Page 39 of Caught in the Crossfire

Cindy grabbed her phone and sent a text. “Thanks for the tip, Mason. I’ll see if your order is ready.” She hurried to the kitchen as Mason finished the last of his coffee.

A moment later, Cindy returned with a large bag. “Here you are. I added an apple pie to the bag. My treat.”

After he settled the bill, Mason leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the coffee and pie, Cindy.”

“You bet, sugar. Come back and see us soon.”

He turned to leave and pulled up short when he saw Todd Fitzgerald glaring daggers at him from two feet away, hands fisted, cheeks red.

Not the time or place, Mason reminded himself. He had an avid audience and didn’t need citizens in the diner calling in a disturbance to Ethan.

“Fitzgerald,” he said, voice soft.

“They don’t know the real Mason Kincaid, do they?”

“Mason?” Cindy came out from behind the counter as conversation dropped to nothing in the diner. “Everything all right?”

He glanced at her with a wry smile. Nothing had been right since the night he graduated from college until he’d met Nicole. “Yes, ma’am. He’s from my hometown.”

Mason turned back to Fitzgerald. “If you want to talk, we’ll go outside. Otherwise, I have meals to deliver.” Noticing two people on their cell phones with their attention locked on the unfolding drama, he wondered how soon law enforcement would conveniently drive by this location.

The other man tipped his head toward the door.

Marginally better. Mason’s truck was parked directly in front of the large diner windows where their eager audience could watch the action. Any action wouldn’t be at his instigation.

He followed Fitzgerald outside. Once he stored the food inside the cab of his truck, Mason eyed the brother-in-law of the woman he’d killed. “Stirring up trouble for me won’t bring your sister-in-law or your niece back.”

“Did you get my delivery?”

The age-progressed pictures of his victims, the ones that haunted his dreams. “I got it.”

“You killed them.”

“Yes, I did.”

The man stared. “No denials or protestations of innocence?”

“It would be a lie.” He sighed. “Look, Fitzgerald, I understand you’re hurting. I apologized to you and the rest of your family at the sentencing hearing. Nothing I say will make up for the loss of your family members.”

“You stole their futures.” His voice broke on the last word.

“I know,” Mason said softly.

“You don’t deserve to live when they’re dead.”

Pain pierced Mason’s heart. “The law says otherwise. If I could go back and undo that one decision, I would do it in a heartbeat. I can’t. You and your family have to live without your sister-in-law and her baby to love and cherish. I have to live with the knowledge that I caused the deaths of two innocent people, and deal with the guilt and regret every day of my life.”

“You think that’s enough penance, that the slate is wiped clean?”

“Nothing I do will make up for your loss or balance the scales of justice. The only thing I can do is be a man of honor and warn others of the dangers of drinking and driving.”

He gripped the handle of his door. “Stay away from Nicole. She has nothing to do with the past. If you want to take your pain out on someone, come at me, not her. Like your sister-in-law, she’s totally innocent. Leave her out of whatever you’re planning.”

Fitzgerald moved closer. “Ms. Copeland doesn’t know you like I do. You’re a no-good, lousy, stinking drunk. You should be wasting away behind bars where you can’t kill anyone else.”

Wouldn’t do any good to tell Fitzgerald that he hadn’t touched alcohol since the night of the accident and would never let another drop pass his lips. He didn’t want to hear it, and wouldn’t believe the words. “On the contrary, Nicole knows all about me, good and bad. By some miracle of God, she loves me anyway. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I am sincerely sorry for my role in the loss of your sister-in-law and niece.”

Fitzgerald growled, balled his hand, and slammed his fist into Mason’s jaw.

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