Page 173 of Secrets Along the Shore
My head snaps to the door, then back to Matthew, who is pedaling backward toward the kitchen, distancing himself from the small denwhere I am, the front door, and whatever waits on the other side. He brings the barrel of the pistol up.
“Matthew, we know you’re in there.” It’s Cole’s voice, low and steady.
Thank you, God.
“We know you’ve got Sophie with you, Matthew.”
“Cole…he’s got my Sig.” I utter the words with composed calm, so as not to set Matthew off, but loud enough, hopefully, for Cole to hear.
Matthew’s eyes flash to me, flooded with perceived betrayal.
“Matthew, it’s over,” Cole says. “We know everything. Please, put down your weapon and come out. There’s no need to hurt anyone else. We can help you, but you’ve got to stop.”
Several beats pass as Matthew eyes the door.
“Matthew?” Cole calls out again.
The pistol starts to lower.
“Matthew, you love Sophie. I know you do,” Cole says. “You don’t want to hurt her. Please, Matthew, for everyone’s sake, put down the gun and come out.”
Matthew’s face twists into something tight and tortured. Then he charges.
I shoot up out of the chair, my breath catching in my throat before ripping into a scream over the sound of Cole ramming into the door.
The heel of my palm makes contact with Matthew’s nose just as he reaches me—and throws his arms out to wrap me in a hug, sobbing as he lets the Sig clatter to the floor.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Patrol cars line the driveway,their blue lights flashing, reflecting off the house’s windows and creating an unhinged disco effect. More patrol cars sit along the shoulder of the road that runs along the front yard, which separates the property from the nearby riverbank. Deputies are scattered everywhere, two of them currently assisting Matthew into the back of the nearest vehicle. The door slams behind him, and from where I’m standing on the weed-infested, cracked-pavement drive, I see him through the car’s rear window, staring at the floor, his shoulders heaving.
I was right about the house being on the river. It’s a white clapboard structure, well-kept with a pot of daisies at the door. It’s more like a cottage than a cabin—probably someone’s weekend getaway place.
“You sure you’re all right?” Cole asks for the tenth time. He’s been at my elbow since he released Matthew to the other deputies. “Ambulance is on its way already, just in case.”
I groan. “I told you I don’t need an ambulance.”
He gathers me up for yet another hug, nearly suffocating me before finally letting go. “I don’t know what I would have done if anything happened to you.” Regret sweeps over his face. “It was the one thing he asked me.”
The poor guy is torturing himself with undeserved remorse. “Cole,you cannot protect me from everything out in the world. You know that, right?”
“I should have protected you from him. I didn’t see it, and it was in my own backyard.”
“You thinkyoufeel stupid? Think about me. I had dinner with the guy once a week.”
He considers me for a moment. “That just means we both missed it. Doesn’t make it better.”
“Forget it. Right now, I want to know everything,” I say, desperate for the answers he promised I would get once the scene was secure. “How did you know I was here?”
“Tyson Winchester.”
“How did he?—”
“Like you asked, I looked into who might have tampered with the tip-line messages. Winchester was the only deputy who signed in with his passcode over the weekend whowasn’ton duty or scheduled for the tip-line. I asked him about it, expecting a fight, but instead he caved. I mean,instantlygave up. Apparently, the guilt’s been killing him. When you wouldn’t answer my calls…I pressed him. He admitted to getting a text from Matthew not long before, saying he had you out here and was going to end it. This is Matthew’s place, and he’s brought Winchester out here to fish in the past, so we were able to find it quickly, thank God.”
“So Winchester erased John Parry’s message about seeing Kamden at the gas station?”
