“I’ll escort you outside,” Eddie told him. “Then we’re going to the county jail.”

Glenn straightened and looked at Mercy. “Just tell Cade I had to leave, okay?” His tone was stoic as his eyes pleaded for her understanding. “Don’t tell him about this. I’ll tell him later . . . in my own way.”

He’s been expecting this moment for years. Poor Cade.

“I’ll give him your message.”

“Thank you for handling it this way.” Glenn looked at Eddie. “I’m ready.”

Mercy watched them walk away and disappear around a corner. Her heart was empty, her mind numb.

There’s no winner in this case.

“Hey,” said her favorite rumbly voice from behind her. Warm hands slid around her waist, and she melted back against Truman’s chest. Her heart sped up, and her melancholy floated away. He turned her to face him and gave her a long kiss that made her toes curl. Their love was open and simple, easy and relaxed. A glaring contrast to the events of the last few days.

Everything is better when he’s near.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his brows narrowing as he studied her face. “Is Kaylie okay?”

“Yes. Everything is going to be okay.”

I know it will.

THIRTY-NINE

Ollie trudged through the grove of pines, keeping one eye on Shep, who stopped at every tree and sniffed.

He’d left a note for Truman early that morning stating that he was hiking and not to expect him back until dinner. Today’s hike was in new territory for him, and it was the first time he’d been in the wilderness since Shep had found Ellis Mull’s femur two weeks ago. He’d kept Shep close this trip, afraid the dog would wander off and return with another surprise.

The day was perfect to clear his head with a hike. Kaylie was out of the hospital and healing. Rose, Nick, and baby Henry were adjusting to life as a family.

I’ve never had so many people in my life.

He liked it. Although sometimes he needed silence and to be alone. Like today.

Bree was improving, but her future was uncertain. A court would make that decision.

Cade’s family had pulled together. Their future was also in the hands of the court.

Ollie still struggled with the arrests in his community. That part he didn’t like. But it wasn’t for him to worry about.

The grove of pines opened up, and Ollie caught his breath at the endless vista. Shep darted to the edge of the cliff, and Ollie immediately called him back. Ollie took his time walking from the pines to the cliff’s edge as he admired the giant horse head beside him. Tall, massive, eternal. Once he reached the rim, he ran his gaze from the north to the south. Ranch lands and fields as far as he could see. A few dark-green clumps of trees. One winding river.

He looked down, unable to estimate how high he towered over the trees and rocks at the foot of the sheer cliff. Ten stories? Twenty?

Art Juergen’s body had been retrieved. No one would talk about it.

Ollie didn’t blame them.

He turned back to the horse. The ground was still choppy where Sandy and Mercy had dug, and it was too easy to picture the deadly standoff.

Truman and Mercy might not have survived.

But they had, and Ollie was thankful.

Counting my blessings today.

The rock horse watched him from its left eye. Ollie smiled and moved closer until he stood at the cheek and looked directly up at the rock that formed the eye. Amazing.

He turned and, with his back to the cheek, counted off twenty-two small steps in a straight line. When he stopped, he was on dirt. He slung off his backpack, pulled out a collapsible shovel, and began to dig. After fifteen minutes, he was sweating profusely, and his hole was only a foot deep. The small shovel was lame, and Shep was no help. At first the dog had nosed the hole with great interest, but now he lay in the shade a few yards away, panting and watching.

What if I’m wrong?

He thrust the shovel again and it clanked. Something black was in the ground. His pulse racing, Ollie dug, uncovering a rectangular shape. Levering it out of the packed ground with his shovel, he realized it was wrapped in a black garbage bag. He peeled away the plastic, exposing a box decorated with snowmen and Christmas trees. The type of metal box used for holiday treats and gifts.

Ollie carried the box to Shep’s shade under a pine and sat by his dog. “Look what I found, boy.”

Shep sniffed the box and wagged his tail.

“Right?” said Ollie. “It’s like a Christmas present.”

He studied the box for another second, held his breath, and then pried off the lid.

Stacks of money in ziplock bags.

Ollie touched a bag, his heart pounding in his ears. “We’ve hit the jackpot, Shep.”

He removed all the bags, unzipped one, and started to count.

It took many minutes. A little more than $100,000 had been hidden in the tin box.

Ollie put the money away, carefully sealing each bag and setting them all back in the tin.

He’d overheard Mercy talking to Truman about Bree’s money. She had uncovered over $300,000 in donation receipts.

Shep put his head in Ollie’s lap, his brown doggy eyes staring into Ollie’s soul. “I know. We’ll head home soon.” Ollie scooted until his back was against a pine trunk and tucked his hands behind his head, gazing at one of the best views in the state and wondering how nature had created a horse’s head in stone. It was an amazing location.

But bad shit went down here.

His mind wandered, remembering how Kaylie had collapsed in the parking lot, terror on her face. How he’d found Bree in her home, her severed fingers on the table beside her.

Money makes people do bad things.

He knew it and Bree knew it.

Does she remember she told me?

He’d been at her bedside five days ago when she’d opened her eyes from a sound sleep and met his gaze. “Left eye. Twenty-two steps. It’s for Lucas. Save it for Lucas,” she whispered. Her eyes fell shut, and she didn’t open them again that evening. The words had rattled around in Ollie’s head for days until he’d seen photos of where Art Juergen committed suicide. In one photo the horse’s left eye stared directly at him.

I had to look. Otherwise I would have always wondered.

Ollie pushed to his feet and carried the box back to the hole. He set it down and scooped dirt onto its lid with his shovel. Moments later he stomped on the dirt, packing it solid. He ran a branch over the dry dirt and scattered pine needles about. The cursed treasure was hidden again.

Will I tell Lucas?

That’s Bree’s secret to share.

“Some secrets are better left buried,” he told Shep.

The dog wagged his tail, and they started home.