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“Surprise, surprise. Hi, Mommy. Long time, no see.” Dusty almost snarled it at the woman, fury more than fear was in control of her now. In the dim light of the interior, she recognized the woman staring at her now.
Hermotherhad dawning horror on her face.
“Not one of our babies! We can’t take her with us. We can’t. What if they find us again? What if they hurt her? They shot at us! We can’t!”
“Well, we can’t damned wellleaveher here for those bastards to find next, can we?”
“Get her in the van. I don’t want her near this mess!” Her mother closed the door behind her father, even when she was telling him what he could or couldn’t do. Then she got right in the driver’s seat and drove away.
“Just drive. We need to get out of here.” He had a command in his voice. It was obvioushewas in charge.
Dusty just stared at the man in front of her. “What are you doing back here? And what do you want with me?”
“I’ve been shot. I need you to bandage me up. Then…it’ll all be okay. I promise. You’re mother’s right. The person who shot me is probably still out there. I’m not leaving you there for them to find.”
“Who shot you, Daddy dearest?” Dusty was truly trying not to panic here.
He was her father.
Definitely not agoodfather, but he was the man who had fathered her. There was no denying who he was, or the blond woman at the wheel.
Her mom. That was Dusty’smotherright there. All she had ever seen of Geena Talley before had been photos. Dusty tried hard not to stare. She’d heard stories of her dad before. Her grandmother hadn’t ever hid who he had been from them. But they hadn’t had any relatives on their mother’s side. Dusty knew almost very little about her. Just what her grandmother, Rhea, and her aunt Jess had told her. It wasn’t much.
“I want to go home. I don’t want to help you.” She looked at her father. He was lesshurtfulto look at than her mother. She’d looked at a better version of him countless times in her life. She was used to knowing her uncle looked exactly like her father would have.
But hermother? Her mother was who hurt her the most.
How could a mother have left four daughters behind without a backward glance? Dusty had never been able to answer that question. “When do you plan to make that happen?”
“I don’t know. I need to think.” He touched his shoulder and groaned. Just a little. The van swerved. Hermotherpressed on the horn.
“There’s a tractor with a cowboy on it in the road!” she yelled.
“Go around him!”
Dusty justknewwho that cowboy had to be. She’d passed him not even two minutes ago.Fletcher.So close. So right there. And she couldn’t get to him at all. She tried. There was a window right there. But her father guessed. He blocked her.
Her father took off the hat. There was a small reading light in the top corner of the backseat. It showed her exactly who had taken her.
He did look like her uncle, but he was a little softer. Not fat, at all. Still in excellent shape—he’d lifted her right off her feet without a struggle, mostly one-armed. But her uncle had kept himself in rigid physical shape.
She probably couldn’t escape her father easily.
She would have to outsmart him. And if he was a brilliant as his twin, that might be harder than she wanted to think about.
“We’re here,” her mother said almost half an hour later. “What are you going to do?”
“Get her inside.” He looked at Dusty. From eyes the same green as her own. “Do you think you can do stitches, young lady?”
“Yes.” Matt had taught her how to do basic sutures. Dixie had helped her practice. “But if you’ve been shot, you need to go to the hospital.”
Right there, with people she knew, who could help her.
“There isn’t time.” He opened the rear door, and climbed out of the van. “We need to hide tonight. And start again tomorrow.”
37
Dusty seriously fought panicking.Panicking wouldn’t help. She knew that. But…
