Free The Reckoning by Christie Ridgway Page B

Not surprisingly, the information leaked out to the newspapers several months ago.”
    â€œHow did the authorities know it was Jason who killed Christopher?”
    â€œSix months ago, he was arrested for killing his girlfriend. The murder was witnessed by a local reporter. That was when his real identity became known and the link to Christopher’s murder was made. Unfortunately, Jason escaped custody while awaiting trial for his girlfriend’s murder and later managed to kidnap Lily. Though the FBI team rescued Lily, Jason escaped with the ransom money, killing an agent in the process.”
    The piece of roll in Linda’s fingers crumbled. “Was Emmett part of that FBI team?”
    â€œYes. He wants to stop his brother as much—more, I’m sure—than anyone.”
    â€œBut—but—” One agent on the team had already been killed. Jason Jamison had already murdered one of his brothers. What if Emmett was hurt? What if Emmett…?
    That dangerous flood of emotions filled her again. Concern, fear, a sharp pang of grief that had no place for a man who was still alive. For a man she barely knew.
    But what if something happened to Emmett?
    Linda tried pushing back the welling feelings, but they weren’t under her control. Her body trembled and she felt that sting of tears once again in her eyes.
    â€œNan, I…” Linda swallowed, trying to strengthen her voice so that she could get out some excuse. Any excuse that would take her out of the house and away from the other woman before she guessed that Linda’s recovery was shaky at best. She had to get well, be well, because she owed so much to everyone and she had so much to take charge of, including—
    â€œRicky!” Nan exclaimed, a smile in her voice. “Ricky’s home. Look, there he is, out in the garden.”
    â€œRicky?” Had so much time passed? Linda blinked away the incipient tears to check her watch. “It’s only one o’clock.”
    â€œMinimum day,” Nan replied. Her fond gaze was directed out the window. “He’s growing like a weed, don’t you think?”
    Linda stared through the glass at the boy. Her son. He was looking taller than before, she supposed. His arms and fingers long, too. “I saw him on traffic patrol duty Friday,” she said.
    He was fooling around with that ubiquitous Hacky Sack he always seemed to carry. His blond hair rippled as he bounced the little ball up and down on the inner surface of his foot. Two butterflies flew into the picture he made, their yellow wings as bright as the little boy’s hair. Their fluttering movements were almost as uneven as the new beat of her pounding heart.
    He was beautiful, that little boy.
    Her son.
    The thought was almost too much. The flood that she’d been holding out against threatened to break down the gates she’d erected. She squeezed shut her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them.
    And now with the boy was the man. The golden boy was smiling up at the dark-haired man, at Emmett, who reached through those circling butterflies to ruffle the yellow silk of Ricky’s hair. The gesture was friendly and tender and…perfect.
    Perfectly suited to crash those gates and let in the flood that filled her with emotions that were hard to identify and harder even to breathe through. Concern, sympathy, uncertainty, fear.
    Her son with half a parent.
    Emmett with a damaged family.
    â€œLinda, dear.” Nan pressed a fresh napkin into Linda’s hand. “You’re crying.”
    She lifted her hand to her wet face, then looked away from the tableau outside the window to face Nan. She couldn’t cover this up. “I’m sorry. It’s the head injury again. They call it flooding. I wish I didn’t feel so much but I…I can’t help it.”
    Nan gave her a gentle smile. “Nobody’s rushing you, Linda. No one expects you to be anything or anyone