"Is anything salvageable?" Tyler asked.

He pointed at the dining room table, which wasn't in its normal location and looked like he'd swept piles of drywall and insulation off of it onto the nearby floor. On it were stacked some cardboard boxes, plastic storage tubs, and other items. "So far, all of that stuff is okay. Or only the outside of the cardboard boxes got a little damp. We can empty them out at your place and trash the boxes. I think we can salvage most of our clothes. The dishes, pots and pans, and stuff like that can be saved, but we need to wash everything, obviously." His gaze drifted around the house as if looking for a place to start.

"I brought several boxes of garbage bags," Tyler said. "Do you want me to start with your clothes? I'll take everything back to our place and wash them before they're ruined."

John nodded as he stared around at the destroyed house. "Thanks. That would be a big help." He sighed. "Now I know how they felt after Katrina. I've been through a lot of stuff in my life, but I can't believe the water got up here this far." He pointed at the closest wall, where brownish scum coated the bottom half of the wall. "Three feet up inside the house. Do you believe that? That means the storm surge here was at least thirteen feet, because my lot is nine feet. Then add a foot for the foundation."

"You have a home with us," Tom insisted.

"You might regret making that offer," John joked as he scrubbed his face with his hands. "Damn. I need to call Kelly and Laurie and tell them."

"That can wait," Tom said. "Let's focus on saving what we can. They're saying we'll get more rain later today. Let's try to get as much out of here as we can this trip."

John led Tyler to their bedroom. The bed was a soggy, ruined mess, but Tyler thought he could save the handmade quilt on top of it. He shook the debris and insulation off of it and put it in its own bag. Nearly an hour later, he'd packed all their clothes and had the bags loaded in the back of the Ridgeline. Kyle and Jacob had amassed a growing pile of debris by the curb, including the carpet from the living and dining rooms. The dining room table remained behind not because it was necessarily salvageable, but they needed a staging area up off the damp and muddy bare concrete.

Tyler went to the kitchen and started throwing away food and any small appliances that received water damage. When he went outside to get a bottle of water out of the cooler they'd brought, he surveyed the neighborhood.

Up and down the street, many of the residents were engaged in a similar daunting task. Furniture, ruined carpets, and large appliances, along with storm debris, lined the curbs.

Tom stepped up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

He looked up at Tom. "I should be asking you that, love. How's your pain?"

Tom shrugged. "Not going to worry about it right now." He grabbed a water bottle from the cooler and took a long pull from it. "Too much to get done."

"I'm guessing we're in agreement that they are welcomed to stay with us as long as they need?"

Tom nodded. "Hell, at this rate we might all be living up in Savannah by Christmas."

It was late in the day, while Tyler was getting another bottle of water out of the cooler in the truck, when he heard his phone ringing.

"Blast." He fumbled for it in the glove box, where he'd left it. He didn't get to it before it went to voice mail, however.

"Why is Bob calling me?" He tried his voice mail, but the system gave him the "all circuits busy" message when he tried to retrieve his messages. He opted to try calling Bob directly, and was remarkably surprised when the call went through.

"Hello, mate. How are you faring?" Tyler asked.

"I'm okay. The house is still standing, just some roof damage. Listen, is Tommy there?"

"Yes. We're at John and Kelly's house helping with cleanup." He headed inside to find Tom.

"How bad?"

"Eh, complete loss, I'm afraid. We're trying to salvage what we can right now."

"I'm really sorry about that."

"Thanks, I'll pass the message. Here's Thomas." He handed the phone to Tom, who straightened from where he was helping Kyle and Jacob pull up carpet in Laurie's room.

"Who is it?"

"Bob. Needs a word with you."

Tom took the phone. "Hey, Bob. How you doing?"

"Listen, you need to call Nevvie. Right now."

"What's wrong?"

"She and the kids are fine. But she needs to talk to you right now."

Tom's voice rose in agitation and volume. "Bob, quit that shit. What the fuck is wrong?"

He didn't like how Bob's voice dropped. "Tommy, please. Just try to call her. If you can't get her, call me back."

"Bob-"

"Call her." He hung up before Tom could argue further.

Tyler hovered close, worry on his face. "What's wrong? What is it?"

He shook his head and pulled up Nevvie's number on speed dial. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. Just said I had to call Nevvie right now." He waited anxiously as the phone rang once...twice...three times. Kyle and Jacob stopped working and watched him, waiting, concern on their faces.

"Hello?"

Tom closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Nevvie's voice. "Baby girl, I'm gonna spank your ass, you ever scare me like that again. Bob just called me. What the hell is going on?"

"Tommy, you need to sit down."

He didn't like the sound of her voice. His mind immediately flashed back to that day in the construction trailer when Momma broke the news to him about Tyler's heart attack. He felt his lungs empty. "Nev," he managed, "just tell me. What's wrong? Is it Momma? Is she okay?"

He heard her take a deep breath. She sounded weary, tired. "No, Mom's fine. It...it's Emily. She-"

Rage exploded inside him. "What'd that fucking bitch do this time? Goddammit, we're going through all this shit and she's starting in again now? I fucking swear I'm gonna-"

"Tommy!" she yelled, startling him and quieting him. "Tommy," she repeated, only this time her voice sounding soft and gentle and pleading and near tears, "please, listen to me. It's bad, Tommy. She's...someone killed her. She'd dead, Tommy. I'm sorry."

The world spun. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't make sense of what she'd said. "What?"

"I'm so sorry, baby," Nevvie whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

He leaned against the wall for support as he looked at Tyler. Dead? He hated Emily's guts and wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire, but...dead?

Tyler snatched the phone from his hand and took control. "Nevvie, it's me, love. What happened?" He listened for a moment, a mask dropping over his features as she broke the news to him. Tom couldn't do anything but stand there and numbly watch him. He felt himself slide down the wall until he hit the damp concrete floor.

"Right," Tyler quietly said. "How's Mom and everyone else doing?" He turned away from Tom and left the room.

Concerned, Kyle and Jacob walked over. Kyle put his hand on Tom's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Still in shock, he shook his head.

"What happened?" Jacob asked.

He licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper. "It's...my sister. Emily. Someone killed her."

"Emily?" Jacob frowned. "We haven't met her, right? Wait, isn't she the one who..." Realization filled his face. "Oh. Oh, man. I'm so sorry. What can we do?"

Tom felt like he couldn't focus his eyes. It hurt to breathe, to think. He shook his head. "I don't know. Ty..." He looked around. Tyler had walked outside. He couldn't form any thoughts, his brain still trying to wrap itself around Nevvie's words.

Emily's dead.

He'd heard and understood what she said. He just couldn't process it in his brain.

"He'll be right back," Kyle said, helping him up and guiding him toward the bedroom door. "Let's get you outside in the shade. It's damn hot in here. You don't look good. We need to get some water in you."

John met them in the hallway, a grim look on his face. He grabbed Tom's other arm and helped them get him outside and into a chair on the porch. Tyler stood down by the street, still on the phone, rubbing his forehead with his other hand. One of the men brought Tom a cold bottle of water, opened it, and put it in his hand. He wasn't sure which man, because he couldn't take his eyes off Tyler, who paced five feet, turned, and paced back five feet. Over and over. Rubbing his forehead, staring at the ground.

This can't be happening. It's a mistake.

John's stern voice cut through his fog. "Tom, you need to drink. Your color isn't good. Drink."

He put the water bottle to his lips and took a few swallows.

Tyler paced...turned...paced.

After a few more minutes, Tyler ended the call and turned to look at them. He walked over to Tom and knelt in front of him. "Are you all right, love?" he quietly asked.

Tom shook his head.

"I told Nevvie we would leave first thing in the morning to come up. She assured me Dad has stepped in and is helping comfort Mom and everyone."

"We should leave tonight," Tom said. He thought about it and nodded. "Tonight."

"No. You're in no condition. Besides, the roads are too bad anyway. Tomorrow. No arguments."

"Did she tell you what happened?" Tom asked.

Tyler hesitated.

"Tell me, dammit."

Tyler's eyes closed for a moment before he opened them again to look at him. "Emily had an open house yesterday in preparation of selling it. Afterward...apparently someone beat her to death. There's no signs of forced entry, so the police suspect someone who attended the open house might be the culprit. The real estate agent found her this morning. Based on the evidence, they think it happened around eight last night. Other than cash missing from her purse, they don't suspect robbery because her credit cards and other valuables weren't missing."

"How's Momma doing?" he hoarsely asked.

He nodded. "She's upset, but Nevvie said she's coping."

"How's Laurie?" John asked. "Is she okay?"

"Nevvie said she's been an utter godsend. She's keeping Adam and Mikey entertained and away from the adults. The little ones are unaware of what's happened."

"What about the twins?" Tom asked. "And Clay?"

"Ah, apparently they were at the house this morning when the police showed up to talk to Mom. Mom had them staying with her because the power's still out at their place. Clay was initially a suspect until they cleared his alibi and saw that his hands were uninjured."

"Hands?"

Tyler swallowed hard. "Love, do we really-"

"Tell me, goddammit!"

He took a deep breath before answering. "Whoever killed her bludgeoned her with his bare hands. Dad went with Nevvie to the morgue for the positive identification. It was, she said, an exceedingly brutal attack."

"Was she raped?" Why was he asking this? It was like he'd switched over to autopilot and couldn't think.

Tyler shook his head. "No." He gently took Tom's face in his hands. "Listen to me, love. We're going to finish up here, and I'm taking you home. You're going to have a nice long shower and eat dinner for me, and then you'll take a pain pill and go to bed. I'll do all the packing for us. Tomorrow, we're driving to Savannah."

"I'll send Kelly with you," John said. He looked at the house. "There's nothing she can do here that me and the boys can't. It's going to start getting moldy fast, anyway, and I don't want her in that. She's allergic to mold. She can help you all out with the kids and stuff." He looked around the neighborhood. "I'll drive up after I talk to the claim adjuster." His eyes settled on Tyler. "I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate this. Everything. Having a family again..." His eyes took on a too-bright shine Tom knew all too well. "We'll all get through this, son." He leaned over and hugged Tom.

Tom nodded. "Thanks, Dad," he quietly said. Then he realized what he said and let out a harsh laugh.

"It's okay," John assured him. "I don't mind if you don't." He opened his arms to Tyler, Kyle, and Jacob. "All four of you are like sons to me now. I couldn't have asked for a better family."

Chapter Eleven.

Despite Tom's weak protests that he wanted to stay and help, John, Kyle, and Jacob, with Tyler leading the charge, finally overruled him and got him loaded into Tom's truck. Tyler drove, and they slowly began making their way home.

"We need to get the house generator topped off for them before we leave," Tom softly said as he stared out the passenger window. "Maybe call around and see if anyone's delivering propane."

"I will handle it, love," Tyler assured him.

"You should stop and get gas somewhere, too, if you see any place that's open and doesn't have a mile-long line."

"Neither option available right now. We have the portable cans we can use. I can siphon gas out of one of the other vehicles, if need be. We should leave this vehicle for Jacob and Kyle to use to help John and take my car."

Tom finally looked at him, one eyebrow arched.