Chapter Thirty

"Hey," Asa said, as Ty opened his eyes. "How you feelin'?"

"What day is it?"

"Monday."

"I feel like I got shot. And... I can't really remember much." He'd passed out after Bexley handed him the gun, and when he'd woken, he was being airlifted to the hospital. He knew there'd been surgery and sedation for pain. In his few moments of consciousness, a hand had held his, squeezing.

Bexley.

She loved him. He loved her. They were gonna have to do something about that.

"After the hurricane passed—seven hours of it—Bexley called the sheriff's office from a burner phone she found in Lysander's desk drawer, and they airlifted all y'all to the hospital, where you were rushed into surgery. Bullet was trapped in your aorta, but the surgeon removed it. Said it was unbelievable you made it as long as you did and no irreparable damage had been done. Iris Benington's fast work helped. Once the storm cleared, we flew in. Arrived yesterday."

"Ahnah?"

Asa ran his tongue along his top teeth. "Bexley held her at gunpoint when you passed out."

That couldn't have been easy for her.

"Then Ahnah went straight to the sheriff's office for questioning. She said she reconnected with Lysander at the bar. Like she told you. She didn't tell Bexley because of the Family and because she'd make her cut ties like Bexley had cut ties with you. She continued with her story that he kept her elsewhere and hadn't tattooed her—no idea why or what he was planning."

"You believe that?"

"No. After getting nowhere, I sent in Violet."

Ty smirked. "Nice. She jeeper-creeper it?"

Asa lifted his eyebrows and gave him a what-do-you-think expression. "Until she had her blubbering and spilling it all."

"I love that scary woman."

Asa nodded. "Turns out the way they reconnected is true. But for a solid year he did to her what he did to Josiah, preying on the void in her life, her hurt and regrets about her parents and leaving them. He convinced her they could run their own Family together and seek revenge on everyone who tore them apart and ruined their lives."

Ty closed his eyes, thinking of that sweet little girl who loved flowers and drawing.

Asa continued. "Lysander knew Garrick was tattooing art in Wilmington and inking the stereograms on women. She didn't know how he knew, but let's face it—the guy had ways. Lysander confronted Garrick. He didn't deny it but told Lysander how much fun it was to paint on fresh skin and to leave his permanent mark. Ahnah said when she was a child, he had often made her undress from the waist down to paint on her back. Said other girls were forced to as well. Lysander also knew this."

Ty hadn't. But then, he'd suspected Ahnah hadn't admitted every way Garrick had tortured her. They'd had the profile right about Lysander, but it also fit Garrick.

"Ahnah befriended Lily and Amy-Rose, and later it was her idea to get the tats, knowing Garrick would be the artist and leave the emblem. But she said she pretended to be sick and backed out but encouraged them to go anyway. They did."

Garrick would have seen her and recognized her. She couldn't go. She'd lied to them about where she'd received her tattoo. "Lysander knew that we'd find them and that it would send us straight to Garrick. Did Ahnah also know Dahlia?"

"Yes, but she never mentioned her to Bexley, because knowing too many of the victims would be suspect."

"Ahnah joined the other girls for the dark fantasies at Patrick Swain's for a setup. Point the finger at Patrick, keep you chasing wind and strong-arm Patrick to sell his property to Lysander, which worked. We still haven't found Jenny Davis's body and probably never will. That's all Dare County Sheriff's job. Skipper and Patrick haven't been charged with anything."

Without a body, they probably never would be.

"Ahnah also copped to taking the mementos and photos from Bexley's closet to give Lysander more personal information. She also confessed to knocking out Owen and pulling that fire alarm at the pizza place. They'd worn disguises. Our blond guy with the beard—Lysander."

Ty assumed as much.

"She then went to the garden and saw everything transpire. Knew she was in trouble and hid when Owen and Bexley arrived in the hall leading to the solarium, then ran upstairs and hid herself in the other room. Used Lysander's ties to loosely tie herself up and covered herself with a blanket to appear she'd been locked up naked like the others."

"But the blanket fell when she reached out, and she made the mistake of mentioning Cami." Ty paused. "She killed Garrick, didn't she?"

Asa nodded. "Revenge for what he did to her."

That explained the hesitation marks on his throat. If Lysander had killed him, the slice would have been deep and quick.

"They were going to pin all the murders on him."

"But she jumped the gun," Ty said. "I knew Lysander was surprised to hear that."

"They had ways to pin it on Dalen if that didn't work, and to cast suspicion on Patrick."

"Where's my son? What's going to happen to him?" He'd committed a crime. Yes, Ty had incited him, but it had been his choice, his impulsive choice.

"He's with his mom. CID questioned him, and we talked with the district attorney. He doesn't want to press charges, but Josiah has to go into mandatory counseling, which will do him good. We pulled a few strings like you know we can."

Relief washed over him. "Good. That's good. Thank you."

"Was Lysander also the Fire Ice Killer? Was Patrick Swain?"

"Swain was in the locations mentioned during the time frame of the killings, but his receipts and alibis all check out. As far as Lysander, nothing matches. He used the Fire Ice Killer to add to your guilt and run you on his own fun wild-goose chase as well as to provide another option if his plan to frame his other brothers didn't work."

"He played me good."

"No. You got the upper hand with Milo. He wasn't able to see his plan through on his own terms."

Maybe not. But no one won this one. Everyone had lost something. "Dalen involved?"

Asa shook his head. "He reported his car stolen two weeks ago. He didn't report Carri missing because she left him prior to that."

"She wasn't in the cages."

"I know. She's still missing. My best guess is Garrick found her, killed her himself. Or maybe Lysander did. We'll probably never know, but the other survivors are now with their families and gave testimony to everything Lysander did. Cami's funeral is next week," he whispered.

Now to face the other elephant in the room. "And Owen?"

Asa shook his head. "They found him not far from the house. I've notified his mother and sister. We had his body flown in to Greenwood, and arrangements are being made."

When Ty's tears came, he didn't try to hide them. "I'm so sorry. I'll resign first thing when we arrive in Memphis. Their deaths are on me."

"No," Asa said softly. "We saw Lysander that first day in the coffee shop. He came in purposely to be close to us. Dropped his phone, and I picked it up, not giving him much more than a glance. One of the girls said he had them on camera on his phone, and the house was a smart house with all the bells and whistles. Sheriff said they found cameras in what remains. What if they'd been on camera and I'd have paid more attention? I could have stopped it. Fi could have. This is not on you."

"Not on you either."

"We can pin it on Fi, then," Asa teased, wiping moisture from his eyes. "She has it coming for thinking he was hotter than Orlando Bloom." He chuckled and then sobered. "Cami's life was snuffed out, Ty. She was conned and killed. But she would not want you to blame yourself. You know that. And Owen... Owen wasn't killed because of you. He laid down his life for you."

He had.

Owen had been the brother he'd always wanted. They'd spent weekends together, competed in a softball league together, and played office pranks for sheer merriment. He knew Ty better than anyone and never judged him—never preached.

Until the end, when he believed it had mattered most.

Now he was gone, and Ty was alone.

"I didn't ask for that. I didn't ask him to do that!" His nose ran and he covered his face, his entire body breaking down and grieving.

"No. You didn't. He wanted you to live, Ty. And in order for you to live, he had to die. He chose to die for you. His love saved you. And if you quit—the team, life—you'll have wasted his sacrifice. Don't do that."

Bexley's words returned to his memory.

I don't believe anything in our life is wasted. This shell is chipped and broken. Been tossed by the waves. No control and yet it's here on this beach. It's not so far destroyed that I can't recognize what it's meant to be or find the beauty in it. I think the broken shells have stronger, richer stories than those I find that are in mint condition.

He'd been broken. Owen had been broken. Ty had not only his story to tell but Owen's. One of sacrificial love and bravery.

Oddly, a verse from the Bible came to mind. "No greater love than laying down a life for a brother," Ty murmured. "Lysander said I'd need more than love to save me. He was wrong. It was absolutely love that saved me."

Asa remained silent but nodded.

Owen had showed a greater love. A higher love. Because that's the only kind of love that could have given Owen the courage and peace to lay everything down for Tiberius. "Owen was gonna be a preacher. You know that?" he asked.

Asa shook his head. "I can see it, though."

"Asa?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't make it to that island house by myself. Too many things clicked into place right when I needed them to. I believe in coincidence, but that was too many, and to push through that marsh in seventy-to eighty-mile-an-hour winds? Or stronger. Something...someone did that. And I think that same Someone gave Owen the bravery and the peace to let go. But how can I repay him? How can I look his mama in the eye knowing I lived and he died?"

"I think his mama is proud of him and that he'd returned to his faith roots, and you should tell her as much." Asa's eyes shimmered, and his hand enveloped Ty's. "If you know the truth, Ty...it's time to accept it and live in it. For yourself. And for O."

Ty wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I don't know how to do that."

"Well, you got some friends who can help you."

Ty began by allowing Asa to pray, and as he did, a warm peace washed through him. Not like a storm surge or hurricane, though it had taken hurricane force to sweep away the lies he'd been steeped in. His past experiences, all horrific, had shaped his stubborn heart, leaving him robbed of true peace, desolate and lonely.

No, it wasn't a storm or hurricane drowning his heart, but a serene bubbling brook drenching his soul.

Asa left him, and soon Bexley knocked on the door. "Hi," she whispered as she entered.

"Hi," he returned, and scooted up in his bed.

"How are you feeling?" She sat where Asa had, smelling like flowers and something pure and clean.

"Weird." He told her what happened with Asa. "I don't feel much different. But... I legit have a peace I didn't before. And... Owen."

"It's grief, baby." She brushed his forehead with the back of her hand. "You grieve and also have hope. Your friends came through for Josiah. I told him the truth about us and our past, everything I should have. I asked for his forgiveness, because at times I did put helping broken women before my family. If I'd have done a better job, maybe Ahnah and Josiah wouldn't have fallen prey to Lysander."

"Bexley, you did the best you could with what you had at the time. Don't put this on you. Lysander learned from the master—Rand Granger. He kind of reminds me of Absalom. I wonder if he cut his hair and weighed it too."

She laid her head on his. "Probably. Narcissistic sicko. And for someone who hasn't claimed to be a believer, you sure know a lot about the Bible."

He grasped her hand and grinned. "How did Josiah take the truth?"

"He understood, I think. Things will have to change. I'm going to relinquish some control and take more time for him. Ahnah will be charged. She was a victim, but she also made her choices. As much harm as she did, I still don't want to see her go away. I want to go back, but we can't ever go back. Only move forward or stay stuck, and I'm sick of being in the same place."

"I don't want to go back either, Bex. I want to move forward. With you and Josiah. I love you."

She gently kissed his lips. "I love you too. We're gonna figure this out."

He kissed her hand. "I want us to be a family."

"I do too," she whispered, and lay beside him. All he was missing was his son, who poked his head inside.

"Can I come in?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course you can, son." Son—a word he didn't know he'd love so much. "You never have to ask to be near me."

And the truth of drawing near to God rang true. He didn't have to ask. He only had to draw. Funny how the word draw meant "to be close" and also "art." It had been his son's art that had ultimately drawn him to the Father. To the Architect of his life.

Ty had laid down his stubby pencil, with an eraser eroded from working so hard to blot out mistakes in his life. But it had left streaks and smudges, never truly giving him that fresh blank canvas. And, at times, the paper of life had ripped and crumpled.

Now he had a fresh, clean canvas, one he didn't have to attempt to sketch on his own. This surrender wasn't giving permission for someone to control his life. It was surrendering to a freedom he'd never experienced, or wanted, until now.

He'd finally scaled the wall he'd been climbing his whole life. He could unpack his belongings and lay down roots.

Because, finally, he'd found home.