Two

      Samuel tried to call Bowie but had to leave a message for him to return the call, then headed for Constable Riordan instead.

      “Sir, I have some information for you.”

      “I’m listening,” Riordan said.

      “I took my dog and trailed the shooter all the way down the mountain until the trail ended at a set of tire tracks. It was some kind of motorcycle. I took pictures of the tread and of his footprints. Give me a number and I’ll send the pictures to you. Also, there’s a spent cartridge in the brush where the shooter stood. If you’ll get one of your investigators to follow me, I’ll show him where it is. I marked the spot without picking it up.”

      Riordan’s eyes widened.

      “Good job,” he said, and then added, “I’m sure sorry for your loss. Stanton was a good man.”

      Samuel’s eyes were glassy from unshed tears, and his chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.

      “Yes, sir,” he said, and waited.

      The constable called out to one of the investigators, who came on the run.

      “What’s up?” the man asked.

      “This is Samuel Youngblood, one of the victim’s sons. He found a spent cartridge. Follow him to bag it.”

      “Yes, sir,” the investigator said, and took off after Samuel, who was already walking away.

      Despite being frowned at for interfering, it was Aidan who located the tree where the missing bullet was lodged. He turned and called out, “Here! I found the bullet.”

      A couple of the investigators came running, one with a small handsaw and the other right behind him carrying his evidence recovery kit.

      Aidan watched them saw a notch out of the tree with the bullet still in it.

      “Why didn’t you just dig it out of the tree?” he asked.

      “It can ruin the striations,” the investigator explained.

      “Ah, makes sense,” Aidan said, and watched them bag it up, tag it and enter it into evidence.

      * * *

      Bella Youngblood was relieved to see Jesse sitting on the porch when she drove up and parked. He was rocking too fast, which told her he was nervous, but at least he was still there.

      She got out and hurried up the steps. “Hi, Jesse.”

      He nodded. “Hi, Bella. Mama told me to stay here. The war’s coming,” he said.

      Bella was a tall, buxom blonde and used to Jesse’s ways. She knelt in front of the rocker and patted his knee until he looked into her eyes.

      “Are you hungry, Jesse?”

      He nodded.

      “Want to come into the house with me? You can show me what you want to eat.”

      “Mama’s gone. She told me to stay right here.”

      “She’ll be back,” Bella said, then stood up and opened the front door. “She won’t care if you come inside with me.”

      Jesse got up and followed her into the house.

      They were frying bacon for sandwiches when Maura and Leslie walked into the kitchen. Maura was six months pregnant, and Leslie was carrying her eighteen-month-old toddler on her hip.

      When the baby saw Jesse, he squealed.

      A big smile broke across Jesse’s face, and in that moment they could see the man he’d been.

      “Hey, it’s my little buddy,” Jesse said, and sat down immediately and held out his arms.

      Leslie laughed, leaned over and kissed Jesse on the cheek, and then handed over her wiggling toddler.

      “Johnny sure loves his Uncle Jesse,” she said.

      Jesse looked up at her. “Jesse loves Johnny, too.”

      “I know, honey,” Leslie said, and then quickly turned away before she started to cry.

      None of them wanted to let on that anything was wrong and get him upset, so there was no mention of what had happened or the sadness they were all feeling.

      “Are you guys up for a BLT?” Bella asked.

      Maura shook her head.

      “No thanks. I was eating soup when Michael called. I’m good.”

      Leslie held up her hand.

      “I was feeding Johnny when Aidan called. He’s eaten, but I haven’t. I would love one if there’s enough.”

      “Yes, there’s enough,” Bella said, and added a few more strips of bacon to the skillet.

      “Ow, ow, ow,” Jesse said.

      The baby laughed.

      They all turned to look. Johnny had his little fists wrapped in Jesse’s long brown hair, and every time Jesse made a face and cried out, the toddler pulled his hair.

      “Don’t let him hurt you,” Leslie cautioned.

      Jesse pulled the baby to his chest. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, and rubbed the baby’s curly head, then looked at Leslie. “Long hair, too?”

      Leslie nodded. “Yes, Johnny’s hair will get long like yours.”

      Jesse nodded. “Daddy says ‘Youngblood tradition.’”

      The women’s eyes welled with tears.

      “You’re right. It is a Youngblood tradition.”

      “Like Samson in the Bible,” Jesse added, and hugged the little boy again.

      Bella swallowed back tears. “There’s enough bacon fried to start making sandwiches. Maura, get the bread and mayo, and, Leslie, would you please slice up a couple of tomatoes, and then put ice in the glasses and pour some sweet tea?”

      The young women set about their tasks, but their hearts were heavy. These moments here with Jesse were the calm before the storm. Once Leigh returned and the truth of their lives was out in the open, nothing would ever be the same.

      * * *

      The killer rode the motorcycle like a bat out of hell, taking all the back roads down the mountain to the Wayne family lake house. He rode straight into the detached garage and parked against the wall behind a half-dozen ATVs, grabbed a rag hanging from a nail and wiped the bike down to remove any fingerprints, then covered it with a tarp.

      The walk to the lake house was brief, and once inside, he got the cleaning kit and set about breaking down the rifle. By the time he was through cleaning it and then wiping it free of fingerprints, no one would know it had been fired. It would be back in the gun case with the others, with no one the wiser.

      When the job was finished and the gun replaced inside the case, he locked up and left. After one swift glance around to make sure nothing was out of place, he drove away in a dusty black Lexus.

      * * *

      Leigh watched them putting her husband in the body bag, and when they zipped it up, she pressed her fingers against her lips to keep from screaming as they took him away.

      When Samuel touched her shoulder, she turned to him with purpose.

      “Samuel, I need to borrow your phone. I have to call your Aunt Polly. That’s where Stanton went this morning. Then I need to call your Uncle Thomas. Stanton’s