Page 66 of The Hardest Part

“Butterfly.”

Then she lowered his head to her breast.

He took her nipple into his mouth.

Mine.

The morning sky appeared heavy and gray, as if the clouds were still deciding whether or not to open up on them. Jake listened to the crunch of snow beneath the Lariat’s tires, and glancing at his dad in the passenger seat, he curled his arm around Emily. If he was right, and he was pretty darn sure he was, dark days were looming ahead.

His father felt it, too.

It was written all over his face.

Just as Levi and Elijah had been, from the time they were small, Victor Gantry and Matthew Brooks were the best of friends—tight, like brothers. When Amanda Jacoby passed away within days of Kellan’s birth, everyone just thought it tragic, and undoubtedly, it was, but then her sister, Heather, suffered the same fate three months later, soon after Tanner was born. Double tragedy? Coincidence? Neither the grieving widower nor his father thought so.

The midwife couldn’t explain it, and the old doc, long since dead now, figured the girls had the same weak heart or some such bullshit. Victor was in med school at the time, but he wasn’t buying it. Left with two babies to raise on his own, Matthew didn’t either.

And to make the strange occurrences even stranger, instead of supporting his grandsons and their father, John Jacoby ran around telling anyone who would listen that Matthew was responsible for their deaths.

Folks came up with their own conclusions.

Matthew Brooks wasn’t the one to blame.

Now, over two decades later, with Jennifer’s death under the same circumstances, it was a certainty.

Jake knew who was responsible. His father, Matthew, and Emily’s mom knew, too. Proving it would be an altogetherdifferent, and perhaps impossible, story, but they had to at least try. Three women were already dead. The psycho was targeting a baby now, and Brooksiders saw to their own.

Emily pointed out the windshield. “Isn’t that Justin’s car?”

“It is. I asked him to meet us here.” Stretching out his arm behind Emily, his father nudged his shoulder. “Pull in behind him, Jake.”

Blowing in his hands to warm them, Justin paced the length of his ruby-red Porsche Macan that he bought just because it was fun, and because it was big enough to carry large pieces of artwork in.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” he said before pecking his father on the lips. “How’s the girl?”

“A little shaken, but she’s fine.” As if the peck weren’t enough, Victor kissed Justin once more. Even after twenty-five years of marriage, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. “Now, show me.”

“Nobody has gone up this driveway.” Justin led the way and crouched down in front of the snow-covered drive. “See that? Two sets of tire tracks—identical treads, mind you—come down and turn in the direction of Kim’s.”

“Makes sense,” Emily said, huddled underneath Jake’s arm. “The boys have matching TRXs.”

He held her close against him, doing his best to keep her warm. “Arien drove one. She took Tanner’s truck. Kellan drove the other.”

“This third set must be Matthew’s from when he left for the airport,” his father said.

Emily glanced around, as if looking for an answer. “But if nobody drove up, then how did he get in?”

Some other way.

“Should we call the sheriff or somebody?”

“We can handle this, Emily.” Jake squeezed her shoulders to reassure her. “Let’s go up to the house.”

Justin surveyed the scene, taking pictures on his phone like he was the lead detective onCSI. Under any other circumstances, it might’ve been funny. “We’re lookin’ for footprints. Be careful where you walk.”

None were found at the front door.

The side door from the kitchen out to the barns was a mess.

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