness.
