He’d almost lost her.
The thought circled in Walker’s head all night as he tossed and turned in his bed.
He could have so easily lost her.
Now he stood at the kitchen window, watching gray dawn light creep across the snow-covered yard. His fourth cup of coffee had gone cold in his hand an hour ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to pour another. Cowboy lay at his feet, chin resting on his paws, eyes tracking Walker’s restless movements.
The house felt too quiet after last night’s chaos. The ambulance had left at two in the morning, red lights painting the snow as they took Leonora to the psychiatric unit in Missoula. Hank had shown up twenty minutes later, his face carved from stone as he took statements. Walker had watched Boone answer questions in a flat, distant voice, his mother’s blood still on his coat.
Johanna had refused the hospital. The EMTs had cleaned and bandaged the knife wound on her neck, declared it shallow enough not to need stitches, and she’d sent them away.Then she’d disappeared into the guest room upstairs and hadn’t come out.
Walker wanted to check on her. Had stood outside her door three times in the past five hours, hand raised to knock, unable to make himself do it. What the hell was he supposed to say? Sorry my employee’s mentally ill mother held a knife to your throat on Christmas Eve?
The front door opened, bringing a gust of cold air. Boone stepped inside, snow dusting his shoulders, his face gray with exhaustion. He’d been at his mother’s house since three, collecting her things, securing the property. Doing what needed doing because that’s what Boone did.
“Coffee,” Boone said, his voice scraped raw.
Walker poured a fresh mug, watched Boone’s hands shake as he took it. Neither of them spoke. What was there to say?
Footsteps on the stairs made them both turn. Johanna appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing the same clothes from last night, her hair loose around her face. A white bandage stood out stark against her throat. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry.
“You should be sleeping,” Walker said, the words coming out rougher than he meant.
“So should you.” She crossed to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. Her hands were steady. “How’s Leonora?”
Boone stared into his mug. “Sedated. They’re doing a full psych eval, but the doctor said...” He swallowed hard. “It’s schizophrenia, which she’s been treating with meth.”
The silence that followed felt like a physical weight.
“The sabotage,” Johanna said quietly. “All of it. That was her?”
Boone nodded, still not looking up. “Thought if she could scare everyone away, I’d come home.”
Walker saw Johanna’s throat work as she swallowed. Saw her hand drift to the bandage at her neck.
“She needs help,” Johanna said. “Real help. Long-term care.”
“Yeah.” Boone’s voice cracked. “Hank’s already talking about pressing charges. Criminal trespassing, assault with a deadly weapon, destruction of property.” He finally looked up, his navy eyes hollow. “He wants to make an example of her. Show the town what happens when you cross the Goodwins.”
“Like hell,” Walker said, the words coming out sharp enough to make Cowboy’s ears prick. “We’re not pressing charges.”
Boone’s eyebrows rose. “Walker?—”
“No.” Walker set his mug down hard enough that coffee sloshed over the rim. “She’s sick. She needs treatment, not a jail cell.”
“She nearly killed Johanna.”
“She’s not responsible for her actions right now.” Johanna’s voice was calm, clinical. The therapist in her taking over. “Psychosis doesn’t excuse what she did, but it explains it. She needs psychiatric care, not criminal prosecution.”
The door opened again. Jonah stamped snow from his boots, his face drawn. He took in the three of them standing in the kitchen, the exhaustion written on every face, and headed straight for the coffee.
“Sunny ate,” he said, pouring himself a cup. “Leg looks good. No sign of infection.” He turned, leaning against the counter. “How’s everyone here?”
Nobody answered.
Jonah’s gaze landed on Johanna’s bandaged neck, and something dark flickered across his face. “That should’ve been stitched.”
“It’s fine,” she said.
