Page 29 of One Last Stand
No—no—shoot. Because Axel and his smart mouth had answered, “A lot. Like London’s body being found in her submerged Subaru, cold and frozen, as in dead.”
Moose had wanted, right then, to reach out and clamp his hand over his kid brother’s mouth and say ix-nay on the ead-day. Because Hazel’s eyes widened, at which point London saved the day, turning and laughing with an, “Uncle Axel is just kidding. I’m alive and fine, see?” And then she’d high-fived Hazel, who’d high-fived her back.
Then Hazel had bounded upstairs to the guest room to draw a bath in his jetted guest-room jacuzzi, something she’d been talking about for weeks and nonstop on the drive home from Ted Stevens Airport.
So, yeah, that had given him a moment to say to Tillie, “It’s a long story, but true. We did find a body, about a month ago, in Jewel Lake, in London’s car, that looked like London—we thought it was London. Except, she’d been beaten, her fingertips were gone, and?—”
“Seriously.” Tillie’s tone had shut him down. “You’ve known for amonththat your copilot and fellow rescue team member wasdead?—”
“Not dead,” Axel had said.
Moose glared at him.
Tillie held up a hand. “Presumed dead, and you all were grieving and you never, not once, mentioned it?” She stared at Moose. “Do you think I’m so fragile that I can’t handle the truth?”
“Not the truth,” said Axel.
“Shut up, Axel. It’s not funny.” Flynn’s voice. “No one likes to be lied to.”
And that statement had sort of shut down everyone.
Silence.
Finally, “Sorry,” London said. “I have reasons.”
He’d bet she did, but his priority was Tillie, his beautiful, strong Tillie who had just, finally, sorted out custody of Hazel and neededanythingbut a crisis right now.
“This isn’t on you,” Tillie said to London, her gaze on Moose.
“It sort of is—” Moose said.
Tillie’s gaze stayed hard on his.Fine. He looked at London. “London, I don’t care about your reasons right now. Instead, I’m going to trust you and say—okay. I’m glad you’re alive, and we’ll sort this out as soon as?—”
“I’m going to unpack.” Tillie had turned then and walked down the hall, grabbing her monstrously heavy bag. And sure, as a former marine, Iron Maiden champion, and most importantly, a waitress, she had guns, but not on Moose’s watch. So he’d run down the hall after her, taken the handle, and met her eyes.
“Fine,” she’d said and let him carry it upstairs. She’d grabbed Hazel’s bag and followed him up. And then shut the door behind the both of them. Which meant that, yes, he was in trouble.
Now, staring at her, he schooled his voice and responded to her accusation. “Idon’tthink you’re fragile. Are you serious? Please. And I know you can handle the truth. But you’ve also been handling a lot of emotional bombs over the last month, with the charges and the case against Rigger, all the depositions you’ve given, the custody battle, not to mention getting to know your father again, so . . . yeah. I kept London’s death from you. Frankly, all of us weren’t even sure that . . . well, the body hasn’t been conclusively identified. The face was beaten, the fingers cut off. Seriously, Shep lost it at the crime scene?—”
“Shepfound her?” Tillie had calmed a little, and now, in the silence, they heard singing from the bathroom.
Hazel. “How Far I’ll Go” from Moana.
Tillie smiled, her eyes warming despite her anger. “She loves your tub.”
“I love her.”
And maybe now was the time?—
“And Shep loves London. I can’t imagine finding your body, mutilated . . .” She stepped toward him, put her hands on his chest. “He must have been destroyed.”
“A little. No, a lot. He’s been quiet. I gave him London’s job of putting the training schedule together. I was trying to keep him busy.”
“And what do the police say?”
“No sign of a struggle at her and Boo’s house. And no sign of her killer—no DNA, nothing. It was a complete shock—Shep had seen her the night before and sent her home before an ice storm hit. The next day, they found the car in the lake.”
“So terrible.” Tillie’s eyes filled. She closed them.