She was not the child of his body. He had always felt like second best with Olivia. And like he had not deserved her. Not after what he had done to his three elder daughters. And Bentley.
But he had always treasured her, from the moment he had first held her when she had been all of fourteen months old.
Bentley had been almost as much a star as Ava. Now, he was being ruined. No matter what he had done to try to save him, he couldn’t save Bentley.
Philip hadn’t been a good enough father for him.
For any of them.
He had seen the woman come out of Jaclyn’s home, and had recognized her as the sister. He had still had to leave his daughter.
He hadn’t known what else to do. Not without getting caught and separated from Olivia, too.
He’d made a vow to his brother as he’d stood over Paul’s—the old Paul, not the new one—broken body that day. A vow to always take care of the child his brother had loved so much.
Every day had been devoted to finding ways to make that happen.
Night after night he’d laid awake next to Rachel, worrying about how he would provide for her and the girls and still find a few dollars to give to his biological mother for Bentley’s care. Bentley had been her second chance to have a child to raise again. Bentley had meant the world to her. When she had died, it had been some of the darkest days of Paul’s life.
Losing her had hurt far more than even losing Holly and the three girls.
She was his mother. Everything that had ever mattered to him.
After he and his brother had been taken from her, he had grieved her every single day. He’d just wanted to make one thing right after what he had done to his brother.
He’d killed his brother, then gone home to his brother’s wife. To her bed. The first time he had ever touched Rachel, he had hidden in the bathroom after and wept from the beauty of her.
From the guilt of him.
He had assumed his brother’s very life. He had become Paul then. Left Philip Sullivan behind forever that day. He was Paul.
There would be a cost for that.
But Paul knew he had already paid it today.
Ava. It had cost him Ava.
He had known that, always known that. He hadn’t deserved her. Not truly.
Olivia fussed in her sleep. Her fever had broken an hour after they’d left her sister on Jaclyn’s doorstep. But she still wasn’t up to full speed.
She was bigger, stronger, healthier than Ava. He had always hated that fact. His brother’s only child was stronger than his.
But now as he looked at her, he was glad of it. Olivia would have to be strong for what he would have to do.
And he would do it, too.
For Rachel. For Ava. And for all the ones he’d loved who had gone before.
They’d wait out the storm at his mother’s place, he’d let her sleep in Bentley’s room, then they’d take off first thing in the morning. He’d love the opportunity to take a shower, too. Paul had never enjoyed being grubby like this.
Olivia needed a bath and clean clothing as well. He would see to cutting off her hair and dressing her in the boy’s clothing he had purchased at the store at their next stop. How he was going to make her cooperate with being a boy for a few weeks still wasn’t clear to him.
Unless he just ordered her to do it, and he kept her as isolated as possible. Until she was more comfortable with their new life.
It would confuse her, but she would have him to help her adjust. She was a smart girl, after all. She would adjust.
But first, he had to check on Ava.
Paul had one number he could call. He did that quickly.
And he listened.
When he disconnected, he rushed to the nearby bathroom and lost what breakfast he had eaten that morning.
Eugene Lytel was a cold-blooded killer.
There was no way he was going to let that sonofabitch near his daughter.
“Daddy, I don’t feel good.”
Olivia came to him, where he sat at his mother’s dining room table. Paul snuggled her close. She was getting fever again. All of this driving around in the rain was keeping her from resting, from healing.
He wasn’t being much of a father now. Wasn’t keeping his promise.
Paul carried her to the couch and tucked her beneath a planet-covered blanket from Bentley’s room.
He was going to have to do what he had to do.
Paul found what he needed in the medicine cabinet. They hadn’t expired yet. That was good. He hadn’t gotten around to cleaning out her home. It would have been too difficult to explain her to Rachel, and he hadn’t been able to take time off from work.
The business his brother had started before Philip had become him had been hard for him to keep going. To learn. He had been a contractor before. Had built himself a reasonably successful business—with his hands. Not his head. He liked to think he had used those skills with his new consulting business.
He had managed.
Had gotten this far. He would get through this, too.
But the last thing he wanted was Olivia getting in the way.
He gave her fruit punch. She had always loved red drinks. Ava…Ava had preferred purple.
Paul held his daughter until she was limp in his arms.
He carried her to the back of the house—to the bed of the cousin she didn’t know she had.
And he left her there.
He had done what he needed to do.
Now, he had to do what he had to do—it was time to end this, for all of them.
94
“Take care of the house,” Lytel ordered the men who had accompanied them out to this run-down ranch house near New London. Todd tried not to puke. They were a mile from the house where Paul Sturvin/Philip Sullivan had holed up in.
The man
