Birthright

trust.
    “You burned down Lana’s office.”
    “Fire purges. You should never have hired her. You should never have started poking around in something that didn’t matter to you.”
    “I was curious. Let her go now, Dory. There’s no point in hurting her. She didn’t do anything. I did.”
    “I could kill you.” She lifted the gun, trained it on Callie’s heart. “Then it would be over for you. But that’s just not good enough. Not anymore.”
    “Why Bill?” Callie inched forward as Dory stepped back.
    “He was handy. And he asked too many questions. Didn’t you notice that? What’s this, what’s that, what areyou doing? Irritated the hell out of me. And he kept wanting to know about the grad classes I was taking, about my training. Just couldn’t mind his own business. Just like you. Why, look what I found.”
    She shoved with her foot again, and another bound figure rolled toward the water. “Running rings around you. See? I’ve got both your mothers.”
    J ake came in from the east side of the woods. Quiet and slow, without a light to guide him.
    Letting her go alone had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
    He kept low, straining his ears for any sound, his eyes for any movement.
    The sound of voices made his heart trip, but he forced himself not to spring up and run toward them. He was armed with only a kitchen knife now. It had been the closest thing to grab, and time was all that mattered.
    He shifted direction, moving through the dark toward the sound of voices. And stopped, heart hammering, when he saw the human outline standing in front of an oak.
    No, not standing, he realized and, signaling for silence, crept closer.
    Two figures, two men. Callie’s fathers were bound to the tree, gagged. Their heads sagged onto their chests.
    He held up a hand again as he heard the indrawn breath behind him.
    “Probably drugged,” he whispered. “Cut them loose.” He passed the knife to Doug. “Stay with them. If they come to, keep them quiet.”
    “For Christ’s sake, Jake, she’s got both of them.”
    “I know it.”
    “I’m going with you.” He closed a hand over his father’s limp fingers, then gave the knife to Digger. “Take care of them.”
    C allie’s heart went numb. The mother who had birthed her, the mother who had raised her. Now both their lives depended on her. “You . . .you’re right. You’ve run rings around me. But you didn’t do this alone. Where’s your father, Dory? Can’t you face it, Richard? Can’t you face it even now?”
    “Figured that out, did you?” Grinning widely, Dory gestured with her free hand. “Come on out, Dad. Join the party.”
    “Why couldn’t you leave it alone?” Richard stepped out beside his daughter. “Why couldn’t you let it stay buried?”
    “Is that what you did? Just accepted. Never looked? How long have you lived wondering, Richard? How can you let this happen now? You’re just like me. He took you. Never gave you a choice. Never gave anyone a choice.”
    “He did it for the best. Whatever he was, he gave me a good life.”
    “And your own mother?”
    “She didn’t know. Or didn’t want to know, which amounts to the same thing. I walked away from him, walked away from my father and what he was doing.”
    Her palms were sweating, and still they itched for the knife in her boot. She could kill, she realized, to save her mother—her mothers—she could kill without hesitation. “And that was enough? Knowing what you knew, you did nothing to stop it.”
    “I had a child of my own to think of. A life of my own. Why sully it with scandal? Why should my life be ruined?”
    “But you didn’t raise that child. Dorothy did. With plenty of influence from Marcus.”
    “It wasn’t my fault,” he insisted. “I was barely twenty. What was I supposed to do!”
    “Be a man.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Dory watching Richard. Probe the right spot, she ordered herself. Carefully, carefully. “Be a father. But you let him step in and take over. Again. He twisted her, Richard. Can you stand there and let this go on? Can you be a part of it? Can you protect her now, knowing she’s killed?”
    “She’s my child. Nothing that’s happened was her fault. It was his, and I won’t let her be hurt now.”
    “That’s right. Not my fault,” Dory agreed. “It’s yours, Callie. You brought it all on yourself.” She glanced down at the women sprawled at her feet. “And them.”
    “All you need to do