Dad,” he muttered, without taking his eyes from the screen.
Marcus stood in the doorway, staring at his son and wondering exactly where he’d gone wrong. T.J. was handsome and intelligent, a college graduate, and had yet to turn a finger at anything resembling work. Marcus had been born into money, but he’d always worked. He’d always wanted his dad to be proud of him. T.J., on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered to be living an idle life of wealth.
When Marcus didn’t answer him, T.J. realized his dad was pissed about something, and immediately stopped the game and stood up. “I guess you heard about Betsy Jakes,” he said.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I heard. I also heard her daughter got shot, too. She’s not dead, though.”
T.J. shrugged. “They say she’s not going to make it, though. Injuries were too serious.”
Marcus pointed at the Xbox. “Have you done anything today that could remotely qualify as work?”
T.J.’s eyes widened. This wasn’t like his dad. Something had him all hot and bothered.
“Yes, I have, actually. I was in the office here all morning, working on details for your announcement party for the senate seat. Then I went to the Jackson memorial—as did you, because I saw you there, but you didn’t bother to acknowledge me. So what’s your problem, Dad?”
“My problem is that at your age, you should have more to do than play video games. In my day, my father expected me to toe the line.”
T.J.’s eyes narrowed as he responded in a tone that was just shy of disrespectful.
“Well, in my day, my father encouraged...no, expected me to make a splash all over my college campus, and after I graduated be sure I was mentioned regularly in the society pages by showing up at all kinds of local benefits and things. I thought he was grooming me for something special, like maybe following in his footsteps once he got into politics. That’s what I thought my father expected.”
Marcus grunted as if he’d just been punched in the gut. Twice he started to respond and then couldn’t, because he’d realized T.J. was right. He’d never looked at his behavior in that vein before, but everything T.J. had said was the truth. His son was the product of his own raising, and he had no one to blame but himself. He shook his head and walked away.
T.J. was still a little pissed as he watched his father leave. The old man was obviously amped up about another classmate being murdered. Shit happened.
He checked the time. Cook was probably finishing up dinner, and he wanted to shower and change before he sat down to eat. As he headed upstairs to his room, he was debating with himself about what he wanted to wear. He decided on something sporty but comfortable. It didn’t pay to be lax about one’s appearance—ever. A person never knew when it would matter to make a good impression.
* * *
Sunset was only minutes away as Lainey walked back from the pasture with the feed bucket, leaving Dandy out in the pasture eating. There were no other animals on the property now except her horse. He was a big gray grullo with a feisty attitude, and there was a time in her life when that had fit who she was, but no more. Her body was still weak from the cancer treatments, and she had gotten so thin that her endurance was nil. But she was cancer-free, and every day she woke up was a good day and a chance to get stronger.
When she was almost back at the barn, Dandy nickered.
She turned to look, but he already had his head back down in the feeder. She smiled.
“Good night to you, too, big guy!” she yelled.
Dandy looked up, nickered again and then resumed his meal.
Now that her last chore for the day was over, Lainey was left with nothing to deter her thoughts from going back to Sam.
There was a time when he’d been the reason she drew breath. Then life had interrupted their love affair and she’d had to figure out how to live without him. She’d thought she was doing okay until the phone call from Dallas, and now all she could think about was seeing Sam again, if for no other reason than to tell him to go to hell.
She latched the door to the granary and started toward the house. The sun was gone now. She was going up the back steps when she heard a long, high-pitched scream that made her shudder. After one quick glance back, she leaped up the steps and hurried into the house. There was a panther somewhere on the mountain, and she hoped he stayed there. Dandy was too old to fight off a big cat like that now.
After locking up the house, she washed up and began making herself some supper, trying not to think about Sam coming home with a broken heart. She did not want to feel sorry for him. She needed to stay mad and hurt and everything in between. She had to, or she would likely get her heart broken all over again.
* * *
Sunset had come and gone. Once Sam reached Knoxville, Tennessee, he took 81 North. The dark pavement in front of his headlights all looked the same, even though he’d already left one state and driven into another.
Two hours had passed since he’d last talked to Trey. He kept thinking Trina should be out of surgery by now, but he’d heard nothing, and Trey had promised to call.
Traffic was heavy. At least a dozen eighteen-wheelers had passed him during those hours, along with the constant barrage of other traffic. Now, though, traffic was beginning to slow down, and he couldn’t figure out why until he topped a hill and saw a cadre of flashing lights on the highway below. He tapped the brakes to accommodate the slower pace, and as he did, caught a flash of headlights coming over the hill behind him at a breakneck pace.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the lights popped up in his mirror. There was no way that driver would be able to brake in time to keep from hitting him. He was bracing himself for impact when, at the last moment, the car swerved and went airborne into the center median.
Sam glanced over his shoulder as it went flying past him in the dark. It was rolling in midair when it hit and continued to roll after impact, the headlights bouncing up and down in the darkness. When the car finally stopped, it was upside down.
Sam slammed on the brakes and pulled off onto the shoulder. He left the lights on in his SUV as he grabbed his flashlight and jumped out. Other witnesses to the wreck were also stopping and running toward it.
He darted into the grassy median. The car had rolled a good fifty yards away. The beam of his flashlight was not meant to illuminate this much, and he could barely see where he was going, plus he was beginning to smell gas. It must be spilling out.
A man ran up behind him as they neared the wreck.
“I just called 911,” the stranger said. “I saw the whole thing. He was flying when he came over that hill.”
Sam stopped at the wreck and got down on his knees before flashing the light throughout the interior. Not only was it empty, but the windshield was gone.
Sam stood abruptly. “It’s empty. The driver was thrown out. Spread out and start looking.”
By now a half-dozen others had joined them, and most of them had flashlights, too. They quickly spaced themselves out and began backtracking in a wide perimeter away from the wreck.
As they were searching,
