Tucker Wyatt
Crimes:
The subject has been the perpetrator of a wide variety of crimes since childhood. Following in his brother’s footsteps, he has committed treason with the terrorist North Star group, along with falsifying evidence, and involvement in false arrest and imprisonment.
Sentencing:
For these acts, I do hereby sentence Tucker Wyatt to death. This will be meted out at the judge’s discretion through the method T. Wyatt deemed acceptable through his own connection to the terrorist group.
—AW
“He broke the pattern,” Sarah said. “He didn’t try to hurt Brady first before he delivered Tucker’s letter.”
“Someone get some gloves and get this off her,” Tucker snapped, which was rare for the usually even-keeled Tucker.
Sarah turned to Dev. “What do you think it means? He broke the pattern.”
Dev’s eyebrows drew together. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. He says we all committed treason, and the only betrayal we could have done in his mind would be against the Sons. Family? Ace? Maybe it all...culminates on Christmas?”
Jamison worked to get the safety pin and letter off of Rachel’s coat without disrupting any potential fingerprints.
“So where’s yours?” Tucker said.
Dev inhaled sharply. Sarah slid her hand into his. She had a terrible feeling about all this—about Dev not getting one first, or with this back-to-back set. About everything accelerating beyond the pattern she was still struggling to make sense of.
“I don’t know,” Dev said, squeezing her hand. “I really don’t know.”
THAT NIGHT, Dev listened as Jamison outlined all the local police were doing, and how the feds were getting involved.
“No prints on anything. The bomb was dangerous. It could have done some significant damage and they’ve sent it on to the feds to see if they can track down who bought the materials. But as for evidence we’ll be able to use against him? Nothing.”
Dev didn’t feel in any way, shape or form comforted. Nor did any of his brothers.
The letter on Rachel’s coat was the biggest concern. Had he been in the mudroom and put it on the coat? It seemed unlikely that hadn’t been noticed until after they’d come in for chores. But how had Anth, or whomever, gotten close enough to pin it on to Rach’s coat without her knowing?
“It’s impossible. Both scenarios are impossible. She wasn’t alone for no one to notice and someone would have noticed beforehand.” Tucker stalked the kitchen. His normal calm demeanor even in crisis was gone—probably since the note had been pinned to his fiancée’s actual person.
Sarah was the only woman in the kitchen. Cecilia had taken Rachel upstairs under the guise of wrapping presents—but what Dev was sure was an effort to take her mind off the fact that Anth had possibly been close enough to touch.
Liza and Nina were giving the girls baths, and Grandma Pauline was doing laundry while Felicity and Duke were in the living room encouraging Claire to walk.
Life went on, even as it was threatened.
“They’ll run the prints on the knives, the new letters, and look for any kind of DNA on Rachel’s coat, but hard to believe he’d leave anything,” Jamison continued. “And we’re using up a lot of the county’s resources while not being able to fully work.”
Tucker swore under his breath. All his brothers looked grim. Dev glanced at Sarah. She was standing there, worry lines etched across her face as she rubbed her stomach.
She’d been the one to focus on the pattern. The idea it wasn’t as cut and dried about Ace as they might think. She was the one to put the idea in his head.
This was about him. His brothers might be getting the notes and threats—but the absence of him getting one meant something.
Dev had the horrible hope it meant he could do something about this. But he’d have to face Anth alone, and he knew no one in his family would go for that.
There was the option to sneak out, but Dev figured that caused more problems than it could solve. He needed his brothers on his side, and he...didn’t know how on Earth he’d convince them to let him handle it.
But convincing them in smaller groups was his only chance. He looked around the table, then up at Sarah, who was standing at his shoulder. He wished he could get rid of her, but she’d never leave. She’d assume they were going to make plans without the women, and she wouldn’t budge.
So he somehow had to win Sarah and his brothers to his way of thinking.
Good luck.
“I think I should go out and do the evening chores on my own.” Because he was no orator or persuasive speaker. There was only what he thought and what should be done.
“Right,” Cody said sarcastically. “Hop on out there. We’ll just huddle up in here and see what happens.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because it’s idiotic,” Sarah said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Possibly the stupidest thing I have ever, ever heard you say.”
“I have to agree,” Jamison said.
“He didn’t leave me a note. That means something.”
“Maybe you’ll get one tomorrow. We don’t know what he’s doing.” Gage shook his head. “Patterns or not, we don’t know how to predict what a psycho is going to do. I don’t think giving him an easy target is in anyone’s best interest.”
Dev wasn’t so sure. A target was...action. It was something. It could spur action and that could spur reaction. He could tell he wasn’t going to get anywhere with them, though. Too many noble souls, and Dev found he didn’t want any of them to sacrifice that.
So, he’d have to figure out another way.
“All right. I’ll have Duke go with me.” Maybe one-on-one outside he could convince Duke to let him go off on his own. His family would be pissed, but someone would know where he was.
Dev stood and headed for the living room, but Sarah followed, stopping him in the hallway by grabbing his arm. “I know that look. That’s my look.”
“What look?”
“A goal. A plan. One you don’t want anyone to know about. Grim determination to do things
