The Second Son by Joanna Wayne

Author:Joanna Wayne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“It’s Ricky.” Lacy closed her eyes and held on to Branson, afraid she was going to be sick.

“You don’t need to see this, Lacy. I’m going to walk you back to the truck. I’ll call Langley to come and get you.”

“What will you do?”

“This is a crime scene. It has to be photographed, investigated fully. I’ll call Gordon in to help, but it will still take quite a while. Then the body will have to be picked up and delivered to the morgue for an autopsy.”

Lacy wanted to scream, or to cry, or to beat her fists against something hard and unforgiving. Instead, she walked with Branson, her legs so shaky that she almost collapsed more than once. Branson all but lifted her into the passenger seat.

“I’ll find out who did this, Lacy. It just takes time.”

“But Ricky had the money to pay them. Why did they have to kill him? Why are these monsters doing this?” The words burned her throat and she struggled to breathe.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what drives anyone to take another person’s life.”

He held her close and buried his head in her hair. She could feel his anguish. He was so strong, and yet death wasn’t easy for him either. It was only easy for the bad guys, the ones who killed and killed and killed. She was shaking again, and she didn’t think she could stop. “I should have gone to the police earlier.”

Branson held her for a long moment. When he let go, he tucked a thumb under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “This isn’t your fault, Lacy.”

“But—”

He put his fingers over her mouth. “No. Just no. You didn’t get Ricky in trouble and you couldn’t get him out.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Langley came to get her and took her back to the house. He was upset, too, but still he had taken care of her. He’d persuaded her to drink a glass of sherry to help her sleep and had tried to get her to go upstairs to the real guest room so that Betsy wouldn’t wake her. She was tired, almost numb, but she insisted she sleep in the nursery.

She needed the comfort of Betsy’s soft breathing. Needed the solace of her innocence.

But still sleep was a long time in coming.

“DON’T COME IN HERE, Lacy.” Kate stood in the doorway to their mother’s bedroom, barring the entrance with her tall, slender body.

“I want my momma.”

“Well, you can’t have her. Go back to your room. Now!”

Lacy shivered in her thin cotton nightshirt. “You’re not my momma, Kate. You’re not my boss.”

“Don’t be such a baby, Lacy. Please don’t. Not now.”

But it was Kate who was the baby. She was crying. Something was horribly wrong. Lacy butted her head into her sister’s side, shoving her out of the way. She wanted her momma.

But her momma was on the floor, her arms and legs spread out as if she were making snow angels.

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