Malcolm pushed through the thigh-deep water toward Evan. He was dripping, his long hair plastered to his shoulders.
“Stay back,” Evan told him.
Malcolm ignored him. He stopped next to Liam and stared down at his face. He met Evan’s gaze and shook his head. Malcolm turned around and studied the water, as if trying to see into it. He took a couple of steps, lowered himself into the water, and came up with a gun.
“Thanks, Malcolm.” Evan holstered his weapon and dragged Liam to the shore by his feet. Malcolm grabbed Liam’s shoulders, and they moved him to a flat area.
Rowan stepped off the rocks and set West down on one. “Don’t move,” she told him. He nodded, his eyes wide.
He’ll remember this for the rest of his life.
She joined the others. Evan sat on the ground near the man’s feet, resting his arms on his legs. Liam had a large wound in the side of his chest.
“There’s no pulse,” Evan told her.
“I’m sorry, Evan,” Rowan said. It didn’t matter that Evan had fired in self-defense; he’d killed someone, and it would forever weigh on him.
Malcolm stood silently at Liam’s head, staring down at the body. Rowan moved beside him and wrapped an arm around him. “It’s over.”
“Yes.”
Evan joined them. “Why do I feel like I recognize this guy?”
Rowan finally looked at the dead man’s face and then gasped. “That’s Eric Steward. Ken’s cousin.”
49
Three days later
Evan grabbed another beer at the birthday party. He was quickly becoming a fan of Rowan’s family. They were a lot of fun and clearly cared deeply about each other. He twisted the top off as he watched Malcolm happily eat a second helping of strawberry shortcake.
The three sisters had decorated their parents’ house for Malcolm’s party. Someone had plastered banners all over the great room that said HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY! and HAPPY 9TH BIRTHDAY! all the way up to HAPPY 32ND BIRTHDAY! The enormous stack of gifts by the fireplace was clearly intended to make up for twenty-five missed parties.
They had served hamburgers, Tater Tots, orange soda, and strawberry shortcake. Prosecco had been added to the soda, but Evan had seen Malcolm take a sip and make a face. Iris had laughed and poured him straight orange soda.
Evan sipped his beer, stuffed from the big meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had Tater Tots. Malcolm’s eyes had lit up at the hamburger patties on the grill. He’d eaten his burger with just ketchup. Rowan had whispered that that was how he’d eaten them when he was a kid.
Her brother had lost so much time.
Liam, a.k.a. Eric Steward, had controlled Malcolm for the last two decades, and Jerry had controlled both of them before that. Eric and Ken had been Jerry’s apprentice electricians. Eric had changed his last name to Steward at the same time that Ken changed his. Evan had spoken to another electrician who had worked with Jerry and been told that the two young men had been very close. Called themselves blood brothers and had even lived with Jerry off and on.
A family of three. Jerry controlled Eric and Ken.
And then Jerry controlled Eric and Malcolm.
Then for many years, it was just Eric controlling Malcolm, until he decided to add West.
When Eric Steward’s photo hit the media as that of the killer of the three recently murdered young women, a waitress from a truck stop half an hour south of Bend had come forward and said Eric had been a regular in the restaurant. She’d seen him eat with many young women over the years but hadn’t thought anything of it. She couldn’t confirm that she’d seen him with those particular three women, but that was enough that Evan figured the truck stop had probably been where Eric found his victims.
Elijah had vanished from the same truck stop. After decades of wondering, his parents now knew that their son had ended up in a forest grave.
There wasn’t anyone to ask if the truck stop had been Eric’s hunting ground. Everyone who would know was dead. Except Jerry Chiavo, who refused to speak when Evan tried to interview him again.
Malcolm had spoken of a weird family commitment among all the men. Something about never betraying one another.
It appeared Jerry was sticking to the rule.
Ivy stopped beside Evan and clinked her half-empty flute against his beer. “It’s a good party, isn’t it?” She beamed as she looked over to where Malcolm sat at the table, talking to West.
“It’s probably the happiest I’ve ever been to,” Evan truthfully admitted. He was still dealing with the shock of shooting Eric in the river and was on paid leave while the incident was under review. He had no doubts he’d be in the clear; Eric had been about to shoot him.