Deke held up a hand to keep Keone from shooting his mother.

“Mama, what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for your brother—or you.”

“Me?”

She peered around his and Dylan’s former hideaway. “Figured you’d come by here at some point.”

“I didn’t realize anyone but Dylan and I knew about this place.”

“I’ve known about it for years. Used to follow you two hooligans to make sure you were safe.” She peered into the valley, thoughtful. “Later, I came here to…get away.”

“Did you used to clean up our mess?”

She nodded. “Couldn’t stand the thought of my boys junkin’ up such a pretty place.”

“We always thought a raccoon or something carried the wrappers and cans away.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left them behind.”

Spoken like a true mother. How had he missed her bent toward protecting the environment? Had he noticed it in subtle ways that’d worn off on him?

“Have you seen my baby boy?” she asked.

“Not since the night of the murder.”

Worry wove deep groves in her forehead. “The darkness is upon me.”

Deke’s heart kicked against his chest. “How long?”

“Couple hours.”

“Darkness?” Keone asked.

His mom sent Keone a wary look.

“This is Keone. You can trust him. He’ll understand.”

Over the years, his mom had learned to be careful with whom she shared her secret. Some folks in these parts had no tolerance for things they couldn’t explain.

“Any time something awful is about to happen to a member of my family, a black cloud of sadness and fear surrounds me.”

“There’ve been a dozen or so times in the last twenty years when Mama’s premonition of danger has proven true. One notable moment was when I’d had a skiing accident and no one could locate me for seventeen hours.”

“Does your gift come with the ability to track down the subject?” Keone asked, unfazed by psychic talk.

“Sometimes snapshots of the surrounding area accompany the darkness. They might include landmarks the locals would recognize.”

“Have any surfaced for Dylan’s location?” Deke asked

“Woods. Bars. Nothing identifiable.”

“Bars?”

“Like a caged animal in a circus.” His mom’s attention dropped to his hand holding the smartphone. “Why are you here?”

A year ago, he would have shared the reason straightaway. But his mom had cut off all communication with him in recent months, without explanation.

“Don’t trust me, son?”

Keone stirred. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

He handed off the phone. “Have it analyzed.”

“Will do.” Keone nodded to Deke’s mom. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Conrad. We’ll find your son. Deke will make sure of it.”

His mom watched Keone disappear into the woods. “Nice young man. Loyal.”

“Why are you toting a gun?”

She glanced down at the weapon as if she’d forgotten about it.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Of course.”

“Since when?”

“Since you left.”

Deke frowned. “Why did you need to learn how to use a gun?”

“Never you mind. You’ve got your own life to worry about. I’ll take care of mine.”

“Is that why you stopped answering my calls?”

Her attention drifted away. She said nothing, though she cradled her weapon tighter.

“Daddy’s drinking again. Has he done something I need to address?”

“I told you, I’ll take care of my own business.”

He wanted to annihilate whatever or whoever threatened his mom. But her lapse into silence meant the subject was closed. Prodding at the issue would only manage to piss her off.

“Dylan left a message for me in his apartment.”

Her eyes widened at his show of trust. “The phone?”

He nodded. “I think it might belong to the murder victim.”

“Is your friend taking it to the police?”

“No.”

“Why not? There could be something on it that would prove Dylan’s innocence.”

“It’ll take too long. The phone is most likely password-protected. The authorities will have to go through legal channels to gain access. Even then, there’s no guarantee.”

“What if you find something? Won’t the evidence be tainted?”

“Let’s not worry about that unless the issue arises. I have resources.”

She assessed him in the same way she used to when trying to determine if he was being honest or attempting to avoid punishment.

“Will you keep me in the loop?”

“I don’t know how far this stretches into the community. A wrong word to the wrong person—”

“I’ve no intention of discussing this with anyone,” she interrupted, “including your father. He’s already made up his mind about Dylan’s innocence.”

He didn’t have to ask what side of the law Dylan came down on in his dad’s eyes. His mom’s tone said it all. Mitch Conrad never saw the good in people or the positive side of anything. He wrote people off faster than a roadrunner fleeing a coyote. His kids were no exception.

“How about we keep each other updated? I’ll share new developments with you and you’ll let me know if your snapshots reveal any landmarks we can use to locate Dylan.”

“Don’t call or text me. I pick up fresh eggs for your dad at the farmers market downtown every morning.”

“When this is over, I’m getting you out of Rockton.”

The smile she sent him was gentle, appreciative, before it disappeared.

“To where? I’m not good for much but cooking and cleaning. I have no fancy education, no dear friends, and no family besides you, Dylan, and Dara.” She pointed a finger at him. “And I won’t be a burden to my children.” Her gaze hardened. “Find my son. Leave me to my life.”