Chapter Two

Last night, once the team arrived, they'd wasted no time. The Dare County sheriff's office had been accommodating. Sheriff Hanover was more than happy to pass the buck as well as the agents in the resident agency, also located in Manteo. They'd all helped, and would aid them if needed, but from here on out, the SCU team had jurisdiction and Asa called the shots. Period.

After, they'd gone back to the beach house that Selah had booked for them in Blue Harbor. Ty made sure to text Cami and let her know that Selah had way better booking skills than her. He'd never forget the B and B in Night Hollow. The thought of that place and that case in Kentucky still freaked him out.

But Asa preferred to stay close to the crimes when they traveled, which wasn't quite as orthodox as other divisions, but this unit wasn't exactly an orthodox unit to begin with. Blue Harbor appeared to be the link between the victims, not the lighthouses, which were spaced throughout the islands of the Outer Banks.

Amy-Rose Rydell lived on Roanoke but worked at a boutique here on the main strip, and Lily Hayes resided at the edge of Blue Harbor and worked at a gift shop three doors down from the boutique where Amy-Rose had been employed. If Blue Harbor was the epicenter of this killer's hunting ground, they wanted to remain close to their predator.

"I could get used to this view," Owen said as he walked out on the second-story deck with a cup of coffee.

The sky was blue and clear like the world was full of sunshine and good days, but the meteorologists were watching the storm in the tropical waters and discussing possible trajectories. It was like a shark, prowling the ocean and scouting out where it wanted to pounce. Unnoticed by its prey that frolicked without a care in the world. Then it made its attack, and once it did, nothing could stop it. Blue Harbor—the Outer Banks. Coastal towns would be powerless against it. Ty wasn't sure which scared him more—the unstoppable hurricane or the possibility that someone might be killing people as part of a revenge scheme against him.

"It is a beautiful view. For now. Won't lie, though. It's bringing up some memories I'd rather forget." Dad had brought him and his two brothers out here for fishing trips, which had been a ton of fun, but there were times Dad wasn't fun at all.

"We could always go back to Miami. That was a trip."

"Bruh," Ty said, and pounded his heart with his fist. "Nothing but love for that weekend."

"You get the list yet?" Owen asked, sipping his coffee. He'd already cleaned up and shaved. Ty noticed the new purple tie. Dude loved purple.

Ty had been tasked with acquiring a list of women who had gone missing from Blue Harbor and neighboring islands within the past year. He'd asked Selah to put the women with flower names at the top of the list. "Waiting on an email, and then I'll get started. You want some help while I wait?"

"You putting pushpins in my map? Pass." Owen hated anyone messing with his maps. Once Ty had spelled out LOSER in orange pushpins, and in retaliation Owen had mixed vinegar with the water in the coffeepot when it brewed. Fortunately, Fiona had gone for a cup before Ty.

"What do you think about Violet's theory? About the Fire Ice Killer?" The idea had needled him since she said it in her creepy, nonchalant way.

Owen set his cup on the railing and then leaned over it, gazing out at the still waters. "It's possible. But I know you. If it's true, it ain't on you." He smacked Ty's back in a brotherly gesture. And Owen was most definitely his brother—by choice, not by blood. It had been almost twenty years since he'd even spoken with either of his full biological brothers. Truth be told, there was no love lost between him and the eldest of them, Garrick. The younger, Lysander, had only been fourteen when Ty had been disfellowshipped and led out of the gates of his community in Asheville.

"You hearing me, Ty?" Owen asked. "If it is this guy, you can't take blame."

Ty wasn't so sure. "It'll feel like it's on me."

"Violet's stretching based on the locale being North Carolina. I'm not saying he hasn't evolved and moved locations, but it's a serious stretch as far as I'm concerned." Owen finished his coffee and brushed his lavender dress shirt.

Ty's phone dinged with an email notification. "Got the list of missing women, concentrating on those with flowers in their names only—for now. Selah said eight women with flower names have gone missing in the past year." He scanned the list. "Amy-Rose Rydell from Roanoke, but worked in Blue Harbor. Dahlia Anderson—a travel agent from Nags Head. Ivy Leech, a schoolteacher at Cape Hatteras and Lily Hayes, souvenir shop employee from Blue Harbor. Iris Benington was a nurse in Nags Head, Heather Wade was a barista in Ocracoke. Susan Mayer lived and worked in Blue Harbor and went missing eight months ago." He paused on the last name and location.

"What is it?" Owen asked.

He read it again. Two times, then three to be sure he wasn't misreading the name. He unbuttoned his top button, which was choking him, and swiped at the sweat gathering above his lip. "I know the most recent woman who's gone missing. She lives here. In Blue Harbor." His mind wouldn't process the information. How was this possible? "Owen, I'm not sure Violet is stretching about the Fire Ice Killer." Not now.

"Who is it? How do you know her?" Owen leaned in to read the email.

He didn't have a clue where to begin. His past was complicated, unbelievable and disturbing. Not to mention shameful and humiliating, especially the events that occurred the night he was disfellowshipped. "I grew up in the Family of Glory. A cult. The missing woman—Ahnah—is the little sister of the girl I wanted to someday marry. To make a long story short, a lot of crazy things went down when I was eighteen. Bex was only seventeen, and we were going to sneak away since she was a minor."

"Why? You realize it was a cult?"

"No. We one hundred percent believed we were condemning ourselves from heaven for leaving, but we loved each other, and Bex's hand had been asked for by my older brother, Garrick."

Owen frowned. "So?"

"In the Family, the eldest son of each wife—it's not bigamy to have many wives in the Family—marries first, then the next is allowed to be married, and so on. My eldest brother from our mom asked for her, and it was granted by the Prophet." He still wasn't sure why when he knew how much Ty loved her.

"You were running away and breaking all the rules for love," Owen said.

"Yes, and we were taking Ahnah with us. She was only twelve at the time. The Family wasn't a safe place for girls or women. Bex wouldn't leave her, and neither would I. I went to Atlanta to find an apartment for us and a job—hoping to lose ourselves in a big city so they couldn't find us and haul her and Ahnah back to Asheville. In the end it didn't matter how many miles we put between us."

"Why?" Owen asked.

"When I returned, I found out that Bex had been taken into the Prophet's marriage circle—or harem, if you want to get technical. I broke the greatest law."

"Which is?"

"I slept with her outside of the marriage bed, and it was brought to the Prophet's attention. See, in the Family, if a woman is engaged to a man and he finds out she's not a virgin, then the proposal is forfeited. She's ruined for any other man...except for the Prophet, who takes her into his home as mercy. She'll marry him and bear him more children." Ty paused at Owen's shocked expression. "I know. It's archaic and sick, and honestly, the Prophet's way of adding to his collection of young brides."

"Did she admit to it?"

"I don't know. Probably not, but the wives examine her to prove it."

"You are kidding me."

Ty's neck flushed hot. "I wish I were. I didn't see her. I was promptly escorted to the Prophet's office and rebuked and disfellowshipped, then escorted to the gates and out of the commune."

"Which is where?"

"A community in the mountains on the outskirts of Asheville. But only the leadership lived in the gated community. The Family has tens of thousands of followers all over North Carolina, and they attend church by satellite, and there are monthly gatherings in the mountains for everyone."

Owen inhaled deeply. "You never saw her again?"

"No," Tiberius answered quietly. Now Ahnah was among the missing women. Vanished on August 23.

"You think the Fire Ice Killer discovered this information and targeted Ahnah? Why not Bex?" Owen asked.

"For one, Ahnah's middle name is Oleander, and it's a flower. I already knew that, but it's on the full-name list sent to me. Bexley doesn't have a flower in her name."

"And for two?" Owen asked.

Ty had no idea. He was positioned behind a thick veil, unable to see the killer's motives. "Asa still in the house?" Ty ignored Owen's question, trying to make sense of this new information while being flooded with old, sour memories.

"Yeah. He's flying to Raleigh to the ME's office in an hour. I think Fiona is going with him. Maybe Violet." Owen followed Ty inside. "They should be back by lunchtime or right after."

Everyone was in the living room with laptops, coffee and sober expressions.

"PSA..." Ty blurted as he entered. "I was engaged when I was eighteen." Might as well lay it out sooner rather than later.

Asa popped his head up; Fiona followed suit.

Violet cautiously closed her laptop. "This isn't an episode of Dr. Phil, Tiberius. And some of us already know it." Ty had revealed this tidbit to her when they were working the Blind Eye Killer case in Night Hollow. He'd overheard a conversation of hers and thought she'd needed to hear something personal from him. He'd been right. They'd bonded—as much as one could bond with Violet at that time. Even now, her personal life with John and his preschool-aged daughter, Stella, was guarded.

"She knows that?" Owen asked, his eyes wide as he gawked at Ty. "How does she get to know that and I'm just now finding out?"

Some subjects were too difficult to discuss, even with his best friend. Ty repeated what he'd already told Owen.

"Bexley Hemmingway?" Fiona asked. "That's why you snatched the business card from me that night I gave it to Ruby Boyd back in Night Hollow."

"And why you told me to vet her first," Violet said.

"What does that have to do with the rando declaration?" Selah, their tech analyst, asked through Asa's computer monitor. He kept her on video call most of the day.

"Ahnah is on the list of missing women, and Oleander is her middle name. Vanished a week ago. Lives here. The address is registered to Bexley Hemmingway." He tugged at his collar again. "Vi, you might be right about the Fire Ice Killer." He turned to Asa. "I—uh—don't want to recuse myself. But if you think I should..."

Asa tapped a pen on the table. "We don't know that it's the killer out of Virginia. But I don't want to rule out the fact that whoever is doing this might be personal to you since a victim is personally connected. It's interesting to note, but possibly coincidental."

Yet doubtful, and the turmoil in Asa's steely gray eyes said as much.

"I can go with Ty to interview the families of the missing women," Violet said. "I need to work the victimology, and you don't need me at the ME's office. We can reinterview the victims' families while we're out if we have time." Violet holstered her weapon, then slipped on a black blazer. She wasn't one for wasting time.

"Asa?" Ty asked, waiting to see if he wanted him actively working the case. He almost hoped he'd tell him to pack it up and go home. If not, he would have to visit Bexley, and he wasn't ready for that. Wasn't sure he could. The easy way out was hopping a plane for home. Not to mention the possible hurricane brewing over the ocean that could decimate the whole coast.

"Go ahead. We'll take it one day at a time."

Sounded about right. Asa had let Fiona actively work a personal case, concerning the Nursery Rhyme Killer. Well, let was a loose term. Fiona was going to do what Fiona was going to do. Ty nodded, then followed Violet to the Suburban. They'd rented two of them. Most times local law would give them a cruiser, but in these small unincorporated island communities, there weren't any to spare. "You familiar with the Outer Banks?" Ty asked.

"Is this your way of asking to drive?" Violet asked.

"Yes."

"Just ask, you buffoon." She tossed him the keys and climbed in the passenger side.

"You do a lot of name-calling since you and John got together. Is this some kind of aggression aimed at him you're transferring onto me?" He cranked the ignition, then ran a hand through his wind-whipped hair. It was vicious coming off the surf.

Violet buckled her seat belt. "Is this your way of avoiding the Bexley Hemmingway conversation?"

"Maybe. Probably. Yeah." He punched in Bexley's address—a beach house six minutes away.

Violet remained silent, sipping coffee from a thermal cup as Ty listened to the GPS and drove to Bexley's. The house was a small bungalow painted a salmon color with white trim. A long dock coming from the side of the house and rounding to the back stretched out to the sound, where a small private beach held two blue-and-white-striped chairs with umbrellas.

He parked, noticing no cars were in the driveway.

"You going to get out of the vehicle and approach the house or just call her name from here and see if she comes out?" Violet asked.

He was working up the courage. "You should know, when I said she married the Prophet, there's more to it."

"How much more?"

"The Prophet—he's my father."

Violet remained stoic, but she'd understand having a monster for a father better than anyone on the team, and maybe that's why it was easier to confide in her.

"I wasn't raised only as a cult member, Violet. I was the son of the First Wife, making me, and my two full-blooded brothers, heirs."

Violet didn't appear shocked or appalled. But then, nothing seemed to ruffle her feathers other than Ty's nonsense. "You're saying the woman you wanted to marry was forced to marry your father."

His stomach pitched, and he could barely even bring himself to envision it. "That's what I'm saying. Bertrand Granger. He goes by Rand Granger outside the cult. Inside people call him Father Granger or the Prophet. Even his wives. So that's gross." But it had been completely normal until he'd left and seen what the real world was like. "When I was disfellowshipped from the Family, he had twenty wives, and I can't count how many children."

"Is it more complicated than that?" Violet asked, and opened the car door.

"Don't you think that's enough?" He walked up to the front door and banged on it, then rang the doorbell, his insides trying to claw their way out.

No one answered.

A woman hollered from next door, catching his attention. "She's not home, hon. She's at work. If you're looking for Bexley Hemmingway."

"I am," Ty said and held up his credentials. "Do you know Ahnah Hemmingway?"

The woman with a short blond bob nodded emphatically and closed the distance between them. She was probably in her early sixties with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. "Oh yes. She's a sweet girl. Used to help me weed my herb garden when I was down in the back. Terrible thing that happened to her. She wouldn't up and leave like that."

Ty didn't believe it either. Ahnah and Bex had been closer than close. Bex had protected Ahnah, sometimes at a cost—the last one pretty steep for him and Bex. "Where does Bexley Hemmingway work?"

"Little counseling center near Blue Harbor Baptist Church."

He nodded. "Thanks." After searching and entering the address in the GPS, he and Violet traveled in silence the mile and a half to a little slate-gray facility built on stilts and framed by palm trees. A sign outside read Ruth's Refuge Counseling Services.

Ty turned off the engine and unbuckled, but didn't budge. Seventeen—almost eighteen—years since he'd laid eyes on Bex. He wasn't sure he could face her and under these circumstances—to tell her some sadistic killer who might very well have a vendetta against Ty had targeted her sister. That couldn't be random, and yet who on earth would know that he, Bexley and Ahnah were connected—or alive? Someone who knew how to dig for information like their own analyst, Selah Jones. She could have found the information if she wanted. She might even know already and was sitting on it.

But to go in and face Bexley. It was deeply personal, and he wasn't sure he could do it.

He needed to, though.

"Vi," he choked out. He needed to be alone with no one else privy. The uncertainty of how it would go down was nauseating. If Bex never died, then why not contact him? She had a counseling center in Memphis. She had to know he was part of the SCU South Division located in Memphis. Why not reach out? He had so many questions, but he feared the answers.

Violet wrapped her hand over his, a shocking gesture for her. "I'll be here. Go in. Do what you have to in order to get the job done."

He shifted in his seat. "I like you better since John came into your life. No telling me to pull it together and get over it—even though you're a psychologist and should never say that."

"John isn't who came into my life who made the change, Tiberius. But he's definitely made an impression."

Ty couldn't deny a change in Violet or Asa and Fiona. But he had a hard time coming to grips with the idea that a higher power did some kind of internal supernatural sanctification. If Ty wanted to quit eating donuts, he quit eating donuts. If he wanted to be nicer, he chose to be. No help from above, just good old-fashioned willpower.

"John's a good dude. I like him." He couldn't speak to the other. Smelled like rot to him. He got out, his intestines knotting and his palms clammy. He climbed the five wooden steps and opened the door. The smell of lavender hit his senses, and soft instrumental music filtered through a speaker. A young woman with short, spiky red hair smiled. "Help ya?"

"I need to speak with Bexley Hemmingway." He held up his FBI credentials, and her eyes watered.

"Is Ahnah...?"

"Still missing." He put her at ease—as much as one could be when a loved one was unaccounted for. As of now, they couldn't say she was deceased. "Do you know her well?" he asked.

"As well as one can know Ahnah. She's private. Loves to paint with watercolors. She made me that." She pointed to a painting of a sunset over the water.

"It's very nice." Ahnah had loved to color as a child, and Ty had shown her how to do what he'd called doodling. He was pretty good with a pencil and a blank canvas. He'd taught her how to make flowers. They were pretty easy. A circle for the middle, then loops all around. Guess she'd kept up with the hobby.

"Bexley is straight back on the right. I'll let her know a federal agent is here."

"Thank you." He trudged down the hall, his feet heavy and stalling out on him. Standing in front of her door, he debated texting Violet to switch places with him. He could recuse himself for being close to the case, but that was the coward's way out, and Ty wasn't yellow. He raised his fist to knock when the door opened, his hand in midair.

Ty lost his faculties. His breath.

Dark eyes met his. Her long curly black hair was still thick, massive and uncontrollable.

"Tiberius," Bexley breathed, wide-eyed. Her cheeks paled, and she blinked a few times as if she wasn't sure that what stood before her was actual flesh and blood.

His name on her lips retrieved a tsunami of good memories. Hopes and dreams and promises of a future with one another, which included a big family and no one ordering them around or deciding their futures without their consent.

Little lines had sprouted around her eyes and she was curvier than at seventeen, but he couldn't deny she was still beautiful with eyes a little too big for her face, overshadowing her pert nose and thin lips.

He had to speak. Form a word. Anything.

"Hey Bex."

Bexley Hemmingway stood frozen. Seeing Tiberius in person was the moment she'd dreamed about and dreaded. She stood dumbfounded for what seemed forever, then her brain finally kicked in, and the biggest fear concerning Tiberius being here became a reality.

"Ahnah." He was here about her sister. Had they found her? Was she alive? Bexley had been going out of her mind for a week.

"She hasn't been found yet." He held up his credentials and spoke with cool professionalism, but his green eyes were windows into his soul, and he was uncomfortable and confused with every right to be. She'd disappeared as dead and never once contacted him, and then there was the awkwardness of the fact she'd been forced to marry his father.

She had her reasons even if over the years she'd warred with them. Had she made the right call, or was forging ahead without him the biggest mistake she'd ever made? She wasn't sure. "I've seen you on TV before—a few years back. Press conference." She didn't bring up she'd seen a viral video of him in regards to a killer they didn't catch in Virginia. No point kicking him while he was down, and seeing her would be a big low spot for him.

His gaze was searching, angry and heartbreaking, but she couldn't look away. Bexley had to own up to her choices—all of them. And she didn't want to look away from him. He'd always been a handsome boy, but now he was a striking man. Muscular, his face chiseled and strong with a lawn of scruff shading his lower face. A possibly defiant act, if even subconscious. Men in the Family of Glory were to be clean-shaven at all times. This look fit Tiberius in his well-tailored suit and shiny red tie, and it clued her in to the fact he'd probably not gone back to the Family had the Prophet been forgiving. Sometimes he was when it came to Tiberius. Ty had always been his father's favorite.

If he was here to investigate, that meant he'd be on the island and in her business for more than a few moments. Days maybe. Weeks even. "How long will you be here?"

"Am I bothering you? Am I an inconvenience?"

No and yes. "Of course not. I... I didn't realize the FBI would be involved and especially not the SCU."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss intimate details of the case. I'm here to talk about Ahnah. Can I come in?"

Bexley was all but barricading her office. "I'm sorry." She swung her arm and motioned him inside. "Yes, of course. I don't have a client for another fifteen minutes."

He sidestepped her, and she caught a whiff of understated cologne and body wash. She stood at the threshold while he nonchalantly perused her office, but she knew him well. He was going far deeper than the casual observer. Tiberius had a keen eye for detail. She'd always admired that in his drawings. She'd saved every single one he'd given her. Some things couldn't be tossed out and forgotten. Couldn't be left behind.

Pointing to a blue club chair, she asked him to have a seat. Then she sat behind her modest oak desk. Sea colors were her favorite, and she'd set up her office in coastal shades that evoked a sense of peace and tranquility. But not even the soft robin's-egg-blue walls could calm her nerves now. To hide her trembling hands, she balled them into fists and tucked them into her lap under the desk.

Tiberius lowered his frame into the chair, his jaw ticking. He removed a notepad and pen from his inner suit coat pocket and laid the notebook on his lap; he clicked the pen, retracting the point several times.

"I have no idea where to start." Did he want to talk about Ahnah? The fact that Bexley and she were alive? How far back would he go, and how much would she tell him? She owed him one hundred percent of the story from that night he was disfellowshipped to today, but she wasn't sure she could trust him with the whole truth. She'd need more facts about his life and where he stood regarding the Family before she loosened her lips too much. Just him being here, knowing she was still alive, could put her in danger.

His jaw pulsed again. "Well, we can start with the fact you're a liar."

She wasn't expecting the barbs so quickly. But that was Tiberius. Flying off the handle before collecting facts. No wonder he had a viral video out there about a serial killer. "I see you're still quick to jump to conclusions and impulsivity."

He slung his hand in the air toward her. "I see you still can't do anything with your hair."

Her...hair? She lightly touched it and then laughed through her nose. No filter. How did he even do this job? It required patience and waiting and a whole lot of filter.

Ty waved off his remark. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"To call me a liar?" She hadn't ever lied to him or to Ahnah. She hadn't wanted to lie to anyone. It went against everything she believed, and she'd taught Ahnah to be honest as well. Honest and a free-thinking woman who was strong and independent. Something the Family men didn't allow. They were—for the most part—cruel with the belief that women were nothing more than sex objects and baby incubators to give them a strong posterity. They were better to be seen than heard and to look pretty while at it.

"No. I meant that. You can control whether you lie or not. The hair..." His eyes widened as he gave her untamed hair the no-hope-for-you expression, but she caught a glimmer of amusement. Ty always did use humor to deflect or lighten tension or to escape conflict.

"So, are we going to have this talk now?" She braced herself. Time to rehash the past, and she wasn't sure what she was going to say about the present. She wasn't expecting him to show up out of thin air. But over the years, she had been rehearsing what she'd say if the day ever came. Now all her words vanished and she was at a loss.

"No. Because I'm not here about you or us or our past, or even your lies." He ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek. "I'm here about Ahnah's disappearance and the murdered women at the lighthouses. That's it. Then I'm out of your hair—pardon the pun—for the next seventeen or so years. Not here on a white horse, Bex."

His words shouldn't sting, but they did. "I never asked for a knight or a white horse. I can saddle my own, but clearly, you're in shock that I'm alive. I imagine you want some answers."

"Bexley I've known you were alive since last October when I saw the business card you gave to my colleague Fiona Kelly. You spoke at her church. I've gotten over the shock you're alive. Not really over the shock you went from one cult to another. Maybe all the hair's tangled your brain," he mumbled.

Well, this was clearing some cobwebs on where he stood about the Family, and God. A year, though. He'd known a whole year and didn't reach out. She couldn't fault him. She hadn't reached out in almost eighteen. Didn't mean she hadn't thought of him every single day, because she had. "I see. Well, I'll tell you all I can about Ahnah, then."

He clicked the pen again and picked up the notepad from his lap. "Does Ahnah take off often without telling anyone? Is it possible she's out doing something on her own?"

"She's a grown adult and doesn't need permission, but she does live in my home. If she plans to be gone for an extended time, she lets me know so I don't worry. You know I help broken women who have come out of domestic abuse and trafficking. Ahnah has seen what can happen to women, so she's good about telling me and we have shared locations on our phones to track one another, but her phone has been off since she's been missing. I've already spoken to the sheriff numerous times."

"She's...twenty-nine now. Wow," he murmured. "I remember when she was a little squirt following us around as if we didn't know it."

Bexley smiled. "She loved you very much."

"I loved her," he whispered. "And I am going to find her, Bexley."

"I believe you." She had no reason not to. Tiberius had never been a liar.

"Did she know Lily Hayes and Amy-Rose Rydell?"

"She knew Amy-Rose better. They worked together at Blue Boutique and hung out often. Lily was more of someone she knew in passing. I don't think they spent personal time together, but they did work on the same strip. Most everyone knows each other or of one another."

"Boyfriend?"

"No. She'd dated some but... Ahnah didn't trust most men. You can guess why." Tiberius had witnessed the atrocities that were inflicted upon her sister. Upon many of the young girls in the Family.

Tiberius glanced up from his notepad, compassion in his eyes. That was one thing that had separated him from his father—the Prophet, aka Rand Granger. Her blood boiled at the thought of that vile man and the community he'd created that had warped and twisted everyone who came in contact with him, but he'd won them with great looks and charisma. Then he'd bound them to him and the way of life he'd declared God had given him.

"I do know, and I'm sorry it stunted her growth for relationships." He cast a quick glance at her left ring finger as if checking to see if her growth had been stunted as well. It had, but not for the same reasons. "Were the two of you still close? Did she confide anything in you that might give you pause or anything that would appear abnormal?"

Were they close? It had been a rocky road with Ahnah. At twelve, after they'd escaped, she'd missed Mom and Dad and didn't understand why they couldn't call or visit. She had no concept that what they'd been brainwashed to believe was a lie from the pit. Even Bexley hadn't realized they'd been fed lies until Renee Helton, the woman who'd found them after they'd run and who'd become her mentor, had showed her real truth. It had taken a long time to untangle the false beliefs.

"It was off and on with us. She had some resentment over me taking her away from her life and family, but she later understood I was saving her from your brother. From lies. From a lifetime of subservience to men like him. I put her through counseling—with someone else. Made her take self-defense classes and did anything I could to promote self-awareness and confidence. I wanted her to be her own woman. Make her own choices. Sometimes she thought I was too hard on her, and maybe I was." Bexley had made mistakes. She was human.

"She's had no contact with the Family, including your parents?" he asked, scribbling notes as he spoke.

Seemed like they were getting personal without actually saying it. "No. That was the hardest—not speaking to our mother. But they thought we were dead too. The only person who knew we were alive was Mother Mae. She passed four months ago. I kept in contact with her over the years. She helped us escape from the inside."

"Mother Mae?" He frowned. "Really?"

"Yes. She wanted to leave the cult, after awaking to its barbaric nature, but wouldn't because she knew Rand wouldn't allow her to take the children, and she had four daughters. She stayed to protect them and others the best she could."

"I had no idea," he murmured.

"I called her once, though."

"Mother Mae?"

"No. My mom." Emotion clogged her throat. "I wanted to hear her voice. I never revealed it was me. Never even spoke, but it was like she knew. She said my name, and it was all I could bear. I hung up and never called again. Mother Mae called when Mom died two years ago. Cancer. My dad has remarried. I believe he's up to five wives now."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know about your mom. I always liked her."

Bexley grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "Do you see your mom? Since she's out?"

"I do. I found her when I was given the boot. She was living in Greensboro. She moved to Memphis when I got transferred to the SCU. I love her, but she's wacky in new ways." He shrugged.

At least he still had her.

"Did Ahnah help you with Ruth's Refuge? Could one of the men have a vendetta? Any of them threaten her?" he asked.

"No. She's familiar with the work I've done and has seen some of the pain up close, but she never wanted to volunteer or work for the ministry. I suppose it was all too close to home for her. When Renee, the original owner of Ruth's Refuge, passed, I spent a lot of time working and opening new locations across the South. We have eight now. Our most recent one is Memphis. I think Ahnah resented me being away—at first. She was pretty young."

"Good for you, Bexley. Way to entrepreneur it," he said without hiding the cutting sarcasm.

"You made a life. Why shouldn't I?"

He laid the notepad on his lap. "The difference is, Bexley, I made a life because I felt like I had no choice. You were married to my father. I went pretty much mad and hatched all sorts of plans to break in and whisk you and Ahnah away. And I tried."

Bexley drew her hand to the hollow of her throat. "What do you mean you tried?"

Ty raked a hand through his hair. "Six months after I was kicked out and you were..." He shook his head. "I came to beg Father's forgiveness. I hoped he'd show me grace and I could coax you to run again. I didn't care that you'd been with my dad. But when I arrived at the gates, Dalen pulled in behind me. We had a conversation—"

"Couldn't be a good one." His half-brother never cared much for Ty.

"No. He told me you and Ahnah had died in a boating accident about three months after marrying Rand. I didn't believe him, so he brought me to the house. Mother Mae was outside with the children, and she confirmed it. She'd have no reason to lie. Except now, knowing it was her who helped you... I kicked myself for not returning for you three months earlier. I told myself if I had, you might not have been out on the water that day. Might not have died."

Bexley's heart splintered. "If she thought you were returning for grace, she'd have never told you the truth. And she sure wouldn't have shared that information in front of Dalen."

"I'm seeing the whole story now."

A rotten devastating story.

"All these years I've carried your death and my guilt because I felt to blame," Ty said. "It's my fault you had to marry him at seventeen. My fault for everything, and yet you weren't dead at all. And no wonder Ahnah resented you. You left her behind for your career."

"You make it sound like I abandoned her."

"Maybe it's a pattern."

She sucked in a deep breath. "I think we're done here." He was becoming belligerent, which meant he wasn't going to talk like an adult, and he wasn't going to obtain what he needed professionally. Not today.

He stood. "I guess so." He walked to the door. "Though we've been done a lot longer than this."

A lump lodged in her throat. "The night she went missing, she closed at the boutique. Her shift was up at ten p.m. She'd texted me at nine to say she was going to the Blue Marlin for a few drinks and should be home about midnight. I went to bed, and the next morning when I woke—around six—her car wasn't under the carport. I didn't think much of it. She'd drunk too much and stayed with friends before, but when work called after she didn't arrive for her nine a.m. shift, I called around. No one had seen her. The bar manager—Jeff Malone—said she left sober around eleven thirty. In case you needed to know that. Save yourself a second trip."

His hand reached the doorknob. "Thanks. That's all I need from you." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I am sorry about Ahnah. She didn't deserve this. None of them did."

"No, they didn't, but Ahnah is a fighter—you know this better than anyone. She's strong and resourceful. I'm believing the qualities that shaped her and gave her strength will keep her alive long enough for us to find her. I... I debated calling you myself. Maybe I should have."

"Maybe you should have years ago. I wouldn't have been sick daily about the fact you'd died."

The door blew open, nearly knocking Ty into the wall.

Bexley's heart stopped. She froze, mouth agape.

No. No. No. No.

Bexley wasn't ready for this. Not now. Not under these circumstances.

"Hey, sorry, man."

Ty saluted. "No worries, kiddo. Maybe knock before an appointment."

Bexley's pulse spiked.

"Dude, like I'd take counseling..."

Don't say it.

"...from my mom."

Ty's smirk turned somber. "What's that?"

Bexley couldn't hide it. Didn't want it to play out like this.

"This is Josiah. My son."