Lottie wouldn’t be there, but he knew he would see her everywhere in the home her husband had made for her—the home the two of them should have had together. The first day he’d walked in after finally being released from the hospital, he’d been anxious. But to his surprise, he didn’t see Lottie here like he’d thought he would. It was as if she’d left nothing of herself behind.
“Cooper called to see how you were,” Elaine said now. “I told him you were getting crankier by the day. He said that was a good sign, and you must be going to live. Tilly’s so happy that we accepted her mother’s offer to stay here.”
“She have any idea where Charlotte went?” Holden asked.
Elaine shook her head. “No one seems to know or how long she will be gone. She told me she needed some time away.”
Holden realized that Elaine and Charlotte were a lot closer than he’d ever imagined—or paid enough attention to notice. It surprised him. “The way our house is coming up, we shouldn’t be here long. How will you let Charlotte know we’ve moved out when that happens?”
Elaine shrugged. “I guess she’ll hear about it somehow. I doubt she’s worried about it.” With that, she left the room, making him think the two weren’t that close after all.
His Lottie. He wasn’t ready to see her. Not yet. He wasn’t even sure when he would be ready—if ever—to dig through the ashes of his house, let alone his and Lottie’s tragic love-hate relationship. So much had happened over the years. He just wasn’t sure they could ever find their way back to each other.
But even as he thought it, there was that damned sliver of hope that still burned inside him as if nothing could kill it. Not betrayal or lies, or even bullets.
*
BIRDIE CAME OUT of the hotel and stopped short as she saw who was standing next to her SUV, apparently waiting for her. She’d been upset when she heard that Charlotte Stafford had turned her house over to the McKennas and left town. She’d thought it was to avoid making good on what she’d said she owed Birdie.
So seeing her waiting next to her SUV came as a surprise. Birdie took a breath, straightened and walked over to her. She’d been waiting for this for a very long time.
“If you came here to get me to stop looking for my father’s killer and her accomplice, you’re wasting your time,” Birdie said.
Charlotte shook her head. “I’ve heard about what a determined, strong woman you are. I wouldn’t presume to try to change your mind. The only thing I want from you is honesty. Are you using Brand to get to me?”
It was the last thing Birdie had expected her to say. She frowned in surprise. “I love your son.” She realized that she hadn’t even admitted it to herself until that moment. “It has nothing to do with wanting to see my father’s killer behind bars—even if it’s you.”
The woman rancher nodded gravely. Birdie saw her swallow and look away for a moment before she turned back. “I’m sorry about your father.” Before she could respond to that, Charlotte said the last thing Birdie expected. “I’m sorry I married him. I’m sorry he died. I’m sorry I was the one to take him away from you. I’ve already called the sheriff. I’m turning myself in. If Holly Jo’s kidnapping taught me anything, it’s time to do what is right.”
“You’re telling me you killed him.” She couldn’t help being shocked to have Charlotte admit it. “What about your accomplice? Someone had to help you get him into that well.”
The woman looked at her for a moment before she smiled. “You underestimate what I’m capable of all by myself, but if you must know, he’s already in jail.”
Boyle Wilson had helped her? No wonder he said he would talk if she didn’t take back her statement and get him released.
She didn’t know what to say, but Charlotte didn’t give her a chance. Birdie watched her turn to get back into her SUV, too surprised to move. Had Charlotte Stafford just admitted that she’d killed her second husband? Birdie had expected to feel something more than she did right now. The finality of it rang hollow. There had to be more.
“Wait,” she called. Charlotte had just opened the driver’s-side door when Birdie stopped her. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re covering for someone?”
Charlotte met her gaze. “It’s over. Now you have to decide if you love my son Brand enough to let the past go and allow yourself to be happy. Or you can make the mistake I did and let the past consume you.” With that, she climbed into the SUV and drove toward the sheriff’s department.
CHAPTER THIRTY
IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the news about Charlotte Stafford turning herself in for the murder of her second husband, Dixon Malone, to sweep through the county. The only surprise was that Charlotte had admitted the truth and turned herself in.
No one was more shocked than Brand. Birdie had been about to drive over to see him when she’d found Charlotte waiting for her.
“I saw her this morning before she turned herself in. She wanted to know if I’d been using you to get to her.”
He cocked a brow.
She stepped to him. She’d found him mending a stretch of barbed wire fence not far from the house. “I told her the truth. Well, not all the truth. I didn’t tell her that I started falling for you that morning when you’d come out of the stable and dropped that rope over me and pulled me in. You were so hungover and yet so cute. I almost felt bad about throwing you down on the ground.”
“Almost,” he said, grinning at her.
“It’s the grin,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m a sucker for your lopsided grin.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” he said as he took off his leather gloves and stuffed them into the hip pocket of his jeans. “I’d hug you, but I’ve been working out here in the summer heat, and I’m pretty sweaty.”
She stepped closer. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
“I still can’t believe she confessed,” he said. “It’s not like her.”
“People change,” Birdie said.
“Not my mother. I hate to say it, but she must have an angle. Maybe she thinks the judge will be more lenient with her because she turned herself in.” He shook his head. “Without any evidence, she could have gotten away with it. Why confess now?”
Birdie had wondered the same thing. “Maybe she did it for us. To make things easier for us to be together.”
He chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like the mother I know.”
“You’re probably going to hate hearing this, but what if she didn’t do it?” Birdie said. “What if she’s covering for someone?”
He groaned. “Who?”
“Maybe your father?”
“Now, that really doesn’t sound like her.”
