Tears had started to fall down the woman’s cheeks.
They were full of frustration.
“I’ll never ever believe that,” she said. “And if you had seen them together, you wouldn’t either.”
Her frustration devolved into sorrow. She pulled more tissues out of her pocket and sobbed into them with palpable feeling.
Rose didn’t ask any more questions after that.
For one, no matter what Lloyd had done, his sister mourning him was a separate matter altogether. She deserved peace. Rose wasn’t going to beat through that to answer her curiosity.
And secondly, Rose believed she had the answer she had wanted most.
Why had Damon and Lloyd been so gentle with such violent acts? Why had Damon let himself be tied up and then shot without an ounce of fight in him? Why had Lloyd, the one who had seemingly beaten the bad guy, walked away only to end his own life?
The answer was something Rose had never even considered as a possibility.
Love.
That was why Damon had smiled like that, even at what he believed would be his end.
Which meant that their last stands made no sense…unless someone else was forcing their hands.
Normally, Rose would have wondered what could force two men to abandon their plans of revenge and their love for one another so quickly and in complete agreement.
But after hearing Wynonna praise Damon, Lloyd and their little family, and Rose was absolutely certain of the answer now.
It was her.
Someone had threatened Wynonna, their sister, their best friend, their child.
And so they had gladly gone to death.
Rose watched the young woman cry.
She had come to the hospital with questions in hopes of getting answers to help her move on. To put closure between her and Damon Tillman’s violent attempts to take her life.
When Rose left later, she left with a new purpose burning a hole through her chest.
She was going to find the third man.
And she was going to make him pay for what he had done.
* * *
THE WEATHER WASdone being fickle. The heat and humidity gave way to rain just a half hour before Rose came back. It wasn’t a big downpour, but it wasn’t a misting either. It would have watered the flowers, had James bought and planted them.
He sat on the front porch, looking out at spots he had been thinking about starting a garden. Never a man with a green thumb, but he thought he’d do fine enough with the simple flowers.
He was sitting there on the front porch, arms crossed over his chest, when Price’s cruiser drove down the driveway.
James stood and grabbed the umbrella he had leaned up against the wall next to him. He opened it with purpose; he walked to the passenger’s door with frustration.
Rose’s gaze was downcast when the door came open. Price called across the seat to him.
“I wanted to get her home before the rain, but it snuckup on us. Looks like it might keep up until tomorrow afternoon. Nothing too bad, though.”
James felt his jaw clench but didn’t direct his ire at the deputy, especially since he had been the one to give a follow-up call to him once they had gotten to the hospital.
