Chapter 19

Mallowater, TX, 2008

Sloan took a step back and closed her eyes. This wasn't happening. This man was not Ridge. She opened her eyes, expecting him to vanish like the ghost that he was, but Ridge was still standing there, flesh, bone, and blood. Her own blood went cold. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

He held up a hand. "You know who I am, Lo. I understand this is confusing."

Sloan was dizzy. She took another step back and lowered herself onto a moss-covered log. "I'm going crazy."

Ridge took a few tentative steps forward. "You aren't."

The campground spun; the caged crow cawed. Sloan put her head between her knees and took deep breaths. When she looked up, Ridge had knelt on the dirt next to her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Am I okay? I'm talking to my brother who died when I was twelve years old."

"I didn't die, Sloan."

Tears filled her eyes. "Obviously." She reached to wrap her arms around him. He squeezed tight, and Sloan felt his tears on her shoulder.

She pulled back and looked at him. His once blonde hair was now chestnut brown. He had perfectly straight teeth, muscular arms, and a strong jawline covered in stubble.

"You're so grown up. So handsome." She wiped mascara from under her eyes. "Where have you been, Ridge? Where the hell have you been?"

Ridge's chin dipped to his chest. "I'm not ready to talk about that."

"No." Sloan sprung to her feet. "You don't get to show up after twenty years and not want to talk about it."

Ridge rose to meet her. "I came back because I wanted Mom to know I was alright. But when I saw you up here, I couldn't stay in those bushes. I had to see you."

Hundreds of thoughts bounced in Sloan's brain like tiny rubber balls. She tapped the sides of her head as if she could force them still. Mom. She'd claimed to talk to Ridge. "Have you been talking to Mom?"

"No. Well, not exactly."

He stepped behind the tent and pulled out the cage. "Ridge," the crow said. "Ridge. Ridge."

"You trained a crow?"

Ridge opened the cage. "Step up," he said, and the crow flew up and landed on Ridge's arm. "This is Crawford."

"He's your pet?" Sloan stared at the crow's bony, sharp claws twisted around Ridge's arm.

"Just a bird I studied back at home. Now that Mom knows I'm okay, I'm training him to fly free." Ridge looked around the creek. "This will be a good home for him. A good place to find a mate."

"How does a crow saying your name tell Mom you're okay?"

"I get this makes no sense to you, but I knew it would to Mom," he said. "Crows are kind of a language we share."

Sloan huffed. "Mom doesn't think you're alive; she thinks you're the crow."

Ridge shrugged. "Okay. But either way, it's brought her peace."

Sloan looked back at the tent. "And you've been living here?"

"Not exactly. I've got an RV parked at the campground down the way, but I hike up here to camp sometimes. Just makes me happy remembering our trips here." He smiled at Sloan, but she couldn't return it. "I was glad to see Mom still visited this place, too," he continued. "Made it easier than bringing Crawford near the house."

Sloan rolled her head between her shoulders, but it didn't ease any tension. "So, you've been living out here with a crow, stalking us?"

Ridge shook his head. "I told myself not to do this. Not to make contact."

The dizziness was back, so Sloan lowered herself down on the log. She considered everything Dylan had been through. Maybe Ridge had too. And if so, how could she blame him for not wanting to discuss it? For being scared to come home? "I'm glad you came out to see me," she said. "It's just a lot to process."

Ridge put Crawford back in the cage and sat beside Sloan, placing a hand on her knee. A gesture that filled her with overwhelming comfort.

"Thank God you're okay." Sh e put her hand on top of his. "You can't leave, Ridge. You can't. Not ever again."

"Well, I have to leave eventually, but it won't be till Crawford learns to fly free."

"How long will that be?"

"Hard to say. Depends on when his natural instincts kick in as far as finding food and avoiding predators. But you can't tell Mom I'm here—can't tell anyone." His voice had a frantic edge. "I can't answer questions. I won't."

"You realize Dad is in jail, right?"

Ridge rose, walking away from Sloan. "He's getting out soon. What's done is done."

"You're not going to contact him? Let him know you're okay?"

Ridge kept his back turned, but Sloan noticed his posture straighten. "No," he said, an unmistakable indifference to his tone. "I'm not telling that sonofabitch anything."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ridge asked, sliding lower in the passenger seat.

"I wouldn't bring you to the house if Mom were there. Did you not just hear me on the phone with the hospital?"

"I'm not worried about Mom being there." Ridge pushed his ball cap down. "What if someone sees me?"

"It's not far, and the entire town thinks you're dead. Not to mention, they haven't seen you in twenty years."

"Fair point. Sorry. I guess I'm a little paranoid."

Sloan gripped the wheel tighter. "Are you still in danger?"

"Sloan." Ridge's voice hardened. "I'm not talking about that."

"Right, sorry." Sloan turned onto their street. Silence, heavy as baled cotton, fell around them as Sloan pulled into the driveway. She killed the car, and it became quieter still.

"Wow," Ridge said, exhaling a heavy breath.

"Yeah," Sloan leaned back against her seat. "I hadn't been back since I left for college. Not till this summer."

Ridge looked at her. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Mom was in the institution and then a residential treatment facility. Walt handled pretty much everything. I never came back. Couldn't bring myself to after running away. Not to mention, I didn't want to see Noah."

Ridge unbuckled his seat belt. "Why not?"

"We were sorta high school sweethearts."

Ridge's mouth dropped. "What! For real?"

Sloan laughed. "He was my first kiss, first boyfriend, first love, first . . . everything. "

"Ew!" Ridge punched her arm. "You and Noah. Who would've thought?"

Sloan shrugged. "Like most things, it worked till it didn't. Well, it wasn't working for me, at least."

"Did you break up with him to be with Liam?"

Sloan's skin tingled. "How do you know about Liam?"

It was Ridge's turn to shrug. "I kept up with you. On the internet."

That hardly seemed fair, but Sloan knew better than to say so.

"So," Ridge fidgeted with his watch, "does that mean you haven't seen Dad in that long?"

"I hadn't," Sloan said. "I did recently. There had been some . . ." she searched for the right word, "some developments that led me to believe he was innocent. Obviously, I was right."

Ridge's face reddened. "Just because he's not guilty of murder doesn't mean he's innocent. Dad had another family, Sloan. Plus, the way he hurt you. Why would you ever consider seeing him again?"

Sloan's mind raced, searching for answers. "Hurt me? What are you talking about?"

"Mom told me," Ridge said. "About the abuse."

"Abuse?" Sloan moved back slightly. "You mean during his episodes?"

"Come on, Sloan. You told Mrs. Evans you were being abused."

"Wait, what?" Spit flew from her mouth. "Dad never laid a hand on me."

Ridge touched the base of his neck. "What if you forgot? Blocked it out?"

Sloan thought about the recent memories she'd recovered. Was this another one? "No," she said aloud. "I would absolutely remember if that happened. If I told my teacher about it." The sound of a car door slamming made them both jump. Sloan looked in the rearview mirror. "It's Dylan."

"Dylan?" Ridge folded his body over, and sweat appeared instantly on his forehead.

"It's fine; he doesn't know you. Just go inside. The door's unlocked."

Ridge jogged to the house as Sloan walked in the opposite direction toward Dylan.

Dylan stood outside his jeep, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey," he said to Sloan, but his eyes were on Ridge. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, not really," Sloan lied.

Dylan rocked on his feet. "Who's the guy?"

Sloan looked at her shoes, formulating a lie when all she wanted to do was tell the truth. "Just a friend."

"Oh." Dylan shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I came because I'm sorry how last night ended, but it looks like you're busy." He walked around the vehicle, back to the driver's door.

"Dylan, wait. I'm sorry about last night too. It's just that you hit a nerve with Felicity—a nerve my dad exposed by daring to have a daughter that wasn't me."

Dylan let go of the handle. "I get that. I know how it feels when someone rubs against an exposed wound. I mean, I kinda feel it now. I came to apologize, and you're sneaking another guy into your house."

"It's not just another guy, Dylan." Sloan raked her fingers through her hair, wincing as she broke through a painful knot. "I want to explain, but I can't. Not yet."

Dylan narrowed his eyes. "Is that Brad? Is this about Eddie Daughtry?"

"It's my brother, but it's not as simple as that."

"So, your dad's other family is some big sore spot unless you need them to get information about Eddie Daughtry? You've got to stop. I told you he's dangerous."

"Dad didn't kill Ridge. I know it for a fact. For a fact, Dylan!" She stomped on the concrete.

"How?"

Sloan bit her lip. "I can't tell you."

Dylan threw up his hands. "I've tried to help you. I've let you into this investigation, into this nightmare of memories for me. But it's not enough. You go behind my back and try to get information from this monster. You've got to trust the legal process. You've got to be patient."

"Why should I have to be patient?" Sloan asked.

"Because if I'm being patient, so can you," Dylan raised his voice. "So can anybody. I'm a victim here. Logan is a victim."

"And so is Ridge," Sloan said. "I can't explain it yet, but I'm onto something big. Just trust me, please."

Dylan blew out a few breaths. His body relaxed. Maybe it was going to be okay. Maybe he would trust her, be in her corner.

But Dylan didn't so much as look at her again as he climbed into the jeep and sped away.

Sloan found Ridge in their old bedroom when she returned. "So, who's Dylan?" he asked as Sloan lowered herself next to him on the bed.

"We had our first date last night, and it went to hell."

"Sorry. Guess seeing me didn't help."

"No, it really didn't," Sloan said.

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" Concern marred Ridge's features.

"Of course not."

Ridge relaxed and leaned back on a pillow. "Man, this is a trip, being back in this room. All I need is Blue."

Sloan smiled. "Oh, Blue. Wonder where Mom put him. The last time I saw him was—" Sloan stopped, remembering the night at the By and Buy. "I'll have to check in the attic. That's where most of our stuff was stored when mom went into the hospital."

Sloan looked over her shoulder at Ridge as if she might see scars, might see a clue that hinted where he'd been all this time. He seemed so happy, healthy, and confident. Escaping Eddie Daughtry to make a good life was possible. Dylan was proof of that, but why had Ridge never come home?

Sloan took a chance.

"It may not work with Dylan." She pivoted her body to face Ridge. "He's got a lot of trauma, and so do I. It's probably a recipe for disaster."

Ridge sat up on his elbows. "What's this guy's story?"

"He was a victim of Eddie Daughtry," she said, staring at Ridge without blinking.

There were a few seconds of silence, where Sloan watched, wondering what Ridge would say, or at the very least, what his face would say, but it remained blank, slack, unaffected. He looked up at her. "Who's Eddie Daughtry?"