“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I thought the message on the truck was for me. I thought Junior wanted me to pay, not you. I was trying to wait it out. But then you told me about the photo and I realized I’d been wrong . . . but he’d stopped. I figured he moved on after the prank.”
Silence descended on them as Bently struggled through the warring emotions. “You need to tell me everything you know about this Junior. Where does he live?”
“I only know where he hangs out. It’s like his clubhouse,” TJ answered.
Bently shifted his gaze, searching for any sign of dishonesty. “You gotta be honest with me. If there is anything else you know, you have to tell me now.”
“That’s everything I can think of.”
“Is his real name Junior?”
“Uh, I heard a few teachers call him Joseph before,” TJ answered.
Bently pushed a pen towards him and stood. “Write down the address.”
TJ nodded and picked up the pen as Belle stood and walked towards him.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice wavering.
“I’m going to take care of it.”
“I’m sorry, Bently. I didn’t know.” She bit her lip.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I know, Angel.”
“What does this mean?” she asked, fear flashing in her brown eyes.
“For us?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Nothing’s changed.”
She sighed, relief flitting across her features. “What about TJ? Is he going to be in trouble for this?”
Bently looked between the woman he loved and her brother. “He’s a cooperating witness. If this goes to court, I’ll need him to make a deal with the prosecutor. He was under duress during these crimes, and was acting in fear of his life, and yours. I’ll figure this out. Okay? I’ll keep you both safe.”
She crumpled into him. He held her, wishing they could solve this mess and be done with it.
“I love you.” He pulled her chin up to kiss her on the mouth.
“I love you too.”
***
Bently motioned to Deputy Vargas as he quietly slipped through the sheet of metal hanging open in the run-down factory building. The place had been condemned years ago. The smell of mold and decaying wood was pungent.
He walked through, his flashlight shining from end to end. Light reflected off the heaped piled of old rusted machinery abandoned throughout the room. At the far end were a set of metal stairs. Bently kept his gun extended as he motioned for Vargas to follow.
Bently climbed the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. The layout was just as TJ had described. Bently ignored the trickle of sweat down his forehead. His body was on high alert as he navigated his way to the upper room. Supposedly the space was an old office. Bently counted down with his fingers as Vargas got into position.
“Shattered Cove Police Department, put your hands up!” Bently yelled as he swung the door open. He searched the dim room like he’d been trained, his flashlight and gun aimed where he looked as Vargas covered his six.
“Clear,” he said, walking in. A dirty mattress lay in one corner with a newer sleeping bag and pillow heaped on top. A cooler sat next to it. Empty snack bags were scattered across the floor. A few folding chairs leaned on the other side of the area, along with an old wooden desk. He swiped his finger over the top. No dust.
He let out a breath, fogging up the space in the cold dingy room. One of the drawers was left partially open. A glint of something shiny reflected from the beam of his flashlight.
Bently pulled the drawer open and his blood ran cold. A chill skittered up his spine.
No fucking way.
There was a picture of a young boy with cold blue eyes with a man who looked just like him. Joe Canoby. The man he’d shot and killed to protect Remy during a home invasion. Joseph Junior. He was Canoby’s son.
And now it was clear why this kid was after him.
Junior was out for revenge.
Chapter 42
Bently
Bently walked up the steps to Belle’s porch with lead feet. His shoulders ached and he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. He turned, waving a hand towards the officer on duty in the patrol car across the street.
Rife waved back before Bently grabbed the doorknob. It twisted as he leaned his head against the cold metal frame. Steadying himself, he drew in a breath and pushed.
The warmth and comfort of her home enveloped him, melting some of the numbness. Soft music played from the kitchen to his left. He shut the door and shrugged off his coat as he eyed the stack of boxes. They’d held off moving her into his home at his request. Anything to try and keep her safe. He slept at his house alone with his gun next to his nightstand and a knife under his pillow, waking and wondering about each creak and thud in the old house.
“Honey, I’m home,” he said, forcing a playful tone in his voice to hide the utter exhaustion and fear riddling his body. Maybe he should just leave now, send Belle away somewhere safe.
She turned and flashed him a welcoming yet cautious smile. He’d done this to her. Brought danger to her doorstep. She didn’t deserve this.
“Hey, stranger.” Her brown-sugar eyes met his as she wiped her hands on a towel.
He took off his boots before he walked in, reaching his fingers out to trace the shape of her face, tempting fate. He’d stayed away as long as he could. But he needed to be grounded. She was the only one who made him feel safe. Like a thief, he was here to take some of that light and peace.
She reached her palm around his before she walked into him, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, though he wasn’t sure who was holding who this time.
“I missed you.” Her voice wavered.
He leaned
