“No,” I say. “I would have heard that. Tires on the gravel are so loud.”
“Exactly. Then he must have parked in the woods and had the other Murdock come collect him from there. But where? There aren’t any access roads anywhere near the cabin. That’s why it’s such a long and complicated way to get here. Which means he had to travel a far distance on foot before encountering Jonah,” he says.
“How do you know that?” I ask. “Jonah could have shot him right after he left his car.”
“Jonah never would have allowed the car to be taken away,” Xavier says. “Which means, he didn’t see it. And whoever came to pick it up didn’t see Jonah or the body. Besides, an injury that would cause Elliot’s death so rapidly wouldn’t allow him to travel through the woods for a long distance. He was shot close to the cabin. Jonah must have used a silencer, or you would have heard the shot.”
“I already know Jonah was here in the woods and that he shot Elliot,” I say. “None of that is new.”
“Jonah said he followed you,” Xavier says. “That he had been keeping an eye on you and was watching you. Right? That’s what he told you?”
“Yes,” I say, squirming slightly. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m here to honor Elliot.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he insists. “Don’t you want to know why he gave his life rather than finding another way?”
“You think you know that?” I asked.
“How did Jonah follow you?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s only one way to access the cabin. He couldn’t have followed you by the driveway or you would have noticed. He wasn’t parked at the cabin when you got here. Yet, he was close enough to shoot Elliot and have him still be alive when he stepped up on the porch. Why would Elliot lead Jonah back here? Or allow him to get near the cabin, when he knew that’s where you were?” Xavier asks.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“Jonah didn’t lure Elliot into the woods. Elliot lured Jonah. He was already far too close by, and Elliot knew the only way to keep you safe was to draw him away. They weren’t trying to get to the cabin when Elliot was shot,” Xavier says. “Elliot was trying to get him away.”
I shake my head, trying to understand what he’s saying. “I told you he wasn’t here. And he wasn’t standing around in the woods. I would have seen him.”
“You’re right,” Xavier says. “You would have. If that was where he was. But Jonah was coming at him from the woods. He had to play a game and tempt Jonah out of his hiding spot. Giving his life was the only way because he knew yours was hanging in the balance.”
As he says those words, I realize what he’s saying. My stomach twists and turns into a tight knot and I feel like I might get sick.
“Jonah was here,” I say. “He didn’t come through the woods and meet Elliot. Somehow Elliot brought him back into the woods. When I got here, he was in the basement, wasn’t he?”
Xavier nods. “I think so.”
“Why didn’t Jonah mention it?” I ask. “When I talked to him about it, why didn’t he tell me that’s where he was?”
“You never show your hand,” Xavier says. “You never know when it might be useful.”
Chapter Twelve
Sam finds me an hour later, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the front porch. Leaned back against the cabin, I stare at the spot where Elliot died. Since that night, I’ve remembered so many more moments of my life when he was there. But I had no idea who he was that night. I couldn’t remember his face or what he had meant to my family.
I regret that. I know there’s nothing I can do about it. I shouldn’t let myself feel bad for not remembering a man who was kept purposely on the periphery of my existence. My parents didn’t want me to know he was there. He wasn’t supposed to be a continuous presence or someone I would consider a friend.
He was there to protect us. He was very dear to my parents. I know that, now. But they never wanted me to realize that. His purpose was to watch over my mother, and by extension, me. The work she did for Spice Enya was incredible, but it was also dangerous. She put her life on the line every single time she went out to save another woman.
Elliot, like the other men who carried the Murdock title, was a buffer. He acted as liaison, transportation, bodyguard, and anything else that was needed to make sure the rescue missions my mother embarked on were successful and she came out the other side as unscathed as possible.
Of course, anyone who witnessed anything even close to the types of things my mother saw during those missions knew she wasn’t really unscathed. Even when she was physically safe and encountered no danger, each one of those missions changed her. It affected her deeply, but she kept doing it because it mattered to her so much.
If there ever came a time when seeing what those women were going through and helping them find a new life didn’t impact her, that would have been the sign it was time to stop. It would mean she had hardened and didn’t really care anymore. Then it would have become even more dangerous.
“I was wondering where you went,” Sam says, closing the door and coming over to me. “I made some breakfast. It isn’t fresh cinnamon rolls, but it’ll get us through.”
He smiles that big little-boy grin I fell in love with so long ago,
