A Sinclair Homecoming. Kimberly Van Meter

David had been so remorseful.

      Almost sweet—for a time.

      “Baby, you’re my life. I am nothing without you,” David had cried, clinging to her, demanding her comfort even though she was numb with shock. “I don’t know what came over me. I am completely distraught over what happened. You know it was an accident, right?”

      “Of course,” she murmured, stroking his hair with mechanical motions. David liked his hair gently stroked in a certain way. Although the hospital had recommended that she stay overnight, David had been insistent that he would care for her. Lying in their bed as David wept, Morgan had wished for the solitude of a hospital room. “It’s okay.”

      “Why do you push me to do those things?” he asked plaintively. “And why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

      “I didn’t know.”

      He pressed a tender kiss to her belly and hugged her tightly. “To think...my child had been growing right here... I am beside myself over what happened.” His words had seemed so sincere, so racked with grief that she’d actually begun to wonder if things were going to get better. Perhaps a child would heal what was broken between them. “Can you ever forgive me, my love?”

      “Of course,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. Six weeks pregnant was hardly pregnant at all. They could try again. They would try again. And everything would be wonderful again.

      Morgan closed her eyes, hating that she was stuck remembering old history when she tried so hard to forget. Maybe it was the Sinclair case dredging up the past. Or maybe it was her failed attempt to go to grief counseling. But either way, she wanted to be done with it.

      Startled, she realized tears were tracking down her face. Damn it. She wiped at her face with a tissue and forced a bright smile. That’s it. Smile. David is dead. No one knows your secret and everything is fine.

      Just fine.

      Morgan squared her shoulders and put the car into Drive, making a mental note to order new tires before the snow season started.

      * * *

      WADE WAS SILENT most of the drive to their parents’ house but his mind was anything but still. “I don’t understand,” he said finally, shifting in the passenger seat as he tried to make sense of everything. “How did this happen?”

      “I don’t know. It didn’t happen overnight. You know me and Mom have always had a rocky relationship so I wasn’t spending a lot of time at the house, plus with Dad doing his marijuana growing, I didn’t want to know too much. And frankly, I had my own stuff I was going through. I didn’t have time to try and figure out what was going wrong with Mom and Dad. I thought they’d work it out somehow. It wasn’t until a few months ago that I realized that things had gotten way out of control. By that time, it was more than I could handle on my own.”

      “But this sort of hoarding takes years to accumulate, right?”

      “Yes and no. I mean, Mom’s always been a collector so I was used to seeing gobs of stuff piling up here and there but it didn’t get to this point until the last year. I think it has a lot to do with Dad moving out to the shed to be closer to his marijuana. Maybe it was the final straw.”

      “And Dad is sitting things out in jail right now?”

      “Yeah. Both Rhett Fowler and Trace tried to bail him out but Dad refused. So he’s there to stay at least until we can get things figured out with Mom. Honestly, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with him, too.”

      Wade agreed, rubbing at his eyes. “Do you have any aspirin? My head is splitting.”

      “Glove compartment.”

      Wade reached in and grabbed the bottle, shaking out two tablets and tossing them back without water. He’d crunch them like candy if he had to to make this pain stop. They rolled up to the house, and he hated how desolate and empty the place looked. Helluva homecoming. They exited the car, and he surveyed the land. Still beautiful. His parents’ place was backed up to the national forest, which gave it an enviable backdrop but an unenviable position of fending off the wildlife at times. “Nothing changes about those mountains,” he murmured mostly to himself. “Brings back memories.”

      “Yeah, tell me about it.” Miranda smiled and then gestured grimly for him to follow. “Let’s get this over with. The tour is a short one.”

      Wade followed his sister to the house and after unlocking the door, ducked under the caution tape stretched across it and walked into what used to be his childhood home.

      Used to be was the appropriate phrase. “What the...” Ah, hell—the picture didn’t do the actual situation justice. “She lived in this?” He covered his nose as the smell hit him. “Oh, God. What is that stench?”

      “Your guess is as good as mine but as far as I can tell, it’s coming from the kitchen.” Miranda pushed past a pile of magazines and books and danced out of the way as they tumbled to the floor. “Careful. You never know what might come tumbling down.” They pushed toward what had once been Simone’s room and bracing himself, Wade opened the door.

      “Are you kidding me?” he breathed against the reveal. In stark contrast to the rest of the house, Simone’s room looked as it did the day she died. He looked to Miranda and she appeared just as stricken. “What the hell is going on? It feels like a shrine.”

      “That’s because it is.” Miranda was just as horrified. “I can’t believe that dotty woman would do this. Simone didn’t even live here anymore when she died! She lived with me that summer.”

      As Wade surveyed the room, creeped out by the feeling that Simone might pop from a shadow, he realized any hope he might have harbored of a quick resolution died as the knowledge that their mother might very well need professional help, after all, sank in.

      “I’ve seen enough,” he said curtly, motioning for Miranda to leave. He closed the door behind them, and they made their way free from the claustrophobic clutter of their parents’ home. Once clear, Miranda locked the front door and handed Wade the keys, which also had the car keys. He accepted the keys and drew a deep breath, even though his chest felt as if an elephant had stomped on it. He opened his mouth but didn’t have the words. Miranda seemed to understand. She hugged him tightly and simply nodded. He appreciated her silence. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to stay. In the end, he knew he’d have to do both.

      “Where are you staying?” she asked as they broke apart. “You can stay with me if you want. I live in town. Trace and Delainey live outside of town. Both of us have a spare bedroom. Take your pick.”

      “Thanks but I booked a hotel. I managed to find something in town that was reasonable.”

      “Talen is going to be bummed. He was looking forward to meeting Uncle Wade in person.”

      Wade always made sure to send his only nephew a birthday card with money but he’d actually never met the kid. He forced a smile. “I’d love to but I think I need a little time to process. But let Talen know that I will definitely see him before I leave, okay?”

      “He’ll be so excited. He said you always send the best presents. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

      Well, his secretary, Nancy, deserved most of the credit for his gift choices as she had a son around the same age and always pitched in with suggestions when Wade was unsure. He ought to come clean but he was tired and ready to put an end to this day. “Dinner sounds good,” he agreed, and they hugged again before climbing into separate cars and driving off in separate directions.

      He needed to put some distance between himself and everything he’d just discovered.

      Hell, he needed a beer and sleep.

      Tomorrow would come all too soon—and with it, one helluva fight.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      “I