Page 446 of A Matter of Time

“A mother will do anything for her child.”

I nodded. “You blew up Sam’s car.”

“I thought if I killed him, then you would kill yourself in grief.”

“And be out of Dane’s life.”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“But Sam didn’t die,” I pointed out.

“No, and then you came looking for me.”

I had been looking for the person who’d tried to kill Sam; I’d had no idea it was Caleb the whole time. “So you killed Greg and his mother.”

“And Caleb knew it.”

Surreal to be talking to Caleb with him answering like he was Susan.

“He covered for you, grabbing the knife.”

“Yes. He’s stupid, but he’s not a complete fool.”

“Why would Greg Fain help you kidnap me?”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Please tell me.”

His eyes narrowed. “His mother was a nun before she was raped. Who do you think bore the brunt of all her rage?”

Which answered my questions about why mother and son didn’t live together.

“Who do you think was filthy and never loved?”

“I get it.”

“I was the only mother who ever loved him.”

“Okay,” I muttered, thinking that Greg had helped Caleb for Susan. That might have done it. If Susan was the only maternal figure Greg had really ever had, it made sense that he would help Caleb. It was a twisted mess and I doubted I was going to get all my answers.

“Perhaps,” he said, looking at me, “being alone is not such a bad thing.”

“I’m not alone anymore.”

“You’re not going to be anything anymore,” he said, ready to shoot me.

“Please don’t, Susan,” I begged, using the name he would recognize at that moment.

“I have to. I hate you. I want you in the ground.”

I thought of Sam. I thought of Dane. My heart hurt. I felt how tense my muscles were, heard the blood rushing like a train in my ears, tried to pull in air and found I could not. There had to be more. More Sam, more family, more friends, more time, more everything. I lunged forward without thinking, heard him yell from so far away.

No. Not him yelling, someone else.

His right shoulder exploded with blood, and he screamed like a wounded animal as he crumpled to the floor in front of me. I went to my knees beside him, whipping off my T-shirt and balling it up before pressing it to the wound, holding it there.

“Mr. Harcourt, stand clear!”