The defense attorney shot up. “Objection. Relevance.”
“Sustained,” the judge ruled.
Chapter Twelve
Undisclosed Location, Colorado
Fourteen Months Earlier
Kenna pulled out a chair at the dining table and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box in the middle of the table, trying to get close enough to reach it without jamming the baby against the edge. She sat back, pizza in hand, and let out a breath.
Preston glanced over from the head of the table with a mouthful of pizza. He seemed to find her predicament amusing, but she was going to ignore that.
Maizie sat to her right, poring over a stack of pages, arranging them side by side and scouring for details.
Jax had taken one slice and then headed to their RV, eating as he went. The vehicle was parked in the barn. She figured he needed sleep, and since they had no answers as to what was going on, it was a good time for him to rest.
He’d kissed her before he went, attentive and making sure she didn’t need anything. She needed him, but it wasn’t more important than his healing.
Kenna chewed, trying not to think about the podcast and the sound of Ellayna’s voice on the line. She’d listened to it so many times she could practically recite the girl’s words verbatim at this point.
She saved me.
Zeyla kicked out a chair and sat, a diet soda in one hand and a slice of pizza held aloft in the other. “Did you try to call Mom?”
Kenna nodded. “She didn’t answer, so I left a message.”
Zeyla swallowed her bite of pizza. “Why don’t you explain this to me like I have no idea what you’re talking about? Because I don’t.”
Kenna set the rest of her slice on the plate and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Ellayna Feathers was the last victim of the Seventh Day Killer, Gerald Rickshire.”
“And he’s in prison now, right? ’Cause you caught him?” Maizie took a big bite of pizza, leaning forward with her mouth over her plate.
“He is.” That was part of how she’d first met Jax. He’d been talking to Rickshire in the prison, and she’d listened to Jax essentially accuse her of colluding with the guy. After that chat, she and Jax had gone to the diner where she found Cabot had been abandoned. Now the dog was living her best life at the Stairns’ house, getting spoiled and sleeping on the comfy furniture.
“Ellayna’s mother hired me to find her when the police were facing roadblocks in the case. Given the seven-day timeline, it was clear that time was running out.” Kenna took a sip of her caffeine-free soda. “She has a little brother who would be two or three now.”
That was the same visit to Salt Lake City where she’d helped Valentina and Javier Ryson, her dear friends, and their new baby. She’d also been shot in the chest in her Class C—whichmade her rub her sternum right over the massive scar she’d been left with, thanks to Bradley’s mother.
Kenna shook her head. “A lot happened, but it didn’t have to do with the Seventh Day Killer. He was already in prison.”
“Dominatus?” Zeyla asked, as if that was a complete question.
“There was no indication more was going on then. I didn’t learn anything about powerful families controlling society or international organizations until much later.”
Maizie raised a hand. “I knew.”
Preston said, “So did I.” He winked at Maizie, and she grinned back at him.
Kenna said, “I worked it out eventually.”
Preston smiled at her. She didn’t want to get off topic and wind up recounting all their journeys to get here, but she found herself nostalgic for the way her life had been when she didn’t know aboutDominatus. Then again, given what she had now—the good and the bad—would she wish for it to be gone?
That would mean giving up this family. Losing Jax. The gift of motherhood that God had given her, this time in a way that He blessed—because she had chosen righteousness as a way to live to honor Him.
It had been a long road, but she was here now. “Presto chango, here I am.”
Zeyla frowned. “Was that English?”
