Never Die Alone

But it had to end.

Today.

Another five minutes and he was pulling into his assigned space in the apartment’s parking lot. A wayward thought crossed his mind as he cut the engine. Maybe he’d luck out and the old man would be gone.

No damned way.

He was through with lies.

Even his own.

He jogged across the dusty lot and startled a lizard su

The door to his unit was open wide and Ed, who had obviously showered and shaved sometime during the day, nodded as he spied his son.

As if nothing was wrong.

As if he hadn’t turned Jase’s life inside out.

“We need to talk,” Jase said without preamble, then looked down the long walkway and spied a woman pushing twins in a stroller two doors down. “Not out here.” He headed inside.

“Figured as much.” Ed snuffed out his cigarette before following.

The living room was tidy. The blanket Ed had used the night before had been folded and stacked neatly on the end of the couch, the pillow resting on top.

“Now, before you go all nuts about me and the drinkin’,” Ed said, holding up a hand as he followed Jase into the kitchen area. “Let me explain.”

“That’s what you think this is about? Your drinking?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t you say that—” Ed’s eyes narrowed.

“That’ll wait, Dad. Let’s start a little farther back, before last night.” Jase reined in his temper as best he could. With all his effort, he slowly and silently counted to ten, opening and closing a fist to release some tension.

“So what’s this? You go

“Thinkin’ about it.”

The old man cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on, son? What’s got you so riled?”

“Mom.” Jase let the word hang in the air.

“What? Her?” Ed shook his head. “She’s not your worry. That two-timing—”

“Stop!” Jase yelled. “Don’t! Just don’t, Dad.” He gripped the edge of the counter. “I’ve heard it before. And it’s a lie.”

“A lie? Sheeeit. No way, that woman—”

“That woman is my mother and yes, she left you. I don’t know why, but it sure as hell was not because her son died. She left and she took him with her.”

Ed froze, his eyes shifting from side to side.

“He didn’t die, Dad, and you know it,” Jase said through barely moving lips. “I found no record of any Edward Bridges Junior in any birth records, nor does he have a death certificate that I could locate.”

“We had a boy.”

“Yes, you did. Actually, you really did have three sons, Dad.” Jase let go of the counter, the impression of its edge still on his palms. “And the youngest one? The one who was supposed to have died? Ed Junior, you said. Born a couple years after me? An infant when Mom took off?”

Ed’s face went ashen and his eyes suddenly appeared haunted. He licked his lips nervously. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, but there wasn’t any conviction behind his words.

“No, Dad, it’s wrong. And he didn’t die, did he? That brother? He survived. When Mom took off, she took him with her. That’s what you meant last night, when you slipped up. After all these years, you finally screwed up and mentioned that you chose me and Prescott. But the third son, the baby, he left with Mom, didn’t he?”

Ed didn’t answer, but located his near-empty pack of Camels in his shirt pocket.

“Didn’t he?” Jase yelled.

His father looked about to argue, then let out a sigh. “All right,” he said sadly. “Son of a bitch. Yeah, that’s ’bout how it happened,” he admitted, sliding a cigarette from the pack. “You’re right, son, and I guess, hell, I suppose it’s time you knew.”

“Well past time. So what happened?” He’d rounded the counter and stood looming over his father, who seemed suddenly a broken man.

“Your mother,” he said the words as if they tasted foul. “She was a piece of work, y’know.”

“I know how you feel about her. Cut to the chase.”

He swore under his breath and walked out to the back deck, where he lit up.

Jase followed, knowing full well what was to come. But he wanted to hear it from the old man’s lips.

Ed drew deep on his Camel and let the smoke drift out of his nostrils as he looked into the trees that separated this side of the building from the street. “Okay,” he admitted. “Marian, she did take off with the baby, but he wasn’t younger than you. Well, at least not by much. And his name wasn’t Edward Junior. You’re right about that. His name was Jacob, but I figure you already know that. Just like you already know that he was your twin.”

CHAPTER 28

He drove like a madman. When he’d seen that his shots had missed, that Zoe was getting away in the pickup, he’d run back to the cabin, left that miserable Chloe locked in the basement, and jumped into the car that he’d brought from town. He’d ditched the van, hidden it in the garage until he could repair it, but he still had the car . . . Myra’s car. The 2001 Ford Focus had barely been driven and blended well with other vehicles.

The good news was that Zoe hadn’t gotten far. She’d been too stupid or delirious to realize that she’d doubled back. He doubted it had been a ploy to get him off the track; it was easy enough to get turned around with all the bends in the river and the forest blocking one’s sight. She hadn’t known that the river itself was like a snake, twisting and turning on itself, so she’d only ended up a quarter mile away from the cabin. He’d whistled to the useless dog, jogged back to the canoe, and had been in his car within fifteen minutes.

He’d even managed to make the call.

Sure, he was a few minutes behind her now, but he was willing to bet that she would head straight to mama’s condominium, which, because he’d pla

Myra had been adamant when he’d called her. Their conversation, if that’s what you wanted to call it, had been hot. Angry. It ricocheted through his head, over and over again

“Get her!”

“But she’s seen my face.”

“All the more reason to stop her before she can identify you. What kind of cretin are you?”

“It’s too late.”

“Too late?” she’d said in a low voice that was more chilling than when she screeched. “It’s never too late. Now, find her, capture her, take her to the cabin, and finish what you started.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me. You know I’m right. I’m always right.”

He’d tuned her out then, just as he often did. He hadn’t even had to disco

Miraculously, Zoe thought, the shot had missed.

No glass had shattered.

No tire had blown.

No metal on the body of the truck had been pierced.