Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tiberius's knees turned to rubber as he forced himself to look at the open doorway. A shadow appeared, and then his son walked into the room, eyes hardened and jaw set.

Until he saw the women.

His eyes widened and his mouth formed a perfect O. Then he turned to Lysander. "Why are these women in here, Lysander?"

A new wave of terror engulfed Ty. Josiah knew Ty's brother's true identity. What else did he know? How long had he known?

Lysander remained calm, pointing the gun at Tiberius. "These women are here of their own volition. They live here, and they're paid to dance for me. Like dancers for kings in the past. Look at them, son. Wouldn't you want them to dance for you?" He waggled his brows.

"Do not call him son!"

"Why not? I've been the father he's never had."

Josiah shoved his hands in his pockets. "Like strippers?"

"Yes, like strippers."

Josiah frowned. "But women died, and they believe Ahnah was taken by whoever took these women."

"I don't have Ahnah. You've had free rein of the home. Have you seen her? No. Would I actually leave you here alone if I had abducted her? Abducted anyone? I didn't kidnap these women. They didn't want their lives. They had reasons to run from family," he said calmly, lies oozing like silk from his tongue. Lies that made sense to a vulnerable, groomed teenage boy.

But that explained how he brought Bexley here without Josiah knowing. He'd left him on his own, and that too had built trust. It was in Josiah's eyes. He was swallowing down Lysander's trumped-up story like it was sugar.

Rain and debris littered the solarium. Above, the glass panes and solar panels that remained convulsed. The eye of the hurricane was approaching like a freight train barreling off its rails.

Josiah flinched and edged toward the wall and away from the open ceiling. "And the dead women?"

"Pill poppers and, to my regret, I did supply them. Unfortunately, they overdosed, and I left them at the lighthouses to be found. Not everyone would approve of our arrangement here."

"He's lying, Josiah. He's a murderer. He has Ahnah and your mother. He kidnapped her while you were alone here this morning. These women have families and lives and homes, and he's been messing with your head."

Lysander sighed and skirted a puddle of water. "Josiah, I do not have your mother or your aunt. Did you see me bring her back? No. You saw me bring in supplies. Ahnah hated your mom, and she probably left of her own accord for a new life. Your mother has never loved you. Women's hearts are fickle. Remember Bree?"

Josiah nodded.

"She toyed with you, and then she crushed you by dating David. I was there for that. Who was at your last pinball competition at the arcade?"

"You."

"Because your mom had to take care of other fickle women. They've always been her priority. You know that. Look." He pointed to the open cage where Catherine Overly sat. "Door's wide open and she hasn't left or denied what I've said."

She was too afraid to speak. He held power over them, and Ty was defenseless while Lysander held a gun.

"I didn't kill anyone. Men like me enjoy the pleasure of women. I haven't done anything to them they didn't ask me to do. I have never forced myself on them. But this man...he abandoned you."

"No!" Ty insisted. "I never knew you existed."

"But he did, Josiah. He came to the Outer Banks because the sheriff believed the islands housed a serial killer. Your mom reported Ahnah missing, and he believes I have her. Again, I do not. Let me ask you, in all the time he's been here, been in your home, played video games with you, has he once revealed he's your father?"

"No." Josiah snapped his head in Ty's direction. "Is that true? Did you know this whole time? When we played video games and talked about art? Did you know you were my father?"

Ty's tongue stuck to the dry roof of his mouth, and he nodded.

Josiah's nostrils flared and he backed up next to Lysander, allowing his uncle to drape an arm around his shoulders.

"We were going to tell you after we found Ahnah."

"Lie!" Josiah boomed. "You've known all this time. My mom lied about you."

"She's a liar," Lysander singsonged. "She'd rather you be miserable than tell you the truth. What kind of mom is that?"

Josiah shouted exactly what kind of woman she was. Lysander had gotten into his head, filling him with lies, and he'd swallowed them down until they rooted in his heart. Ty could not undo a year's worth of grooming in five minutes, and they needed to find a safer place where glass couldn't slice them open.

Lysander had become what Josiah needed—an excellent cult leader if ever there was one.

Ty's son was loyal to a psychopath.

"Josiah," Ty pleaded. "I love you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Josiah said, the venom in his voice tearing through Ty. But he did love this boy more than he'd loved anyone. All lanky arms and green eyes and unruly hair.

Josiah's hands balled into fists. "You don't even know me."

Ty stretched out his arms for him. "I want to."

Lysander tsked him. "Now, when you're caught, you're trying to backpedal. If you wanted to know him, you'd have told him. Bexley would have told him years ago."

"Your family isn't criminal," Josiah shouted. "She lied. Your father is a pastor of a big church. Lysander told me everything this morning and why he approached me with a different name. Because he didn't know what kind of lies Mom or you told me about my family."

"No," Ty said. "None of that is true."

"Remember what you said about your father?" Lysander patted Josiah's shoulder. "How you wished he was dead, that you could be the one to look him in the eye and blow him off the planet? Now's your chance. You know in wartimes, warriors would bring their captives back, and their sons would run them through with a sword to bring them into manhood. It's biblical. God allows it in wartime. God called David a man of war. Approved of the slaughters, sanctioned them. Men. Women. Children and even babies. Oh yes. And animals."

"This isn't war." Ty held out his hands again. "You don't want to do this. I know you're angry and we have a lot to talk about, but this is murder, not war."

"The written word says an eye for an eye," Lysander said.

Josiah's eyes darkened, and a bolt of panic shot through Tiberius. No longer did he look like Ty but like Lysander. Most of his family was unstable. Had he passed on some kind of broken gene to him?

Lysander offered the gun to Josiah.

"Don't do it, son."

"Don't call me son. I am not your son." He accepted the weapon and aimed it at Tiberius, but his hand shook, and the wind howled as more solar panels ripped away. One of the women shrieked when a shard of glass fell onto her cage.

"I—I..." Josiah was unsure. He was not a murderer. He wouldn't do it. Couldn't. No matter how angry he was at Ty. But it wasn't Josiah who had Ty's attention.

It was Lysander.

Jaw working, he'd cast a glance in Josiah's direction. "Do it, Josiah. He'll wash away with the storm, and we'll be a family. I'll take you to meet your grandfather, who will love and adore you. You can live here with me on this island once I establish my own following, but you'll like Asheville too. We have to spend some time there until then, but you'll never want for anything."

"I don't know," Josiah said through trembling lips.

"What don't you know?" Lysander said, gritting his teeth.

Josiah wasn't acquiescing. The profile. Narcissist with a god complex. Untouchable. Invincible. Punishing those who didn't obey his commands. If Josiah didn't comply, Lysander would kill him.

And force Ty to watch.

Josiah wasn't a killer, but if he wanted to live, he had to obey Lysander's order. To save his son, Tiberius had to go against every fiber of his being. This confused, brainwashed boy who desperately wanted a father's love had Ty's love but didn't believe it.

And Ty needed to build on that lie, unravel his son to the core in order to force his hand. Deep down Josiah had a moral compass and knew murder was wrong.

Ty was in a war created by an enemy that lived on lies and kicked weak areas searching for a way in, a way to manipulate thoughts and appeal to desires until he turned it into reality. Lysander and Patrick Swain both provided services to change fantasies into realities. Patrick for money and Lysander for souls.

Tiberius inhaled deeply, pushing back a dam of tears and a wall of nausea. He was on the precipice of mentally and emotionally ripping his child apart, but Josiah could be mended. The chip in his shell, the brokenness, wouldn't be wasted. He'd bear the scars, but he'd live to tell his story. Bexley would see to it he had counseling and the truth that his father had to wound him to rescue him.

"We're probably all going to die anyway." Ty gave him a reason to justify pulling the trigger. "I'll tell you the truth. Yes, I knew this entire time. Lysander's right. And when this case is over—if we live through it—I'm returning to my life in Memphis. I like it. I do what I want. I get dating action without anyone in the way. I'm free."

Josiah's eyes narrowed and grew moist. "Free from me?"

"Free from every nuisance and interruption. I didn't know Bexley was pregnant at the time, but I've had a good seventeen years. Distraction-free." Vomit hit the back of Ty's throat, and he balled his agony in fists to hide the truth. He often had to tamp down emotion and reaction when interviewing serial killers. He was practiced. But nothing had prepared him for this performance. This wasn't a killer. It was his kid.

Josiah's lips tightened and his jaw tweaked. The vein running along his brow popped in angry purple against red splotchy skin. Ty was accomplishing his dreaded mission.

"I mean, you're a cool kid, I guess, but I'm not cut out to be a father..."

Josiah hadn't ever handled a real gun, which was far different from a controller to a video game. He might not hit a major artery. Ty only needed to push him over the edge.

Almost there.

Once Josiah did the deed, Owen would rescue them all. Ty was counting on it. Owen would protect them. Care for them as if they were his own family. But where was he?

"You don't...you don't want me?" His voice choked. "You don't love me?"

Ty broke. Exactly what Lysander wanted. This was destruction at its finest. The nail in his coffin, but he couldn't lie. He could only punctuate what Josiah already believed about him as a father. A deception Lysander had sneakily ingrained in him, using his insecurity and circumstances to manipulate, twist and bend truth. He had a dim view of Ty already and no reason to trust him.

He didn't know him.

Here came the hammer. "Do I want you? Do I love you?" Yes. Yes. Yes! "What do you think?" he asked nonchalantly, hoping Josiah would believe Ty's tears were nothing more than rivulets of rain.

A snap of fury flashed in Josiah's eyes, and his hand rose. The gun fired, and a bullet ripped through Tiberius's chest.