got up and followed her into the house.
They were frying bacon for sandwiches when Maura and Leslie walked into the kitchen. Maura was six months pregnant, and Leslie was carrying her eighteen-month-old toddler on her hip.
When the baby saw Jesse, he squealed.
A big smile broke across Jesse’s face, and in that moment they could see the man he’d been.
“Hey, it’s my little buddy,” Jesse said, and sat down immediately and held out his arms.
Leslie laughed, leaned over and kissed Jesse on the cheek, and then handed over her wiggling toddler.
“Johnny sure loves his Uncle Jesse,” she said.
Jesse looked up at her. “Jesse loves Johnny, too.”
“I know, honey,” Leslie said, and then quickly turned away before she started to cry.
None of them wanted to let on that anything was wrong and get him upset, so there was no mention of what had happened or the sadness they were all feeling.
“Are you guys up for a BLT?” Bella asked.
Maura shook her head.
“No thanks. I was eating soup when Michael called. I’m good.”
Leslie held up her hand.
“I was feeding Johnny when Aidan called. He’s eaten, but I haven’t. I would love one if there’s enough.”
“Yes, there’s enough,” Bella said, and added a few more strips of bacon to the skillet.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Jesse said.
The baby laughed.
They all turned to look. Johnny had his little fists wrapped in Jesse’s long brown hair, and every time Jesse made a face and cried out, the toddler pulled his hair.
“Don’t let him hurt you,” Leslie cautioned.
Jesse pulled the baby to his chest. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, and rubbed the baby’s curly head, then looked at Leslie. “Long hair, too?”
Leslie nodded. “Yes, Johnny’s hair will get long like yours.”
Jesse nodded. “Daddy says ‘Youngblood tradition.’”
The women’s eyes welled with tears.
“You’re right. It is a Youngblood tradition.”
“Like Samson in the Bible,” Jesse added, and hugged the little boy again.
Bella swallowed back tears. “There’s enough bacon fried to start making sandwiches. Maura, get the bread and mayo, and, Leslie, would you please slice up a couple of tomatoes, and then put ice in the glasses and pour some sweet tea?”
The young women set about their tasks, but their hearts were heavy. These moments here with Jesse were the calm before the storm. Once Leigh returned and the truth of their lives was out in the open, nothing would ever be the same.
* * *
The killer rode the motorcycle like a bat out of hell, taking all the back roads down the mountain to the Wayne family lake house. He rode straight into the detached garage and parked against the wall behind a half-dozen ATVs, grabbed a rag hanging from a nail and wiped the bike down to remove any fingerprints, then covered it with a tarp.
The walk to the lake house was brief, and once inside, he got the cleaning kit and set about breaking down the rifle. By the time he was through cleaning it and then wiping it free of fingerprints, no one would know it had been fired. It would be back in the gun case with the others, with no one the wiser.
When the job was finished and the gun replaced inside the case, he locked up and left. After one swift glance around to make sure nothing was out of place, he drove away in a dusty black Lexus.
* * *
Leigh watched them putting her husband in the body bag, and when they zipped it up, she pressed her fingers against her lips to keep from screaming as they took him away.
When Samuel touched her shoulder, she turned to him with purpose.
“Samuel, I need to borrow your phone. I have to call your Aunt Polly. That’s where Stanton went this morning. Then I need to call your Uncle Thomas. Stanton’s sister and brother need to hear what happened from me.”
Samuel took out his phone and checked the signal.
“The signal is good here. Their numbers are in my contact list if you need them.”
“I know them,” Leigh said, and wiped her hands on her pants before she took the phone from his hands.
Samuel kissed the side of her cheek and then walked a distance away, giving her some privacy to make the calls.
Leigh called Stanton’s sister, Polly Cyrus, first. Her thoughts were in a jumble as she tried to figure out how to tell her without screaming, and then Polly answered and Leigh’s eyes immediately filled with tears.
“Hello?” Polly said.
“Polly, it’s me, Leigh.”
Polly laughed. “Honey, I know your sweet voice.”
“I have something to tell you, and I don’t know how,” Leigh said, and then started to cry, soft, near-silent sobs.
Polly’s heart skipped a beat, and then she started to panic. Leigh was not the crying kind.
“Honey, just spit it out. What’s wrong?”
“Stanton’s dead.”
Polly gasped and then moaned.
“No, no, no. He was just here. What happened? Was it his heart?”
Leigh took a breath and then choked on her sobs.
“No, he was murdered. Shot in the back on his way home.” As she told Polly the rest, Polly went into hysterics.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Leigh said. “If I could, I would die for him. I don’t know why it happened.”
Polly was sobbing. Leigh had started to hang up when Polly’s husband, Carl, took the phone.
“Leigh! What the hell happened? Polly’s done lost her mind.”
Leigh told it all over again, and Carl groaned.
“Sweet Lord, I am so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry. What can we do for you?”
“Nothing. I just had to tell you myself. Now I’ve got to call Thomas.”
“Do you want me to do it for you?”
Leigh wiped her eyes and then
