Chapter 34

Mallowater, TX, 2008

The house smelled like breakfast in 1988. Like greasy bacon, burnt toast, sour orange juice, and overly buttered scrambled eggs.

Sloan wasn't much of a breakfast eater, but Dylan was. So, when he said he was picking up McDonald's, she'd offered to cook instead. It was the least she could do after all Dylan had done for her last night—all he'd done for her the past few months. Maybe after Ridge left, Sloan wouldn't have to worry about watching over her mom 24/7. She hid the keys to prevent any more trips to Tyler. Sloan couldn't keep her from the creek, but at least she wasn't a danger to anyone else there. Ridge was wrong. Working would be possible; keeping a relationship with Dylan would be possible. A normal life would be possible. Semi-normal, at least.

Sloan checked the bacon and thought again of her dad. The breakfast was to blame. It was always the smells that took her back.

She remembered the night before and winced. Mom, Dad, the gun, the awkward family party, the smashed phone. But despite how everything ended up, something amazing happened that Sloan had once thought impossible. She had stood next to her mother, father, and brother. They had all been together again, right there in the middle of Brookhaven Drive.

"Knock, knock." Dylan opened the front door.

"In here," Sloan called.

Dylan walked into the kitchen, "Wow, this smells great."

"Thanks. I'm so sorry about last night. Sorry you weren't able to stay over."

Dylan kissed her forehead. "Best laid plans, right? Is your mom okay?"

"She's still asleep. Probably for the best. But once she's up and at the creek, I'll call Ridge over."

Dylan kneaded her shoulders. "Wish I was free to help with her today. This professional development has been scheduled for months, and we're running out of summer."

"Don't remind me," Sloan said. "Teaching has been the furthest thing from my mind, but since summer is halfway over, I better bring it back to the forefront."

Dylan set his keys and phone on the table. "Need help?"

"No." Sloan pulled out a chair from the table. "You sit."

"Have you thought any more about the position here?" Dylan asked, lowering himself into the chair. "No pressure, of course."

Sloan smiled. "I'm going to apply."

"Really? That's great!" He drummed his fingers on the table. "I guess you don't have much choice with your mom and all, but it's still great."

Sloan flicked off the burner. "I'd stay even if I had a choice." She met Dylan's eyes as she turned from the stove. She didn't realize that eyes so dark could shine like that.

Dylan's phone began to vibrate just as Sloan set a tray of bacon and toast on the table. She wasn't trying to snoop, but the name flashing across the screen was impossible to miss. Felicity. Sloan's breath caught.

Dylan looked at the phone and then back up at Sloan, the sparkle gone from his eyes. "I have no idea why she's calling. We haven't talked in a while."

Sloan wanted to trust him, wanted to force her heart to beat normally again, but Felicity's words from last night looped in her head. I've been talking to Dylan Lawrence.

Dylan reached for the phone and answered with an unsure hello. "Oh, hi. Yes, I'm here with her now. Would you like to talk to her?"

Sloan didn't want to talk to Felicity, but it was better than Dylan talking to her. He handed his phone across the table. "It's for you."

"Hello," Sloan said, hoping she'd put enough disdain in her voice.

"Hey, Sloan. It's Kyle."

Sloan looked at Dylan. He raised his hands and shrugged.

"I tried to call you a few times this morning," Kyle said. Sloan patted her pocket. She must have left her phone in the bedroom. "And I had to call from my sister's phone because, well . . . you know."

Sloan poked her tongue into her cheek. "Well, I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"Can't say I blame you," Kyle said.

"So, why are you calling?" Sloan asked.

"I wanted to apologize to you and Ridge. Is he around?"

"Left last night," Sloan said. No way she could trust Kyle with the truth.

"Shoot. I hoped he'd be willing to see Dad again."

Sloan put a hand on her hip. "So, Dad made you call?"

"Dad asked me not to call." Kyle raised his voice. "He said to leave you alone. That you both needed time, but I figured there wasn't much time to spare when it came to Ridge."

"You're right. No time at all."

"Look, I said I was sorry, and I am. I won't say anything. I'm pissed about it all, but my mom means a lot to me, and I don't want to hurt her. She's been through enough."

Sloan gave a harsh laugh. "Haven't we all?"

Kyle sighed. "Mom bought Dad a cell phone. Felicity texted his number to your phone in case you or Ridge want to get ahold of him. If you talk to Ridge, tell him I'm sorry. I'd ask you for his number, but—"

"Not a chance," Sloan interrupted.

"Fine." Kyle cleared his throat. "Well, I tried. Take care."

Sloan hung up the phone, wishing she'd told Kyle to delete her number from Felicity's phone and Dylan's number, too, while he was at it.

She handed the phone back to Dylan. "Sorry for assuming the worst when her name popped up."

"It's okay. You didn't say anything. I mean, your face did, but it's fine. Do you want to talk about the call?"

Sloan set down a potholder and put the skillet of eggs on top of it. "I want to eat with you and not think about anyone with the same last name as me."

Dylan picked up a fork. "Works for me."

But as much as Sloan wanted it to work for her, sitting at her childhood table, eating her childhood breakfast, all she could think about was her family.

"Hungry?" Sloan asked when her mom emerged from her bedroom.

"No thanks." Sloan knew by the faraway stare in her mother's eyes that she was still out of it. That meant it was going to be one of those days. Zombie days, Sloan used to call them, when Caroline roamed around in a dormant-like state.

Sloan pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "Come on. I actually cooked."

"Okay, okay," Caroline grumbled as she shuffled to the chair and plopped down. Sloan looked into her mom's dull green eyes. Caroline Radel really was a zombie—a shell of her former self. And grief hadn't caused it like Sloan had once believed; revenge had.

Sloan reheated her mother's plate, poured two cups of orange juice, and sat at the table across from her mom. "Do you remember last night?" Sloan asked. "At Dad's?"

Caroline shoveled in a bite of scrambled eggs. "I do."

"I understand how Dad hurt you. He hurt us all. But you're going to have to let it go. I have to trust that you can let it go."

"Did you know that crows hold funerals?"

Sloan rubbed her forehead. Of course, her mom wasn't going to talk about it. Why had she expected any different?

"Some crows will gather around the dead bird. Many more will fly to nearby trees or rooftops. Soon there's a continuous, raucous cawing. Screaming almost."

"Grieving?" Sloan asked.

"No. It probably has more to do with survival than mourning. That crow on the ground, it's dead for a reason. Something got the better of it." She paused, pinching a piece of toast between her fingers. "‘What killed that bird?' they seem to scream. ‘And how can we avoid it?' Crows are clever, Sloan. If one makes a mistake, you better believe the next one won't." Caroline pushed the chair out. "I'm going to the creek."

Sloan stood and took her mother's plate. "Alright, but we need to talk about this tonight."

"I'm not going into any hospital."

"I don't want that either. And I don't want you to go to jail. That's why we need to talk. So, we can come to an understanding."

Caroline removed her hand from the back door. "Did you know crows are about as intelligent as a seven-year-old child?"

Sloan threw her head back. "Mom, are you even listening?"

"Do you remember how smart Ridge was at seven?" Caroline smiled.

"He's still smart. Ridge attended Cornell; he became an ornithologist, just like you. If you'd talk to him, you'd—"

"The night before we carried out the plan," Caroline continued, "Ridge asked why we were turning on Dad when he was part of our nest. I had to explain that if a crow gets injured, sometimes other crows murder it to protect themselves. But there's another reason crows turn on one another." Caroline met Sloan's eyes. "Territorial transgressions. Sometimes crows venture to a nest they don't belong in. Just like people. Just like Jay, Ridge, even you, Sloan. Even you."

"Well, I'm here now. I'm not going to apologize for going to college or getting married. But when you needed me, I came back. Does that count for anything?"

"Of course, it does. I'm glad you're here, Lo. You've always been a good girl."

The shock of the words nearly brought tears to Sloan's eyes. It was probably the first affirming statement her mother had said to her since October 1988. "Thanks, Mom."

Caroline nodded, then opened the back door. "Just remember that flying off to other nests you don't belong in, whether that be the one on Brookhaven Drive or the one in Hobbs, New Mexico . . . well, it's a dangerous game to play." She smiled at Sloan and stepped outside, leaving the back door wide open. "I'll be home by dark."

Sloan pushed the door shut and sagged against it. Despite the sticky humidity making her shirt cling to her back, a shiver shot through her.

Sloan couldn't fully enjoy the time with Ridge, knowing that her mom might come home any second. The back door was locked, but Sloan looked out the window often.

"Mom doesn't have the gun. Even if she walks in, she's not going to be able to hurt me," Ridge assured her.

"You don't give her enough credit. She knows Libby and Vince are in New Mexico. How would she know that?"

Ridge shrugged. "She must have overheard us talking that night. She's left them alone all this time; hopefully, that won't change." He glanced at his watch. "I do need to get on the road soon."

"Are you driving all night?"

"No, just to Dallas. Gonna find an RV park for the night. I'll drive the rest of the way in the morning."

"Then stay longer. Dylan just texted. He's leaving his meeting and offered to pick up dinner. What sounds good?"

"Okay," Ridge said. "It'll be nice to hang out again before I go. Ask him to grab a few pizzas."

Sloan frowned. "Pizza? Really?"

"Come on, if you wanted to choose, why did you even ask me?"

Sloan stared at her shoes. "It's just that the night you disappeared, Mom had ordered pizza. I was too upset to eat. But the next night, I got hungry and had a piece. I ate one piece a day for a week. Pizza has never tasted the same since."

Ridge slipped off his sandals and folded his legs under him. "Well, that's just sad. Let's crack open a few beers and redeem it."

It was nearly dark, and Caroline wasn't home. Dylan offered to take Ridge back to his RV and then search the creek. Sloan wanted to go, but he reminded her she needed to be here in case Caroline came home. It was just as well; Sloan wasn't sure she could handle another goodbye with her brother.

She pulled out her phone and typed. Miss you already. Text me when you get to Dallas. But before she hit send, a call from Dylan came through. "Well, did you talk her into coming home?"

"Sloan . . ."

She heard distress in Dylan's voice.

"What? Are you okay?"

"Come to the creek. Near Big Rock."

Sloan's chest tightened. "Why? What happened?"

"I can't find Caroline. But they've got an extensive area blocked off. There are police. Someone said a woman drowned."

His words and all other sounds in the room were muffled, like Sloan was the one underwater. She grabbed a throw pillow and clutched it to her chest. "It's not Mom. Noah would have called me. Is he there? Give him the phone."

"I don't see Noah. Just come down here, okay? You'll get here easier on foot. They're blocking off a lot of the road."

Sloan threw the pillow across the room and grabbed a flashlight. Her limbs felt heavy, but she ran as fast as she could. It's not her. Noah would have called. He'd already know by now, and he would have called.

But when Sloan arrived at the creek, it was Noah's arms that caught her. "Let go of me!" She tried to fight against him, but he held her arms tightly.

"You can't go any farther. I'm sorry."

Sloan leaned to look past him. Police officers. Flashlights. Blue and red flashing lights reflecting off the water. Bright yellow tape. Déjà vu.

"Is it her? Tell me it's not her."

"I just got here. I'm going to check, but I need you to stay here. You can't come any closer."

Dylan must have heard her yelling because he appeared out of nowhere, taking her into his arms. Sloan swatted a single tear. "This isn't where she likes to walk. It may not be her."

But then, a sound echoed through the trees. A crow's caw so loud it made them both jump. Sloan watched the skies as another crow came, and then another. Soon, at least two dozen landed in nearby trees, screeching. It was the loudest, saddest sound Sloan had ever heard.

"A roost?" Dylan covered his ears. "This time of year?"

"No," Sloan shook her head. "It's not a roost. It's a funeral."

Noah was the last officer left in Sloan's living room. "Did you call Ridge?" he asked.

"He's back at the RV park, and Dylan's picking him up now," Sloan said. "We didn't want to bring the RV back here. It would raise too many questions."

Noah nodded. "Between you and me, was Ridge here all day?"

"Yes. Right until Dylan left to look for Mom." Sloan spoke through her teeth with forced restraint. "How could you think he had anything to do with this?"

"I don't." Noah scratched his lip. "He made a weird comment to me yesterday, is all. Something about you being unable to live a normal life till she was gone."

Sloan leaned away. "He was just venting. He was here all day."

"Okay. Just covering the bases. They sent a few officers to your father's as well. Is there anyone else who may have a reason to hurt Caroline?"

Sloan rubbed her exposed forearms. "You don't think this was an accident?"

"Most likely was. We've got a few witness statements about her walking along the edge today. It was a long way from where she was found, but the body probably floated downstream."

"You identified her, though. Couldn't you tell by looking if there was a struggle?"

"There were signs of struggle. But it might have been with the river. In drownings, the face and hands are often dragged along the rocks. The water washes away a lot of forensics, but we'll conduct a thorough investigation." He took hold of Sloan's hand and squeezed. "I'm so sorry."

Sloan let go of his hand and ran for Ridge's arms as soon as he entered the door. She put her head on his shoulder and cried. A reversal of all those times she'd comforted him as a child.

Noah patted Ridge's shoulder. "I'm sorry, man. I'm going to give you guys some time alone. You can stay here with your sister. I'll make sure no officers come back tonight."

"I can leave too," Dylan said once Noah was out the door.

Sloan reached out for his hand. "No, please stay. Would you mind bringing me some aspirin from the kitchen cupboard? My head's killing me."

"You bet. I'll make some coffee too. The caffeine will help."

"He's a good one, sis," Ridge said as they sat on the couch.

"Yeah, too good for me."

"Bullshit. You're the best person I know, Sloan; you've always been the best."

Sloan looked away and noticed her cell phone on the coffee table. "Dad called. About an hour ago. I didn't answer." She bit her lip. "You don't think he'd do anything to—?"

"No way," Ridge interrupted. "Mom slipped."

"She talked about crow funerals this morning." Sloan looked down at her hands. "Maybe I should have told the police, but I didn't want them to assume she did something on purpose. She wouldn't."

"Right," Ridge said, but he didn't sound as assured. "She fell. It was an accident." He pulled out his own phone. "I better call home. I was supposed to be in Dallas already. I'm surprised Vince and Libby haven't got the National Guard looking for me yet."

Ridge stood and walked a few steps down the tiny hallway. The house was quiet, and Ridge's phone volume was loud enough that Sloan could hear Vince on the other side of the line, his voice thick with sleep.

"Dad, it's me. Sorry to wake you," Ridge said.

"That's alright. Did you make it to the Big D?"

"No. I'm back in Mallowater. You need to get back to sleep, but Mom can fill you in tomorrow. Can you put her on?"

"Yep. She's in the bedroom; give me a minute to get up."

"The bedroom?" Ridge asked. "She's not already asleep, is she?"

"Yeah. We slept on and off all day. Your mother threw up a lot. Some bug's going around."

"Don't wake her," Ridge said. "She must be pretty sick to not wait up for my call. You both get some rest."

Dylan came in with the coffee just as Ridge hung up. If it weren't scalding hot, Sloan would have drunk it in a single gulp. Not that it would fix any of this. She was exhausted, but not in the places coffee could touch. Over the past few months, her life had been one emotionally draining event after the next.

A soft knock on the door made them all jump. When Ridge looked at Sloan, she saw him as a child again, frightened during one of Dad's PTSD-induced nightmares. "Just go down the hall," she said. "Noah said no more cops tonight."

"I'll take care of them," Dylan said, making his way to the door. Sloan stood back as he opened it.

"Sorry to just show up like this but are my kids here?" the voice on the other side of the door asked.

Dad. Despite everything that had happened, despite knowing that he had no right to be here, no right to grieve, hearing his voice turned Sloan back into a little girl, waiting for him to walk through that very door. Dylan stepped aside, and Sloan met her father on the front porch, wrapping her arms around him.

"I heard about your mother," he said. "I'm so sorry." Sloan noticed Ridge from the corner of her eye, frozen in the doorway, staring at them. Their father broke the hug, keeping one arm around Sloan and holding the other forward. "I'm so sorry, son," he said.

At first, Ridge looked away, staring down at the concrete, but then he took a few steps forward, reluctantly joining their embrace. They held on to each other underneath the porch light, silently sharing a grief no one else in the entire world could understand but them.