"Hello?" Anne answered in a cautious tone.
"Anne!"
"Oh, my God, Sa-I mean, Cousin Sally!" she corrected herself just in time. "Did you hear the news about Jacksonville? The whole friggin town's on fire!"
"I know, we just heard. We're looking at the news videos online now. Is everyone okay? How's Ron? Was he hurt in the attacks?"
"Everyone's okay. He wasn't on patrol when the v-when the fighting broke out. He went on patrol afterward, of course, but by then they were long gone. Can you believe the news is blaming this on gang violence?" She snorted.
The trailer lurched and rocked as Dad slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.
I sighed and rubbed my pounding forehead. "What about the high school? Did it get hit?"
"Not that I've heard. Oh, by the way, I thought you said T, uh, you know who killed Dylan."
"He did."
"Not unless Dylan's the next Jesus, because he was totally in school this week."
I froze, feeling the blood draining from my face. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yep." There was a beep. "I'm getting another call. It might be Ron checking in. He's been calling me every half hour to make sure I'm all right."
"Okay. Just save this number under, er, my name, and I'll call or text again soon. You can text or call me, too, if anything else happens. Stay safe, and hug Ron for me."
As we ended the call, Dad and Tristan entered the trailer. Tristan's and my gazes connected and held as I relayed everything Anne had said with one notable exception...the news about Dylan. But before my brain could figure out a way to deliver that tidbit of information in some gentler way, my stupid lips just blurted it out.
"Dylan's alive."
Tristan's pupils dilated and he went still.
"Anne was positive?" Dad asked. "She saw him with her own eyes?"
I nodded, still staring at Tristan, feeling the relief wash over him so hard his knees threatened to give out. "I don't know how. We all heard something in him crack when he hit the fireplace."
"Maybe it was other bones in his body, like his ribs?" Mom suggested.
"Mmm, I don't think so. I heard it, too. I definitely thought it was his spine," Emily said.
"Maybe his father used the old ways to heal him," Mom said.
"Mr. Williams? He's too selfish for that," Emily said.
Their ongoing debate faded into background noise as I watched Tristan grab the edge of the kitchen counter to steady himself. His reaction was everything I could have hoped for, and my vision blurred as emotion filled my chest. I stood up and walked over to him with a smile, stopping to rest my hands against his chest. There was the Tristan I knew and loved. I knew, in spite of all his claims otherwise, that he really had been torn up over Dylan's death. His overwhelming relief now was the proof.
See? I told him silently. No one else needed to hear this, just him. I told you you're not a killer any more than I am. We're still the good guys, no matter how much blood we have to drink to stay alive.
He stared down at me, too many emotions racing through his mind for me to follow at first. His hands slowly rose up to cover mine.
"I may not be a killer yet. But I will be as soon as I can get close enough to Mr. Williams." His hands gently but firmly pulled mine down and away from him. "Mr. Colbert, we should get this rig back on the road before anyone notices us here."
My lips parted in shock as Tristan turned and exited the trailer without a backward glance. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dad staring at me for a long moment before he left, too.
CHAPTER 15
TRISTAN
TWO MONTHS LATER
As much as I loved the great outdoors, a guy could only take so much of it before he started to miss a little technology in his life.
I found Ms. Evans and her dog outside taking an earlymorning walk, got the okay to use her living room TV, then headed inside the trailer. Through the bunk room's closed door, I could hear Emily's loud snoring, and beneath it the tiny sounds of music. Savannah must be having to listen to her MP3 player all night long to cover Emily's log sawing.
Careful not to wake up either of the girls, I quietly searched through Ms. Evans's DVD collection, figuring the best I would find would be a chick f lick. But at least it would be something to watch.
Huh. She had The Eagle on DVD, one of my favorites. I popped the movie in, turned the TV's volume as low as it would go, then kicked back on the sofa and sighed. Oh, yeah, this was way better than being cooped up inside the truck.
Five minutes later, the bedroom door slid open. I quickly grabbed the remote and paused the movie, worried I'd woken up Emily. She was a bear when she first woke up, and not even the sight of Channing Tatum in a leather skirt would make up for disrupting her sleep.
Instead, Savannah slid the door shut, turned in midyawn and stumbled to a stop. Blinking in confusion at me, she slowly tugged her earbuds from her ears. "Oh. Tristan. Hi."
"Hey." The word came out as raw as if I were talking around a mouth full of gravel. I cleared my throat. "Did I wake you?"
She shook her head, shutting off her MP3 player.
When had talking to the one person I loved more than anyone or anything else on earth become so awkward?
"Want to watch TV with me?"
She shifted her weight and glanced at the TV screen. "Um, sure. What are you watching?"
"The Eagle."
She blinked a couple of times. "What's it about?"
War, I started to say, then realized that would make her instantly hate the movie. "It's about a guy trying to recover the honor of his family's name."
She stared at me, and I could practically see her guard rising.
"It's a Channing Tatum movie," I added, remembering that she was a huge fan of his ever since seeing him dance in Step Up.
That did the trick. One corner of her mouth twitched as she took a step toward the couch.
I quickly sat up and swung my feet to the f loor to make room for her.
She hesitated then sat at the other end of the couch closest to the TV, even though it meant she would have to crane her head back at an uncomfortable angle to see the movie.
Two months ago she would have sat right beside me, curled up against me with my arm around her. But not today. I swallowed my disappointment, not wanting her to read it in my thoughts.