And he hadn’t even mentioned Manuel….

“It’s a woman and a child, Mom. No big deal.”

Emma had disappeared into the living room, but his words still mocked him, and not only because of Manuel. No big deal? It had certainly been a big deal a moment ago when Max had hugged him. It had been a big deal when Preston made love to Emma, when he’d held her during the night.

“She could rob you blind and sneak off while you’re sleeping!” his mother said.

At this point, Preston was beginning to believe that having Emma and Max sneak out while he was sleeping might be the best scenario for all concerned. Dropping them off and driving away wasn’t going to be easy. And if they took a little money when they left—so much the better. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about them going hungry.

“I’d probably thank her if she did,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.” How could she? Even he didn’t understand. He spent half his time thinking about Emma and the other half thinking about Vince. If he went after Vince, if he had to take matters into his own hands, chances were he’d go to prison and never see Emma again. But if he couldn’t get the police to listen to him…

There was a long pause, then Sarah said, “Christy called me last night.”

“What for?”

“She’s worried sick about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still living in the past.”

Preston didn’t bother to defend himself. “Did she also tell you I’ve located the bastard?”

“She did. But what good is that going to do? You’ve tried and tried to get the police to investigate that doctor. They won’t do it.”

“Because they think I’m just some distraught father who can’t get over the death of his son.” In the other room, Preston heard Max talking to room service. Their breakfast was here.

“You are a distraught father who can’t get over the death of his son. When are you going to let go of Dallas, Preston? I loved him, too. Until Michelle’s baby, he was my only grandson. But no matter how much you love him, you can’t go on like this. You’re ruining your life.”

“Mom—”

“I’m sorry. I can’t bite my tongue any longer. It’s killing me to see what you’re doing to yourself.”

Preston blew out a sigh. “This is something I have to do.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve tried to leave you to deal with your grief in your own way, told myself to give you time and space, believed you’d come around on your own. But you’re not, and enough is enough.”

“It’ll be enough when Vince pays for what he’s done.”

“That’s it,” she snapped. “I want you to seek professional help.”

“So now I’m crazy?”

“Christy saw the same things you did, and she’s convinced Vince had nothing to do with Dallas’s death.”

Christy didn’t want to face what he’d had to face—that they were the ones who’d called Vince. “She’s wrong.”

“I can’t believe that. She’s rebuilt her life, while you’re traipsing all over the country, living in motels. Usually I can’t even get hold of you. When we do speak, you frighten me with your talk of revenge.”

“Someone has to stop him,” he said angrily.

“So what are you going to do when you confront this man?”

Preston had asked himself that question a million times. But he still didn’t have an answer. He owed it to Dallas to make things right. He owed it to children everywhere to ensure that Vince couldn’t hurt anyone else. But how far would he go?

He thought of the gun he’d been carrying with him for over a year. Would he use it?

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” he said. “I’m gathering more information every day. Maybe the FBI will finally look into it.”

“That’s a long shot, and you know it.”

Her words brought back the helplessness he’d experienced since Dallas died. Deep in his heart he knew what had happened, but it was difficult to prove. And because of his grief, Preston had no credibility. His insistence that Vince had caused Dallas’s rapid decline merely elicited pity or maybe a sad, patronizing shake of the head. He loathed both reactions. Even Christy hadn’t sided with him. Her refusal to support him where Vince was concerned was the deepest cut of all.

“It’s been two years,” his mother continued. “How long are you going to go on like this?”

He was tired of fighting the battle alone, but he wouldn’t give up. He’d made a promise to Dallas. “As long as it takes.”

“Preston, please! Dallas might be dead, but you’re not.”

Preston had been numb and vacant for two years, so he might have argued that point. Except, since he’d met Emma and Max, his life had started to change. Suddenly he was experiencing desire, tenderness, protectiveness, even hope. But these changes brought their own pain, making him wonder if he wasn’t better off staying as he was. Especially because he hadn’t solved anything. He still had the same obsession that had brought about the end of his marriage; he wouldn’t rest until he stopped Vince from practicing medicine and made him accountable for what he’d done.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he said. “There’s no point. We’re not going to agree.”

In the other room, Emma told Max to sit still before he spilled his milk. Preston wanted to be with them, eating breakfast. Why the day seemed brighter when they were around, he wouldn’t consider. He told himself it was simply good to be needed again. Looking out for them gave him a purpose beyond chasing down Vince. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I reach Iowa, okay?”

“Preston?”

“What?”

“Please don’t do anything foolish. You may not care about yourself anymore, but I’m still your mother. If anything happened to you—” her voice cracked “—it’d break my heart. It’s been hard enough already.”

Feeling guilty for his earlier impatience, Preston covered his eyes with his arm. Sarah might not understand what he was doing, but she loved him. She’d been a good mother, and he and his stepsister were all she had since his father’s death.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised.




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