her heart ache. “The professionals had a hard time diagnosing him. His symptoms were all over the place. No impulse control, inattentive, hyper. But then, as we got older, his mood swings became more erratic, violent even. Our mom was the only one who could handle him.” Her heart burned with grief. “She died when we were fifteen.”
“I’m sorry. How?”
She appreciated the sympathy in Shane’s voice, but she dared not look at him or the tears would break through. Instead she focused on the blue-gold flames in the fireplace. “A car accident. She hit a patch of black ice and slammed into a concrete barrier.”
Shane made a sympathetic noise in his throat. Bella shimmied closer and put a paw on her foot as if sensing her sorrow.
Gina leaned down to run her hand over Bella’s soft coat. “Tim took Mom’s death really hard.” Her heart squeezed tight and she straightened. “It was hard on all of us. I miss her every day. Dad did the best he could. But being a cop and a father of two teenagers was a lot for him to handle.”
“That’s right, you’d said your dad was a police officer. So is mine. And my grandfather was and both brothers are.”
“Ah.” That explained his drive. He had a family legacy to live up to and he was anxious to get going on his career.
“My dad would be lost without my mom,” he said softly.
“Yeah, Dad had a rough time of it. Especially as Tim’s behavior became more unpredictable. He hung around some bad influences and started down a very destructive, criminal path. Dad forced him to see a counselor, who passed Tim on to a psychiatrist. But Tim wasn’t interested in getting help. I can’t blame all of his behavior on his mental illness. He made his choices of his own free will.”
“And you? How are you?”
She could feel Shane’s gaze on her. More than curiosity drove his question. She understood. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last someone asked if she, too, had a mental illness. As soon as anyone learned of Tim’s disorder, she became suspect, since they were twins. “I saw the same psychiatrist, just in case.”
“And?”
“He said I didn’t display any of the markers. But no one can guarantee I won’t develop a mental disorder one day. It runs in my mother’s family.” A constant fear that hung over her life like a dark cloud threatening to wash her away and kept her from risking her heart. She wouldn’t subject anyone to that uncertainty.
“Did the psychiatrist have any idea why your brother would be affected and you seemingly aren’t?”
She shrugged. “Even non-twin siblings have a ten-percent chance of developing the same disorders.”
“That’s a pretty low percentage. Chances are you’ll never suffer the same fate.”
She wished she could count on his words to be true. “But there is still a chance. No one can make any guarantees one way or the other.”
“One of God’s many mysteries.”
She met his gaze, expecting to see wariness, pity even. Instead, his expression was open and sincere.
“I often wonder why God chose to afflict Tim,” she told him. “Dad would say God never made mistakes and that, for reasons we may never know, God made Tim the way he is for a purpose.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone. “I love my brother but I fear him, and have for as long as I can remember. Maybe I inherently knew something wasn’t right with him. As for a purpose? That I can’t wrap my mind around.”
“I agree with your dad. God has a purpose for Tim. For you. I don’t know what that purpose is, but He does have one. You have to trust Him.”
She cocked her head and studied Shane. She hadn’t realized he was a believer. But then again, it wasn’t something they’d had reason to discuss during class, and she’d been very careful to keep things work-focused despite how much she wanted to spend time with him outside class. “My dad would have liked you.”
The green of his eyes was highlighted by the firelight. “I wish I’d had the chance to meet him.”
So did she. A wave of sadness washed over her. She missed her dad so much.
Bella jumped to her feet, her ears back. She let out a loud bark.
A shaft of anxiety tore through Gina. “What’s wrong with her?”
Shane rose. “I don’t know.”
They heard scratching and a long howl. Hawk. James opened his bedroom door. The bloodhound raced through the living room and halted at the sliding glass patio door. Bella joined Hawk, her deep growl ricocheting off the condo’s high ceiling. James came into the living room wearing sweats and a T-shirt, his expression sharp with concern and his service weapon in his hand.
From her bedroom, the puppies’ excited barks rang out. Even the pups sensed danger. A shiver of dread ran across her flesh.
Shane touched her shoulder, startling her. “Go to your bedroom and lock the door.” He and James moved toward the sliding door.
Gina nearly dropped the glass in her hand. Someone was on the patio. Deep in her heart she knew the trespasser was her brother. Hating the thought of anything happening to Shane or James, she said, “Be careful. You know how dangerous he is.”
Shane met her gaze. “I know. Now go.”
She hesitated for a second then hurried to her bedroom, locked the door and gathered the pups in her arms. “Oh, Lord, please,” she whispered.
There was only one thing for her to do.
Leave Desert Valley and hope this time Tim wouldn’t find her.
Shane tempered the adrenaline swamping his system with the knowledge that Gina was safely tucked away behind the locked door of the third bedroom of the condo. They’d made the right call in bringing her here.
He only regretted that he hadn’t been the one to suggest it, but the idea of having her underfoot had left him feeling a bit off-kilter.
With the threat of her brother lurking so close, Shane knew his own discomfort had to be relegated to unimportant.
It didn’t matter that he found Gina attractive and interesting and that he admired how well she was holding up considering she’d been chased from her home, had discovered her boss’s dead body and was being stalked by her evil twin. Not a good day.
Shane reached the kitchen drawer where he’d stashed his service weapon. He grabbed it along with a heavy-duty flashlight, then followed James out the condo’s back sliding door.
The dogs ran for the tall fence separating the oblong-shaped patch of grass behind the building and the empty lot beyond. Both dogs sniffed the ground near a spot in the fence where a loose board had been pushed aside.
The acrid odor of tobacco hung in the chilling air. The temperature had dropped as it often did at night in the northwest
