Chapter 125

125

Timothy had to end this, before his son hurt someone else. Or before someone hurt Trey.

"Trey, you need to let her go." Timothy took a step toward the young woman.

Her face—her fear—it was stabbing right into him. She looked so young. So young. "Young lady, how old are you?"

"Thirty-one. I turned thirty-one four months ago." Her voice trembled only a little.

"Not quite a year older than my Samia," Timothy said. "You remind me of her."

"Yes, she's very much like Samia," Heather said. She was moving closer. To Trey.

Timothy knew better than to turn his back on her. Heather had always been too smart for her own good, at times. She had just been aware of the world in a way the other girls had not been.

And that had brought her more hurt than she had deserved.

She looked a great deal like Angela right there. But with a gun. It looked so wrong for Angela's sister to be holding a gun. "How did you end up here tonight, Heather?"

"Powell called, said a few things that had the Spidey sense going off. I decided to do a bit of a welfare check. So here I am." It was Angela's voice. That hurt so much. Heather sounded so much like her now.

"It hurts to hear you speak." The words just came out. "I'm sorry. You just sound so much like her. I wasn't expecting that. Look like her, sound like her, hold your head just that same way she did. And you are just a bit older than she was, when she?—"

"I know. I'm sorry, Timothy. That you lost her. That we lost her. But this…this is wrong and you know it. On your knees."

"I can't do that." He couldn't. Leena was out there. And she needed him. He wasn't ready to let her go. To go to prison, and lose everything he had worked for all of this time. What kind of legacy would he leave his daughters then?