Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

“ I know I can’t be there, but remember this, Taylor,” Alice had said as she’d seen Taylor to the car earlier that morning. Of course, she knew about the Colburns and unfortunately also the grisly details. A middle-schooler with a smart phone had a handle on current events.

Her feisty stepdaughter had looked defiant as she stood by the car window. “A famous author named Lois McMaster Bujoldsaid that ‘the dead cannot cry out for justice. That it is the duty of the living to do so for them.’”

“Thanks, honey,” Taylor said, then pulled away from the driveway, out the gates and down to the square in town.

Alice— and Bujold —was so right. At least Taylor hoped so, and that, when the trial was said and done, justice truly would prevail for the Colburns.

Once in the building, a movement caught Taylor’s eye, and she recognized Nancy Hurst, Erin’s mother, sitting on the bench outside the courtroom. She was the one who had stumbled onto the murder scene, and had unfortunately seen all four bodies, including that of her daughter. She would be called as a witness, therefore couldn’t be there during the proceedings .

“I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Hurst,” Taylor said softly when she got close enough.

Nancy nodded. She looked strong and in control. She’d probably be there every single day, sitting just outside as the trial moved from day to day, taking her daughter’s memory through the wringer.

“Thank you,” Nancy said. It came out like she’d said it a few thousand times that day alone, and the words were written on her face, automatic on her tongue.

Taylor slipped quietly into the courtroom, the heavy oak door creaking as it closed behind her. The air was dense with anticipation, the hum of whispered conversations fading as Judge Crawford took his place at the bench. Shane was seated confidently behind the prosecution's table, his profile sharp and proud. His posture radiated the confidence of a man who believed he’d solved the case, and for good reason.

Of course he didn’t turn to look for her. She would be the last thing on his mind.

Special Agents Maeve Hanson and Jared Tuffin from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation sat in the same row as Shane.

Her chest tightened. A pang of something close to jealousy flickered through her. She hadn’t done much in the case—just a few quiet nudges in the right direction, connecting the dots on Raya’s anger about money that fueled it all. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of being sidelined, as though her contributions didn’t matter.

She took a seat at the back, careful to not disturb the court. Cate and Ellis had the kids until the afternoon, leaving her free to be here, to witness the beginning of justice for Jane and Willis, and Seth and Erin … to begin its slow march forward. She wouldn’t stay long, just a half hour or so, then back to the farm.

Sam was there now, working in his shop, only a text away if Quig needed him. On that note, he’d taken the news pretty well when Taylor had advised him that they would have an additional child under their roof indefinitely. He’d shrugged, saying, “The more the merrier,” and hugged her tightly, easing her anxiety about telling him, though he couldn’t lift the worry she held over where Lucy was and if she was okay.

Prosecutor Lance Hamilton rose to address the jury, and Taylor’s attention shifted. His voice was calm, deliberate, as he painted a holiday tableau for the jurors.

“Ladies and gentlemen, imagine this: Christmas Eve in a quiet, wooded home. A tree adorned with lights, a roast in the oven. Jane Colburn wrapping gifts for her grandchildren while her husband, Willis, relaxes in his favorite chair. A family preparing for the holiday season.”

The courtroom was silent, save for the faint scratch of a pen as a juror jotted notes on a legal pad. Taylor leaned back in her seat, letting the details wash over her. It was hard to reconcile the peaceful image, knowing the brutality that followed.

“In an instant, everything changed,” Hamilton continued, his voice dropping an octave, before the dramatic next words. “When Raya Colburn and her boyfriend, Ronnie McGill, entered that home.”

Taylor’s gaze flickered toward the defense table, where Raya sat with her head bowed. Her dark hair hung like a curtain, obscuring her face, but her body seemed unnaturally still. It was almost as though she had already resigned herself to her fate.

In stark contrast, Missy Ann sat a few rows ahead of Taylor and to the left, close to the front. Tears streaked her face, her lips trembling as she stared at her younger sister. The look in her eyes was accusatory, raw, as though she couldn’t fully process the monster Raya had become.

Taylor had heard whispers about the confrontation in jail—how Missy Ann had demanded answers, had pleaded with Raya to explain why she’d destroyed their family. It had been emotional, an explosion of grief and anger, and, afterward, Missy Ann had cut all ties.

They hadn’t spoken since.

Taylor’s chest tightened as she watched the older sister now, her shoulders trembling as she silently wept. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to lose so much in one instant—and, worse, to lose it at the hands of someone you’d shared your childhood with. Someone you thought you could trust.

Family. Your own blood, even. Did Missy Ann now wonder if she herself had the capability to be a cold-blooded killer?

Taylor’s thoughts shifted to her own sisters. Growing up, she’d believed she knew them better than anyone else in the world. Their secrets, their quirks, their dreams. But watching Missy Ann, she now realized how little people truly knew about one another, even within a family.

What must it be like to discover that someone you thought you understood—someone you thought you loved—was capable of such unimaginable cruelty?

Take Lucy, for example. Taylor had thought that Johnny was her sister’s most prized achievement, her reason to better herself and work hard to be successful. Even her reason for living! Never in a million years did she think Lucy could just up and disappear, leaving him behind to wonder where his mom was. He’d had a lot of teary-eyed nights over the last few months, asking for his mommy when he was sleepy and exhausted, needing to feel her presence.

Thankfully, he was doing much better, but there was no telling what was going on in his little head, what trauma Lucy had caused him, that he would carry forward into his life. It was just inconceivable that her sister would do this to him, especially after the childhood trauma that they had all survived. Didn’t she want different for Johnny?

Couldn’t she see what she was doing to him? To all of them?

She returned her focus to Hamilton, who was now outlining the grim sequence of events.

“Greed,” he said, his voice sharp. “That’s what this is about. Pure, unadulterated greed. Raya Colburn didn’t just want more—she believed she was entitled to it. She believed her parents, her brother, they all owed her something. And when they didn’t deliver, she took matters into her own hands.”

Taylor straightened, a small flicker of validation washing over her. She’d seen it first—that thread of entitlement woven through Raya’s story. Her resentment toward Seth, her anger over money she believed was hers.

“Poor Erin Colburn, wife to Seth and mother of two young children, Nicky and Britney. The crime scene dictated that, out of everyone, she’d been especially brutalized. And why? I’ll tell you why—because she was married to Seth. Miss Colburn was jealous of losing her brother’s attention. And she was jealous that Erin was everything she wasn’t. A good wife. A mother. A caring and attentive daughter-in-law, stepping into the shoes that Raya couldn’t fill.”

He then laid it all out: the meticulous planning, the cold calculation, the lengths to which Raya Colburn and Ronnie McGill had gone to cover their tracks. Photos of the wooded property and the house were shown, and then the crime scenes themselves, but Taylor couldn’t bring herself to look. She’d already seen them and wanted those visions to fade from her memory.

Instead, her gaze drifted to Raya again. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched at the descriptions of the murders.

Missy Ann, on the other hand, was visibly shaking, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Taylor could almost feel the waves of grief and fury radiating from her.

“Raya Colburn believed she deserved more,” Hamilton concluded, his voice steady. “But what she did was not justifiable. It was not excusable. The death bullets may not have come from her gun but were surely fired by her orders. Raya Colburn convinced Ronnie McGill that her family members were evil, that they’d always picked on her. That they should pay for her long years of feeling neglected and abused. She worked on him for three weeks, planning every last detail leading up to Christmas Eve. What Raya did that day was no less than cold, calculated murder, driven by selfishness and greed. And we will prove that to you in the weeks ahead.”

As Hamilton returned to his seat, Judge Crawford called for a recess. The courtroom erupted into soft murmurs as people began to stand, stretch, or leave their seats.

Taylor stayed put, her eyes locked on Shane. He was still seated behind the prosecution’s table, his shoulders back, his expression unreadable. She wondered what he was thinking. Relief? Pride? Did he feel the weight of the case on his shoulders or the exhilaration of having cracked it?

She thought about telling the sheriff what she’d done, the small ways she’d helped Shane get to the end of the investigation. But she knew better.

Dawkins would only see her involvement as disobeying direct orders from him, call it reckless. Admitting the truth might cost her the fragile trust they’d been building. He and the doctor had both agreed that she was almost ready to go back to work. Taylor didn’t want to jeopardize it. She planned on telling Sam that evening, just to give him time to mentally prepare, and so that they could discuss what it meant for Lennon and Johnny.

As the prosecutor continued, Taylor quietly slipped out, her mind churning as she thought about the thin, fragile threads that bound families together, and how easily they could snap. She’d spent most of her life trying to keep her family ties tightened and keep her loved ones safe. Sometimes the lines were flimsy, but, so far, always there. She had no plans to relax her sentry now.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Hello, readers! I hope you enjoyed So This is Christmas, the eleventh book in the Hart’s Ridge series. The true crime wrapped into the fictional town of Hart’s Ridge and its fictional characters was very loosely inspired by the Carnation murders of Judy and Wayne Anderson, their son and daughter-in-law, Scott and Erica, and the grandchildren, Olivia and Nathan, five and three years old. As you may have noticed, I couldn’t bear to write the children’s heartbreaking deaths into my story. My deepest condolences go out to the family for this senseless tragedy. Writing about murder set in Christmastime is not something I ever saw myself doing, but perhaps, just like me, some of you embrace the truth, that there is always danger lurking, waiting to rear its ugly head, even in times that are supposed to be full of peace and love.

On another note, guess what? I’ve got a bonus chapter for you! It’s from the last book, Hello Little Girl , and picks up after Lydia comes home. I think you’ll like this short peek into their holiday. Keep scrolling to find it!

Also, if you’ve enjoyed the eleven books of Hart’s Ridge thus far, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve decided to continue the series. Next up is Every Little Thing . Just look at the beautiful cover!

You’ve probably guessed, by the sailboat and gorgeous sunset, that you as a reader are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Ellis’ daughter, to be held on the grounds of the all-inclusive high-end resort in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Cate feels like an outsider, especially since Ellis’ daughter is not too fond of her new stepmother. To give her mother emotional support, Taylor (and Sam) will be attending, and let’s just say the term, ‘til death do we part, might take on a whole new warning—oops, meaning. If you’d like to be notified when there is a publish date for Every Little Thing , you can be among the first to know when you sign up for my monthly newsletter at the following link:

JOIN KAY’S NEWSLETTER HERE

While you’re waiting on the next book in this series, I have many more books for you to read! I’d love for you to check out my bestselling By The Sea trilogy, starting with True to Me , a mystery with lots of family drama that packs a heck of a twist! Nearly 13,000 Amazon Reviews can give you some insight on why it’s a fan favorite! (See cover and book description below)

I’d also like to invite you to join my private Facebook group, Kay’s Krew , where you can be part of my focus group, giving ideas for story details such as names, livelihoods, and get sneak peeks for this series. I’m also known to entertain with stories of my life with the Bratt Pack and all the kerfuffles I find myself getting into. Please join my author newsletter to hear of future Hart’s Ridge books, as well as giveaways and discounts.

Until then,

Scatter kindness everywhere.

Kay Bratt

*Learn More about True to Me at this link: My Book or keep scrolling to see the book description :

From the bestselling author of Wish Me Home comes a breathtaking novel about the secrets that families keep and one woman’s illuminating search for the truth.

Quinn Maguire has a stable life, a fiancé and what she thinks is a clear vision for her future. All of that comes undone by her mother’s deathbed confession—the absentee father Quinn spent thirty years resenting is not her real father at all. With that one revealing whisper, Quinn embarks on a journey to Maui, her mother’s childhood home, a storied paradise that holds the truth about her mother’s past and all its secrets Quinn is determined to uncover.

But settling on the island has its complications, and, with the fiancé she left behind questioning every choice she makes, Quinn’s quest for her truth is even more difficult than she expected. As time passes and she digs deeper into her family history and her own identity, one thing becomes clear: Maui is as beautiful as she’d always imagined, and its magic is helping uncover the woman that Quinn was always meant to be.

Get True to Me in eBook, Paperback, and Audio here:

My Book

Want to read a sneak peek of True To Me ? Keep turning the pages, but first …

LYDIA it was a way forward. A way to turn pain into purpose. And maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what they all needed. ***

True To Me

Chapter One Sneak Peek

Quinn held the small box in her hands, so focused on the contents that even the busy Savannah traffic outside the condo couldn’t penetrate her thoughts. The box felt weightless. Other than the tiny molecules painted on the side, it was plain and unassuming .

But it could be the link to her future.

Or her past.

At this point in her life, both were uncertain.

The only thing she knew for sure was that she needed to begin living again. Before she could do that, she needed to put her mother to rest. In her latest self-help book, she’d read that grief never ends, but it changes. That it’s a passage, and not a place to stay. Quinn needed to pull herself out of the pit of sorrow she’d been living in before she drowned in it.

An hour earlier, she’d watched the final episode in the latest season of Long-Lost Family , a series that highlighted family reunions between people who’d never met, and she couldn’t help but think of what results the small box could bring to her own life.

After checking the activation code, she scanned the terms and conditions, noting that whether she was pleased with the results or not, she couldn’t sue. That meant even if they turned up a serial killer for a father, too bad, the company wasn’t responsible. The consent form was especially entertaining, asking for her signature to better understand the human species .

Quinn could definitely use some assistance in that department.

She filled the small tube with her saliva and capped it. The motion felt strange. Sterile. Such a scientific method for an enormously emotional subject. Quickly, before she could change her mind again, she dropped it into the envelope and sealed it shut, then packed it back into the box. Tomorrow she’d drop it off on her way to work.

Her heart thumped in her chest, beginning the countdown. One second gone, two seconds, three. The waiting would feel endless. But hadn’t she already waited her entire life? What was a few more weeks?

This was it. If all went well, it could mean the end to a lifetime of wondering and longing. Weeks, the advertisement said. In only weeks she would, or could—or maybe only possibly—have a match. A match didn’t necessarily mean she would have what she needed dropped into her hands. Possibly not names, or even explanations. But it meant information. Information could lead to the truth, and the truth to her father.

Her stable, comfortable life had turned complicated. How does a woman come to grips with the fact that the mother she’d known and loved for thirty years had kept such a huge secret from her?

It was a slow progression from the onset of illness to her mother’s death. Quinn had been there for her as much as any daughter possibly could. There had been time. More than enough time. So why had her mother waited until her very last moments to confess?

“Wesley Maguire isn’t your father ,” she’d whispered, holding Quinn’s hand to her face before telling Quinn her final wish. “ Take me back to Maui.”

In her shock, Quinn hadn’t had time to process the proclamation, much less to ask if he wasn’t her father, then who was? The confession was startling, and her mother’s eyes had begged for forgiveness, even as the light in them faded away.

The weeks that followed were heavy with grief, and in the moments when Quinn could set her sadness aside briefly, she’d searched through every document she could find in her mother’s apartment, sorting through the tangled yet mundane details of a life now gone.

While part of her struggled through the realization that she was truly alone in the world—or at least had no family to speak of—the other part of her felt the need to find some clue as to who her real father was. And why had her mother kept it a secret? To give herself the illusion she wasn’t behaving obsessively or erratically, she told herself that she was simply putting her mother’s affairs in order—ripping off the Band-Aid before she even had a chance to heal.

With an intensity that would make her fiancé, Ethan, proud, Quinn sorted through years of hospital bills and treatment summaries. Lists of medications and books filled with fantasies of alternative medicines.

Receipts. So many receipts. At the end, her mother had made sure to leave no bills behind for Quinn to have to deal with. No unpaid mortgage or car loans. No outstanding medical bills. All of it prepaid, even with a cushion in case she dragged on longer than the doctors predicted.

How strange that she would receive a credit on the cost of her mother’s death. That was something she couldn’t even begin to process.

After all the medical and business papers were dealt with and organized, she started on the boxes stashed under her mother’s bed, sure that there she’d find a clue. Instead she found box after box of old pictures, school papers, and crafts. Her mother had kept everything. It took hours, but Quinn looked through stacks of photos of her life from kindergarten until college graduation, many of them of her and Maggie, her best friend from childhood.

She picked up one and smiled. In the shot the sun shone down on Maggie’s hair, making it almost seem to be on fire, a red that flamed bright in her younger years before it began to lighten. The contrast between the two of them was evident—Quinn’s golden brown, native Hawaiian skin a startling contrast to Maggie’s pale, freckled face.

Putting the photo aside, she dug deeper through brittle corsages and ticket stubs from the many events they’d attended together. So many memories, but nothing from her mother’s earlier past.

Quinn persisted .

She started on her mother’s jewelry box next, separating out the costume pieces to see if there was anything of value. She found a diamond stud earring but couldn’t find the match to it. Finally, she emptied the box and turned it over, and when she saw that one of the corners had come loose at the bottom, she pulled it and realized it was a false bottom.

Underneath was a single photograph.

In the picture, two young women dressed in graduation caps and gowns sat astride horses, their closeness evident in their body language and expressions. Even through the adolescent features, Quinn could tell one of them was definitely her mother. She turned the photo over and saw Carmen Crowe and Me scribbled on it with a date of a year before Quinn was born.

Who was Carmen Crowe?

Quinn wished she’d pushed her mother more to talk about the past. Over the years, as Quinn grew older and more curious, her mom had only told her that Maui was a beautiful and magical place, but her childhood had been ugly. The few times Quinn had tried to squeeze more out of her had caused her mother to retreat into silence. It was clear that her mom had loved Maui, but whatever it was that had kept her from returning there must’ve been traumatic. Quinn had hoped one day her mother would be ready to talk about it.

That day never came.

But if Quinn could find this hopefully living, breathing person from the photo, it could help her find out something about her mother. Carmen was obviously someone important. Important enough that it was the only photo of her past she’d saved. So was she a best friend? Cousin?

As though her mother’s death wasn’t hard enough to get over, Quinn was also spiraling because of the quietly explosive way she’d left. She couldn’t quite believe it or even process it. Not that Quinn had known her father at all, but it was still mind-boggling that she’d spent her life resenting the wrong man. All she knew was the man she’d thought was her father, Wesley Maguire, was someone her mother had been with for a short time many years ago. When they’d parted ways, Quinn was the only thing left of their relationship.

She’d been too young to remember him, but her mother had tried to reach out to him occasionally. As a young girl, Quinn had dreams that he’d show up at her door, ready to take her to the annual Daddy-Daughter Dance, holding a bouquet of flowers and apologizing for taking so long. He would be tall and good-looking, his eyes sparkling down at her with pride.

That never happened, but she’d still held out hope that he’d find her again in time to attend her high school graduation.

That didn’t happen either.

By the time Quinn was in college, she’d given up thinking he’d magically appear to walk her down the aisle on her eventual wedding day. And now her mother’s words echoed through her head at least a hundred times a day.

Wesley Maguire is not your father.

After the dust settled and the impact of that statement had finally worked its way through her brain, Quinn still couldn’t hate her for it. The truth was, she would miss her mother so much. Already missed her. Her mom had been kind and loving, completely devoted to Quinn. Whatever she’d done or whatever secrets she’d kept, there was no doubt it was out of love. Now that her mother was gone and Quinn had no one but Ethan, she ached to know her father, or at least know who he was. She also realized that whatever she uncovered might be better left buried, but she was ready to learn the truth, good or bad.

And here she was, holding a small cardboard box that could be the key.

She stood and put the box on the table beside the door. Ethan was expecting her to call and give him a rundown of her day. He wouldn’t understand if she tried to tell him that she’d barely been able to function, much less figure out dinner. That she’d faked her way through the day, accomplishing almost nothing on her list, her entire system on full alert because of what she was about to do.

Ethan assumed she was still off because of her mother’s death. He also knew that Quinn couldn’t think of much else other than fulfilling her mom’s wishes by taking her ashes to Maui and putting her to rest. He’d bought tickets and insisted she book the hotel reservations, declaring they’d make a vacation out of it. After Quinn memorialized her mother, of course.

They were set to leave in a month.

“It will help lift you out of this mood, Quinn,” he’d said.

While he went on and on about the adventures Maui had to offer, Quinn was quiet, thinking of the moment when she’d have to leave her mother behind on the island. Traveling there was not going to be the mood-lifter he thought it was. Not for her.

There were things he didn’t know, like the mystery of who her father was. It didn’t feel right to tell him yet—she wanted this to stay between her and her mother for the time being. Quinn had a strong suspicion that the information her mom had been so intent on keeping to herself had probably poisoned her body, inviting the cancer in and allowing it to eat away until nothing was left but the shell of the woman Quinn had nearly worshipped. But even as her mother made her final will and testament, she’d not been able to bring herself to disclose the details of a story that could set her daughter free. Why?

She took a deep breath and readied herself, then picked up the phone.

Her fingers stiffened stubbornly, as though they didn’t want to obey, but eventually there was a ring. Ethan picked up quickly.

“Hi,” Quinn said .

“What’s up?” he answered, his voice already hurrying her along. He was always running behind. “You headed for the gym?”

“No, I’m not. Listen, I need to talk to you.” She felt her stomach clenching.

“Can it wait? I have a meeting in ten.”

“No, it can’t. I need to tell you now.” While I’ve got the courage, she almost added.

“Hold on,” he said. “Let me shut the door.”

She could hear him bumping around, not sure what he was doing, but when he returned, her resolve weakened. Then she thought of her mother. A woman who deserved more than her daughter doing a quick dump of her ashes and then living it up around the island.

“I’m going to Maui alone,” she blurted out.

“What do you mean?” He sounded confused.

“Ethan, I appreciate that you want to go and support me, but I need to do this by myself. I’m not looking forward to saying goodbye to the last of my mother. I want this to be a quiet and reflective time. A time to honor her in my own way.”

“And you don’t want me with you?” he said, his tone turning petulant.

“It’s not that I don’t want you with me. This just isn’t the time to try to enjoy a vacation.” And I am hoping to find my real father. That was another detail she wasn’t ready to tell him.

“Quinn, I know you are still in a bad place, but you aren’t thinking straight. We’ll talk about this when I get home this weekend.”

“No, we won’t, Ethan. I’ve already canceled your flight. I’m serious about this. I’m sorry if it hurts you, but we’ll plan to go again together after I’ve done what I need to do.”

He sighed, long and frustrated.

“Sounds like I don’t have a choice,” he said. “I need to run. ”

He broke the connection, and she was left holding the phone to her ear, grasping it so tightly it made her fingers ache. When she lowered it, she was shaking.

Quinn liked routine and avoided drama at all costs. She felt safest in the cocoon she’d built around herself. But all that was about to be undone. Starting with a nondescript white box and a plane ticket, there was a secret with her name on it that Quinn meant to unravel.

Read More of True To Me here on Kindle, Paperback, or in Audio.