Page 70 of Open Arms

“Yeah.”

“What I need to know is where Jamie is now. He changed his name years ago, and Chloe had no idea where he went. But I think he’s the one who took her. She received a call and a letter, both traced to?—”

“Chicago.”

“Shit, you’re good.” I hated admitting it, but it was true.

“Yeah well, we can’t all be cowboys,” he said over the sound of typing.

I ignored the jab because it wasn’t the time to argue, and it didn’t sound like he said it with much venom, anyway.

“What makes you think it’s the brother?”

“No one else makes sense. The father is on death row in Florida. And she swears the call sounded like her dad, but it makes sense her brother would have a similar sounding voice, right? Especially all these years later, it’s probably deeper than she remembers.”

“Makes sense to me. And I think I found him. Goes byCollin Novak. Been living Texas the past five years. Just took a flight from Dallas to Billings-Logan yesterday.”

“Fuck.”

“Sending you the info, including stills from the security footage. He rented a car . . . looks like a white sedan. Same credit card was used to book a cabin . . . aha. Fucking got him. Texting you the coordinates now.”

“Holy shit. Ford. I . . . thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The phone clicked off and I shook my head. I’d deal with the Ford thing later. For now . . . I needed to find my girl.

28

Chloe

I wokewith the bitter tang of fear coating my tongue. My hands were bound behind me, the coarse rope biting into my wrists. I was in a dimly lit cabin, most of the windows boarded up, shadows stretching across the walls like grasping fingers. I tried to swallow, but my throat was a desert.

Probably from all the screaming.

“Katie, you’re awake,” a voice sliced through the silence—familiar and yet so chillingly alien.

My brother stood in the doorway, his frame outlined by the weak light from the hall. His eyes held a look I’d never seen before—a cold resolve that turned my blood to ice.

“Jamie?” My voice sounded small, even to myself. “Why?”

My heart pounded a staccato rhythm against my ribcage as he stepped closer. The creak of the floorboards beneath his weight seemed deafening.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tyler’s lips twisted into a cruel parody of a smile. “It’s time to end this.”

“End what?” I demanded, trying to infuse some strength into my voice.

“Our bloodline.” He said it so casually, as though discussing the weather. “Dad’s being executed soon. I know you haven’t followed the case, but I started to again. It took a while, but I realized it was necessary.

“You abandoned me. Why come back after all this time? Why not just leave me be after all you know I went through?”

He sighed, and I almost believed it was out of regret. Or sadness. “Because we need to end this. Dad’s execution date set things in motion. He’ll be dead soon. I have to finish what he started.”

“Finish . . . ?” The room spun as the implications of his words sank in. Dad had killed our family, tried to kill me. And now Jamie . . .

“Jamie, please.” I shook my head, struggling against the ropes. “This isn’t you.”

“It is. And it’ll be you one day too, unless I end this now.”

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