hers, and her fingers tingled with awareness, unsettling her even more. She desperately wanted to hold on to him. To have someone assure her that things would be all right.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
* * *
B UT NOTHING WAS all right. She was all alone. Everyone in Camden Crossing hated her, and the only way to fix that was to remember what had happened that day.
Chaz gave her a sympathetic look, then started the car and drove to White Forks. The woods backing up to the ranch seemed darker and more ominous tonight. Chaz maneuvered the dirt drive, avoiding the worst potholes, then parked in front of the house.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard an animal rustling in dry leaves as she climbed out. Then the howl of a coyote as if it was close by.
Chaz opened the trunk and lifted one of the boxes, and she grabbed two bags of supplies and led the way up the steps. But when she touched the doorknob to unlock the door, it swung open.
Chaz immediately pressed a hand across her chest to stop her from entering. “Did you lock it when you left?”
She nodded, remembering the bloody message on her mirror.
Was someone inside now?
* * *
C HAZ ’ S INSTINCTS SNAPPED to full alert. He set the box on the porch, removed his weapon and scanned the front of the property. He hadn’t seen anyone pulling up, and there were no cars in sight.
Still, the door was unlocked, and on the heels of Tawny-Lynn’s so-called accident, that raised his suspicions.
“Chaz?”
He pressed a finger to his lips to shush her, then motioned for her to stay behind him. He inched inside, looking left then right, shocked at the stacks of papers and junk filling every nook and cranny of the living room and kitchen.
The stench of stale beer and liquor mingled with mold, and gave him an understanding of the mammoth amount of trash bags and cleaning supplies Tawny-Lynn had bought.
It had been years since he’d been in the house and tried to remember the layout. The master bedroom was on the main floor, the girls’ rooms upstairs.
The floor creaked as Tawny-Lynn followed behind him, and he veered to the left into the master suite. It was just as nasty and cluttered as the front rooms.
But no one was inside.
“I don’t hear anything,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
Neither did he, but a predator could be hiding in a closet or upstairs, ready to attack. He slowly closed his hand around the bedroom closet doorknob and yanked it open, his gun raised. It was empty except for the stacks of old shoes, hats and clothing.
“Stay here while I check the upstairs.”
“No, I’m going with you,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
He gave her a sharp look, then decided maybe it was best if she did follow him, in case the intruder was hiding in the storage shed outside. He didn’t want to leave her alone.
They crossed back through the room, then he tiptoed up the steps, but the wooden boards creaked beneath his weight. The first room was Peyton’s, still decorated like it had been years ago. For a moment, grief hit him as an image of Ruth sitting cross-legged on Peyton’s bed flashed in front of his eyes.
Heaving a breath to refocus, he yanked open the closet door, but all he found were Peyton’s clothes. Jeans and T-shirts, a prom dress.
The softball cleats gave him another pain in his chest. No wonder the parents of the three girls who’d died couldn’t forget.
No one should have to bury a child.
He kept his gun poised as he pivoted, Tawny-Lynn’s choppy breathing echoing behind him as he entered the hall and inched to her room.
He paused at the doorway, anger bolting through him at the sight of the mirror.
“What the hell?”
“That was there when I first arrived,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
He swung around to her. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I had no idea how long it had been there.”
Chaz cursed, then strode forward to examine it. He studied the writing, then took a sniff. “Looks like blood but it’s dry, so
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
* * *
B UT NOTHING WAS all right. She was all alone. Everyone in Camden Crossing hated her, and the only way to fix that was to remember what had happened that day.
Chaz gave her a sympathetic look, then started the car and drove to White Forks. The woods backing up to the ranch seemed darker and more ominous tonight. Chaz maneuvered the dirt drive, avoiding the worst potholes, then parked in front of the house.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard an animal rustling in dry leaves as she climbed out. Then the howl of a coyote as if it was close by.
Chaz opened the trunk and lifted one of the boxes, and she grabbed two bags of supplies and led the way up the steps. But when she touched the doorknob to unlock the door, it swung open.
Chaz immediately pressed a hand across her chest to stop her from entering. “Did you lock it when you left?”
She nodded, remembering the bloody message on her mirror.
Was someone inside now?
* * *
C HAZ ’ S INSTINCTS SNAPPED to full alert. He set the box on the porch, removed his weapon and scanned the front of the property. He hadn’t seen anyone pulling up, and there were no cars in sight.
Still, the door was unlocked, and on the heels of Tawny-Lynn’s so-called accident, that raised his suspicions.
“Chaz?”
He pressed a finger to his lips to shush her, then motioned for her to stay behind him. He inched inside, looking left then right, shocked at the stacks of papers and junk filling every nook and cranny of the living room and kitchen.
The stench of stale beer and liquor mingled with mold, and gave him an understanding of the mammoth amount of trash bags and cleaning supplies Tawny-Lynn had bought.
It had been years since he’d been in the house and tried to remember the layout. The master bedroom was on the main floor, the girls’ rooms upstairs.
The floor creaked as Tawny-Lynn followed behind him, and he veered to the left into the master suite. It was just as nasty and cluttered as the front rooms.
But no one was inside.
“I don’t hear anything,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
Neither did he, but a predator could be hiding in a closet or upstairs, ready to attack. He slowly closed his hand around the bedroom closet doorknob and yanked it open, his gun raised. It was empty except for the stacks of old shoes, hats and clothing.
“Stay here while I check the upstairs.”
“No, I’m going with you,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
He gave her a sharp look, then decided maybe it was best if she did follow him, in case the intruder was hiding in the storage shed outside. He didn’t want to leave her alone.
They crossed back through the room, then he tiptoed up the steps, but the wooden boards creaked beneath his weight. The first room was Peyton’s, still decorated like it had been years ago. For a moment, grief hit him as an image of Ruth sitting cross-legged on Peyton’s bed flashed in front of his eyes.
Heaving a breath to refocus, he yanked open the closet door, but all he found were Peyton’s clothes. Jeans and T-shirts, a prom dress.
The softball cleats gave him another pain in his chest. No wonder the parents of the three girls who’d died couldn’t forget.
No one should have to bury a child.
He kept his gun poised as he pivoted, Tawny-Lynn’s choppy breathing echoing behind him as he entered the hall and inched to her room.
He paused at the doorway, anger bolting through him at the sight of the mirror.
“What the hell?”
“That was there when I first arrived,” Tawny-Lynn whispered.
He swung around to her. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I had no idea how long it had been there.”
Chaz cursed, then strode forward to examine it. He studied the writing, then took a sniff. “Looks like blood but it’s dry, so
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