“It’ll be okay,” I whispered.

Strangely, I felt only tired, not even worried or upset or guilty, like maybe I should be. I was just happy he was gone and happy she was free. It was worth it.

The coroner was putting my father on the gurney, already zipped into a body bag, while the police talked with each other and waited for forensics to arrive.

Kai made sure none of us said anything until we talked to lawyers.

But I was the one found with the knife and the blood on my hand.

I’d be going in.

“Go with Banks and Kai,” I told her.

I wanted her out of Thunder Bay tonight. In the city with new air and space.

Away from this shit.

She held in her tears as she kissed me and whispered, “That’s not your life anymore. I don’t leave.”

I couldn’t help the smile that broke out as she kissed me again. I wouldn’t admit it to her, but that fucking made my night.

Banks pulled her back as the cop yanked me up and started to take me away.

I watched her over my shoulder, praying like hell that wasn’t the last time I touched her.

As I passed Rika, our gazes met, and she knew there were things happening she didn’t understand. I wasn’t supposed to kill him. That wasn’t part of the plan.

But she hadn’t heard any of the conversation between me and my father.

That shit was for another day.

For now…

“One down,” I told her. “The rest is on you.”

Hours later, I’d received medical attention for my wound and a pre-packaged cinnamon roll which still sat unopened on the interrogation room table in front of me.

My eyes burned from exhaustion, and my stomach growled, but I couldn’t get the damn roll, because I was handcuffed, and I couldn’t reach it. They knew that.

They hadn’t tried questioning me yet, though, probably knowing I was smart enough to know my rights.

But they hadn’t taken samples of the blood on my hand or had me remove my clothes, either. I was getting curious about what the hell was happening out there, because no one was coming in, and I hadn’t gotten my phone call. What if I had to piss?

I rubbed my face on my shoulder and yawned as the fluorescent lighting beat down on me.

Where was Winter? I pictured her in my head, in our bed and sleeping peacefully like I wanted her to be.

But I knew she wasn’t. She was awake and frantic, just as tired and worried as I was. It dawned on me after I arrived that, while I was happy she was out of harm’s way with my father gone, I still didn’t want her walking through this world without me. I didn’t want to miss anything.

For that reason, maybe I regretted doing what I did.

The door suddenly opened, and I turned my head, seeing a short, pepper-haired man in a gray suit but still pretty young and fit.

“Hi,” he said, stepping aside and allowing the officer in behind him. “I’m Monroe Cason.”

The cop came over, and I watched as he uncuffed me and turned away to leave, only to turn back with tight lips and pick up the cinnamon roll, setting it down in front of me.

Huh?

I leaned my forearms on the table, picking up the roll and turning it over in my hands a moment before I flung it at the door just as he was closing it.

Jerk.

I looked up at the dude, cocking an eyebrow. “I didn’t call a lawyer,” I told him.

He smiled small and shot his eyes up. I followed his gaze, seeing the video camera, and after another moment, the power light went off.

What the hell was going on?

I glanced at him again.

He dug in his briefcase, pulling out something wrapped in plastic. He set it on the table in front of me.

“I can have it taken care of, if you like, but I thought you’d want to see it destroyed yourself,” he informed me.

I leaned over the package, making out Rika’s dagger inside. Clean and shining new. Maybe particles of blood could still be found on it, though, which was why he suggested it be destroyed?

Why would they let me destroy my murder weapon?

I thinned my eyes on him. “What is this?”

“You’re free to go,” he said.

My heart leaped. “Why?”

He let out a small breath and placed his case on the table, unbuttoning his jacket and having a seat. Pulling out a paper from his briefcase, he placed it in front of me.

“No one will mourn your father,” he told me. “In fact, there are many who are quite happy—and grateful—that he’s gone. The testimony is that you and your friends showed up at the parade to celebrate. When you arrived, one of your father’s disgruntled employees had done him in, and you found him lying in his blood up on the roof.”

I scanned the paper, the testimony written there.

“Everyone has signed it,” he informed me as I spotted the signatures.

That was why they hadn’t taken samples of the blood on me. Or my clothes.

“His guards…?” I argued.

What about his bodyguards? They knew things.

But he was quick to answer. “They are now on your sister’s payroll, as she is the sole heir of your father’s estate. She assures me that she has her house under control.”

Her house. It was strange to hear, but it had a ring to it.

The cops, though. The blood that was on the dagger. My prints. People might’ve been happy to see my father go, but they weren’t shoving this under the rug out of the goodness of their hearts. There were many who still didn’t like me, either. They were rid of my father, so why not let me go to prison for it and be rid of me, too?

“Who’s your employer?” I asked, suspicious. “Who’s paying you? Who’d pay the city off to look the other way about this?”

He just stared at me, unblinking and then answered, sounding almost serene. “Someone who wants you to have a chance, Mr. Torrance.”

And I sat back in my chair, my eyes finally open and knowing the answer without him telling me.

Christiane Fane.

I unlocked the front door, Winter and I stepping inside her house an hour later.

I couldn’t believe I was out of there.

I knew the talk in town was probably bad, and I had no idea what the repercussions would be from Evans Crist as he undoubtedly knew that we knew how Rika’s father died. How she almost died.

But right now, I couldn’t bring myself to care. My father had been the bigger threat, and although we weren’t all safe yet, I had every confidence people would have a nice, long, fucking pause now before coming at us.

And if they did, we’d be ready.

I ran my fingers through my hair, just wanting a shower and a bed right now, but there was one thing more I had on my mind to deal with before that.

I closed the door and locked it.

“I kind of just want to go sit in the fountain,” Winter said lazily, resting her head on my arm as I held her hand and we walked.

“Plenty of time for that,” I told her. “I have another idea, though.”

“Oh?” She sounded amused like she could only imagine what I wanted to do right now.

But instead of heading up the stairs, I continued down the hall and through the kitchen.

She popped her head up. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I led her outside, across the patio, down beyond the pool and pool house, and past the hedge line, into the trees. We went slow as she navigated her way over the land and fallen branches, but when we got to the large, white oak tree, I picked her up, carrying her over the debris of leaves and wood I hadn’t cleaned up yet.

Setting her down, I took her hand and put it on the tree.

She ran her hands over the bark, feeling up and down until she landed on a board nailed into the tree trunk.

She pulled away, straightening her back and her face falling as she understood why I’d brought her out here.

Her chest moved with her shallow breaths, and I could see the fear on her face.

Moving around her, I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed the back of her hair.

“I’m stronger now,” I whispered. “I won’t let you fall.”

I felt her body shake, but she didn’t say anything. Just stood there, going through the shit in her head.

After another moment, she reached out, breathing hard but determined, and felt for the first step with her foot while grabbing hold of the board in front of her.

I watched as she started to climb, taking her time, one step after the other, and I followed, not taking my eyes off her for a moment.

She paused about halfway up, feeling the wind whip across her hair, but she kept going.

Just one more step.

And another.

“Stop there, baby,” I told her when she reached the top. I didn’t want her hitting her head.

She stayed put as I closed the distance between us, and then I reached above her head, throwing open the door in the floor.

Waving her hand to gauge the width, she climbed through, crawling up onto the floor and standing up carefully as I came through after her.

She stood there for a minute, getting her bearings, but then took a few careful steps, finding the railing. I kept my eye on her feet, making sure she didn’t step over. I’d put the boards in the fencing close enough together, we wouldn’t fall, but she could still slip and hurt herself.

I walked around, making sure everything was holding well and inspecting the pointed roof to see if any water had seeped through in the last rain. I’d thought about making it a full house, completely enclosed, but maybe that was better for kids. For now, I liked it open on the sides for the wind and the sound of the trees.

“So this is where you’ve been going?” she said, still facing out. “Not a hundred yards away from me.”

I came up behind her. “Never.”

All the nights I was away, I was still here.

I held her waist with one hand and leaned on the railing with the other, staring out at the house and thinking about where we were five years ago today.

It was Halloween, and I’d just been arrested.

“How are you?” she asked.