Timeless (Virgil Jones Mystery Thriller Series Book 28) by Thomas Scott

Author:Thomas Scott [Scott, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: High Road
Published: 2026-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The mistake didn’t arrive with volume, and it didn’t announce itself as one. It arrived the way most irreversible things did. It arrived disguised as convenience.

Mike stood near the stove, his back half-turned to Becky as he adjusted the damper. The metal handle scraped softly, and the sound traveled farther than it should have in the tight space. The flame inside the stove responded immediately, brightening, settling, becoming more confident.

Becky watched the change without moving her head. She didn’t need to see the fire directly to understand what he had done. She could feel it in the way the air shifted, in the way the room seemed to inhale and then hold it.

Mike said, “It’s getting colder,” as if that explained everything.

Joe, who had returned from his perimeter check five minutes earlier, hovered near the door. “We don’t need it that hot.”

Mike shrugged. “I’m not freezing for anyone.”

Becky didn’t comment, nor did she smile or even look at the stove. She kept her eyes where they belonged, on the door, on the window seams, and on the small movements that told her more than words ever would.

Preston coughed. It wasn’t a dramatic sound. It was wet and involuntary, the kind of cough that happened when the body was losing a battle it had never intended to fight.

Camilla turned toward him and said, “You need to lie down.”

Mike looked over at them. “He doesn’t need to move.”

“He can’t sit like that,” Camilla said. “He’s going to pass out.”

Mike hesitated, and Becky saw it. The hesitation was small, but it was real. He hadn’t planned for Preston’s deterioration to accelerate this quickly.

“Put him on the cot,” Mike said.

“There is no cot,” Camilla replied.

Mike cursed under his breath and gestured toward the back room. “The bed, then.”

Becky watched Joe move toward Preston. He hesitated too, but for a different reason. He was calculating effort…and he was calculating mess.

They got Preston to his feet with more force than care. His legs buckled immediately, and his weight sagged between them. Blood darkened the fabric at his side again, and this time Becky saw it drip to the floor.

Mike swore again and said, “Jesus Christ. He’s gonna bleed all over the place.”

Becky said nothing, but she stored the phrase away. It told her more than his anger did.

They dragged Preston into the back room, and Becky listened carefully as they went. The floorboards creaked differently beyond the threshold. They sounded looser with less reinforcement. The bed frame groaned when they lowered him onto it.

Camilla followed them, wringing her hands, her attention entirely consumed by her husband’s failing body.

When Mike returned he looked toward Becky with his jaw set. “Don’t get any ideas,” he said.

“I won’t,” Becky replied.

He stared at her as if he expected sarcasm. When he didn’t find it, he frowned.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“I believe you,” Becky said.

That seemed to irritate him more.

He paced once, then stopped near the stove again. He adjusted the damper further, and Becky felt the air warm in a way that no longer felt like relief.

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