Page 69 of Tangled Past
Then Will reached him, grabbing Asa’s arm hard. “That’s enough,” he barked. “We’ll find him.”
Asa didn’t fight the grip. He just stood there, staring into the trees, rain streaking blood down his face, his whole body vibrating with something violent and unfinished.
Somehow Maya reached him. She didn’t remember crossing the yard.
She only remembered pressing her hand flat against his back, right between his shoulder blades, anchoring him the way he’d anchored her so many times before.
“He’s gone,” she whispered. “Asa, he’s gone.”
His breath shuddered. “I had him,” he said hoarsely. “I had him.”
“You stopped him,” she said. “You saved me. Your uncle’s hurt. He won’t get far.”
Slowly, like the words weighed a hundred pounds each, Asa pulled her toward him. “You’re hurt,” he said.
“It’s just my shoulder,” she said. “I’m still standing.”
That seemed to matter. His hand hovered near her arm as if he was afraid to touch her but afraid not to.
“I have a feeling he knows these woods and the island,” Will said. “We’ll keep tracking him, but he planned this. Did you recognize the suspect?” The chief searched his face.
Asa nodded once. “It’s my Uncle Jonas. He’s the killer.”
“You’re kidding?” Will’s shocked gaze shifted to Maya. It took a beat before he asked, “Are you okay?”
She nodded because she didn’t trust her voice.
“Tonight changes everything,” Will said. “We know the man who killed your father and possibly your mother.”
Asa swallowed. “I shot him. I shot my uncle.”
Will took the gun from Asa’s unresisting hand. “You did exactly what you had to do.”
Asa looked down at his hands like they didn’t belong to him anymore.
Maya slid her fingers into his.
He flinched—then held on.
“He didn’t win,” she whispered.
Asa closed his eyes for a moment, forehead resting lightly against hers despite the rain, the blood, the chaos, the flashing lights. “He’s not done.”
“No,” Maya agreed, “but neither are we.”
The monster from her past had revealed himself, and that meant the hunt was no longer about shadows and guesses.
It was personal.
It was open.
And next time, she knew with certainty, Jonas wouldn’t be running.
