Cully and Bernie lifted him, each of them with a shoulder under his arms. He was crying and moaning, and he left a trail of blood on the rocky ground. Sherlock didn’t care what he said; she was too worried about Dillon. Lissy could still be out there, and it was Sherlock’s fault. She could have taken her down, should have, but she couldn’t bring herself to shoot that young girl in the back. She’d let her focus slip for that instant of time, and Lissy had been so fast, moved in a blur, all of it unexpected, and then Sherlock had fired at her, but only a wound, maybe not even a bad one. Dillon could be dead because—Sherlock shook her head. No excuses. She’d screwed up royally, put all of them in danger. She hadn’t done her job.

If it hadn’t been for Autumn, Victor would have killed Dillon. “Autumn,” she whispered, vaguely aware that Victor was cursing and crying, both together, “thank you for our lives.”

“Sherlock, you guys all right?”

Savich came limping through the trees. He was almost whole. Good enough. She gave him a huge smile.

Victor stopped cold. He yelled, “Where’s Lissy? What did you do to Lissy?”

Savich looked at the young man’s ravaged face, at the soul-eating fear in his eyes. He said, “She’s gone, Victor.”

Victor raised his face to the darkening sky. “Lissy! Oh, God, Lissy, you can’t die, you can’t!” He wept like a lost soul from hell.

73

PEAS RIDGE, GEORGIA

Whistler looked down at her, and Ethan took his chance. He threw himself at Whistler, hurled him against the wall. His gun went skidding across the floor.

“Autumn, untie me!”

Autumn fell to her knees beside her mother and began to work at the knots. Joanna had to watch Ethan and Whistler trade blows until finally she pulled free. Joanna staggered to her feet and pushed Autumn behind her. She wanted to help Ethan, but she’d seen him fight. He didn’t need her.

Whistler was stronger than Ethan had thought, but he had no real chance. Ethan had rage on his side, rage so deep it resounded in the most primitive part of him. He wanted blood. He staggered Whistler with a kick to his chest and managed to grab his head between his hands. He pounded his head against the white wall. He didn’t stop even when he saw smudges of red against the stark white, heard Whistler moaning.

“No!” Theodore Backman stumbled off the high dais, fell to his knees. “No!” he yelled again and pointed a long finger toward the two men. He turned to look at his granddaughter, that precious little girl he had waited for to be the future of his family. He felt a searing pain in his chest, slowly fell onto his side. He sucked in air, trying to breathe.

Ethan smashed Whistler’s head a final time against the wall and released him. Whistler slid down the wall, leaving his blood to streak in bizarre patterns, as if painted on by smudged fingers.

Ethan stood over him, sucked in air, and tried to quiet his rage. He turned to see the old man lying on the beautiful rug, his legs drawn up. He was awake and staring at Ethan. “You killed Caldicot?”

“I doubt it.” He did not say whether he’d tried. Ethan turned to Autumn and Joanna. “Are you all right?”

Autumn nodded as Joanna hugged her close, smoothed her hand over her daughter’s hair. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay now. We’re all right, Ethan. You?”

Theodore Backman called out, sitting up on the floor now, his hands outstretched to Autumn. “Autumn! My precious grandchild, you will reach the stars with me, you will conquer the heavens. Come here, child, come to your grandfather.” He turned his head slowly toward the door. They stared at it, watched it open slowly.

There stood Blessed, his dark eyes burning bright with anger.

Theodore yelled, “Blessed, my son. Quickly, the sheriff and Joanna!”

But Ethan didn’t look at him. He kept his head down and bulled ahead at Blessed, throwing himself as hard as he could into his stomach, sending Blessed back through the open door and hard against the hallway wall. Blessed moaned with pain as the dressing on his shoulder turned red with blood. But he slammed his elbow into the back of Ethan’s head, sending him staggering to his knees.

Joanna flew at Blessed, knocked her own head into his chest just as Ethan had done. Blessed grabbed her neck and jerked her upright, but Joanna wouldn’t look at him. “It doesn’t matter.” Blessed struck her hard in the jaw. Joanna went down.

“No!”

Blessed came running back into the room just as Autumn landed against him. She screamed at him and pummeled her fists into his stomach. Blessed grabbed her, shook her.