River’s End

“My father. He’s been in the house.”
    “How do you know?”
    “There’s a rose on my bed. A white rose. He wants me to know he’s come back.”
    The only change was a hardness that came into his eyes and a coldness that glinted into the green. “Stay here.”
    “I’ve looked.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “I’ve already looked through the house. Except for the attic. I couldn’t go into the attic because . . .”
    “Damn right you couldn’t go into the attic.” The idea of it made his stomach churn.
    “You stay in here or go downstairs with your grandmother.”
    “No, you don’t understand. I couldn’t go up because I wanted him to be there. I wanted it because I wanted to go up and kill him. Kill my father. God help me, I could see it, the way I’d ram the knife into him. The way his blood would run over my hands. I wanted it. I wanted it. What does that make me?”
    “Human.” He snapped it out, the word as effective as a slap. She jerked back, shuddered once.
    “No. It would have made me what he is.”
    “Did you go up, Olivia?”
    “No. I locked the door from the outside.”
    “Lock this one from the inside, and wait for me.”
    “Don’t go.”
    “He’s not here.” He got to his feet. “But you’ll feel better if we make sure. Lock the door,” he ordered. “And wait.”
    Despising herself, she did just that. Hid, as she had hidden before. When he came back, she opened the door and looked at him with empty eyes.
    “There’s no one there. I didn’t see any indication there had been. We need to tell your grandparents.”
    “It’ll frighten my grandmother.”
    “She has to know. See if you can track down your grandfather. Call the lodge. I’ll call my parents.” He skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. “You’ll feel better if you have your cop.”
    “Yes. Noah.” She laid a hand on his arm. “When I saw you get out of the car just now, I knew I could lean on you. I wanted to.”
    “Liv. If I told you I’d take care of you, it’d just piss you off, wouldn’t it?”
    She gave a watery laugh and sat back on the bed again. “Yeah, not now because I’m shaky, but later.”
    “Well, since you’re shaky, I’ll risk it. I’m going to take care of you.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Believe it. Now call your grandfather.”
    He’d taken such a risk. Such a foolish and satisfying risk. How easily he could have been caught.
    And then what?
    He wasn’t ready to face that yet. Not quite yet. As he sat in his room, he lifted a glass of bourbon to his lips with a hand that still shook slightly. But not with fear. With excitement. With life.
    For twenty years, he’d had no choice but to follow the rules. To do what was expected. To play the game. He couldn’t have known, could never have anticipated what it was like to be free of that.
    It was terrifying. It was liberating.
    She would know what the rose meant. She wouldn’t have forgotten the symbolism of it.
    Daddy’s home.
    He drank again, felt such power after so many years of powerlessness. He’d nearly been caught. What incredible timing. He’d barely left the house by the back door—wasn’t it wonderful that such people trusted the fates and left their doors unlocked— when he’d seen them step out of the trees.
    Livvy, little Livvy and the son of the cop. That was irony enough for any script. The cycle, the circle, the whims of fortune that would have the daughter of the woman he loved connect with the son of the cop who’d investigated her murder. Julie, his beautiful Julie.
    He’d thought it would be enough just to frighten Livvy, enough to make her think of that bloody night so many years ago, to remember what she’d seen and run from. How could he have known, after all these years, that he would look at her as she turned to another man and see Julie? Julie pressing that long, slim body against someone else?
    How could he have known he’d remember, in a kind of nightmare frenzy, what it was to destroy what you loved? And need so desperately to do it all again?
    And when it was done ... He picked up the knife and turned it under the lamplight... It would be over. The circle finally closed.
    There would be nothing left of the woman who’d turned him away.
    “You’ll need to take basic precautions.” Frank sat in the MacBride living room, his blood humming. Back on the job, he thought. To finish one that had never felt closed.
    “For how long?” Olivia asked. It