love most.”
Russell stepped in front of me.
“No.”
Rebecca smiled.
“There it is.”
She aimed.
Then Claire moved beside Russell.
“So you’ll have to shoot me too.”
Daniel joined her.
“And me.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“And me.”
Rebecca stared.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed her face.
Claire said, “You wanted a family that acknowledged what happened to your mother?”
Rebecca’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t.”
“Then hear it.”
Claire’s voice shook.
“She was your mother. She was ours too. And she deserved better from all of them.”
Russell lowered his head.
Margaret began crying.
Claire continued.
“But killing Emily won’t bring her back.”
Rebecca’s gun trembled.
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
Claire stepped closer.
“But I know what it feels like to spend your life hating someone because grief needs a target.”
Rebecca swallowed.
Behind her, blue lights flashed through the trees.
“Put the gun down,” Claire whispered.
Rebecca’s
face crumpled.
For one second, I thought she would.
Then Hayes appeared behind her.
His shirt was soaked in blood.
“Rebecca.”
She spun.
The gun fired.
Hayes jerked backward.
I screamed.
Police flooded the yard.
Rebecca dropped the weapon.
Officers tackled her.
Margaret ran to Hayes.
I followed.
He was still conscious.
Barely.
His eyes found mine.
“Did it transfer?”
“Yes.”
He smiled weakly.
“Good.”
“Don’t talk.”
“Your mother used to say that.”
Margaret sobbed.
“Thomas.”
He looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which part?”
He laughed weakly.
“All of it.”
Then his eyes returned to me.
“I know I don’t deserve the word.”
“What word?”
His breathing grew shallow.
“Dad.”
I knelt beside him.
For thirty-two years, I had imagined my father as a blank space.
A mystery.
Now I had him.
Broken.
Manipulative.
Guilty.
And human.
I took his hand.
“You don’t.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“But you
