She found the remote and raised herself up to a forty-five-degree angle. “Treven shot me.”
“He did.” Rachel held the cup of water and straw to her lips. “Could have been a lot worse, if not for Dad’s quick thinking. I’m so proud of him.”
Alex took another sip, then lay back against the pillows, exhausted.
“Reed had called him. Asked him to check on me.” She pulled the chair over and plopped onto it. “He saw the lights on in the winery and went to investigate.”
Her voice thickened. “He heard it all, Alex.”
Alex reached out her hand. Rachel grasped it. For a long moment, they sat that way. Lost in their own thoughts, drawing comfort from the other. At least Alex knew she was.
“We need to talk,” Rachel said finally.
“Am I up to this?”
“I hope so.” She freed her hand from Alex’s, then immediately looked sorry she had. Instead, she folded both hands in her lap. “I did some things I’m not proud of. Things I hope you can forgive me for. I didn’t do them to hurt you, you have to believe me… I just wanted to… stir things up. Make them, the ones who raped me, nervous. I wanted them, and Dylan’s murderer, to know that their secrets weren’t going to stay buried forever.”
“And you needed my help?”
She looked away, then back. “Yes.”
“You scrawled Remember on my bathroom mirror.”
“Yes.”
“And you butchered those baby dolls.”
“Yes.”
“The lamb?”
“Not me. That one… my guess is Clark or Treven. In the hopes of scaring you off.”
“We’ll never know for sure, will we?”
“Actually, we just might.” At Alex’s expression, she grinned. “Clark’s alive.”
“That’s not… How… I checked his pulse.”
“Not well enough, apparently.” She leaned forward. “The bad news is, I’m a lousy shot. The good news, I didn’t kill anybody. Our family lawyer’s hooking me up with a top criminal attorney. He thinks that, considering the circumstances, I won’t be charged.”
“What about Treven?”
“In jail. Charged with the murder of Dylan Sommer.”
“Am I interrupting?”
Harlan stood in the doorway, also carrying wine and flowers. She had to laugh, though when she did it really hurt.
When she was done grimacing, Alex waved him in. “Of course not.”
He crossed to the bed, deposited his gifts, then hugged his daughter. “I’m so glad I still have you,” he said.
He turned toward Alex. His eyes, she saw, were wet. “And you, too, Alexandra.”
“Our hero,” Rachel said. “But Dad,” she said, “what were you thinking? It was a 2000 Stag’s Pass Reserve. A magnum of it.”
“You’re worth it. Both of you.”
Rachel smiled and kissed his cheek. “Enough crazy talk from you.”
He bent and pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead. “Thank you. I finally know… It’s almost unbearable to think about, but at least-”
He choked on the words and Alex grabbed his hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I feel the same way.”
He squeezed her hand. “When you’re better, let’s talk. I’d like you to come work for us. After all, it is a family winery.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Monday, May 3
5:45 P.M.
Good men were like pennies from heaven, Alex thought, falling against Reed’s chest, totally spent. And she had found the best one of all.
She pressed her lips to his shoulder, then neck, loving the feel of his heartbeat against her breast, the stirring of his breath against her ear. But most of all, she loved the way he gave himself to her. Wholly and without doubts.
They had left both their doubts and regrets behind.
In the weeks that had passed, their wounds had begun to heal. Her physical wounds had seemed so easy to overcome, the emotional so difficult. One day she was on top of the world and seemingly on the road to recovery, the next ripped wide open, raw and hurting.
It had been just as difficult for Reed. And Rachel. Perhaps more so. Because they faced their parents-and their parents’ sins-every day.
Alex had considered refusing Harlan’s offer and leaving the valley, but had realized that all her life she had longed for family, history, and roots that ran deep. She had that now, she wasn’t about to run away.
She wasn’t like her mother. Alex knew that now. And for the first time in her life, she felt rock solid.
“What’re you thinking?” Reed asked softly, stroking her back.
“About you. How happy you make me.”
“I like that.” He grinned and rolled onto his side, taking her with him so they lay facing one another. “I have something that will make you even happier.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Love the thought. Can I have ten minutes to recover first?”
He laughed. “Not that. D.A. offered Clark a plea deal in exchange for information. Clark’s singing like a bird.”
Alex propped up on an elbow. “I can’t believe it. After all these weeks.”
“Apparently the idea of life in prison wasn’t appealing. Since at the time of Dylan’s murder, Clark was a minor and under his father’s influence, his guilt is reduced in the eyes of the law. He’ll still go to prison, but he won’t rot there. He’s offering up all kinds of details, including ones about the murders of Tom Schwann, Alberto Alvarez, and your ex-husband.”
“Tim,” she whispered, voice catching.
“According to Clark, your ex-husband contacted Treven and started asking questions. Turns out your mother had shared more with Tim than you knew. She’d told him that ‘your father had gained everything from her and Harlan’s loss.’ ”
Tears stung her eyes. “He was trying to help me find my dad. And it got him killed.”
Reed caught one of her tears with his index finger. “Like the rest of us, he didn’t have a clue what Treven was capable of. He probably figured your mother had exaggerated how bad he was.”
Knowing Tim and her mother, it made sense to her. “That he found my father, that was the good news he was going share with me.”
She rested her forehead against Reed’s. “I feel responsible.”
He kissed her. “Don’t, sweetheart. Leave the blame where it should be, solely on Treven Sommer’s head.”
“He killed Tom Schwann. Why?”
“Schwann was cracking under the pressure. Making noises about going to the police. Treven wasn’t about to chance that. He saw the opportunity and took it. Same as he had twenty-five years ago.” Reed paused. “There’s more.”
She tipped her head back to look him in the eyes. “More?”
“Treven’s decided to change his plea to guilty.”
She caught her breath. “That means no trial.”
“That’s right, just sentencing. I can’t lie, it’s a big relief.”
They had managed to keep the most salacious details of the case out of the media. The valley wine community was a tight one and those involved had been extremely powerful, but once the trial had begun, no amount of influence would have kept the muck from flowing.
“As angry and disappointed as I am in my parents and brother, I dreaded our name being dragged through the mud.”
“What have you decided about Red Crest?” she asked, referring to his brothers’ request that he join them at the winery. “Your dad’s stepping down in just a few days.”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “The vines are in your blood, you know. You can’t escape it.”
He rolled her onto her back. “You’re what’s in my blood, Alexandra. And I have no intention of going anywhere.”
Erica Spindler
