Page 175 of Capturing You
She hated to think it, but he was probably right. “You’re going to kill the woman your son loves?”
“You don’t love him, though. Never did. Once you’re dead and buried, at least he’ll be able to move on. Never could figure out why he was so obsessed with you.” A cold glint filled his eyes.
She was going to die.
Forbes lurched up in front of her.
The crack of a gunshot.
“No!” Her scream seemed to come from far away. She wasn’t hit, but Forbes…
Leo fell forward, landing face down in the dirt.
What happened?
Who…who’d shot him?
A woman emerged from the darkness behind where the chief of police had stood a moment before.
It was the woman with the bun. She stepped nearer, gun aimed at Leo. She reached down and grabbed his weapon, then lifted her gaze. It fixed on Forbes.
Maybe this was the state police officer Brooklynn had talked to earlier? She couldn’t imagine who else it could be. She said, “Lori? It’s me. Brooklynn.”
But the woman acted as if she hadn’t heard.
She never took her eyes off Forbes.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
Forbes started at the apparition.
The ghost.
There was no other explanation. Unless he’d bled to death and hovered somewhere between this life and eternity.
He hoped not, considering how his shoulder throbbed.
The woman standing in front of him couldn’t be there. She couldn’t be real.
She stepped closer, lowering her gun. Her gaze barely flicked to Brooklynn, who’d called her a name that made no sense.
The apparition moved closer and dropped to her knees, staring at him as he was staring at her. Light came from the moon above and the flames behind. A few red and blue flashes penetrated the darkness. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t need more. He knew this woman.
The teenager.
The girl.
All grown up. Somehow, alive and well and…
“Forbes?” Her voice was the same. Just the same as before.
“What…? How did you…?” His voice was rough from the smoke and cracked with emotion. He pitched forward into his sister’s arms. “Rosie.”
Beside him, Brooklynn gasped.
Forbes held onto his big sister, and in an instant he was eight years old. Hearing her voice, feeling her tugging, tugging him to the closest hiding spot in the house.
“In here,”she’d said.“They’re coming. Don’t come out.”
