“I think he probably just recognized me,” Allegra had said in my ear as I’d eaten in the roadside café. “Some creeper who didn’t think about how intimidating it would be for me. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hey, it could even have been paparazzi.”
“Do you think?” Some of my tension eased, because that did make sense.
“Yes, I think so. I think we can relax. Especially now that we know for sure Hamish was behind what happened on the farm.”
We did know for sure.
That’s why I stopped in Inverness before returning home and left the recording of Hamish’s confession with Jim Rowley. He’d listened to the recording with a hard look on his face.
“Is it enough?” I asked.
“It’s enough to bring him back in for questioning. We’ll make him think it’s enough and he’ll probably confess.” Jim had shaken his head. “Hamish always was a thorn in Collum’s side. That apple fell very, very far from the tree.”
“Aye,” I’d agreed gruffly.
“You’re more like Collum than Hamish ever was.”
Emotion had thickened my throat as Jim studied me.
“You made him very proud, Jared.”
The grief of my grandfather’s loss still stung, but that day it was fucking overwhelming. Afraid I’d break down in front of the police officer, I offered my thanks and got the hell out of there.
Now as I approached the farmhouse, I could feel that grief building toward the surface. The sight of Allegra hurrying out the front door to greet me caused that burning ache in my chest to rise until my throat constricted. I’d barely jumped out of the Defender when my wife threw her arms around me.
My wife.
I’d never in a million years have guessed how good those words would feel.
Almost as good as how Allegra felt against me.
My grip on her was tight. Too tight. She shook against me, and guilt cut through the grief, because I’d worried her by taking off like that. But as she held on tighter and whispered my name over and over in a soothing tone, I realized she wasn’t shaking.
I was.
“He died in my arms,” I blurted, the words wrenching out of nowhere.
Allegra jerked back, her gaze wide with anxiety. “Who did?”
“My grandfather.”
Understanding softened her expression. “Jared.” She reached for me, cupping my face in her palm. I closed my eyes, leaning into her touch. “Tell me.”
The memory filled my mind. Still clear as day. Granddad in my arms. That big man, helpless in my fucking arms. My eyes flew open and I felt the wet leak down my face, but I couldn’t stop it. I’d never told anyone the details. Just that he’d died in front of me. “I saw him go down. We were looking over a fence that needed reinforced after a gale had knocked the hell out of it. I turned and he was on his knees, clutching his arm. I got to him and he just collapsed onto me.
“I couldn’t help him,” I gasped. “I called for an ambulance, but I couldn’t help him. And he was looking up at me for help. After all he’d done for me … and I couldn’t help him. He was so scared. That big man. That strong man. He was so fucking scared and I couldn’t help him.”
I was barely aware of falling to my knees or Allegra coming with me. She was like a life raft as I clung onto her and cried like I hadn’t cried since the moment my grandfather died in my arms.
Thirty
Jared
It wasn’t the sunlight pouring beneath the hem of the curtains or my alarm that woke me the next morning.
It was Allegra.
She came bearing breakfast in bed.
