Page 28 of Killer Knows Best

She snorts. “Sounds like she’s doing great. Following in the family footsteps.”

It’s nice to know she’s still rife with delusions. Had my sister followed in the family footsteps, she’d be dead or in prison.

I take another step closer until I’m practically looming over her. My hands shake as I look at her—really look at her—and what she’s become. The deep lines in her face, the faded tattoos on her wrists. Her once-dark hair now a ragged, graying mess. So thin. So much thinner than I remember. Skin over bone. She’s a shell of a person, and yet, somehow, she’s the same at her twisted core.

I wonder what Fallon will think. She knows the history. But knowing something and seeing it face-to-face, well, that’s a whole different beast. This reality will slap you in the face and leave a mark.

“Get your things,” I tell her.

“Why?” She raises a brow my way, her head inching back with what looks like a hint of fear. My guess is she senses another arrest on the horizon, this time at the hands of her son.

I meet her gaze, cold and unwavering. “Because you’re coming with me.”

20

SPECIAL AGENT JACK STONE

The drive back to Pine Ridge Falls is mercifully quiet. Fallon, thankfully, has decided to eschew the idea of making any small talk with my mother.

Not that it would go anywhere useful. My mother is the type who takes any attempt at conversation and wrings the life out of it, just to leave you with a headache and a deep desire for something strong to drink. So, I’m more than grateful that Fallon opted to focus on the road, and Buddy, even though he’s conked out in the back, oblivious to the drama riding shotgun.

Fallon knows the wholecry me a riverstory of my rotten family.

I filled her in on that fractured fairy tale soon after we met. I let her know that my mother had a stable marriage to a good man, a tax attorney who worked with the IRS. They had two kids and a nice house. They had the whole white picket fence dream going for them.

Then my father, her husband’s younger brother, showed up. The “bad boy” version, if you could even call him that. He was younger, dumber, and into every vice you could think of—booze,coke, girls. My mother fell for him hard. Left her husband, took the kids, and ran off to dicey pastures with this dicey version of her husband. Added one more to the family, me. The IRS guy filed for divorce, disappeared, and the rest of the family cut her off.

It’s not a pretty story, but it’s mine.

Growing up with a drug addict for a father and a mother who turned tricks to keep both food and lines on the table wasn’t exactly a Norman Rockwell upbringing. Then things spiraled. Dad found heroin, Mom found friends with criminal tendencies, and those friends got caught up robbing liquor stores. That’s when the cops got involved, and then my whole life shifted gears overnight.

By the time I was fourteen, I was working just to keep the lights on. Mom went to prison, Dad followed, and my brother Jet and I ended up with the Deckers in lieu of foster care since Jet had already aged out. The last straw for my sister Candy came before my parents were hauled off by the time that happened; she had already run off to save herself. Probably the smartest move any of us ever made.

Now, here we are, full circle. My mother, fresh out of prison again, humming along to the radio, sitting next to me like it’s just another day in our twisted family saga.

No sooner do we hit Pine Ridge Falls than we pass the enormous falls that glow lavender on this moonless fall night.

I lift my eyes to the rearview mirror and catch Fallon’s gaze. “You want to go home?”

“Don’t even think about it, Stone.” She sheds a half-smile that quickly morphs into a frown. And a part of me is relieved that she’ll be heading to my place with me. That part of me is terrified.

We head straight for the Whispering Woods’ compound, and soon we pull into my driveway.

The cabin is lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. Jet is home, and the second we walk through the door, he lights up.

He spots Mom, lets out a howl, and runs toward her like a kid.

“Mom!” He scoops her up, spins her around, and she squeals like it’s Christmas morning.

Buddy, ever the opportunist, spots the ball of fluff sitting on the back of my sofa and he takes this chance to chase her right under the couch.

Fallon and I exchange a morose smile.

“Thanks for—well, for putting up with all of this,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. It’s been a heck of a night.

“All this?” Fallon teases, nudging me lightly. “Stone, this is nothing. I’ve survived worse.” She gives me that grin of hers. It’s rare, but it’s beautiful and it always seems to have the power to knock the wind out of me. She places her hand on my shoulder and it warms me to my feet. “I’m here.” She pulls me in a notch. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The knot in my chest loosens just a bit. I don’t know what I did to deserve Fallon in my life, but I’m not about to question it either.

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