Page 57 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Okay, I’ll agree to that.”

Kim clipped her seat belt on, and I wanted to kiss that smug little smile right off her face.What? Where did that come from?Too long without a woman and I’d turned into the crazy one.

“And stop looking so damn pleased. I’m only taking you under duress.”

Although as we drove across the edge of Pennsylvania, I began to change my mind. I’d grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep while she drove and begun to feel more human again.

“Want me to take another turn yet?” I asked.

“Swap after we get gas? We need to stop soon.”

I took the opportunity to watch her out of the corner of my eye as she concentrated on the road. Kimberly Noelle Jennings was a whole bundle of contradictions: brave yet nervous, smart yet naïve, organised yet impulsive. How much of her personality stemmed from the secret she’d been holding inside for so long?

“Where do we need to go when we get to Cincinnati?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“The mall where Emma bought groceries, and the area she sent the text message from.” My contact at the phone company had emailed me the details while we were en route, and the locations weren’t far apart. “Then we ask around to see if anyone knows her.”

“How many times have you done this?”

“What, dropped everything and gone running across the country after my sister?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe a dozen.”

“Always Ohio?”

“A few times. Also Pennsylvania and West Virginia.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that she moves around so much? Why doesn’t she settle down?”

“For anyone else, it would be odd, but Emma’s always had her problems. I’m afraid that unless I catch up to her, she’ll always be running.”

“Running from what?”

“Long term? Her past. Short term? A bunch of drug dealers she owed money to.”

Kim’s gasp reminded me once more that she didn’t belong to that world. “Drug dealers?”

“Don’t worry; I’ve paid them off. Why do you think I’m living in my car?”

“My goodness. I had no idea…”

“How would you when I didn’t tell you?”

“What about her past? What happened to her?”

Kim had trusted me with her secrets; now I had to trust her with mine. Partly, at least. “Our father abused her when we were kids.”

“Holy crap. What happened? I mean, is he in jail?”

“He left town.”

Feet fucking first. Emma had been eleven years old when I walked in on them in her bedroom, and I’ll never forget the expressions on their faces. Emma’s a mixture of pain and fear. My father’s a combination of pleasure and shock. Even at seventeen, I’d been strong, and it only took three punches to make sure he didn’t get up again. That night, Emma had refused to leave my side, clinging to me in tears while we rode to Seneca Creek State Park in my old truck to bury him.

Did I feel guilty for killing my own father? Not after Emma told me how long the sick fucker had been creeping into her room at night. Six years. Six damn years, and I hadn’t had a clue. I liked to think our mother didn’t know either, but I’d never be sure about that. She’d definitely turned a blind eye to the asshole’s infidelities and his drinking.

Of course, questions were asked. The cops sniffed around after Mom reported him missing, but back then, I’d still been on good terms with Wyatt, and he gave me an alibi. Helped with the aftermath of Emma too, help that was desperately needed because when Emma confessed our father’s sins to Mom, rather than give my sister the support she needed, the weak-willed bitch had made excuses for the piece of scum she’d married and suggested we’d misinterpreted his motives, seemingly more worried about the loss of grocery money than Emma’s mental state.

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