Who Knows the Dark (19 page)

“Yeah—can you come with me?” Nox’s voice rattled as he made his request.

Sam’s eyes went wide behind his glasses as he nodded.

Cade watched them go, Nox’s arm strong around his son’s shoulders and Sam tucked into him, and he wondered if he’d ever see that closeness again.

“I
SHOULD
…,”
Mason started, as the door closed behind them, but Cade just shook his head.

“Sit down and have some coffee. Sam’s gonna need you in a little bit, but right now—this is between him and his father.” Cade dropped into the chair between his parents, well aware of their interest.

“I talked to the sheriff,” Lee Sr. said. “Feds told ’em the same thing they told us, then packed up and left.”

“That is good to know.” Amelia poured Cade a mug of coffee, then did the same for Mason, who’d come a bit closer but still not taken a seat.

“You stayin’, then?”

Cade wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, watching the plumes of steam and tiny bubbles. “No.”

“Oh, Caden.”

“Momma, I’m sorry. There’s just some stuff that has to be taken care of, and I need to….”
Go with Nox? Do something crazy?
“I need to figure out what to do next. I don’t have a job anymore, and maybe it’s time for a change.”

Lee Sr. huffed from beside him. “You have a perfectly good degree,” he grumbled, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Sure, Daddy—I’ll just see who’s hiring ex-whores with a BA in English.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments until Cade realized they were one person short.

“Where’s Damian?”

“Oh, in his room. He was saying all this drama had him feeling unwell,” Amelia said. She glanced at the clock. “Let me take some tea up to him.”

T
EN
MINUTES
later, his mother came down, a concerned look on her face. Interrupted brooding aside, Cade picked up on her distress the second she walked into the room.

“What?”

“He’s not in the guest room,” she said slowly, the tea tray awkwardly full in her hands.

Cade stood up the same time as his father.

“So maybe he’s—”

“There’s—there’s something in there, Cade, something I’ve never seen.”

Cade jogged up the stairs, anxiety pricking at him. He pushed open the bedroom door slowly, wishing for a gun but well aware his father and Mason—both armed—were hot on his heels.

Inside the blue-toned guest room, nothing was out of place. Pin neat, except for the small black box sitting in the center of the bed.

A green light blinked, and for a split second, Cade thought it was a bomb.

“Transmitter,” Mason said from over his shoulder.

Unease filled Cade as he stepped farther into the room. Damian’s bags were gone, all trace of him removed. He imagined if there were a black light sweep, he’d never even find fingerprints.

“What the hell is that?” Lee Sr. asked loudly, bringing up the rear.

Mason, kneeling near the bed, poked it as the green light continued to blink steadily.

“Definitely a transmitter. Old, though,” Mason said. “Was this something—”

“Not ours.”

“I never saw him with it,” Cade said, echoing his father. “We need to tell Nox, right now.”

S
AM
LET
himself be led to the tiny guesthouse, where everyone had been hanging out for hours and hours lately, coming back with grave expressions. Mason refused to tell him what they were doing there—and worse, today Mason had been keeping his distance. He could barely look at Sam, which turned his stomach. And now his father, silent and sad, was bringing him to the house.

He couldn’t imagine what was inside.

Rachel and LJ sat at the desk. Seeing Nox and Sam in the doorway, they exchanged glances—then LJ pushed back his chair.

“We’ll just leave you two to things,” LJ said quietly.

Sheer panic overwhelmed Sam as LJ and Rachel made to leave; Rachel’s expression was… angry. Then she brushed her hand against his father’s arm as she left.

The door slammed behind them, and Sam started to babble.

“What’s wrong? I don’t understand,” Sam croaked. “Mason is so upset, he won’t tell me why.”

“Sam, please, just—let me show you something.”

Sam followed Nox around the corner and into a large empty room. At first Sam thought it was wallpaper, but then he realized there was writing on the walls—floor to ceiling, lists and diagrams and a map….

“What is this?” he asked, drawn closer to the far wall. He could see his name at the top, grouped with his dad and his dad’s parents.

“This is something I should have told you a long time ago.

“I didn’t find you abandoned. I watched you be born.

“Our mother died.

“I protected you.”

There were other words, but Sam could only hear the worst part—his father, no—no. His
brother
knew.

When those letters arrived from Mr. White, he had known they were a trick. A trap. And instead of telling Sam, Nox let him have hope.

Rage—an emotion so rare, so absent in Sam’s soul—began to roil up inside him. He’d been moving since Nox started talking; his back hit the wall, and he pressed all his weight there, leveraged to keep himself standing.

“I blamed myself,” he whispered, interrupting his father’s….

No.

No.

His
brother’s
narrative.

“Sam,” Nox implored, as open and emotional as Sam had ever seen him. “You need to understand.”

“You could have just said—it’s a lie, Sam. It’s a lie, and I know it is because I’ve been the one lying,” Sam rambled, his palms flat against the wall. “Why would you do that?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

Sam knew that was true. He knew in his bones his father—no, his brother—loved him so much and would do anything to protect him.

Except tell him the truth.

“How dare you?” Sam screamed, because if he didn’t let out the anger, he was going to burst. Tears choked his throat, his nose, a tight fist of heartbreak in the center of his chest.

Nox took a step forward to touch him; it triggered something deep and ugly in Sam, and he threw himself at his father.

No.

At a stranger.

He shoved him hard, with both hands, pushing him out of the way. Pushing him out of his life, because no—no. He wasn’t going to take this a second longer. He couldn’t bear the betrayal….

Stumbling, Sam fled the room and blindly headed for the door. He wanted air and freedom and Mason—because now he knew why the man he loved couldn’t look at him. He knew.

The grass was rough under his knees, and it took a second for Sam to register that he was on the ground. He dug his hands into the dirt, gagging on spit and tears as he tried to get himself under control.

“Sam, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Hands soothed him, stroking his back, and oh thank God.

Mason.

“Come on, here you go,” Mason murmured, helping him sit up. Sam fell into his arms, crying against his shoulder.

He cried until it hurt to breathe.

“We’re going to get up, and we’re going to go to our room, okay?” Mason was talking, helping Sam to his feet. “We’re going to get you cleaned up, and then we’ll… we’re going to ask Mr. and Mrs. Creel to help us get to Boston.”

“Boston,” Sam croaked, clinging to Mason as they walked to the house.

“My parents will take us in, okay? We’ll stay with them.”

“You’re not leaving me here?”

Mason stopped their slow progress, looking down at Sam with a gaze of such devoted tenderness that Sam’s eyes burned with another wave of tears.

“You’re stuck with me,” he said gently. “I love you.”

The kiss wasn’t pretty, but Sam slipped his arms around Mason’s neck and held on tight, sure Mason was the only person in the world he could trust.

“W
HAT
THE
hell?” Rachel asked as she and LJ examined the transmitter, now in residence on the dining room table. Lee Sr. had returned from a walk around the property with LJ, having determined that Damian was nowhere to be found.

“Do you recognize it?” Cade stood at the head of the table, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“No.”

An anxious quiet descended on the house.

Amelia broke the silence with a worried sigh.

“Your mother and I are leaving for a while,” Lee Sr. said finally. “We’ll go to her Aunt Belinda’s cabin. You all are welcome to come along.”

Cade looked at only one person in the room—Rachel, who seemed lost in contemplative thought.

“Maybe it’s better if we split up.” Cade stuck his hands in his pockets. “You and Momma go to the cabin, maybe take the boys.”

“What about you, Caden?”

Rachel finally met his gaze, a fiery flash that he knew echoed what was going on in his head.

They weren’t headed south to his aunt’s cabin in Alabama. They were going north.

T
HE
DOOR
banged open, revealing Mason and a devastated Sam; Cade’s stomach plunged at the look of betrayal on Sam’s face.

“Sam,” he said gently, but Sam shook his head before Cade could move.

“He’s still in that room,” Sam choked out. “I… I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Okay, I understand.” Cade’s hands fluttered helplessly at his sides. “Can I do anything for you?”

“No.” Then Sam looked up at Mason; they shared a loaded and silent conversation before Sam spoke again.

“We need a ride or a car, because we’re… we’re leaving.”

C
ADE
FELT
like he was running on fumes of insanity and sheer will.

Amelia took charge of Mason and Sam, leading them upstairs with food and quiet talk of plans. Going to Boston right now might not be wise—maybe they should come to the cabin, wait a little while. Her gentle tone and soft hands kept Sam calm as they disappeared onto the second level of the house.

His father made noises about gathering his things; he left his gun on the table in front of Cade before heading out the door.

Cade said a few nice words to Jesus—help, guidance, safety—then took a huge breath of air. Time to find Nox.

He didn’t have to go far. At the bottom of the stairs sat Nox, shell-shocked as he stared out over the farm. Wearily Cade dropped down next to him, pressing against Nox, shoulder to hip.

“He hates me,” Nox murmured. “He and Mason are leaving.”

Cade nodded, resting his head against Nox’s shoulder. “Give him time—and he doesn’t hate you.”

“I’m going back.”

Biting his lip, Cade nodded again. “I know.”

Dusk fell over the Creel Farm; Cade watched the sun set with the quiet realization that it would probably be the last time he saw it. When Nox left, he would be following, whether Nox liked it or not.

N
OX
KNEW
there was one thing left to do before morning—talk to Sam.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Amelia told him as he came down the stairs, his mind full of facing Sam for possibly the last time ever. “I made tea, and there’s a plate of sandwiches in the fridge,” she said briskly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Everyone’s out at the guesthouse, packing up the computers.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for him, Amelia.”

She shrugged, her smile indulgent. “Sam’s a special young man. And awfully mature and levelheaded for a teenager, but….”

“I know.” Nox jammed his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t going to be easy for him.”

“Not for you either.” Her expression was so exactly like Cade’s at that moment—indulgent and exasperated. “Explain it to him, man-to-man. He needs to know you’re telling him the truth this time.”

“You’re right.”

Amelia’s shoulders went back, her chin high. “Always.”

Impulsively Nox kissed her cheek, something he’d done to his mother on occasions when she was grounded in reality and he wasn’t hiding.

Embarrassment burned his face as he pulled away, but Amelia was beaming.

“You’re a very nice man, even if you hide it under that scowl all the time,” Amelia whispered, as if sharing a secret. She leaned in to return the kiss, rubbing his arm affectionately as she did. “My son made a good choice,” she added before turning to walk up the stairs.

Nox tried to clear his head as he moved toward the kitchen.

Sam was indeed waiting for him, seated at the large wooden table with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, hands folded. He looked so serious and… mature. Nox felt the rush of years whisk by, and he had small comfort in the knowledge that maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t screwed up that badly.

Maybe Sam would forgive him one day.

“Amelia said you wanted to talk to me, so….” Sam nodded toward the empty chair across from him. Cool, collected. Still simmering with anger.

“I was hoping you wanted to talk to me as well.” Nox settled down, crossing his arms over his chest. “About tomorrow.”

“Mason and I will be fine. We’re going with Mr. and Mrs. Creel and then, then we’re going to Boston when things are safe.” Sam lifted his chin, defiant.

“I know. I’m glad you have him—he’s a very good person.”

“He always tells me the truth.”

Nox played with the edges of the tablecloth, tracing the huge floral as he let Sam’s shot reach its mark. “Yes, he does. And maybe he’ll never have a reason to lie. But if he does—if he makes a mistake? Try to find it in your heart to forgive him.”

Sam swallowed hard as his eyes got damp, and he twisted his fingers together. “I know why you’re saying that. You want me to forgive you.”

“Yeah—I’d love that. But I know it’s not that easy. I know you have the right to be mad. It doesn’t change how much I love you, Sam.”