He remembered Frank’s insistence that night. It was the first time in years the man had ever vehemently insisted to be heard despite being told to stop. Killian wanted to kick himself.
“Find her,” he continued in the same sharp tone. “Even if you have to knock on every door in the city, find her, Frank. Bring her back!”
With a deep inclination of his head, Frank turned and hurried from the room. Killian stood watching the spot the man had occupied with his heart in his throat and his stomach somewhere between his ankles. Haunting images of Juliette frozen to death somewhere alongside the road, hidden beneath a mound of snow hurled into his gut, making him nearly double over.
“What did he mean you told him not to speak of her again?” Vi demanded.
He’d almost forgotten about the girl. “I have work that requires—”
Vi was out of her seat in a flash and hurrying to block his path. “Work? Seriously? You’re the last person to see my sister alive and you’re concerned about your stupid work? She could be dead and … do you even care?”
“Of course I care!” The words ripped free of him in a growl that widened her eyes. “I’ve never cared more about anything than I do about your sister. I would easily give my life for hers, but if I continue to stand here and think of her out there hurt or worse, I will lose my fucking mind, do you understand me?”
The smooth column of her throat bobbed. She nodded. She didn’t stop him when he edged around her and stalked from the room. The front doors were closed, but there were men inside and out cleaning the mess Vi had made. Killian couldn’t even bring himself to be upset about that. He didn’t care about a few pieces of broken glass when Juliette had been gone for three days and he hadn’t known. Three fucking days.
A second set of feet behind him had him glancing back. He blinked in surprise to find Vi following him upstairs.
“What are you doing?”
It was her turn to look bemused. “Until Juliette’s brought home, I’m not leaving your side,” she stated simply. “I go where you go.”
He opened his mouth, decided against speaking, closed it, and kept walking. Vi followed.
In his office, he went straight for his window. Vi took a seat in one of the chairs facing his desk and waited. Neither of them spoke and he’d never been so relieved.
The moment didn’t last.
“What did you do?” the girl asked.
Killian forced his gaze away from the swaying treetops. “What?”
“To Juliette,” Vi explained. “What did you do to her?”
It was on the edge of his nerves to tell her to mind her own business, to even be offended that she would assume he would ever do anything to hurt Juliette. But he had. He had hurt her. He’d deliberately and maliciously hit her where he knew it would wound her the most. Did it matter that he’d done it to protect her? Did it matter that he’d had her best intentions at heart? Did it matter that he would give his soul to have her back with him? She was gone. She’d been gone for days and he’d done nothing. If she was lost somewhere in the snow, he’d had two days to find her, to save her, and he hadn’t. If she was…
“The hospitals!” he blurted, more to himself than Vi. “Did you—”
“Of course I did,” Vi muttered. “I’m not an idiot. I called the hospitals, the police, the hotel. I even called Uncle Jim.”
That knowledge made him pause. “You have an Uncle Jim?”
Vi nodded. “He’s Dad’s brother. He has a farm out in Alberta.”
The way Juliette had gone on, he’d assumed it was just her and Vi in the world.
“Why didn’t he…?”
Vi arched an eyebrow. “Take us in when we had no one?” she finished for him, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “None of them did. Dad owed them too much money. They weren’t going to add to that debt by taking on his kids. Thank God Juliette was eighteen when Dad finally died, otherwise we’d both probably be lost in the system or something. Uncle Jim was the only one that sort of offered, but he’s a total pervert. Likes little girls. Not that anyone in the family would ever say it out loud. Juliette refused.” She shook her head. “Anyway, what did you do to Juliette? Why did she leave?”
Killian turned back to the window, unable to keep looking into those golden eyes. “Because I told her to. It was the only way I knew how to keep her safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“Me.”
“Sir.”
Frank appeared in the doorway, his movement hurried. He was breathing hard like he’d ran all the way there. Every hard bulge of muscle was rigid, as tense as the muscles on his face. In his hand was a yellow envelope.
Killian’s entire world jittered, going in and out of focus between black and white and color. The room shifted between present and past as he remembered being ten and standing where Vi was, watching as Frank brought that same yellow envelope to his father. Then the room was back and Vi was on her feet and Frank was watching Killian with the same grim expression he’d given all those years ago.
“No…”
Vi, as white as the snow outside the window, peered from one to the other with the frantic desperation of a spooked rabbit. Her hands were shaking as they lifted and clapped over her mouth.
“What?” Her voice wobbled. “What is it?”
Frank never looked away from Killian. “What would you like me to do, sir?”
Burn it! Break it! He wanted to scream. Destroy it. It couldn’t be true if no one saw it. But he knew it didn’t work that way. Things weren’t less true just because he wished it.
“Sir?”
No. No. God, no he couldn’t. Not again.
“Is it about Juliette?” Vi demanded of Frank. “Is it a ransom demand? I’m calling the police—”
In five long strides, Frank was next to the girl. Her phone was taken from her before the numbers could be dialed.
“Give that back!” Vi screamed at him. “We have to call the police!”
“They can’t help her,” Frank told her calmly, but with stern authority.
Tears rained along her cheeks, looking silver in the light. Her brown eyes went from Frank to Killian and hardened. She flew at him, hands fisted. With a shriek, she slammed both into his chest.
“Find her! Find her!” Every scream was followed by another crack of her fists raining down on Killian’s chest, his shoulders, arms and even his face. He felt none of it. “You did this! This is your fault!”
Frank pulled her off, kicking and screaming loud enough to bring the house down. Killian stayed frozen in his own nightmare as the girl was hauled from the room. He had no idea what happened next, but the floor was suddenly beneath his hands and knees and everything he’d eaten that day, which thankfully wasn’t much, came up with a violence that took bits of his stomach lining with it. Hot and cold waves rushed along the heaving curve of his spine, plastering his top to his back. Sweat dampened his temples and rolled into his already burning eyes and still the attacks continued.
Another scream echoed, one that only he could hear. The high pitched wail of his mother, begging her captors to stop. The shriek of her pain as they’d carved into her, as they’d taken turns doing things no one should ever have to endure. Those images had come in an envelope just like the one Frank was bringing to him now.
“It’s not possible,” he wheezed. “It’s not possible.”
Frank’s large, capable hands tucked beneath his arms and Killian was lifted to his feet. He was taken to his chair and seated. Frank left his side and returned a moment later with a damp washcloth. Killian used it to wipe his face and mouth.
“It’s not possible,” he said again, slightly calmer. “I killed them. I killed all of them. There was no one left.” He raised his eyes to the other man. “I left no one, Frank.”
“Perhaps someone—”
Killian shook his head. “No, no, it’s not possible. It’s not…” A sound between a sob and a groan left him. “They have Juliette. God, they have her.”