Winnie stared between them desperately. Terry Russel was trying to save her son from whatever Dakota had planned, but only so she could kidnap him. It was like looking at the speeding car coming toward you and knowing you were going to be killed by lightning before it arrived. “The kid’s not here,” Dakota had said. Samuel had to be hiding somewhere in the house, terrified. Could he have managed to get out…? Jumped out his window…?

“Just a kid,” he repeated, nodding slowly. But his voice was flat and emotionless, like he was reading off of a script. “No one cares about my kids. No one cares that they won’t have a father.” She read the alarm in Terry’s eyes, saw her blinking rapidly.

“You can be their father. You can. Leave right now and—”

But Dakota was crying, his shoulders shaking. That felt more normal, Winnie thought, and silently, she urged her brother to come to his senses.

“Nigel,” he gasped, “took my family from me.” He spun away from Terry, walking toward Winnie with so much determination she was sure he was going to kill her right then and there. He knelt so that he was directly in front of her face. “Manda won’t take me back and Nigel turned you against me, too.” He jerked toward Winnie on the last word, and she braced herself for impact. But Dakota didn’t hit her. He was looking at her like he couldn’t decide what to do with her.

“You’re not my family,” he said. “You stopped being my family the day you took that pig’s side and kicked your own flesh and blood out of your house.” His words sounded wet and slushy, like he was talking through a mouthful of water. Winnie began to moan. She knew these stories; she’d worked with the mentally ill for years.

Dakota didn’t seem to see either of them as he stood up and turned toward the window, staring into the darkness, his head tilted. He’d snapped; it didn’t matter why or how, and now her brother was going to kill them like he’d killed Nigel. He’d needed someone to blame for the pisswork he’d made of his life, and with Manda filing the divorce papers…

“What do you have to say for yourself, sister?”

But Winnie couldn’t answer; the gag stopped her words.

Dakota tottered around for several seconds, off balance, like he didn’t know where he was, then he strode toward Terry Russel, lifting the gun as he went.

“Pow, pow,” he said. Then he shot her. Two bullets, just like Nigel. Winnie screamed. She was crying so hard now she could barely breathe, tears flying off her face as she shook her head in disbelief. She gagged as Dakota stared in fascination at Terry Russel’s body.