“I suppose it’s just as well that we don’t talk to Joey today. Under the circumstances, perhaps we shouldn’t tell him at all.”

“Rose, wait. This doesn’t change our plans or how I feel about you or Joey. I just need time to work this out.”

She detected a pleading edge in his voice. Her father had pleaded with her, but it had fallen on deaf ears just as Xander’s pleas did now. She’d thought that loving Xander would be a safe choice—as far away on the spectrum from her father as she could get. Xander was a politician who carefully dodged scandal. He certainly wouldn’t commit a crime, right? She felt so foolish. Some people would say that all politicians were criminals to different degrees.

“Time to work it out?” Rose rushed into the bathroom and came out wrapped in her robe. She couldn’t have this conversation in a flimsy bath towel. “How long, Xander? Ten to fifteen? He already has a criminal for a grandfather. Do you honestly think I’m going to let him have a criminal for a father, too?”

Xander flinched and his jaw tightened in response. “I’m not a criminal, Rose. You don’t understand.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m just a silly law-abiding citizen trying to live a decent life, and everyone around me seems hell-bent on dragging me down with them. I don’t know what happened that night, Xander, and I’m not sure I want to know. It’s bad enough that I know how the night ended.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Rose.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, ignoring him as her blood pumped furiously in her ears. “Just like the rest of the voting public, I sat back and ate up all your practiced and polished words, but they didn’t mean anything. All this time, all the promises you made about our future together, our future with Joey, you were just talking big. Nothing but lies.”

Color suddenly rushed to Xander’s face and clenched jaw. “Lies? I meant everything I said to you. If we’re going to talk about lies, Rose, how about the ones you’ve been spouting to the whole town for the last ten years, huh?”

“How dare you even compare those two things! I didn’t kill anyone. I just protected your career.”

“And made a fine martyr of yourself in the process. Don’t throw stones, Rose. Neither of us is innocent.”

“Look what telling the truth got me, Xander! How dare you demand to be a part of your son’s life knowing full well that you might end up in jail one day!” She shook her head, the tears making her vision blurry. “All this time, you’ve been sweet-talking me, trying to convince me to come to D.C. and move in with you.... It’s too late for me, but I very nearly let you become important to my son.”

The anger faded from his expression for just a moment. “What do you mean it’s too late for you?”

“I mean that I’m a fool. Damn you, Xander Langston, for tricking me into loving you just so I could have my heart broken again.”

“Rose, I don’t want to br—”

“Get out,” she demanded. For the past eleven years, Rose had been reeling from the day she walked out of Xander’s life. She’d been afraid to take a deep breath since he’d returned, worried he would disappear. She wasn’t about to sit around and wait for him to leave, this time in handcuffs. Just like before, she would take matters into her own hands and walk away before he could leave her.

Xander’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Can we talk about this?”

Rose angrily shook her head. “No, we can’t. On this point things are nonnegotiable. I will not have a criminal as my son’s father.”

“I am not a criminal!” Xander shouted. “And even if I was, I’m still his father. You can’t change that.”

He was right. The past was the past. “You’re right. Everyone makes mistakes. But I can change the future. You and I are done. And until whatever that is—” she gestured toward the television “—is cleared up, I don’t want you seeing Joey. You say you’re not a criminal? Prove it. Until then, I want you to get out of my apartment.”

“Rose—”

“Now!” she nearly shrieked, hopeful that Joey still had his headphones on. They’d managed to keep their anger on a manageable level, but she was at her limit.

Apparently, so was he. Xander nodded and backed away from her toward the door. “It was good seeing you again, Rose.” He turned the handle and walked out of the bedroom, picking up his overnight bag as he waved to Joey and slipped out the front door.

With him gone, every bone in Rose’s body disintegrated. She flopped down onto the bed, her tears rushing out of her almost faster than her body could make them.

Twelve

Xander blew into his quiet, empty town house much later than he’d planned. The drive back from Connecticut had been fairly uneventful until he hit a bad accident on the interstate. It had left him stranded between exits for several hours as victims were transported by helicopter and cars were towed away. By the time his Lexus pulled up in front of his town house, it was nearly midnight.

The perfect capstone to two miserable weeks. It had started going downhill the minute he returned to Cornwall with Rose. Perhaps coming back to the comfort and safety of the Capitol would swing luck back in his favor.

Starting tomorrow. Tonight he was too exhausted to care about luck. He carried his luggage in and dropped it at the bottom of the stairs. He was too tired to carry it up right now. Eyeing the leather sofa in the sitting room, he seriously considered sleeping on the couch. His bed felt as though it were miles away and he couldn’t drag himself another step.

At the same time, he doubted he could sleep even in the comfort of his bed. His weary mind was endlessly spinning. Thoughts of Rose and how badly they’d parted. Leaving Joey behind without being able to tell him what was going on. Tommy’s body. Heath’s defeated voice on the phone. His parents’ worried expressions as they were interrogated again by Sheriff Duke.

The past two weeks had been ones you couldn’t pay him to live over, but perhaps the worst was behind him now. By the time he prepared to head home, things seemed to have quieted down on the farm. The cloud of potential problems still hung over their heads as it had for years, but for now, the case had reached a standstill.

Xander stumbled into the kitchen, pulled a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and poured himself a few fingers’ worth over ice. He climbed onto one of the barstools and idly sorted through the stack of mail he’d left sitting there.

The Scotch burned as it went down, splashing into his empty stomach with a roar. The warmth spread through his veins and worked quickly to unknot the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck. He should’ve made a trip to the Wet Hen while he was there dealing with the cops. He was wound up tighter than a pocket watch and deserved a drink or two after fielding the press and the police at the farm.

That, at least, was easier than watching his parents deal with the tragic news. His cheerful, optimistic mother had been beside herself when she found out that the body belonged to her missing foster child. Molly had never quite forgiven herself for failing Tommy, despite her successes with so many other children. She hadn’t so much as raised a finger to Tommy, but she was consumed with misplaced guilt. She couldn’t even speak to the police the first day, she was so upset.

Ken had been distressed by the news as well, but he seemed to handle it better. Or at least more calmly than Molly. He’d sat on the porch, rocking in his favorite chair, as people came and went. Xander had sat beside him much of the time, trying to match his father’s level temperament and failing.

Ken didn’t have much to tell the police, of course, because he didn’t know the truth. All he could tell them was that Tommy had run away and he could take a lie detector test to confirm it. Xander had been sitting with Ken at the kitchen table eating breakfast when Wade had come to them with the note left on Tommy’s bed.