“It’s Boone,” Walker said, returning to the living room with the phone pressed to his ear. His face tightened as he listened. “Slow down. Is she—” He paused, turned away. “How bad this time?” Another pause. “Stay there. I’ll come to you.”
Johanna stood. “What happened?”
Walker hung up and scrubbed a hand down his face. “His mom. She’s having an episode. He went to checkon her and found the house torn apart. It appears she’s off her meds and stole a neighbor’s car.”
“Let me change, and I’ll go with you.”
Walker nodded, distracted as he scrolled through his contacts. “Hurry. Meet me at my truck.” He lifted the phone to his ear again and turned away. “Jonah, we have a situation…”
Johanna didn’t waste a second, heading straight out the door and into the biting cold. The snow had picked up, fat flakes swirling in the yard lights as she jogged across the property toward her cabin. Her breath came in white puffs, the temperature having dropped sharply in the hours she’d spent with River.
She fumbled with her key, fingers stiff with cold, and pushed into her dark cabin. Flipping on the light, she headed straight for her bedroom, stripping off her sweater as she went. She pulled a thermal Henley from her drawer, then grabbed her sturdier boots from the closet.
Something scratched against her window—probably a branch from the pine tree that grew too close to the east side of her cabin. She’d been meaning to trim it back, but there was always something more urgent to handle at Valor Ridge.
She changed quickly, mind racing through the possibilities. What had triggered Leonora this time? Had she wandered? Was she violent?
The scratching sound came again, harder this time. Johanna frowned, pausing as she laced her boots. That didn’t sound like a branch.
She stood and moved toward the window, squinting into the darkness. A shadow passed across the glass, too large to be wind-blown foliage.
“Hello?” she called, reaching for the rifle she kept propped in the corner.
The window exploded inward, glass shattering across herbedroom floor. Johanna stumbled back and raised the gun as a thin arm snaked through the broken pane, fumbling for the latch.
Leonora Goodwin-Callahan’s wild-eyed face appeared in the jagged frame. Her gray-streaked hair hung in stringy clumps around her gaunt features, her lips pulled back in a grimace.
“Where is he?” she demanded, voice raspy with fury. “Where’s my boy?”
“Leonora?” Johanna lowered the gun slightly, shock momentarily overriding caution. “What are you?—”
The older woman shoved herself through the window with surprising strength, glass crunching beneath her mismatched slippers as she landed inside the cabin. Blood streaked her arms where the glass had cut her, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“You’re all keeping him from me,” she snarled, and the kitchen knife in her hand caught the light. “Walker Nash thinks I don’t know what he’s doing to my boy.
Johanna’s heart slammed against her ribs as she took in the situation. Leonora was having a full psychotic break.
“Leonora,” she said, keeping her voice level despite the fear coursing through her. “Boone isn’t here. He’s at your house, looking for you.”
“Lies!” The knife slashed through the air between them. “You’re all lying to protect Walker. He’s poisoning my son’s mind.”
Johanna calculated the distance to the door. Too far. Leonora stood between her and the only exit.
“I’m going to help you,” she said, setting the rifle carefully against the wall. Her conscience wouldn’t let her shoot a woman who was obviously not in control of her mind, so it was better to remove the gun from the equation. “You’re bleeding, Leonora. Let me look at those cuts.”
“Don’t patronize me!” Leonora’s eyes darted wildly around the room. “I know what you’re doing. All of you. Keeping my Boone here against his will.”
“Nobody’s keeping Boone against his will,” she said, trying to reach the rational part of Leonora’s mind that might still be functioning. “He’s a grown man. He makes his own choices.”
“He’s my boy!” Leonora shrieked, the knife trembling in her hand. “My little boy! And that monster Nash has him brainwashed, making him think his own mother is crazy!”
“I understand you’re worried about Boone,” Johanna said, inching sideways toward her cordless phone on the nightstand. “Why don’t we call him right now? You can hear his voice.”
“No phones!” Leonora lunged forward, knife leading. “You’ll just call Nash. Tell him I’m here.”
Johanna froze, hands raised. “Okay. No phone. What do you want to do, Leonora?”
“Take me to my son.” The knife wavered in Leonora’s trembling hand, but her eyes burned with feverish determination. “Take me to Boone now.”
