SHATTERED

A RYLIE COOPER MYSTERY

BOOK TWELVE

STELLA BIXBY

To My Readers

For sticking with Rylie through thick, thin, and all those suspiciously high body counts. You're my favorite accomplices.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Stella Bixby

1

Returning to Big Mountain brought up waves of emotion I didn't realize were simmering in the back of my mind. Longing, apprehension, excitement, worry. The last time I visited was for my wedding. The wedding that didn’t end the way weddings usually end.

I tried not to correlate my hometown—where I was born and raised until I left for college—with that moment. I wanted to remember it as the safe, happy place where I’d grown up swimming in the freezing lake, snowboarding down the mountain, and eventually moving back and working as a volunteer firefighter.

As we wound our way over the mountain pass, I glanced at Luke, who seemed lost in thought—one arm propped up against the window, his deep brown eyes scanning the partially snow-covered road. He'd only spoken a handful of words since we'd gotten the news that his aunt was missing.

The man on the phone who had called about his aunt—her ex-boyfriend, Horace—hadn't given him many details. Luke had tried to contact his parents—who still lived in Big Mountain—but they were on a cruise somewhere in the Caribbean.

The police department had been no help, much to Luke's dismay. He'd practically begged the person on the phone to speak to the detective on the case, but they'd told him everyone had gone home for the day. Oh, and that there wasn't a case at all—no one had reported his aunt missing. They told him they'd send someone over for a welfare check, but I suspected he wasn't convinced they would be very expedient on the request by the frustration in his voice when he hung up.

"What are you looking at?" Luke asked, dragging a hand over his mouth and chin. "Do I have something on my face?"

He was so handsome, even with the bags under his eyes. The dusting of stubble on his face only sharpened the worry in his features.

"Sorry, just thinking about your aunt," I said. "Why didn't Horace go to the police instead of calling you?"

"With as much help as they were when I called, I imagine he didn't get very far," Luke said. "I’m hoping this is all a big misunderstanding—that we'll get to her front door and find she was just sleeping through all five thousand of my phone calls."

I fiddled with the edge of my jacket sleeve. “You know, for a town called Big Mountain, the police seem to have a small mountain of motivation when it comes to missing persons.”

Luke’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, then faded.

“Sorry. Not the time for jokes, I know.” I glanced out the window at the thick pine trees covered in snow. “But seriously, shouldn’t a PI going missing be, I don’t know, a higher priority?”

“You’d think.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “If something’s happened to her…”

A flash of neon caught my eye through the trees. “Was that billboard always there?”

As we rounded the curve, an enormous billboard loomed over the roadside, featuring Mayor Thompson’s beaming face. The slogan CLEANING UP BIG MOUNTAIN—ONE DRUG DEALER AT A TIME sprawled across it in bold red letters.

“That’s new,” Luke muttered. “Dad mentioned Thompson pushing his anti-drug campaign for reelection.”

I was about to respond when Luke suddenly jerked the wheel. “What the—”

A three-legged deer with what looked like only one eye stood frozen in our headlights. Luke swerved hard, the truck fishtailing on the icy road. My stomach lurched as we skidded off the pavement, plowing through the snow on the shoulder before stopping.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s voice was tight with panic.

I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What happened to the deer? Did you see—”

“Yeah, I saw.” Luke put the truck in reverse and tried to back up, but as the tires spun, the truck sank into the snow. He tried rocking it back and forth but still got nowhere.

“Damn it!” He threw it in park and pushed his door open to assess the situation from outside.

When I got out, my legs sunk through the hard-packed crust into snow up to my knees. Even with Luke’s truck, it would be hard to get out without help.

Luke paced back and forth, checking his phone. “No service.” He slammed his phone against his palm as if that would magically summon bars. “Of course, there’s no service. This is just perfect.” He kicked the snow away from the tires. “June is out there somewhere, and we’re stuck in a ditch.”

I surveyed the surroundings, spotting our tire tracks leading off the road. The snow was hard-packed but deep. Getting unstuck would be trickier than clearing the snow away from the tires or using rocking momentum to get out. “Luke, I think if we—”

“I should have been watching more carefully. That stupid billboard is entirely too distracting.”

“Luke.” I grabbed his arm, stopping his snow kicking. “Listen. We’re going to get out of this. We’ve gotten vehicles out of worse spots than this.” I pointed to where the tires had sunk deep through the hard-packed snow. “The problem is we don’t have enough surface area on the tires for traction.”

He looked at me blankly, still processing. “What?”

“We need to let some air out of the tires. You probably have them filled full because there’s no snow in the city, and it gets better fuel economy that way, right?”

He nodded, still unsure.

“If we let some air out, it’ll create more surface area touching the ground, kind of like snowshoeing.”

But before Luke could respond, headlights swept over us as a police cruiser pulled up. The blue and red lights flashed once, then went dark. A slender woman emerged, adjusting her utility belt as she approached.

“Well, well. Luke Hannah.” Her voice carried a sing-song quality that set my teeth on edge. “Didn’t expect to find you in a ditch tonight.”

“Jessica.” Luke’s entire demeanor changed, his shoulders tensing. “We had to avoid hitting a deer.”

She shined her flashlight over the scene, then directly into my face. I squinted against the brightness.

“And who is this?” she asked, though she kept her eyes on Luke.

“You know, Rylie,” Luke said, his tone exasperated.

Did she?

I took another look at her and realized who she was. Jessica Morton had gone to school with us. She was a class or two younger, but she’d always hated me.

“Rylie Cooper?” She moved her flashlight beam down my body, then back to my face. “You look… different.”

I didn’t like the way she emphasized the word different. My hackles rose. “We’re in a hurry,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Luke’s aunt is missing.”

Jessica’s thin eyebrows rose. “Missing? June Hannah? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” She tapped her radio. “Nothing over the wire about any missing PI, that’s for certain.”

“Her ex called me—Horace Walters,” Luke said. “He hasn’t seen her in a couple of days.”

“You sure she’s not just on a job? That woman’s always chasing someone down, sticking that camera of hers where it doesn’t belong.”

Luke’s jaw clenched at the thinly veiled criticism.

“Can you call us a tow truck?” he asked.

Jessica shook her head, flashing a half-hearted smile. “No tow trucks available tonight. We had a multi-car pileup out on Highway 456.” She swept her flashlight beam over the truck again. “Could be a long wait.”

“We can’t wait,” Luke said, his voice rising. “My aunt could be in danger.”

“Nothing I can do about it.” Jessica hooked her thumbs in her belt. “Unless you’d like me to give you a ride? We could catch up on old times while Rylie waits with the truck.”

I stepped forward. “Actually, I have an idea.” I turned to Luke. “Do you have something to deflate the tires with? A screwdriver?”

Luke nodded. “I’ll get it.”

While he rummaged around in his truck, Jessica watched with skepticism. “You really think that’ll work?”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll take you up on that ride to town,” I replied. I pulled my long blonde hair into a ponytail so it would be off my face, even if that meant my ears would be cold.

“Do you want me to do it?” Luke asked, a screwdriver in his hand.

“I can,” I said. I had absolutely no interest in trying to make conversation with Jessica.

Luke handed me the screwdriver, and I knelt by the front tire and began releasing air.

“How’s life at Big Mountain PD?” Luke asked Jessica.

“Better since Thompson’s cleanup initiative. Lots of arrests. Great overtime.” She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “I could use a partner who knows what he’s doing. Most of these rookies couldn’t track a suspect through freshly fallen snow.”

“I’ve hung up my duty belt,” Luke said. “I’m out of the business.”

“That’s a shame,” Jessica said, a pout in her words.

I worked methodically, moving from tire to tire, trying not to get too irritated at Jessica’s overt flirtation with Luke. When I finished, I slipped the screwdriver into my jacket pocket. “All set.”

“You drive, we push?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know the we you’re talking about,” Jessica said, “but I’m not getting my uniform dirty for this. I’ll make sure to include your little off-road adventure in my patrol report, though.”

I ignored her and slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “I’m going to back up slowly.”

Luke squatted, bracing his shoulder against the front bumper.

I counted down, “Three, two, one.”

2

I gently eased the gas pedal down.

Luke’s groan as he pushed with all his might echoed through the cold air.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the tire tread caught, and the truck lurched backward, nearly sending Luke face-first into the snow.

I kept the momentum going—the truck inching backward toward the road—as Luke regained his footing and pushed again.

When we were safely back onto the road, I hopped out.

Luke cheered and gathered me up for a big hug. “You did it!”

As he swung me around, I noted the sour look on Jessica’s face.

He eased me back to the ground, careful not to let me slip on the ice, then brought his face down to mine for a sweet kiss.

Jessica cleared her throat. “Guess you didn’t need that tow after all.” She slipped into her cruiser.

“Thanks for stopping,” Luke said. “If you hear anything about my aunt—”

“I’ll let you know.” She tilted her head. “Call me sometime. My number hasn’t changed.”

Had she not just seen him kiss me? Ugh. She was just as horrible as she had been in high school.

We climbed into the truck, Luke brushing the snow off his pants before getting in. Jessica pulled up next to us, her window rolled down. Luke lowered his.

“One more thing,” Jessica said. “If you do find June, remind her to stay out of ongoing police investigations. She’s been awfully nosy lately.”

“Yeah, okay,” Luke said, frustration in his voice.

“Nice seeing you, Luke. And nice meeting you, Rory.”

“It’s Rylie, and you know it,” I corrected, but she was already driving away.

As we pulled away, I said, “So. You and Jessica?”

“Yeah.” He kept his eyes on the road. “It didn’t end well.”

“Really? Because she seemed very eager to rekindle the relationship.”

Luke reached over and grabbed my hand. “She was just trying to get under your skin.”

“She never did like me,” I said.

“Tell me about it. She always compared herself to you when we dated, which was fair because I probably did the same. I’ve compared everyone I’ve dated to you.”

“Okay, sure,” I teased. “Do you think it’s odd she didn’t know about June?”

“Not if Horace didn’t call the police.”

“But the whole town probably knows by now,” I said. “Which would mean Jessica would, too.”

“Just like she knows your name?” Luke asked, giving me a lopsided grin.

Fair point. “And what about telling June to stay out of police business? Was there tension between June and the police department?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Luke said. “It’s all very strange.”

I glanced at the sky. The stars were so clear up here, away from city lights, shining like tiny spotlights through an inky canvas. As we approached town, my breath hitched at the sight of the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort—where I’d spent winters snowboarding and summers sunbathing by the pool. Also, the place where I’d almost married someone who was not Luke. I averted my gaze, shutting out those emotions.

“You’re quiet,” Luke remarked after a few minutes.

I realized I’d been staring at my reflection in the window. “Just thinking about my job situation. Or lack thereof.”

“Still don’t want to go to the academy?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I just don’t think it’s the right thing for me. I’m not like you. It would take me ages to work my way up to detective.”

Luke had been a detective for one of the largest cities in Colorado until a few months ago when he went to the Middle East to help train civilians to become police officers. When he returned, he had no interest in returning to police work.

“You’d make a good officer,” Luke offered.

“You think everyone would make a good officer.”

“Not everyone. Definitely not everyone.” He laughed. “But you—you have the instincts for it.”

I didn’t answer. If only I could have stayed a park ranger—the only career I’d ever really loved. But I’d investigated too much. I was too much of a liability without going through the proper training. It wasn’t fair, but that’s the thing about life—it’s rarely fair.

The road wound past the fire station where I’d spent hundreds of hours volunteering, then straight into town. The town square unfolded before me like a familiar embrace—an idyllic scene straight from a postcard. Street lamps dotted the empty sidewalks—the only light besides the neon signs in the window of the local bar.

This was where Luke and I had grown up. June had been the local private investigator since before I was born. She was definitely the cool aunt. On many occasions throughout the years, she'd had me over with Luke to tell us about her cases or make us a batch of her famous chocolate chip cookies.

June's house was past the town square about a mile up the lake's west shoreline. It was one of the older ones she'd bought as a fixer-upper right out of high school, easily forty or fifty years ago. I'd seen pictures of it when she bought it, and it was rough—peeling paint, a sagging porch, a roof that looked like it could have caved in at any moment. But she’d poured herself into it, sanding down every rough edge, repainting every surface, making it a home that felt like an extension of her.

The last time I’d been there, the porch swing she’d salvaged from an estate sale had been freshly stained and rocked gently in the breeze. The windows had always been open in the summer, the scent of fresh lake air mixing with whatever candles she had burning inside—usually something warm, like vanilla or cinnamon. She had a knack for decorating, too. She could make anything look like it had been curated to be in her home.

I loved going there.

The lake—barely visible through the trees surrounding her house—was like glass reflecting the night sky as we pulled into June's driveway. From the outside, everything looked relatively unchanged. The swing still hung on the porch, the garage door was closed, and the lights in the house were off—perfectly normal for the middle of the night.

Luke put the truck in park and looked over at me. "Let's check it out before we call Horace."

I'd expected Horace to be sitting in the driveway waiting for us to arrive, but no vehicles were parked near the house.

I followed Luke down the small path, then up the three steps leading to her door. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as the icy wind wound through the trees and blew my ponytail all over the place.

Luke rang the doorbell three times before he said, "I guess we're using a key."

He turned toward the porch swing, pulled a key from a hidden space under the seat, slipped it into the lock, and pushed the door open.

"Aunt June? Are you here? It's Luke," he shouted into the foyer.

When he flipped on the light, I gasped. The house had been completely ransacked. June’s mismatched furniture had been overturned, her pictures of family and friends hung crooked on the wall, and the once-cozy space felt eerily hollow.

Luke didn't waste a second. He darted up the stairs to the bedrooms, still frantically calling his aunt's name.

I was about to follow when something caught my eye toward the back of the house.

"Luke?" I called as I rushed to the wide-open back door.

"Did you find her?" He hurried back down the stairs. "She's not up there." When his gaze landed on the door, he raked a hand through his hair. "That's not good."

I hadn't noticed it before, but the house was definitely cold. The door had to have been left open for a while.

"Let’s check the rest of the house,” Luke said. “Maybe she's still inside."

He descended the stairs toward the walk-out basement while I continued around the main level.

I returned to the foyer and into June's office through the double glass doors. I flipped on the light to find a complete disaster. Papers were strewn all over the desk, the floor, and the chair by the fireplace. A gorgeous hand-painted floral lamp lay shattered on the hardwood. Books had been ripped off the shelves and tossed all about, their pages creasing under the weight of their covers.

I wanted to pick them up so badly, but I knew not to touch anything. This could end up being a crime scene, after all.

I snapped at least a hundred pictures of the office before moving on. A second door at the back of the office led to a small walk-through bathroom that opened into a sunroom overlooking the lake. A gust of cold mountain air hit my face.

When I turned on the light, I saw why. The large picture window had been shattered. Glass shards were strewn all over the floor. Someone had broken in from the large wrap-around deck outside.

"It looks like someone broke in over here," I shouted to Luke.

I snapped more photos while I waited for him to come back upstairs.

He hurried in and crouched down to inspect the opening. "That looks like blood."

I stepped closer and squinted, noticing the tiny smear on the jagged edge. "It's not much blood. Maybe whoever did this scraped themselves on the way in." I leaned closer. “It’s dried. Been here a while.”

Luke stood, not taking his eyes off the smudge of blood on the sharp glass still stuck inside the window frame. "Did you get photos?"

"A bunch, but feel free to take your own," I said.

He did.

"Did you find anything else?" I asked.

"Nothing downstairs." His voice was clipped as he fell back into detective mode despite himself.

"Her office is destroyed," I said. "It seems like someone was looking for something.”

"Nothing's out of order upstairs. Her bed is still made, which means this had to have happened before she went to bed. The perp—” He caught himself. “Whoever did this may have known what they were looking for.”

"We need to talk to Horace," I said. If he had known about the break-in, he should have called the police, not you."

"They haven't been together for a few months," Luke said. "Maybe he just heard around town that she was gone and called."

"Without checking?" I asked.

"Not everyone is like us," Luke said. "Some people don't even consider investigating when something is amiss."

"He thought enough to call you," I said. "It just seems suspicious."

"If he did this—broke into her house, abducted her—why would he have called me?"

"It's a good question," I said. "One we should ask him."

I returned to the shattered window, watching how the moonlight caught on the broken glass. I had an uneasy feeling that the window and the three-legged deer weren’t the only damaged things we would encounter in Big Mountain.

3

Luke called the police first. When he told them someone broke into his aunt's house, they assured him they'd send an officer over ASAP. I secretly hoped Jessica had clocked out, and they’d send someone other than her.

Horace didn’t answer his phone when Luke tried to call him.

"Do you know where he lives?" I asked.

Luke nodded. "But we need to wait for the police first. I want to make sure they take this seriously."

It made sense, but I was itching to talk to Horace. Surely, he had to know something. Even if all he knew was where she was last seen, that would be a start.

The police car pulled into the driveway, and I nearly cursed out loud.

Jessica.

"I hear we have a B and E," she said, her hands resting on the front of her duty belt as she approached. I almost laughed at the overt use of police jargon—B and E for breaking and entering.

In the light of June’s hallway, I noticed more of Jessica’s features. She’d grown out of her acne-prone skin and wore red lipstick nicely. Her long brown hair had been braided down her back, and she’d exchanged her thick glasses for contacts. It was easy to see why Luke had been attracted to her.

"We found the house like this,” Luke said, gesturing to the ransacked office. “And no sign of Aunt June.”

Jessica nodded curtly. “And Horace Walters was the one who called you about it instead of the police, correct?” She removed a small notebook from her pocket, flicking it open like she’d practiced in front of the mirror every morning before her shift.

“As I mentioned earlier, when I called the station about her being missing, they blew me off,” Luke said. “They said they’d have someone do a welfare check, but clearly that never happened.”

"We were busy with another call. The pileup, remember?” Jessica smiled at Luke. “But if I’d have known it was for your aunt, I would have been over right away.”

"We found blood on the broken glass," I said, leading the way to the sunroom. "It could be from the person who broke in."

Jessica’s eyes narrowed as she examined the broken window. "I know how to do my job, thanks." She crouched down, pulling on latex gloves before carefully examining the glass fragments. Then she turned suddenly, staring at Luke’s arm. “Speaking of blood, what happened there?”

Luke looked down at his sleeve. A dark stain had spread across the fabric, and when he rolled it up, there was a nasty-looking gash on his forearm.

“I didn’t even notice that,” he said, genuinely surprised.

“It must have happened when he was pushing the truck out of the ditch,” I said. “The adrenaline probably masked the pain.”

“Hmm.” Jessica seemed unconvinced. “That’s convenient.”

“You can’t possibly think Luke had something to do with the broken window,” I said, my temper flaring. “Why would he break his aunt’s window?”

“I’m sure Luke didn’t come up with such an idea,” Jessica said. “But maybe you thought shattering the window would get us to investigate more quickly. Naturally, Luke wouldn’t have made you break the window. He’s not that type of guy.”

I held my tongue. Luke was right. She was trying to get under my skin. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Jessica swabbed the window, then stood and walked back through the bathroom into the office. “By my estimation, you’d been here at least an hour before calling the police and reporting the B and E. Thought you’d do some of your own investigation before letting us in on the action? I’ve heard about your rogue missions as a park ranger.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn’t know what. I snapped it shut.

“Or maybe you were staging the scene.”

“That’s enough, Jess,” Luke said.

Just hearing him call her Jess set my teeth on edge.

“We were looking for Aunt June,” Luke continued. “We did our best not to disturb the crime scene, but we had to be certain she wasn’t inside and hurt.”

“For an hour?”

Had it really been an hour, or was she exaggerating? I couldn’t remember looking at the clock at all since Luke had gotten Horace’s call.

“I don’t know how long it took,” Luke said, the patience in his voice wavering. “Are you going to help us or not?”

“I am absolutely not going to help you,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Neither of you has any reason to interfere with this investigation. I am the officer in charge. I will be investigating this myself. Now, if that’s all the information you have, I’d like to ask you to leave my crime scene.”

“Will you at least let us know if you find anything?” Luke asked.

“Of course, I’ll let you know, Luke,” Jessica replied.

It took every bit of my patience to get back to the truck without saying something I’d regret. Regardless of how she flirted with Luke, we still needed her to take June’s disappearance seriously. I’d just have to put up with her antics until we found June.

* * *

Luke and I returned to his truck in silence.

“I’m sorry about Jessica,” Luke said once we were inside. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he backed out of the driveway.

“You think her feelings about you could interfere with the investigation?”

"I'd like to say no, but I know from experience how life events can taint your view. Police officers are just humans with a badge and a gun." He sighed. “The way she looked at me when she saw that cut on my arm—like she was already building a case against me.”

“Or against me,” I said. “But if she’s more focused on making me squirm than finding June, we’ll have to do the real detective work ourselves.”

"Jessica won’t like that."

"She doesn't have to," I said. "If she's not going to put her whole heart into finding June, then we will."

"Agreed," Luke said as he turned toward Horace’s neighborhood.

We still had at least a couple of hours before the sun peeked over the mountains, but that didn’t matter. If Horace were asleep, we’d wake him up.

"He said he'd be here when I got here,” Luke said.

"Should we call him before we go banging on his door?" I asked.

Luke thought about that for a minute, then shook his head. "No, I'd like to catch him slightly off guard. If he knows more than he's letting on, maybe he'll give us some indication."

Or if June were trapped in his house, he might not have had time to tell her to stay quiet.

Wow, that went dark fast. I shook my head to clear the thought away.

"You okay?" Luke asked when we pulled into the driveway.

"Great," I said with a smile. "Ready when you are."

He hopped out of the truck, and I followed. Horace's house was far smaller than June's. Nestled between similar houses on either side and backed up to a row of additional houses, it was a pretty basic single-family home. The blue paint was chipping in places, and the white shutters could definitely use some TLC, but overall, it was nice.

Luke pushed the button for the ancient doorbell, and within seconds, an older man in a plaid shirt tucked tightly into high-waisted jeans answered the door. His silver hair looked like it had been combed with his fingers.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here. Please, come in, come in.” He gestured broadly at the small foyer as if showing us a luxury property.

"It's good to see you, Horace," Luke said. "This is my girlfriend, Rylie Cooper—Sean and Kathryn Cooper's daughter."

The way Luke called me his girlfriend sent a small shiver through me. Sure, we’d been basically living together for the past week or so, but he hadn’t officially called me his girlfriend until now,

"Yes! I know the Coopers. They had the property on Lakeview Drive!” Horace exclaimed, seizing my hand in both of his. “Your folks had impeccable taste. Shame they divested that prime hillside location with its panoramic views and legacy appeal. Solid footprint, unobstructed southern exposure, mature landscaping—you don’t find appreciation potential like that in today’s market. That property had a character you can’t replicate with new construction.”

I winced at the reminder that my parents had sold my beloved childhood home right after I’d graduated high school.

“Horace is a realtor,” Luke explained.

“Best in the county five years running. Unprecedented market dominance in a competitive landscape.” Horace beamed, straightening his posture as if posing for a business card photo. Then, as if he remembered why we were here, he deflated a bit. “Please tell me you found June.”

“We haven’t,” Luke said. “Have you been to June’s house?”

Horace ushered us toward his kitchen. “I knocked on her door multiple times after realizing she’d gone missing but received no response whatsoever. I knew where she kept the spare key but didn’t think she’d appreciate me entering her house since we were no longer together. That’s why I contacted you directly.”

"Why didn't you call the police?" Luke asked as we sat at Horace’s four-person kitchen table. The home was clean and tidy and smelled like a five-dollar cinnamon candle.

“My relationship with the local authorities has been contentious at best. Multiple interactions, all below satisfactory. Primary example of poor community relationship.”

"What kind of interactions?" Luke asked.

Horace bristled. "This isn't about my portfolio of grievances. This is about locating your aunt before the situation deteriorates further. I knew I’d get better results if I contacted you directly. That’s all there is to it."

"How did you find out she'd been missing?" I asked.

"I was at the café having my usual morning coffee with the fellas when a woman came in inquiring about June’s whereabouts."

"Why would someone ask for June at the café?" Luke asked.

"She maintained a predictable morning routine. Premium coffee in her corner booth. Too exclusive to join our table. Said it was reserved for the ‘good ol’ boys,’ whatever that means.” He made air quotes around the phrase.

It seemed obvious what that meant, but I kept my mouth shut.

"What did the woman look like?" Luke asked.

“She was a high-maintenance type—probably late twenties, early thirties with short brown hair cut at sharp angles. Her makeup screamed, ‘priced above market value.’ The kind of gal who’d demand granite countertops and complain about the bathroom fixtures.” Horace gestured dramatically with his hands. “When the ladies at the café told her that June hadn’t been in for coffee in a couple of days, my ears perked up. Something about the woman didn’t appraise right—like finding foundation issues during the final inspection. She dodged every question and hurried out like a buyer who spotted black mold in the primary bathroom.”

"When was that?" I asked, trying to keep up with his realtor-lingo description.

"Yesterday. Quick turnaround time on this whole situation," Horace said. "I conducted a comprehensive search for June throughout the day. When my efforts yielded no results, I escalated to contacting you.”

"Do you know why the woman was asking for her?" Luke asked.

"Something about one of her cases, presumably," Horace said, waving his hand dismissively. "That's what people are usually asking about."

"But you didn't recognize the woman?" Luke asked.

"She's not a local, if that's what you're asking."

"Did anyone seem to know her?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think she's relevant other than that she brought the issue to my attention."

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I filed the information away for now.

"Where did you look to find June?" Luke asked.

"I started at her house. Rang the doorbell a dozen times, but her car was in the garage, so she couldn't have gone far. I thought she was out on a walk, so I waited in my car for approximately ninety minutes. When she didn't show up, I rang the doorbell a few more times for good measure. I figured she wouldn’t ignore me if I was so persistent.”

“Is there a reason she might have ignored you?” I asked.

Horace’s gaze went to the floor. “We had a bit of an argument the last time we spoke.”

“An argument about what?” I asked.

Luke leaned forward slightly in his chair.

“June was upset about some of my previous behavior. She was correct about confronting me. However, that has nothing to do with this other than it may have accounted for why she may have been avoiding me.”

"What did you do after you rang her doorbell?" Luke asked.

"I returned to the town square and canvassed all her regular establishments, but no one had seen her. I expanded my search radius to include tourist-oriented spaces, but they similarly had no information to offer.” He sucked in a breath. “I attempted to contact your parents, but they’re off cruising. So you were my final option.”

Other than the police. I kept that thought to myself.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt June?" I asked.

"Several people," Horace replied without a moment's hesitation. "In her line of work, she generates a great deal of displeasure.”

"Anyone of recent memory?" Luke asked.

"We haven't been together for a couple of months, so any of the cases she's managed since then are outside my knowledge base. You could review her client files. She keeps them in her home office with an excellent organizational system and top-tier efficiency.”

Neither of us mentioned that her office had been destroyed—her files flung everywhere.

"Other than people related to her cases, anyone else?" Luke asked.

"Carl Jacobson," Horace said, dropping his tone. "He started his own PI business."

"As in the Carl Jacobson we went to school with?" I asked. Carl was voted Most Likely to Turn a Summer Job into a Lifetime Career in our senior yearbook. His summer job through high school was cleaning horse stalls at a local ranch. Needless to say, he was the last person I'd have expected to start his own PI business.

"The very same individual," Horace confirmed.

"Why would Carl Jacobson want to hurt Aunt June?" Luke asked.

"When Carl launched his business, client acquisition proved problematic. He developed a theory that June was poaching his customer base and engaged in widespread negative commentary about her. Frankly, his allegations were without merit. His clients simply weren’t receiving the promised deliverables and sought alternative service providers to get results.”

"Do you think Carl has the ability to hurt Aunt June?" Luke asked.

"He’s experiencing severe financial distress—underwater on his mortgage, with foreclosure imminent. Perhaps he thought eliminating June would consolidate market share in his favor.” Horace’s eyebrows shot up dramatically.

It was a possibility. As were the people related to her cases. Any cheater caught with their pants down who ended up divorced might want to go after the one who found them out. Someone who ended up in jail for scamming insurance companies could easily want revenge.

Horace was right. Being a PI definitely put a target on your back.

"Did you find anything at her house?" Horace asked.

I glanced at Luke. I wasn't certain how much we were going to tell him.

"She wasn't there," Luke said. "And there was evidence that someone might have broken in. The police are there now."

"You're not just going to leave it to them, are you?" Horace’s expression was incredulous. “Their track record is abysmal."

“At this point, that’s our only option,” Luke said. “They have far more resources than Rylie or me.”

“They may have more resources, but they don’t have the brains,” Horace said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire police department shared one single brain cell between all of them.”

Luke was about to reply when Horace yawned dramatically.

"We'll get out of your hair," Luke said, standing. "But if you remember anything or hear anything else, you have my number."

"I can help," Horace said. "We may not be romantically intertwined anymore, but I still maintain considerable interest in June’s wellbeing."

"Thank you," Luke said as we walked toward the door. "I'll definitely let you know."

"Talk to Carl," Horace called after us. "He's a bad egg. And go through her files. Particularly those secured in her safe.”

4

Once inside the truck, Luke said, "I guess we have some suspects."

"Looks like it," I said. "What do you think about his assessment of the police department?"

"I'm sure they're more capable than he makes them out to be." Luke started the truck and backed out of the driveway. "Sounds like he has a bad taste in his mouth because of something he did."

"Maybe it's of public record," I said. "We could look into old cases."

"Or just ask someone at the café," Luke said. "Though I don't think it opens for another couple of hours. We should head to my parents' house and get some sleep."

As if on cue, I yawned. "That’s a great idea."

"Do you want me to drive by your old house?" Luke asked.

There were two ways to get to his parents’ house—the more direct way and the way past the house where I'd grown up.

"Let's go by when the sun's out," I said. "It'll be too dark to see anything tonight."

"Do you know who owns it now?" Luke asked, turning down the street that led to his parents' house.

"No idea," I said. "They sold it to a couple who wanted to use it as a vacation rental, but I don't know if they kept it."

My parents’ house was lovely—one of the nicest on the block. Not in a showy way, but in how a place feels when lived in and loved for decades. It sat up on the hill overlooking the town with the kind of mountain view you didn’t appreciate enough until you’d been away awhile. I used to sit on the back deck with a mug of cocoa, watching the sun dip behind the snowy peaks while Mom shouted that dinner was getting cold.

The winter sun that poured through the windows warmed the hardwood floors just enough for our old lab, Daisy, to nap in her favorite patch of light. Dad planted every tree in the yard himself. He said a person should leave something behind that grows taller than they are. He would walk the yard in the evenings with his hands in his pockets, checking on them like they were old friends.

My bedroom was on the second floor, the corner with the best view. The walls were covered in track ribbons and volleyball plaques, with my homecoming queen sash hanging from my mirror. I’d tucked the tiara in a jewelry box somewhere, but I saw that sash every morning before school. It reminded me I could be tough and graceful—sweaty ponytail and painted fingernails.

Of course, the house had its quirks—creaky stairs, a screen door that never latched quite right—but it was solid. Safe. Home. I still dreamt about that house sometimes. The smell of pine needles baking in the sun, the sound of wind through the aspens out back.

It was where I'd imagined returning for Christmas with my own family someday, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. Not that my parents' current house wasn't fantastic, it was, but it wasn't in the mountains. It wasn’t where I’d grown up. It didn't have the same feeling.

Luke pulled into his parents' pine tree-lined driveway. I always loved visiting his house. It was so cozy and comforting. Tucked back in the trees as it had grown there, the large cabin always smelled like cedar and coffee, even with open windows. The porch creaked underfoot in a familiar way as if it was saying hello.

"I'm sure Mom has clean sheets on all the beds," Luke said as he slipped a key into the lock of the large front door. "We can sleep in my room or the guest room."

I'd never actually slept at Luke's house. I'd done just about everything else but never slept. Nervous energy flowed through me as if I were a teenager sneaking into my boyfriend's house.

Inside, everything was almost exactly the same as I remembered it. There were thick quilts on the couch, old family photos on the walls, and a wood-burning fireplace that—when lit—ticked and popped and warmed the house from bottom to top.

We took the guest room since the bed was bigger, and within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I passed out.

* * *

When I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and coffee, I nearly panicked, forgetting where I was. It took me all of thirty seconds to get my bearings.

I was in Luke's parents' house.

In their guest bedroom.

And Luke must have been cooking breakfast.

I smiled, then instantly felt bad.

June was missing.

I hurried to the bathroom at the end of the hall, fixed my hair and makeup, threw on some clean clothes, and then headed down to the kitchen.

"Perfect timing," Luke said, putting three pieces of delicious-looking bacon on a plate with scrambled eggs and toast. "Breakfast is served."

"I'm sorry I slept so late," I said. "We could have gotten breakfast at the café."

"We'll get to the café," Luke said. "But I thought it would be nice to be fully fueled beforehand. And you didn't sleep that late. It's only eight o'clock."

"Late enough that the good ol' boys might not be at their table anymore by the time we arrive.”

"We don't need to talk to them. Not yet, anyway," Luke said. "It's the waitresses that will have the deets."

"Deets?" I asked, holding back a laugh. "That sounds like something my nephews would say."

"Yeah, I regretted it the minute I said it," he said, not holding back his laughter.

Maybe it was okay to be happy and worried at the same time? Just because we were laughing didn't mean we weren't concerned about June.

"Did you sleep okay?" Luke asked.

"Like a rock," I said. "Sorry if I snored."

"I didn't hear a thing."

I poured myself a cup of coffee. "Creamer?"

Luke smiled and pulled a brand new bottle of my favorite flavor from the fridge. "I got some just for you."

"You went to the store this morning?" I asked.

"Had to. Mom and Dad clean everything out of their refrigerator when they go on vacation." Luke had showered, shaved, gone to the grocery store, and made breakfast.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I got plenty of sleep," he said. "Haven't you heard? Men don't need as much sleep as women."

I hadn't heard that and wouldn't have been surprised if he had made it up, but it made me feel better, nonetheless.

The breakfast wasn't anything to write home about—Luke was known for many things, but cooking wasn't one of them. Either way, it did the trick. With a full stomach and a caffeine rush, I was ready to take on the world.

It never failed to send my heart fluttering when the sun's rays hit the mountains mid-morning. A dusting of snow glistened from the tippy tops, and the trees sparkled like someone had shaken out a jar of glitter all over them.

The café—formally known as the Trailside Café—was exactly as it had been my entire life. That was one of the best parts of tourist towns—things stayed the same. Even with the population growth—new houses and the like—the staples in town never changed. It was like a time capsule, reminding everyone who visited year after year of the first time they set eyes on our little town.

Inside the café, it was quiet—past the breakfast rush but still smelling like coffee and pancakes. A couple of older men sat at the counter chatting with a waitress while she wiped things down. The booths were worn but clean. It was the kind of place where nobody cared if your boots were muddy. A few framed photos of hikers and locals hung crooked on the walls, and the old fan above the door squeaked every few minutes like it always had. I smiled. It was nothing fancy, but that was part of its charm.

"Well, butter my biscuit and call me breakfast. If it isn’t the terrible two themselves,” Gloria Brookline said when we walked into the café, her eyes lighting up with genuine delight. "Get those bodies over here for the Gloria special—hugs so tight they’ll squeeze the secrets right out of you. And Lord knows this town could use some fresh gossip that doesn’t involve Mayor Handsy and his extracurricular activities.”

I laughed. Gloria had aged since I’d seen her last—silver threaded through her once-auburn hair—but she still had that unmistakable spark as she wrapped both of us in a giant group hug, one arm around each of us, squeezing with surprising strength.

"It is so good to see you, Gloria," I said, a rush of nostalgia flooding over me.

“Sweet pea, seeing the two of you together again makes this old heart of mine want to burst into song.” She patted my cheek. “Please tell me you’re staying long enough to fatten you both up.” Her eyes darted between us, fishing for details.

“We’re looking for Aunt June,” Luke said. “Horace called to let me know she’s been MIA for a few days.”

Gloria’s smile faltered just enough to notice before she glanced around the restaurant, lowering her voice. “Let’s chat over here.” She led us to a booth in the back where the waitresses sat on their breaks. It was barely out of the eye of the customers, but the wait staff could still see when someone walked in.

"Bless Horace’s heart; he was here yesterday, all worked up about June. I didn’t think much of it. He’s always been a bit of a worry wart.” Gloria leaned forward, concern etching across her face. “Do you really think something happened to our June?”

"It's the direction I'm leaning right now, yes," Luke said. "And I figured if anyone had their finger on the pulse of this town, it would be you.”

Gloria blushed and smiled widely, preening just a touch. "You always were a smooth operator. Some things never change.” She straightened the sugar packets in their holder. “What do you want to know? I'm happy to help however I can. I didn't want to give Horace too much information. Wasn't sure what his motives were. They broke up, you know?"

"Yeah, I heard," Luke said. "Aunt June didn't seem all that upset about it."

"That's because she did the breaking, Sugar," Gloria said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Horace was devastated. Even made a spectacle of himself when June had drinks with another man."

"Another man?" I asked. If June was seeing someone else, we needed to talk to that person.

"A client," Gloria said, waving a hand dismissively. "She had drinks with clients all the time, but this one got under Horace’s skin something fierce.”

"What did he do?" I asked.

"He marched into the bar like a bull seeing red and sucker-punched the young man,” Gloria said. "Then the guy stood up—tall drink of water, or so I heard—and pummeled Horace ‘till he looked like ten miles of bad road."

"What did June do while this was happening?" I asked.

"Apparently,” Gloria leaned in so close I could smell her floral perfume, “she finished her drink, left a twenty on the bar, and walked straight out the door without so much as a backward glance. Cool as a cucumber in January. It cost her the client, but she didn't seem to give two hoots. Didn't need him. Business for a tourist town PI is always booming.” She paused, straightening a napkin. “Well, until she got some competition—Carl Jacobson started his own PI business."

"We heard about that," Luke said. "Doesn't sound like it was too much competition, though."

"Bless his heart, he pretty much sucks at his job,” Gloria said with a chuckle. “But he's cheap as dirt and advertises on every lamppost from here to the county line. Like my hubby used to say, ‘loud and cheap will beat quiet and good every time until folks learn better.’” Gloria leaned back in her seat. "People flocked to him initially, taking quite a bit of business away from June. Recently, though, word has spread faster than wildfire about how he couldn’t find a moose in a phone booth. You really have to have a special skill set—a talent, really—to be a PI. Carl doesn't have a drop of that talent."

The bell above the door jingled, and Gloria’s eyes darted toward the entrance. Her smile widened, but I caught something else in her expression—a calculation.

“Well, speak of the devil, and he appears in a suit,” she murmured. “Morning, Mayor Thompson. Your usual?”

A tall, distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a campaign button on his lapel nodded at Gloria. “Please. And whatever pastry you’ve got fresh.”

Luke stood and extended a hand. “Mayor Thompson? Luke Hannah. This is Rylie Cooper. We used to live here.”

I stood as well.

The mayor’s professional smile switched on as he approached our table and shook Luke’s hand. “Hannah? June’s nephew? Of course. Welcome back to our little slice of heaven.”

“Mayor,” I said, shaking his hand. “We’ve been hearing about your anti-drug campaign. Quite ambitious.”

Something flickered behind his eyes, and his smile broadened. “Sometimes you have to take a stand for what’s right. These mountain towns used to be as pure as the falling snow. I intend to get us back to that.”

Luke and I exchanged glances.

“I hear the two of you ended up in a ditch last night,” Mayor Thompson said. “I’m so sorry we didn’t have the resources to help.”

“Rylie was resourceful all on her own,” Luke said.

“If it weren’t for that three-legged, one-eyed deer, we’d have stayed on the road in the first place,” I said with a chuckle, not mentioning that it was also his gaudy billboard that had distracted us in the first place.

The mayor’s face went from congenial to horrified in a heartbeat. “I—what? A three-legged… one-eyed…?” His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “That’s not possible. We don’t have deformed wildlife in Big Mountain. Our tourism brochures specifically highlight our pristine natural environment.”

“Well, this deer seemed pretty at home,” Luke said, watching the mayor carefully. “Almost like it had been around for years.”

“This is unacceptable,” Mayor Thompson muttered, pulling out his phone. “I need to call Animal Control immediately. We can’t have defective creatures visible to tourists.”

“The deer seemed perfectly okay,” I said. “Besides being in the middle of the road like many deer are.”

He couldn’t possibly be thinking that he’d kill a perfectly healthy deer just because it wasn’t pretty enough.

The mayor’s face went from panic to politician in a split second. “Of course, we won’t do anything to harm the poor thing. We’ll relocate it deeper in the woods so it doesn’t wander onto the road again. For its own safety, of course.”

“Of course,” I muttered.

Gloria appeared with the mayor’s coffee. “Here you go, Mr. Mayor. Fresh as the morning dew and hot as gossip.”

The mayor took the coffee absently, looking down at his phone, typing furiously with one thumb. “Thank you, Gloria. I’m afraid I’ll have to take this to go. Urgent wildlife management situation.”

“What about your pastry?” Gloria asked, taking the mug from him and pouring the hot coffee into a to-go cup.

“Next time,” the mayor said, walking away without glancing at her.

Gloria raised an eyebrow. “Now, what in the name of all that’s holy did the two of you say to send him scurrying away like that? I haven’t seen him move that fast since the health inspector showed up at his fundraiser barbecue.”

“Just making conversation about local wildlife,” Luke said innocently.

“Mmm-hmm.” Gloria’s face said she didn’t believe that for a second.

"Back to June,” I said. “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?"

"Other than Horace and Carl?" Gloria tapped her chin thoughtfully.

Luke nodded.

"Locally, I can't think of anyone who’d have the gumption,” Gloria said, but her eyes darted briefly toward the door where the mayor had exited. “But sometimes, the people on the opposite side of her clients could get nastier than a rattlesnake in a rocking chair factory. You know, the guy caught cheating, the girl who couldn’t get a job because of a bad background check, those types. You’d have to look into her cases.”

"Is there anyone specific you can think of, or just people in general?" I asked.

"June was known for her confidentiality," Gloria said, straightening the salt and pepper shakers. "Tight-lipped as a clam. But occasionally, there would be a kerfuffle, and word would spread around town faster than free pie. I haven't heard of anything like that happening recently, though." She paused, lowering her voice. “Although, between us, June did seem more watchful lately. Like she was working on something bigger than the usual cheating spouse.”

We needed to get our hands on June's files. There was no telling whether the police would let us back into the house or if they'd taken the files as evidence, but we had to try.

"Gloria, you've been so helpful," Luke said. "Thank you so much."

"You're not staying for breakfast?" Gloria asked, jutting out her bottom lip in a little pout. “Our famous cinnamon rolls just came out of the oven.”

"We ate at home this morning," Luke said. "But we'll grab a bite here before we leave town."

"Don’t you dare say ‘leave town,’ Sugar. That’ll break my fragile heart into more pieces than stars in the sky.” Gloria placed a hand dramatically over her chest.

"We're really only here to help find Aunt June," Luke said. "Rylie and I both live in Prairie City now."

"But the mountains miss you something awful," Gloria said, giving me a knowing look.

It felt so nice to be wanted. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the mountains," I admitted.

Luke glanced over at me with a strange expression—surprise, maybe?

"Don't forget to stop by the fire station," Gloria told me. "I'm sure they've missed you, too. They talk about you all the time. Especially when the probies can’t figure out what you did with both hands tied behind your back."

My heart warmed in my chest. Being a volunteer firefighter had been one of my favorite jobs ever.

"We'll do that," Luke said, pulling Gloria into another hug. "Thank you again."

“You two, be careful now,” Gloria called after us as we headed for the door. “And remember—my door’s always open, and my coffee pot’s always on. Some folks around here might not want June found, if you catch my drift.”

As we stepped outside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gloria had told us both exactly what we needed to hear and exactly what she wanted us to know. Nothing more, nothing less.

5

Being the beginning of November, the town was relatively quiet. The summer crowd had long since left and the winter crowd wouldn't be here until the holidays.

"Which should we do first—talk to Carl or head back to Aunt June's house to see if the police are finished?" Luke asked.

"Let's go back to June's house," I said. “I'm eager to look at those case files and check in with Jessica."

Luke opened the truck door for me before heading around to his side. Most of the time, I would have told him I could get my own door, but today, I didn't mind a bit of chivalry.

We wove our way through town and back up toward June's house. When we pulled into the driveway, it looked completely abandoned—no crime scene tape, no police officers, nothing.

"Do you think they've already cleared the scene?" I asked.

"It's entirely possible," Luke said. "I'll call the department to ensure we're okay to go inside."

"While you do that, I’ll go out back and see if I can find anything."

With June's house being in the middle of the forest and backed up to the lake, someone could have easily abducted her and pulled her into the trees. Or dumped her in the lake.

I shivered and pushed the thought away. I couldn't consider June being dead. Not yet.

I crunched through a mixture of frozen leaves beneath a thin layer of snow. The aspen trees were glorious for one or two weekends just before they dropped their leaves and turned into speckled white sticks standing naked in the woods. Without the leaves, it made it easier to see through the trees on either side of her property, even with the occasional pine tree scattered here and there.

Once around the back of the house, I glanced up at the deck and the shattered window. Whoever had broken in seemed to have gone in through the window, then left out the back door without bothering to pull it closed.

Had June struggled? Is that why the main level was in complete disarray? Or had the intruder simply been looking for something and then been confronted by June?

The lake still hadn't frozen completely, but June's dock was empty. Last I knew, she had a boat, but it was probably winterized and in storage at this point of the year. That didn't mean whoever took her hadn't taken her away on a boat. It made more sense than taking her through the woods on foot.

My mind raced through about a thousand scenarios when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Someone was watching me.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I didn't want to let on that I knew I was being watched.

Slowly, I glanced around as if taking in the scenery. At least, I hoped that's what it looked like I was doing.

The houses on either side of June’s were far enough away that they weren’t visible from where I stood. Across the lake, there were several houses in view. Maybe someone was watching through binoculars.

Or maybe I was just being dramatic.

No.

I wasn't going to do that. I wasn't going to discount my instincts.

I glanced around again, hoping to see any movement in the trees, but came away with nothing. The feeling of being watched still held onto me like a small child in a swimming pool without floaties.

"Find anything?" Luke asked, walking down to me.

"Not really," I said. "I think someone might be watching the house, though."

"Why do you say that?" Luke glanced around much more obviously than I had been.

"Don't look," I hissed.

Luke's gaze came back to me. "I don't see anyone."

"It's just a feeling," I said. "But I can't shake it. Maybe someone across the lake has binoculars."

"Maybe something to check on later," Luke said. "The police have cleared the scene. They wouldn't give me any additional information but said they'd let me know if they found anything."

"Did you speak directly to Jessica?"

"No, she'd gone home for the day."

"Did it sound like they were taking it seriously?"

"No way to know," Luke said.

"I guess that leaves it up to us."

"Only if you want to," Luke said. "We can leave it to the police."

"Not a chance. I've investigated enough, and you're, like, the best detective in the country, so we have a much better chance of finding her than the local PD."

"Best in the country, huh?" Luke laughed. "I don't think I'd go that far. Plus, I don't have the resources anymore. I can't search databases or get DNA off of blood samples."

"Then we need to find someone who can give us the inside scoop," I said. "Come on, I bet you know someone in the department who could slip us some information."

"And risk the wrath of Jessica?" Luke asked. "Might be harder to find someone than you think."

“Or you could use your dashing good looks and suave demeanor to get the information from Jessica herself,” I said, waggling my eyebrows.

Luke laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

We walked back up to the house, hand in hand. Once inside, I noticed the house was still cold.

"We should fix that window before it gets much colder outside," I said.

"I'll call one of the local contractors and see what they can do," Luke said. "The police could have at least closed the back door."

"And cleaned up the fingerprint dust," I said, noting the black dust everywhere.

"At least they checked for fingerprints," Luke said, closing the door. "Should we start in her office?"

I nodded and followed him back toward the front of the house.

It didn't look like the police took much evidence—papers were still strewn all over the place, and books were in the same positions from the night before.

I hurried to pick them up, smoothing the pages before closing them and returning them to the shelves. "Do you think someone thought she had a secret room behind the bookshelves?"

"It's entirely possible," Luke said.

"That someone thought that or that she has one?" I asked.

"Both," Luke said. "I spent a lot of time in this house growing up, but I was never allowed in her office."

"Well, if she does have a secret room, it definitely isn't triggered by pulling on a book," I said.

"That would be way too predictable for Aunt June." Luke chuckled.

"Didn't Horace say something about her files being in a safe?" I asked.

Luke was already one step ahead of me. When I looked up, he’d swung aside a painting of the mountains, revealing a hidden safe behind it.

"Do you know the combination?" I asked.

Luke shook his head. "No, but my dad might."

June was his dad's sister. They'd always been close, so it made sense that he would have that information.

"When are they supposed to be back?" I asked.

"Not for another week, and since they're on a boat, they don't have great phone reception. They always tell us before they leave that we won't be able to talk to them until they hit a port."

"Don't they hit ports relatively often?" I asked.

"Yeah, but my parents often forget that their children might want to talk to them. I think they forget they even have phones—and children—when they're on vacation."

"Good for them, bad for us," I said. "Do you think there's a way to contact the ship and have them paged?"

"Maybe, but my guess is that's used for emergencies," Luke said.

"His sister is missing, and her house was ransacked. I'd say that's pretty close to an emergency," I said.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He started tapping away—I suspected he was searching the web for information on how to contact a cruise ship in the event of an emergency.

"It looks like I need their cruise ship name, number, and cabin number," Luke said. "They didn't send me any of that information, but I can ask Samantha if they sent it to her."

Samantha was Luke's younger sister. She attended school in New York City and stayed after graduating to work for a theater company.

He typed out a text message and then put his phone away.

"You know, it's funny that whoever came in didn't take your aunt's purse, car, or even her computer,” I said.

"I'm surprised the police didn't take them," Luke said. "Maybe they're not taking it as seriously as I thought."

"Makes it easier for us, though," I said. "That is if we can get her passwords."

We finished cleaning up her office and then went through the rest of the main level.

"Maybe someone broke in through the window and, while searching her office, came face to face with June," I said.

"Which means that whoever took her might not have planned on taking her," Luke said.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Could be either," Luke said, defeat settling into his voice.

"Let's go talk to Carl," I said. "Maybe he can shed some light on things for us."

6

Carl's office was in a small building just southwest of the town square. It was the kind of place that had probably seen its heyday well before I was born. A faded Office Space Available sign hung in one window. The brick exterior was weathered enough to suggest the building had survived at least three natural disasters and countless lousy business ventures. It was a wonder the mayor hadn’t set his eyes on cleaning up this part of town. Granted, it was outside the standard travel path of tourists.

I eyed the cracked concrete steps as we approached. “This place looks like one strong wind away from being condemned. Perfect location for a PI if it wasn’t so out of the way.”

Luke nodded as he twisted the tarnished doorknob.

Carl Jacobson was hunched over his desk, cluttered with fast food wrappers and what appeared to be surveillance photos of the parking lot behind the one local gas station. He practically leaped out of his chair when the door opened, but when he saw it was us, his excitement was extinguished faster than a match in a downpour.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Big Mountain saviors swooping in to save the day,” Carl said, snatching his Electric Haze cap off his head. The cap featured the silhouette of a naked woman embroidered next to the strip club’s name. He ran his hand through greasy hair before jamming the cap back on. “Let me guess, you’re here about your aunt? I don’t know where she is. Horace already came in to talk to me. He was real upset. I’ll tell you what I told him. I have no idea what happened to June. That lady is as slippery as an oiled-up pig.”

“You don’t seem too upset she’s gone,” Luke said, stepping closer. “Leaves all the business for you.”

“That has yet to be proven,” Carl said, puffing out his chest. “The absence of competition doesn’t automatically increase clientele. That’s Business 101, rookie stuff.”

I frowned. What business school had he gone to?

“Now, unless you’re here to hire me for my professional services,” Carl continued, “I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

“You know what?” Luke said, his tone suddenly shifting to friendly interest. “I am here to hire you.”

Carl's eyes widened like a kid who’d just been offered free ice cream. "For what?"

"To find my aunt," Luke said, pulling out his wallet. "What's the going rate for a man of your… expertise?"

Carl sputtered before saying, "I'm too busy to take on another client right now. Got a full docket, you know what I mean? A good PI never splits his attention when he’s hot on a trail."

"But a second ago, you were saying how Aunt June being out of town hasn't changed how much business you've been getting.”

Carl’s face reddened, but he said nothing in reply.

“From the mumblings around town, you don't have much business at all." Luke thumbed through the cash. "Or maybe you don't want to find Aunt June because you already know where she is."

"If I did, wouldn't I take your money and just tell you?" Carl’s hand went to his cap again, his gaze darting between Luke’s face and his wallet. “The cardinal rule of business is maximizing profit while minimizing effort. First chapter of the handbook.”

"Not if you're the one who took her," Luke said, leaning in until he was mere inches from Carl’s face. "Because she'd definitely rat you out."

I moved closer to Carl's desk as he and Luke stared each other down.

"Fine. I'll take the case," Carl said, breaking first. "It'll be two thousand up front. Cash only. Paper trail is the enemy of discreet investigation."

Luke stood back to his full height, letting out a sharp laugh. "That seems steep. For a missing person you claim to know nothing about."

"Take it or leave it." Carl’s gaze stayed on the wallet in Luke’s hand. “The Jacobson method doesn’t come cheap.”

I slid my feet closer, trying not to draw their attention. I was almost close enough to see what looked like a calendar with several dates circled on Carl’s desk when Carl said, "Don't bother trying to look at my desk. I'm smart enough not to keep anything important in sight."

The warning in his voice, coupled with getting caught, shot my heart rate through the roof. My cheeks burned.

"Two thousand dollars," Luke said, holding a stack of hundred-dollar bills.

Carl moved to take it, but Luke pulled it back.

"I think we should sign a contract first," Luke said, his police training evident in how he controlled the interaction.

"I don't do contracts," Carl said.

"If you don't want the money, that's fine," Luke said, casually slipping the cash back into his wallet. “I hear a PI over in Monument Springs might be willing to help. Probably has more experience, too.”

"Wait," Carl said, his cap coming off yet again. "Okay, I can do a contract. But that means there's a paper trail."

"I'm not afraid of a paper trail," Luke said, his voice steady. "In fact, I prefer it."

"Go ahead, sit down,” Carl said.

Luke and I took the metal folding chairs leaning against the wall and sat facing him on the opposite side of his desk. The chairs creaked ominously under our weight.

"What do you want this contract to say?" Carl asked, cracking his knuckles before positioning them over his keyboard.

“Standard missing persons agreement,” Luke said. “You’ll use all available resources to locate June Hannah, providing daily updates on your progress. Payment structure will be one thousand now, one thousand upon completion.”

Carl’s fingers paused mid-air. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You were just about to give me two thou. I need full payment upfront to cover my operational expenses.”

“What expenses?” I asked. “Binoculars and coffee?”

“Try specialized surveillance equipment and informant compensation,” Carl shot back. “This town runs on information trading, and I’m the primary broker, if you know what I mean?”

The primary information broker? Yeah, okay. I’d like to see him go toe-to-toe with Gloria.

Luke leaned forward. “Fifteen hundred now, five hundred when you produce results. Non-negotiable.”

Carl’s eyes narrowed, but after consideration, he nodded. “Fine. But I work alone. No tagging along, no backseat investigating.”

“Deal,” Luke said. “But if we find out you’re withholding information, the deal’s off, and you refund every penny.”

“That’s not standard proced—”

“It is now,” Luke interrupted.

“Fine,” Carl said through gritted teeth. “I’ll add the clause.”

After fifteen more minutes of back-and-forth negotiations—Carl trying to insert loopholes and Luke systematically closing them—they agreed.

When Luke held the money out after signing two copies of the contract—one for each of them—Carl snatched it out of his hand so quickly you’d think he was a drowning man grabbing a life preserver.

“I’ll start right away,” Carl said, stuffing the cash into his desk drawer without counting it.

As we left Carl’s office, the door clicking shut behind us, a chill swept down my spine that had nothing to do with the chilly mountain air. Was Carl telling the truth, or had we just paid the person responsible for June’s disappearance?

7

“That went better than I expected," Luke said as we drove back to his parents' house. "I highly doubt he's the one who did anything to Aunt June."

"How will we know if he does the things outlined in the contract?" I asked, trying to keep my skepticism from leaking into my words. "What if he lies, keeps the money, and never looks for her? Or worse, what if he knows where she is but never tells us?"

"We'll keep an eye on him," Luke said. "And so will the rest of town once they know he's looking for her."

That was a good strategy. Having the town aware of what was going on would be a huge help, especially if they were willing to report back with any information they gleaned.

"Have you heard from your sister?"

"She sent me a text a bit ago," Luke said. "She didn't get any of their ship information."

"What did she say when you told her about your aunt?" I asked.

"I didn't tell her," Luke said. "She’d hop on the next flight; having her here won't make a difference. She has enough to worry about in New York."

It made sense but also didn't. "Do you think she'll be mad when she finds out you didn't tell her?"

"She'll be furious," Luke said. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Does she keep in contact with June? Maybe she could give us some information?"

"She hardly calls Mom and Dad," Luke said. "I doubt she calls Aunt June."

His tone made it clear he was shutting the door on getting his sister involved.

"Nothing from your parents, either?" I asked.

"I'll try them again."

Neither of us expected them to answer, so when he said, "Hey! Dad!" I was just as surprised as he was.

"I'm in Big Mountain right now," Luke said. "Aunt June is missing."

He paused and listened to whatever his dad said about his missing sister.

"No, I don't think she's working a case. Her house was destroyed—like someone broke in."

I watched out the window as he turned down the road that led to my old house.

"You don't need to come home," Luke said. "I have the police involved, and Rylie's here to help."

I smiled at the mention of my name. I didn't know how much he'd told his parents about us—maybe they already knew we were an item. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d kept it to himself with our shared history.

When I told my mom, she'd practically come out of her skin with excitement. She'd always been team Luke, though she kept it to herself pretty well when I almost married another man.

"Dad? Before you lose service, I need to know if you have the code to Aunt June's safe."

I glanced over at Luke, who gave me a thumbs up.

Thank goodness.

"The text just came through," Luke said. "Oh, and do you know her phone and computer passwords?"

We inched down the road toward my old house. The neighborhood seemed different, though I couldn't put my finger on why. Maybe it was the landscaping?

I searched for what was wrong.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Thanks, Dad. No, I'm serious. Don't worry about coming back early."

Then, I spotted it.

A gasp shot from my chest, up my throat, and out of my mouth.

"What—where—I—" I couldn't form a sentence. My brain was exploding.

"Love you both," Luke said quickly. "Bye."

"Did you know?" I whispered.

Luke pulled the car to the side of the road opposite my childhood home—or at least where my childhood home had been. Now, it was just an empty lot on the corner of the street.

"I had no idea," Luke said, his tone just as shocked as mine. He reached over and rubbed my shoulder.

"Why would they demolish my house?" My chest tightened as tears ran down my cheeks.

Luke grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him—well, as close as was possible with a center console between us. "I'm so sorry, Ry."

"I just can't believe it. It was a good house—a great house. It didn't deserve to be taken down."

So many memories made in that house, gone forever. Even Dad’s trees had been ripped out. A sob burst from my lips at the thought.

"I guess I always thought there was a possibility I'd buy it back someday,” I said through sobs. “It was a pipe dream, sure, but still. And now, it's not even possible. My bedroom is gone. Our kitchen is gone. The family room is gone. Everything is gone."

"Nothing I say will bring it back, but we still have the memories. Your mom took dozens of pictures when you were growing up. And even I remember all the details, so I'm sure you do, too. Like the spindle on the banister that we broke and super glued back together."

"I don't think anyone ever figured that one out," I said.

"Or the faulty latch on your window," Luke said. "We made good use of that."

"Okay, okay, enough reminiscing," I said, my face warming at the thought of how many times I'd snuck out and he'd snuck in. How my parents never noticed the ladder hidden in the bushes below my window, I’d never know.

I brushed the tears away and took a deep breath. "We need to get back to June's house."

"You sure you're okay to go?" Luke asked, not pulling back onto the road yet.

"It's not like anything more can happen to it now," I said. "This lot will be the same tomorrow as it is today."

"Until whoever bought it builds something else."

I whipped around to look at him. "Not helping."

"Sorry," Luke said, then put the truck in drive and left the rubbled remains of my childhood in the rearview mirror.

I cleared my throat to push away the emotion. I needed to focus on June right now, not my house. "So your dad knew all the passwords?"

"Thankfully, yes," Luke said.

"That's a huge relief. What would we have done if he hadn't?"

"I'm sure we would have figured something out," Luke said. "You're pretty crafty."

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I had solved quite a few mysteries over the past couple of years.

When we pulled into June's driveway, excitement stole through me. These leads had to help us find her. "Where should we start?"

"You go with the safe, and I'll check her phone and computer," Luke said.

"Perfect.”

Once we knew the code, the safe was relatively simple to unlock. Inside, there was a neatly stacked pile of what seemed to be case files, several stacks of cash, and a couple of small boxes in the back.

I pulled out the files and closed the door, automatically locking the safe.

It felt strange—overly intimate—to sit at June’s desk, so I went into the dining room to look at the files. Her table would at least give me room to spread out if I needed to.

The file on top was labeled P-2 Polpeter, N. At least twenty files were labeled with the letter dash number, followed by the last name and first initial.

Surely, she'd had more cases than this in her career. These were likely the ones she was working on or had something outstanding. Or maybe just her most recent?

None of the files' outsides had dates, but when I opened the Polpeter one, it was dated last month.

I scanned down the first page, which was attached to the inside of the folder with staples. It looked like the intake paperwork and a signed contract. Carl could take a lesson from June.

The client's name was Nora Polpeter, and from what I gathered, she suspected her husband was cheating on her. At the bottom of the intake sheet, File Closed had been stamped in red ink. Did that mean she'd finished the case?

I flipped through copious handwritten notes with timestamps, her whereabouts, and what she'd seen. Then, toward the back, I found the pictures.

If the man in the photo was Nora's husband and the woman in the photo was not Nora, then he had definitely been cheating. And not very privately, either.

I closed the file and moved on to the next one labeled I-1 HM Reynolds, B.

Inside, the intake sheet and contract stated that Holman Manufacturing suspected a woman named Bianca Reynolds to have falsified an injury to get worker’s compensation.

There were only a few photos of a woman going about her day. She didn't look like she had an injury, but I hadn't read into the details of what the injury might have been. It, too, had the File Closed stamp at the bottom.

I flipped through the rest of the cases. They all had the same stamp.

If these were all her recently closed files, where were the ones she was working on currently?

"Did you find anything?" Luke asked, startling me. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," I said. "These were in the safe, but they're all closed files."

"How many are there?"

I counted. "Twenty-two."

"That means there could be twenty-two suspects?"

"Twenty-two or more," I said. "I haven't looked through all of these, but the first two were for infidelity and worker’s comp fraud."

"Both could lead to suspects," Luke said.

"How about you? What did you find?"

"The phone had all the basic information on it, but it didn’t seem to be the one she used for business.”

“She had two phones?” I asked.

“Either that or she routinely erased any correspondence with her clients from her phone, which is entirely possible.”

“What about the computer?” I asked.

“It’s all pretty basic stuff—research about clients, I suspect. Maybe we can cross reference what you found with what she searched?”

“Good idea,” I said.

"You know, I never thought we'd end up here when I first saw you in that ranger uniform."

"In your aunt's house investigating her disappearance?"

"That and working a case together in general. I mean, other than the ones you practically forced your way into."

I laughed. "You were so hell-bent on keeping me out of that first investigation."

"Until I realized how good you were at it."

Pride washed over me. I was pretty good at it.

"Have you thought more about what you will do with the job?"

He hadn't asked in over a week. I'd been moping around the apartment since my boss told me I had to decide—either go through the police academy and become an actual officer or quit. I hated that I couldn’t just be a park ranger. I’d even begged Ursula to let me keep my job, promising to stay out of any and all investigations.

She’d called me out, though. She and I both knew staying out of things wasn’t exactly one of my strengths.

"I'm pretty sure I'll have to quit," I said. "I don't want to go through police academy just to work my way up to be in investigations. It'll take too long, and I never wanted to be a police officer."

"You could be a PI," Luke said.

I laughed, then realized he wasn't joking.

"Seriously, you could," Luke said. "You could make your own hours, take the cases you wanted. Sure, you might not be investigating murders anymore, but would that be so bad?"

If I didn't come across a dead body ever again, it would be heavenly. "I haven't really considered other plans." It was hard admitting that I'd been wallowing in self-pity all this time without even trying to devise an alternative. "I really enjoyed being a park ranger."

Luke gave me an understanding look. "I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay.” I pushed my shoulders back. Enough moping. I would figure out my life eventually. "We need to focus on finding June. I can worry about the rest later."

8

Luke and I each took half of the files and made lists of people involved who might be suspects.

By the time we finished, we'd come up with a list of twenty-two people who might have had a motive to hurt June.

"That's a lot of people," Luke said.

"We'll just have to go through them methodically and get their alibis," I said.

"They'll lie."

"Of course they will, but we'll corroborate their stories. Or not. Eventually, something will shake out." I had to keep hope.

A thought occurred to me. "Have you seen your aunt's camera?"

Luke glanced around as if it might appear in the dining room. "Actually, I haven't."

"Maybe she caught something she shouldn't have, and that's what the person came to take," I said.

"Why not just take the memory card?" Luke asked.

"It's easier and quicker to take the whole thing," I said. "Did she keep it in a bag or something?"

"It was always in a backpack with the lenses and other equipment," Luke said. "I haven't seen the backpack anywhere."

"I'll go check her car," I said.

"I'll check upstairs."

The garage was right off the kitchen—a genius design that allowed groceries to be brought into the house without unnecessary steps.

June's car looked about as messy as my sister's. Only my sister had four boys, whereas June could only blame herself. From the look of things, June could have practically lived out of her car. She had bags of snacks—some opened, some not—piles of clothes, even a pillow.

But no backpack.

I checked the trunk.

Inside, there were three large black trash bags. On impulse, I leaned in, inhaling shallowly. I half-expected to catch the coppery scent of blood or something just as sinister. But there was nothing.

Surely, the police had gone through the trunk and looked through the bags, right?

I didn’t want to mess up any evidence.

I peeked back into the house and said, "Luke, could you come out here for a minute?"

"Did you find the camera?" he asked, coming down the stairs.

"No, but there is something in the trunk," I said. “I just don’t know if I should open it.”

He walked out and glanced in the back.

“Surely, the police already saw this, right?” I asked. I was itching to tear open the bags and see what was inside.

“If they didn’t, they weren’t doing their jobs very well, were they?” Luke said. “But just to be sure, let’s at least wear gloves. And take photos.”

I pulled out my phone and snapped photos rapidly, the flash leaving bright spots dancing across my vision.

Luke handed me a pair of gloves and let me do the honors of opening the first bag. Inside were women’s clothing and shoes of all different sizes.

I opened the second bag. This one was full of children’s clothes.

The last bag contained many self-care items, including toothbrushes, hairbrushes, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and more.

“What is all this?” Luke asked.

“It reminds me of when my mom declutters and has mounds of trash bags that ride along with her for months before she donates them.”

“But none of these things would have come from Aunt June’s house. These are all brand new,” he said about the self-care items, “and many of these clothes still have tags on them.”

“Do you think it has something to do with her disappearance?” I asked.

Luke thought about it for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No. I don’t know what a bunch of clothes and toiletries would have to do with it.”

He closed the trunk and sighed.

“Did you find the camera bag inside?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” Luke said.

"Do you think there's any way she would have gone somewhere with her camera but without her phone and purse?" I asked, heading back into the house.

"It's possible," Luke said.

"We might as well start by talking to the suspects,” I said. “We can each take half of the list?”

"Sounds good to me," Luke said. "Don't mention Aunt June, though. Some might not even know she was the PI who got them in trouble. Telling them could put her in even more danger."

He made a good point. Some people might not have even seen the repercussions of their actions yet. For example, the guy cheating on his wife—who’s to say the wife had even confronted him?

That made everything trickier. I'd have to be creative. Which meant I needed to do some research before calling each person.

I started with the cheating husband—Bryce Polpeter. When I searched for him online, I found no shortage of photos, social media accounts, and the website for his tech company.

All his social media profiles were used for his business, which probably meant some intern scheduled or posted his posts. I clicked away and searched for his name on the social media app. His personal profile was private. Of course, it was.

This would be harder than I expected.

I flipped back through the file, and another idea popped into my head.

I searched for his wife's name on the same social media app. Nora Polpeter—the person who had hired June—was at the top of the list. Her account was public, with over a million followers.

She posted multiple times a day about their family, including events they attended, food they ate, and day-in-the-life stuff of a stay-at-home mom.

Eight days ago, she posted a picture of herself and her two young children on an airplane with the caption Leaving Daddy in the mountains, but we'll see him soon, along with a heart emoji and an airplane emoji.

Since then, she had only posted photos of herself and the kids with simple one or two-word captions.

Was Bryce still in Big Mountain? If so, he'd make a good suspect.

I picked up my phone and dialed the cell phone number Nora gave June for her husband.

He answered on the first ring. "Hello? Nora?"

"No, sorry, this is Violet Cain from Tech Weekly Magazine," I lied. "Is this Bryce Polpeter?"

He cleared his throat, changing his tone from desperate to professional. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"We're doing a profile on families in the spotlight, particularly the men behind the women who run high-profile social media accounts, and we'd love to include you in the issue."

"I don't think—"

"You'd be paid, of course, and we'd include information about your business for our fifteen million readers." I guessed on the number of readers. Hopefully, I was somewhere in the ballpark to at least be convincing.

He cleared his throat again. "That sounds like an interesting offer. When would you do the interview?"

"We'd interview over the phone and then send a photographer to get photos of you and your family together."

"Oh," he said. "Right. I don't know if that'll work."

"We could also interview in person if that suits you better." I suspected he was talking about the photos rather than the interview not working, but I wanted to hear it from him.

"It's not the interview, it's the photos," he said. "I'm not with my family right now. They're back in California, and I'm in Colorado for—uh—business."

Of course, he wouldn't tell someone from Tech Weekly Magazine that they were having marital problems unless he wanted those problems spread to the world. Not that they were celebrities or anything, but the risk was still there.

"When will you be back together? I’m on a bit of a tight turnaround."

I typed his company name into the web search bar, then the word competitors. Instantly, several companies popped up. I just needed one that had a couple with a similar life.

"Can I get back to you?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know if that'll work. I need to nail these down today," I said, trying to buy myself some time as I frantically searched the second wife for a social media account.

"I'll need to speak to my wife before I can commit to anything."

Shoot, I hadn't thought about that. "Of course, you can call me back. In the meantime, do you know the VonWilsteds? They're next on my list."

"Anthony VonWilsted?"

"Yes, Anthony and Patricia," I said. "Do you know them?"

"I can do the interview," Bryce practically choked out. "When could you be here?"

He was using my travel time as a stall tactic to convince Nora to do the piece, even though I highly suspected she'd already left him by how the conversation was going.

"I'm in Denver, Colorado, right now," I said.

"I'm in Big Mountain, Colorado," he said. I could practically hear the gears spinning in his mind. "That's about two hours from Denver. Do you think you could make the trip today?"

"That's very manageable. My editor will be pleased.” It would give me just enough time to prepare and talk to other potential suspects. "What's your address?"

He gave me his address—on the other side of the lake if I wasn't mistaken—and we said goodbye.

One down, ten more to go.

9

Thankfully, not everyone on the list was as complicated as Bryce Polpeter. Two people June had investigated over a month ago lived in another state. There was no evidence they'd been to Colorado in the last week, if ever.

One person had died of natural causes since she'd investigated them. Another had fled the country. Three of them were so active on social media that I could have tracked them for the past two years, and they had not been in Big Mountain or anywhere near Big Mountain in their recent history.

That left two more in my stack.

One was the woman who had faked an injury to get worker’s compensation benefits and had subsequently been fired. She was the case labeled I-1 HM Reynolds, B. I saw a pattern with the case numbers. I suspected the I-1 was for insurance fraud, the HM was for the company that had hired her, and Reynolds, B. was for Bianca Reynolds, the woman suspected of the fraud.

The other case was P-2 Swain, R. The P-2 was the same label as Nora Polpeter's case—infidelity. The Swain, R. was for Randy Swain, a local man who had suspected his wife of cheating. June had found no evidence of cheating, but she had gotten a restraining order against Randy a couple of weeks after the case had been closed.

I stood and stretched for a minute, checking my watch. I only had about thirty minutes before I needed to be at Bryce's house for the Tech Weekly Magazine interview, which I probably needed to tell Luke about.

I gathered my notes and went to look for him.

He was on the phone in June's office with the door closed. I waited to catch his eye through the glass door. Once I did, he waved me in.

“That was a friend of mine at the police department,” Luke said.

“Do they know anything about the case?”

“He was very hesitant to tell me anything—Jessica is relatively high up over there—but he said he’d do what he could to keep us informed.”

“That’s something,” I said with a smile. “Did you have any luck with the suspects?"

"I have two we could look into," he said. "The rest seem to have solid alibis. I haven't been able to check them all, but I will. What about you?"

"I have an interview with a cheating husband—Bryce Polpeter—here in about twenty-five minutes. Wanna help me prep on our way over?"

"He's in Big Mountain?"

"On the other side of the lake," I said. "I need to make myself look a bit more presentable, though. We'll need to stop by your parents’ house."

"What's wrong with how you look?" he asked as he followed me to the front door.

"Someone who works for Tech Weekly Magazine would definitely look more put together than this," I said. "I didn't bring any fancy clothes, but pulling my hair up and adding some makeup should do the trick."

"Tech Weekly Magazine? Okay, start from the beginning."

* * *

I gave him the entire story about Bryce Polpeter and the two other suspects on my list. It only took a few minutes to swipe on some makeup and pull my hair into a low, slick-back ponytail. We arrived on Bryce's doorstep with two minutes to spare.

He answered almost right away. Bryce Polpeter was tall with immaculately styled black hair and the kind of tan that suggested expensive vacations rather than yard work. He wore a crisp button-down tucked into pressed slacks, a state-of-the-art smartwatch on his wrist, and a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hello," I said. "I'm Violet Cain, and this is my assistant—Brad."

Luke covered a laugh with a cough.

Bryce shook my hand but didn't give Luke a second glance. "Delighted to have you here, Ms. Cain. And you’re exactly on time. I appreciate punctuality.”

He led us through the massive foyer with polished marble floors that reflected our silhouettes like mirrors. Every surface gleamed with the sterility that spoke of twice-daily cleanings. The house was a modernist showcase—all sharp angles, glass, and chrome, with artwork that looked like it had been selected to match the furniture rather than from any personal passion.

"Have a seat." Bryce gestured with a stiff wave of his hand for us to sit on the large gray sofa facing the stone fireplace extending two floors to the tall ceiling. Above us was a railing that likely led to bedrooms or a loft. Or both. And more. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

He seemed nervous. His hands shook at his sides. His gaze darted toward his phone as it buzzed on the coffee table.

"I'd love a glass of water," Luke said.

"Great,” Bryce said absently, grabbing his phone and tapping the screen. “There are glasses adjacent to the refrigerator and a filtered water dispenser inside. I'll take one, too, with lemon."

Bryce hadn’t looked up from his phone screen while giving Luke directions.

Luke gaped at him.

I cleared my throat. Technically, I had told Bryce that Luke was my assistant. This was the kind of thing assistants did.

Luke still hadn't moved, so I said, "I'd love a water too, Brad. Thanks."

Luke stood slowly. "Lemon for you?"

"Yes, please," I said sweetly.

I couldn't tell whether he was about to burst out laughing or was still shocked at having Bryce offer water and then ask him to get it.

While Luke shuffled around in the kitchen, I said, "Thank you so much for agreeing to the interview. Did you speak with your wife about the photo shoot?"

"I did," he said, his eyes drifting toward the large windows facing the lake. "She was open to exploring the possibility." His thumb swiped rapidly across his phone screen.

"Wonderful." I clapped my hands together and pulled out my phone. “I'll be recording our interview to ensure I get all the quotes right." I noticed a pair of high-powered binoculars sitting on the windowsill, precisely aligned with the edge.

My insides went cold as I realized we were directly across from June’s house. Had he been the one watching me?

“What’s your first question?” Bryce asked in a clipped tone, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves.

When I glanced at Bryce, it was apparent I wasn’t the only one experiencing anxiety. A small bead of sweat trickled its way down his temple. He brushed it away with manicured fingers.

"Let's start with a simple question," I said, watching as his gaze drifted from his phone screen to me to the lake and back again. "Can you tell me about how you and Nora met?"

Bryce stiffened almost imperceptibly, then forced his shoulders to relax in what seemed like a deliberate motion. His eyes moved to the fireplace as he sucked in a measured breath.

Was he trying not to cry? If he'd been caught cheating and his wife had left him, it was entirely possible. Or maybe he had guilt about something else altogether. Like kidnapping a harmless—or mostly harmless—woman.

"We went to college together. I was interested. She was not." He let out a small, forced laugh. "But I persisted. Eventually, she agreed to go on a date with me."

He stopped, keeping his expression carefully composed.

I smiled but said nothing. The silence stretched between us.

"It went horribly," he finally continued. "I tried to make everything perfect—the dinner, the music, the atmosphere—only to discover all the things I'd chosen she either hated or was allergic to."

"Oh no," I said as he twisted his wedding ring.

"I had to rush her to the emergency room after she ate a strawberry tart, and her face started puffing up like a balloon." His knuckles whitened as he twisted his hands in his lap. "I thought she'd never speak to me again, but then she asked me to stay in the hospital with her, and we've been together ever since."

The story sounded like one he'd told thousands of times. His tone carried a mechanical quality beneath what seemed like genuine emotion.

"That's a great story," I said. "Did you get married while you were in college?"

"We did," he said. "We were young and dumb, but we knew we wanted to be together. That was almost twenty years ago."

"How did you feel about Nora becoming what people would call a momfluencer?"

"Is that what they call it?" He laughed, a sharp sound. "That's bizarre."

Whether they actually called it that, I wasn't sure. I'd only seen the word this morning when doing the research to get here.

"She didn’t set out to become famous. She was content being a mom and a—" He stopped and took a breath. "—a wife. But she'd always documented everything with her photos, and she was a talented writer."

It seemed strange that he was speaking about her in the past tense. Surely, she wasn't dead, right? That would make this whole thing so much messier.

"It evolved organically into what it's become," he continued. "She wasn't one of those overnight viral phenomena. It was a methodical, incremental growth curve, which I believe has helped her establish authentic network connections."

"Let's talk a bit more about your marriage," I said, leaning forward.

"My marriage? Like what?" Bryce asked, his fingers tapping rapidly against his thigh.

"Just the basics. Our readers love hearing about how couples keep the love alive, and after twenty years, you must have some tips."

He cleared his throat, a vein pulsing at his temple. "Where is your assistant with our water?"

I glanced back toward the door that led to the kitchen. Luke had been gone quite a long time. Was he snooping?

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. "He's not very good at his job—always messing something up. He probably got us tap water, then remembered the filtrated water in the fridge or couldn't find the lemons."

This seemed to appease Bryce for the moment. He returned his gaze to me, though his posture remained rigid. "What was the question again?"

"Just how you keep your marriage fresh after twenty years."

"I—I don't know," he said, his tone faltering. "It's not been easy."

"No marriage is," I said. "Not that I have firsthand experience, but I've been told."

"You're not married?"

I shook my head. Where was this going? Was he going to hit on me? I leaned into it. "Never found the right guy, you know? But I have plenty of time."

"Make sure you get a prenup," he snapped.

I'm sure my expression revealed my surprise. "A prenup? Aren't those for divorce?"

"Yeah, look, I don't think I can do this," he said, pacing toward the window. "It was nice of you to make the trip here, but it's not the best time for us."

"I could come back tomorrow," I said, watching as he positioned himself directly beside the binoculars, staring at the lake.

He gripped the windowsill, knuckles turning white. “The issue isn’t scheduling. Can you turn off the recording?”

I reached down and tapped my phone screen, then pulled it into my lap. I hadn't turned off the recording, but he didn't need to know that.

"This is completely off the record,” he said. “You cannot and will not reference this in your publication or anywhere else. Understood?”

This guy was used to being the boss, but I wasn’t about to disagree.

“Of course, yes,” I said.

"Nora won't speak to me.” He turned away from me, his shoulders hunched as he spoke. His posture felt calculated, like he was acting sad rather than feeling sad. “She never answered the phone when I called. She’s leaving me.”

"I'm so sorry," I said. "Can I ask what happened?"

"She thinks I've been cheating on her." He didn't turn away from the window, his fingers tapping anxiously against the glass. "Which I have. It was a stupid mistake. One night. But she hired a PI to follow me. And that nasty PI woman made me look like I'd been doing it for weeks or months."

"I'm sorry," I said, uncertain of what else to say.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. I could hear a clock ticking somewhere, counting down the seconds. Finally, he turned around, his expression morphing from practiced sadness to suspicious scrutiny.

"You said you were in Denver this morning, correct?" His voice had an edge I hadn’t heard before.

A chill ran down the back of my arms. "That's right."

He examined my face. "I don't believe you."

I stood and gathered my things in my arms. "Since you won't be doing the piece, I think I should go."

He moved with surprising agility to position himself between me and the exit. "You weren't in Denver this morning. I saw you. You were across the lake."

Shoot. He’d made the connection.

My heart hammered in my chest. Where was Luke?

"Please get out of the way,” I shouted. “I need to go."

"You're not going anywhere," he said, stepping toward me.

10

I did my best to hold my ground even as Bryce inched closer to me, but I finally had to take a step back when he was within arm's reach.

"Are you working with her?" Bryce asked, his corporate veneer cracking.

"With whom?" I didn't dare take my eyes off him, but I had no idea what obstacle I might back into.

"The private investigator. You were at her residence.” His voice rose with each word. “Hasn’t she done enough? She already ruined my marriage. Do you know where my wife and kids are?"

I almost pointed out that he had ruined his own marriage, but it was probably best not to antagonize him any further when he was so close, with his fists balled at his sides.

“I thought they were in California,” I said.

“They’re not. Nora said that was where she was going, but they never made it home. Just tell me where they are.”

"I need to leave," I practically shouted, hoping Luke heard me wherever he was.

My outburst reminded Bryce that Luke was also in the house. "Where is your associate? Is he going through my stuff? I should have never—"

Luke walked through the door holding a silver tray of three water glasses, two with lemon. "Sorry it took me so long. I couldn't find the lemons. Or a knife."

"Get out," Bryce said. "Both of you. Before I call the authorities."

I didn't hesitate. I turned and hustled to the door.

But when I got there, I realized Luke wasn't with me. In fact, he was still standing there holding the tray of water. “June Hannah is missing. Did you have something to do with that?"

"The PI?" Bryce asked. “Of course not.”

"Why were you looking at her house through binoculars, then?" I knew I was pushing my luck with this man, but I couldn't help myself. Luke’s presence gave me a surge of bravery.

"I was bird watching and saw you on the dock.” His eyes darted between Luke and me, calculating.

"But you knew that was her house," I said.

"Yes. Like I know that the house next to hers belongs to the Hendersons and the next one over is owned by the Patels. I maintain a comprehensive database of all property ownership on this lake—every residence in this municipality.”

"But only one property owner is missing. And only one is directly responsible for your impending divorce, which I'm guessing will cost you a pretty penny since it doesn't sound like you had a prenup." I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look braver than I felt.

"Get. Out." He delivered each word with clinical precision.

Luke still didn't move. "Where were you Sunday night?"

"We know your wife had already left with the kids,” I said. “She posted it on social media."

He cursed under his breath.

Luke and I stayed silent until Bryce finally answered. "You're really trying to verify my whereabouts? Who do you think you are? The police?"

"It's a simple question to answer if you're not guilty of anything," Luke said. He was much smoother at interviewing people than me.

Bryce looked like he might order us to get out again, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He might have been a big guy, but Luke was obviously stronger.

"Not only will I not answer, I'll be contacting my attorney to press charges against the two of you. Now, get out before I have you arrested."

* * *

"He's guilty of something," I said when we were back in Luke’s truck. The engine rumbled to life as he turned the key. I cranked up the heater, desperate to flush out the lingering tension from Bryce’s house with some warmth. Outside, snow fell in fat, lazy flakes, adding to the small amount accumulated on the ground.

"Where were you?” I asked, adjusting my seatbelt as Luke backed out of the driveway. “Did it actually take you that long to get three glasses of water?"

"No," Luke said with a laugh. "The lemons were already cut, and the glasses were just sitting there. The rest of the time, I was snooping."

"Find anything worthwhile?" I asked.

"I didn’t make it very far before I heard you yell,” Luke said. “But there was no sign of June in any of the main level rooms. I didn’t dare try to walk up into the loft with the open railing directly above you, but I did check the garage. Nothing there either.”

I considered that momentarily, watching as pine trees passed slowly outside my window.

“I also snapped photos from one of those fancy digital wall calendars where everyone’s calendars sync to create a master schedule.”

Keeping one hand firmly on the wheel and his gaze on the road, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

“I went back through the last few weeks,” he continued as I swiped through the photos. “About a week ago, all the items from the kids and Nora stopped populating."

"What was on it before?” I zoomed in on one of the pictures.

"It seemed like Nora—or someone working for her, possibly—scheduled everything. The days were laid out without a single minute to spare. Everything from drinking hot cocoa to walking through town to daily baths for the kids was noted. Next to several items was an icon for a camera, which I assumed meant those were her photo ops for social media."

"Wow," I said, handing his phone back. "That's intense. But it all just vanished a week ago?"

"Yeah, it's like the calendar couldn't sync to wherever Nora kept her actual calendar—like if it was on her phone, then her phone has been turned off."

"This would explain why she hasn't contacted Bryce."

"What about Bryce? Did you get anything out of him while I was gone?" Luke asked.

"Not really," I said. "He started by telling me how they met in college, then ended up admitting that she'd left him because he'd cheated on her. He said he'd only cheated once, but from what I remember of the pictures, it seemed like a whole lot more than just once. I'd have to go back and check for sure, though."

"So he's definitely still on the suspect list."

"Especially with how he reacted when he realized he'd seen me across the lake at June's house this morning."

"I noticed the binoculars when we walked into the living room. If he was waiting to see if June came home, that would mean he's not responsible for her disappearance."

"He could have easily been keeping tabs on what the police were doing, though," I said. "Or maybe he thought his wife and kids would show up there.”

"We'll keep him on the list, then," Luke said. "Who else do we have?"

"The woman with the worker’s comp claim and the guy June has a restraining order against."

"Let's start with the woman. Where does she live?" Luke asked.

I pulled out my notes. She lived one town over in Monument Springs. "Monument Springs. And if we're heading that way, maybe we could get pizza at the Alpine?" My mouth watered just thinking about it.

"Mmm," Luke said. "That sounds amazing."

Luke and I had gone to The Alpine Oven more times than I could count. It was the best pizza in the county, and the atmosphere had always been unmatched. I could picture the cozy dining room, the rustic wooden booths covered in decades-old carvings of initials, and the walls plastered with vintage ski memorabilia.

"Do you remember when we showed up right as they were closing?" Luke asked.

"Which time?" I laughed.

"The one where only the owner was still there?"

"Oh, George. Yes. And we begged him to make us a pizza because we were so hungry." The memory warmed my insides.

"We'd been snowboarding all day," Luke said. "But I can't remember why we didn't get there before closing."

"We got stuck, remember?" I said, shaking my head. "Some tourist ran a stop sign, and we had to swerve not to hit them, landing us in the ditch."

"Oh right," Luke said, the memory washing over his features. "It took us forever to get your Jeep out. It’s too bad you didn’t think of the tire deflation trick back then."

"I don’t know if it would have worked. We were in pretty deep. It was a guy with a tow strap that finally got us out," I said. "When we told George about it, he took pity on us and agreed to make us a pizza."

"He didn't even charge us," Luke said. "It was the best pizza I'd ever had there. I don't know if it was because George made it or I was just that hungry, but I can almost taste the sauce and cheese and all the toppings."

"And the crust," I said. "Don't forget the crust."

"With honey."

My stomach rumbled. "This is making me even hungrier."

"Me too," Luke said, grabbing my hand. "We had some adventures back then."

"So many adventures," I said. "It's like an endless well of memories being back here."

We sat silently for a bit, the truck’s tires crunching through fresh snow, each lost in our thoughts. I tried to remember every moment of that night at the Alpine. Where Luke remembered how the pizza tasted, I remembered how the experience made me feel.

Loved.

It made me feel loved.

Both by George and Luke, who had begged him to make us pizza after spending an entire afternoon trying to dig my car out of a snowbank.

As we approached the turn for Bianca’s address, I glanced at Luke.

Where would he and I be if I had accepted his proposal on graduation day? Would we still be happily married if I'd overcome my fear of settling down? Or would we be divorced because we’d been so young?

Either way, it wasn't something I'd ever know. But that didn't mean I couldn't make up for all that now. I'd been given a second chance. And this time, I wouldn't mess it up.

11

We drove straight to Bianca's apartment complex, even though my stomach grumbled for pizza.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a frantic woman loading boxes into an ancient black sedan.

“Is that Bianca?” Luke asked.

“Looks like it,” I said. “And she’s bolting.”

We approached unit 257 just as Bianca emerged with a cardboard box labeled Kitchen in messy black marker. She didn’t acknowledge us, pushing past to her overloaded car.

“Bianca Reynolds?” Luke called, his voice clipped and professional.

She stumbled, nearly dropping the box. “Who’s asking?” Her long jacket gaped open, revealing what looked like mismatched pajamas underneath. Her damp red hair hung in untamed ringlets.

“Brad Jennings," Luke replied smoothly. "We’d like to discuss your worker’s comp claim."

She practically threw the box into her trunk. The clattering of dishes made me cringe.

"You're too late,” she snapped. “It’s been revoked. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got places to be that aren’t here.”

She turned back toward her apartment.

I caught Luke’s eye and mouthed, “Can I try?”

He motioned with both hands as if to say, “Be my guest.”

I’d seen enough people in crisis to recognize when direct questioning wouldn’t work.

“The mountains always look better when you’re running toward them instead of away,” I said, falling into step beside her. “Trust me, I’ve been on both sides of that road.”

She paused at her doorway, suspicion etched across her face. “What do you want?”

“Five minutes,” I said, noticing the slight tremor in her hands. “Something doesn’t track about your case.”

Luke maintained a careful distance, hands visible and non-threatening. “We believe the PI who investigated your claim falsified evidence. Not just in your case.”

Bianca’s laugh was bitter as she pushed into her apartment. She didn’t close the door in my face, which I took as invitation enough.

The place looked like an avalanche zone—half-filled garbage bags everywhere, drawers pulled out, closets emptied. She grabbed a stack of framed photos, tossing them into an open suitcase.

“You’re wrong,” she said, not making eye contact as she moved frantically around the room. “Everything’s exactly how it looks.”

Luke stayed near the doorway. “We need to establish a timeline of events,” he said. “When did you first encounter the investigator?”

“June Hannah,” Bianca said June’s name with more warmth than I’d expected from someone at the wrong end of June’s camera. “Sweet grandma vibe until she ruins your life.”

I tracked her movement around the room, noting the prescription bottles she swept into her purse without looking.

“Did you have any contact with Hannah after your termination?” Luke asked, his gaze methodically scanning the chaos of the apartment.

“Caught her in the bushes over there a week ago.” Bianca jerked her chin toward the window. “Morning I got fired.”

“Why was June in your bushes after she’d already finished your case?” I asked.

Bianca let out a barking laugh. “She said she wanted to help me—gave me all these ideas—then vanished. I’ve been trying to get in touch with her, but it’s like she fell off the face of the planet.”

“Why would you need to get in touch with her?” Luke asked.

Bianca stuffed a handful of socks into a bag without pairing them. “Doesn’t matter now. Look, June didn’t do nothing wrong. I lied. She caught me. End of story. And I doubt she did anything wrong in any other cases. The woman’s like a bloodhound—follows every trail to its source.”

Thinking back to the medication in her purse, I said, “Your injury is real, though, isn’t it? That’s why you have the pain medicine?”

Bianca froze, then slowly met my eyes for the first time. Something vulnerable flickered across her face, then hardened into something colder. “Do yourself a favor and go after someone who deserves it. June Hannah didn’t fake anything.” She zipped the bag with a decisive motion. “I did. And now, I have to get out of here before my mistakes catch up with me.”

She brushed past us, bags in hand, and didn’t look back.

* * *

The Alpine Oven was nothing like I'd remembered. My nostalgic bubble burst the minute we walked into the renovated space. Gone were the rustic wooden booths, replaced by polished reclaimed wood tables and industrial metal chairs. The cozy, dim lighting had transformed into brighter, modern globes hanging from exposed metal beams painted matte black. The walls had been stripped of their vintage artwork and replaced with minimalist black-and-white ski-themed posters.

“This is different,” I said to Luke, who was inspecting the restaurant with a horrified expression.

“Two for dinner?” A perky teenage girl asked, pulling us out of our thoughts.

Luke looked at me as if asking whether I wanted to stay. I shrugged. I was hungry, and the pizza smelled delicious.

She deposited the one-page menus on one of the polished tables. The chairs were just as uncomfortable as they looked.

“Is George still around?” I asked the hostess.

“George who?” she asked.

“The owner—or maybe the previous owner?”

“The owner’s name is Bellamy,” she said. “I don’t know anyone named George.”

I glanced at Luke, and he frowned. That must have been why everything had changed so much.

Thankfully, the pizza was mostly the same. At least from how I remembered it.

Luke and I finished an entire pie before sitting back and enjoying the last of our beer.

"This pizza is even better with a beer," I said.

"You haven't been here since you turned twenty-one?" Luke asked.

"Probably since I was eighteen, to be honest. The last time I was here was with you."

"What about when you lived up here with Troy?"

Ugh, just the thought of my time with Troy made me feel icky. "He didn't like going to the places you and I frequented. I brought this place up once, and he told me he hated the pizza and wouldn't be caught dead here."

"Those are strong words," Luke said.

I took a swig of my beer. "He had a lot of big opinions. And he was very threatened by you."

"Because we dated?" Luke asked as if he didn't know how much Troy hated him.

"I think it stems back farther than that," I said. "Probably back to elementary school when you beat him at every game on the playground."

Luke laughed. "We were both so competitive. It's what made us good on the football field."

"Thankfully, you weren't both quarterbacks," I said.

Luke was the quarterback, and Troy was a tight end. And, yes, there were lots of jokes about Troy's tight end. He had always been good-looking, even if he had become a murderer.

Luke paid the bill, leaving a large cash tip. On our way out, we ran into a couple I vaguely remembered as Luke's parents' friends.

"Oh my goodness, look at you, all grown up," the woman said. "And who is this?"

"This is Rylie Cooper, Sean and Kathryn Cooper's daughter," Luke said. "Rylie, this is Kevin and Eileen Kole."

"It's nice to meet you," I said, shaking their hands.

"Why are you in town?" Kevin asked. "Aren't your parents on a cruise?"

"Aunt June hasn't been seen in a few days. Horace called and asked for my help."

"I heard there were police cars at her house," Eileen said.

"But that's not right," Kevin said. "I saw June and Horace together yesterday."

This caught both Luke and me off guard.

"What do you mean, you saw them?" Luke asked.

"They were driving through town," Kevin said. "In Horace's car around noon."

"Are you sure it was June?" I asked. "Maybe it was just someone who looked like her."

"They waved," Kevin said. "I'd bet money on it being her."

We stood in shock. I didn't know what else to say. We needed to talk to Horace again.

"Shoot, I left something in the restaurant," Eileen said. "You go ahead to the car. I'll meet you out there. It was great seeing you, Luke. And nice to meet you, Rylie."

"You too," Luke said.

As she walked past her husband, she stopped and waved for me to join her.

I nodded once, then checked to make sure her husband hadn't noticed.

"Can you tell me what direction they were traveling?" Luke asked.

"They seemed to be heading out of town," Kevin said. "Headed this way, actually."

"You know what?" I said. "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

Luke glanced at me and gave me a small smile, then turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

I hurried back into the restaurant, and once I was through the door, Eileen practically jumped at me. "I couldn't tell you this around my husband, but take what he says with a grain of salt."

"You don't think he actually saw June yesterday?" I asked.

"He gets his days and people messed up," she said. "It wouldn't surprise me if he hadn't seen June in months."

"Does he have dementia or—"

"Oh no, nothing like that. He's just forgetful." She smiled. "You'll understand when you get older."

I didn't know whether to let it go about him seeing June and Horace. "Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt June?"

"I wasn't very close with her," she said. "But Luke's mother mentioned once that June was having a hard time with the mayor about something. Maybe a permit? I can't remember the details."

"Anyone else?"

"Well, she works in a business ripe for making enemies, you know?" She shrugged. "Could be someone she made angry. I do hope you find her, though."

She didn't have to add what was unspoken. She hoped we found her alive.

* * *

"He was certain he saw June and Horace together. He even talked about how it was overcast, which meant there wasn't a glare on the windshield so that he could see right in."

We were returning to Big Mountain with our stomachs full of pizza and our heads full of questions.

I sighed. "Eileen seemed to think he could be mixing up the timeline or even the people. It was overcast yesterday, but I'm sure there were overcast days weeks and months ago, too."

Almost every day was sunny in Colorado. The statistic was that Colorado got three hundred days of sun a year.

"It wouldn't hurt to look into Horace," Luke said.

"Why would he have called and told you about her being gone if he was the one who took her?"

Luke shrugged. "I don't know. What did you say about the mayor?"

"Something about a permit. Your mom was talking about it."

"Seems like a stretch."

I thought so, too.

"Have you heard anything from Carl?" I asked.

Luke glanced at his watch. "He still has a couple hours before it's been a full day. But, no, I haven't heard from him yet."

"Do you think he'll find anything?" I asked.

"Probably not, but it doesn't hurt to have extra eyes looking for her," Luke said.

12

As we approached Big Mountain, I reviewed the notes I'd written earlier in the day.

"I'm ruling Bianca out," I said, putting her file back into my bag. "She knew she was in the wrong."

I flipped a page.

"Bryce is staying on the list," I continued. "And adding Horace."

"We also have the two cases I found."

I hadn't added those to my list yet. "Where are those?"

"In the back seat," Luke said without taking his eyes off the road.

I unbuckled—something Luke hated me doing while the car was moving—and reached back to grab the files before buckling up as quickly as possible.

"Do you think we need to add the mayor to the list?" I asked, pulling the first folder open on my lap. "I mean, it's unlikely to be him, but not impossible, right?"

"Not impossible," Luke agreed. "Add him for now."

Luke's first case was a child custody dispute—P-3 Gardner, H. "This one is brutal." I thumbed through the photos June had taken. "Those poor kids. There's no way the mom didn't win custody."

"That's what I was thinking," Luke said. "And if the father was responsible, he might be looking at jail time."

“Is he not in jail already?”

“Out on bail,” Luke said.

“Since when?”

“I wrote it on the back of the folder, but it’s been a couple of weeks.”

I flipped the folder over. “He’s been out since mid-October. Which means he definitely could be responsible.”

I added Peter Gardner to the list, closed the file, and opened the next one—L-3 Collins, Z. "What's this one for?" There was only a single picture of the person—a small man who looked to be in his twenties.

"I think she was hired to have him served with some type of papers," Luke said. "I can't remember what they actually were, though."

I thumbed through the rest of the paperwork. "He's supposed to be a witness for an upcoming case. It was a subpoena."

"That's right," Luke said. "It was a drug-related case."

"There's not much here about the case," I said. "But, yeah, it looks like that's correct. Why would he want to hurt June?"

"If he didn't want to be a witness, he might have done something in retaliation. His record is pretty extensive. Or maybe whoever he was supposed to be testifying against went after June."

The page I was looking at detailed his history of crime—drug possession with intent to distribute, harassment, assault, and various others.

I added him to the list.

When Luke pulled into Big Mountain, he headed straight for Horace's house.

"Thanks for letting me talk to Bianca," I said.

"I wasn’t getting anywhere with her. Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

“No way,” I said. “The way you dealt with Carl was perfection.”

"We make a pretty good team," Luke said.

"Always have," I agreed.

* * *

Horace opened the door just as Luke was about to ring the doorbell.

"Did you find her?" Horace asked.

"No," Luke said. "But we did speak to Kevin and Eileen Kole."

"Okay?" Horace said, drawing the word out into a question. "Did they know something about June?"

"They said they saw the two of you together yesterday," Luke said. "That you were driving out of town and waved."

Horace's face went bright red. "That's not even possible. June has been gone since Sunday."

"Unless she hasn't," Luke said.

Horace narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying something?"

"Maybe I am," Luke said.

"Why would I have called you if I were the responsible party? That makes absolutely no sense."

"I've seen it before," Luke said. "It’s a psychological condition. Do you think we could come in?"

Horace opened the door wider. "Be my guest."

* * *

After a grand tour of Horace's house, including the closets and furnace room, we settled into the living room.

"Satisfied?" Horace asked.

"Why would he have said he saw you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice interested rather than accusing.

"He did see me," Horace said. "But I wasn't with June. I was with my new girlfriend."

"Who is that?" Luke asked.

"Astrid Moore. I'm sure you know her. She worked at the school when you were younger."

"She was our lunch lady," Luke said.

"And it's slightly embarrassing, but she does bear a strong resemblance to June upon further reflection," Horace said. "I guess I have a type."

"Could we talk to her just to corroborate your story?" I asked.

"She's currently unavailable. Out of town," Horace said. "I was taking her to the airport that day."

"Can we call her?" Luke asked.

"You can try," Horace said. "She's participating in a silent meditation retreat. She told me not to expect any communication, but I'm sure she'd be happy to talk to you if it meant clearing my name."

"How does she feel about you being involved in searching for June?" I asked.

Horace glanced down at his jeans. "I’m certain she’d have no objections."

"Are you sure about that?" Luke asked.

"Absolutely, she's very calm. Not at all jealous." He glanced up at us. "I presume you're here because you have found no evidence of June's whereabouts."

"We're working through suspects," Luke said.

"Did you know anything about a permit June needed from the city?" I asked.

"The one the mayor refused to give her?" Horace asked.

"Maybe?" I said. "What was it for?"

"It was a property expansion proposal. Secondary structure for an office,” he said. "Lakefront zoning restrictions present significant barriers to development. Permits are rarely granted.”

"Surely, June would have known that," I said.

"She did," Horace said. "But June never shied away from asking. And many times, she was successful."

Seemed like a dead end. "What about the restraining order she got against Randy Swain?"

Horace sat up straighter. "I forgot about him. He would definitely be someone to talk to. He hates June."

"Why?" Luke asked. He knew the case file as well as I did, but it made sense to get any information from Horace that we could.

"I'm not entirely sure," Horace said. "As you’re aware, June and I aren't in a romantic partnership anymore, but even when we were, case details remained confidential. Or maybe it wasn't about a case at all? All I know is she got a temporary protection order against him."

"Temporary?" I asked. "So it would expire?"

"I suppose," Horace said. "I’m not sure. Randy is not an upstanding citizen. He’s excessively paranoid. It surprised me that June had anything to do with him. She knew as well as anyone that he was bad news.”

"Did June need the money?" I asked, but when I did, Luke shook his head.

"No," Horace said. "She had plenty of money. In fact, she didn't even need to work, but she loved the job."

"Is there anything else you can think of?" Luke asked Horace.

"Not at the moment."

"Can you give us Astrid's number?" I asked.

"Certainly," he said. "Let me just go find it."

He had to find his phone first, then figure out how to get to the contact page, and by the time I had her number, I felt like I'd aged about ten years.

* * *

Once back in Luke's truck, I tried Astrid's phone, but it went straight to voicemail. "Thanks for calling. I'll be out of cell phone range until the end of November, but if you leave me a message, I'll call you as soon as I get home. Thanks."

"That solves that," I said, disconnecting before leaving a message.

"At least until she gets back," Luke said.

As he pulled out of Horace's driveway, his phone rang.

He put the phone on speaker so we could both hear.

“Hello?” Luke said.

"It's Carl. Just calling for my daily check-in." Carl's voice was beyond irritated.

Luke and I stayed silent, waiting for him to talk.

"Are you there?" Carl asked.

"We're here," Luke said. "What did you find?"

"I’m not exactly sure," he said slowly.

Luke and I exchanged a suspicious glance.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

Carl let out a sigh. “I hesitate to tell you this because I don’t want you to get too excited.”

Too late. My heart was already racing.

“Just tell us,” Luke said.

“I can’t be certain, but I believe I spotted June today.”

The pounding in my chest stopped, sucking all the breath from my lungs.

Luke looked skeptical. “What do you mean you saw Aunt June? Where?”

“At the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort,” Carl said.

“Did you talk to her?”

“I was too far away,” Carl said. “I was using my spyglass. But I saw her on one of the balconies. I believe it was for room 612. When I went to the room door, no one answered. I tried to get information from the front desk lady but got kicked out.”

“Did you take any photos?” Luke asked.

Carl hesitated.

“You didn’t, did you?” I asked.

“I don’t currently have a camera that will take photos at that distance,” Carl admitted, his tone slightly defeated.

I felt terrible for the guy.

“What was she doing on the balcony?” I asked. “And how certain are you that it was her?”

“It was strange,” Carl said, his tone much kinder when speaking to me than to Luke. “She was just standing there looking out over the town.”

“So you got a good look at her?” I asked.

“That’s the thing,” Carl continued. “She wore big sunglasses, a black knit hat, and a long black trench coat. I’ve seen her wear similar things when she didn’t want to be spotted, but I can't be certain without a better look at her actual face.”

“Anything else?” Luke asked, seemingly more irritated than he had been before.

I frowned at him. Shouldn’t he be happy that there was a chance June was still alive?

“That’s it.” Carl’s clipped tone came back in full force.

“If you see her again, call me right away. Don’t leave information like that until the end of the day.” Luke ran a rough hand down his face.

“Right,” Carl said, as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Okay. I will.”

“Wait,” I said before Luke could push the button to disconnect the call. “One more question: what made you look at the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort?”

Carl hesitated. “I got a tip from an informant.”

“Who?” Luke asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Carl said. “That’s what makes them an informant.”

“I know what an informant is,” Luke said. “But whoever it was might know more than just where she is.”

“They don’t,” Carl said.

“How can you be—”

Carl interrupted Luke. “They don’t know anything else.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow unless you come across something before then,” Luke said, disconnecting the call without waiting for Carl’s reply.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

"He's useless and a liar," Luke said.

“Not if he saw June.”

“Maybe if he’d have called us right away.” Luke sighed. “At this point, who knows if she’s even still there? He probably didn’t even see her. He’s probably just making up some story to keep us paying.”

I didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole. “Let’s assume he did see her. Why would she have been at the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort?”

“There’s no reason she would be. If she was hiding from someone, there’s no way she would have stood on a balcony in full view so anyone and everyone could see her.”

“Either way, I think we need to follow up on the lead, don’t you?” I asked gently.

Luke sighed. “We have to.”

13

Walking into the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort hit me square in the chest, knocking loose a flood of memories I thought I’d shoved deep into the recesses of my mind. The marble floor gleamed beneath my boots, just as glossy and polished as the day I nearly married the wrong guy.

Above me, the rustic chandelier lit the lobby, illuminating its luxurious features. The massive double-sided fireplace crackled gently, reminding me of all the reasons I’d always loved the place… and the reasons I’d avoided it since that day.

Beside me, Luke was quiet, his steady presence both comforting and surreal. The last time I’d been here, he’d arrived late to watch my near-disaster unfold. Now, being here with him again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that life was either handing me a chance to fix things or setting me up for another spectacular crash.

Hopefully, it was the former.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

I realized I hadn’t taken more than a few steps inside before I’d frozen. “So many memories. It’s overwhelming.”

He slipped his hand in mine and squeezed. “If you’d rather wait in the truck, I can do this alone.”

“No,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“Should we talk to the front desk first or go straight to the room?” Luke asked, bringing me back to why we were there—June.

“Let’s try the room first,” I said. “Maybe June will come to the door if she hears it’s us.”

We walked past the front desk with all the confidence in the world, as if we were staying at the hotel.

Room 612 faced the front of the hotel and was high enough that if June had been on the balcony, she’d likely been able to see the town.

Luke knocked once, twice, three times, but no one answered the door. Even when he called out, “Aunt June? Are you in there?” the room beyond the door was silent.

I glanced at him. “Plan B?”

“Which is?”

“Asking the front desk if she’s here?” I shrugged. “Maybe if we’re honest about what we’re doing, they’ll help us.”

We walked slowly back down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the lobby. A middle-aged woman I didn’t recognize stood behind the front desk. She had just finished checking in a guest and smiled at us warmly. “How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for my aunt who we believe might be staying here,” Luke said.

The woman’s smile faltered slightly before she said, “I’m sorry. We can’t give out details about our guests.”

“I completely understand,” Luke said. “And under different circumstances, I wouldn’t argue, but she’s been missing a couple of days, and I’m worried that she might be in danger.”

“You think someone has her here against her will?” the woman asked.

I glanced at Luke. I hadn’t even considered that. Maybe that was why she’d gone on the balcony. Maybe she’d been hoping someone would see her.

“That’s a possibility,” I said. “We hired a private investigator who told us he saw her on the balcony of room 612.”

She narrowed her eyes, her smile all but gone now. “Are you talking about Carl Jacobson?”

Crap. Mentioning the PI was a mistake.

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t want to lie.

“He was here earlier today, telling a story about a woman getting ready to jump off the balcony. He wanted us to let him into that room, but we couldn’t find any proof that anyone was about to jump off a balcony, let alone that anyone had even been on that one. We did send someone to check on the occupant of the room.”

“And?” I asked when she said nothing else.

“All I can tell you is that no one was getting ready to jump off a balcony.”

Luke was getting more and more anxious next to me.

“Was there only one person in the room?” I asked.

“Again, that’s not something I can tell you,” she said. “If you’d like to contact the police, we can let them handle it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Luke said quickly.

She narrowed her eyes at the both of us. “Carl said the same thing earlier. Why are you all so adamant about keeping the police out of it? Maybe I should call the police just because of that.”

“Did someone say something about the police?” a voice said behind us.

I knew before I turned around who would be standing there.

When Jessica, dressed in full uniform, came to stand next to Luke, the woman at the front desk seemed only too happy to tell her exactly what was happening.

“Let me get this straight—” Jessica said after the woman gave her a quick rundown. “—you hired Carl Jacobson to look for June, and he told you he saw her on the balcony of room 612?”

“Yes,” Luke said. “And we’d like to go check in room 612 to see if Aunt June is there and if she’s okay.”

The three of us—Luke, the front desk woman, and I—waited for Jessica to say something.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt to look,” Jessica said, focusing on the woman across the desk. “As long as you’re okay with that?”

“Of course, I’m okay if you check,” the woman said, emphasizing the word you. It would be a cold day in hell when Luke let Jessica check out that room without him, and I was relatively confident Jessica knew that.

“I’ll take them with me if that’s okay with you?” Jessica asked her.

“That’s your call,” she said. “But, for what it’s worth, I think they’re trouble.”

“One of them is,” Jessica said, her gaze darting to me. “Thank you for your help.”

“I’ll send security up with a master key,” she said.

Jessica, Luke, and I walked away toward the elevator.

“Thanks for your help,” Luke said once we were inside, and I’d pushed the button to take us to the sixth floor.

“I don’t expect we’ll find anything, but I couldn’t just leave you hanging, especially if that means you’re going to keep harassing my officers,” Jessica said. Though her tone was light, what she was saying was clear. Luke’s insider hadn’t been quite as discreet as he’d hoped. “Don’t worry, though. I’m happy to help you. All you had to do was ask. Like I said before, my number is still the same as it’s always been.”

Her flirtation grated on my nerves, but without her, we wouldn’t be getting access to a hotel room where June might or might not be being held against her will.

We arrived on the sixth floor without any additional conversation, and when we exited the elevator, the security guard was already knocking at the door of room 612.

Jessica walked to him with an air of confidence. “Any sign of life?”

“Not yet,” he said, knocking one more time.

When no one answered this time, he swiped his keycard over the electronic pad, and the door lock clicked open. “Security, we’re coming in.”

The first thing I saw when he opened the door was the curtains leading to the balcony blowing in the breeze. The second thing I noticed was a woman lying face down in the middle of the room.

14

Even as we burst into her room, the woman didn’t budge.

“It’s her,” Luke whispered, frozen on the spot. “It’s my aunt.”

When Jessica and the security guard hesitated, I pushed past to check on her.

The woman on the floor definitely had June's build and hairstyle. She was even wearing the black trench coat Carl had seen her in.

I approached quickly but carefully, ensuring I did not step on anything important. This was, after all, a developing crime scene.

I half expected Jessica to tell me to stop when I bent down with two fingers to check her pulse, but she didn’t. She and the security guard seemed just as frozen as Luke. Had she never seen a dead body before?

My fingers slipped through the thick hair and to a warm neck. Not a split second later did I feel the skin tighten, and the woman on the ground let out an ear-piercing scream.

She was on her feet faster than I could come to a stand. I lost my footing and fell back onto my butt as the woman, who was most definitely not June, grabbed a heavy lamp from the desk and lifted it over her head, still screaming at the top of her lungs.

"It's okay," I yelled, holding my hands above my head. "We thought you were hurt."

She didn't seem to register anything I was saying.

It wasn’t until Luke rushed toward me with Jessica and the security guard that she dropped the lamp a few inches and reached up to pull a tiny earbud out of her ear.

“I’m so sorry,” the security guard said. “We thought you might have been hurt in here when we didn’t get a reply.”

“I’m on a silent retreat,” the woman snapped. “The front desk is under very strict instructions that I am not to be bothered.”

I scrambled to my feet and took cover next to Luke. The more I looked at her, the more I realized how much she did and didn’t look like June.

Then it hit me. A silent retreat. “Astrid Moore?”

Luke glanced over at me.

“Who were you expecting?” Astrid asked.

“We thought you were June Hannah,” Luke said. “My aunt.”

Astrid sighed. “Yes, we look alike, but why would June stay at the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort?”

“It’s a long story,” Luke said. “We can leave you alone.”

“You’ve already disrupted my retreat. You owe me an explanation.” Astrid pulled her coat more tightly around her.

“June is missing,” I said. “Someone saw you on the balcony earlier today and thought you were her.”

“That doesn’t seem like such a long story,” Astrid said. “What makes you think she’s missing?”

“Horace called us,” Luke said. “And when we went to her house, it had been broken into.”

Jessica cleared her throat, reminding Luke not to give away too much information.

“Horace as in Horace Walters?”

“Yes,” I said. “He said the two of you are seeing one another.”

“We are.”

“He also said he took you to the airport yesterday,” Luke said.

“He did,” Astrid said. “Then I took an Uber back here. Cost me an arm and a leg, but if it meant Horace didn’t know I’d be staying in town, it would have been worth it. Let me guess, he knows I’m here now.”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t.”

She looked slightly relieved to hear that. “Please don’t tell him. He means well, but we’re still in that honeymoon phase, and he wants to be with me all the time. It was hard enough to convince him I needed this retreat.”

“Do you think he could have done anything to hurt June?” Luke asked.

"He would have never hurt June," she said. "He loves June."

This woman looked strong. Strong enough to carry a body and put it into a car.

“Loved June, right?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t think he ever stopped.”

“Does that bother you?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest,” she said. “It's rare for a man to love only one woman throughout his life after experiencing his first love.”

Luke tensed beside me. A smile spread over Jessica’s face as her gaze shifted from Luke to me and back again.

“I’m only happy to be his current love,” Astrid continued, unaware of the mess she was creating before her eyes. “We must live in the present and be thankful for what we have now rather than worrying about the past or the future.”

"So you've been here this entire time?" I asked. If she'd been in town, that made it possible for her to have done something to June. She might claim to be unaffected by Horace’s love for June, but that didn’t mean it was true.

"Haven't left this room." She sighed. "If you need proof, you can check the hotel cameras."

I glanced over at Luke, who didn’t seem to know what to say next.

"For what it’s worth, I know June's not dead," she said.

"Why do you think June's not dead?" Luke asked quickly.

"I'm a psychic," Astrid said.

Jessica let out a sarcastic laugh.

"If she's not dead, where is she?" Luke asked, ignoring Jessica’s outburst.

"I can't tell you where she is. That’s beyond my abilities. She’s not dead, though. I know that much for sure.”

I thought Jessica would make another snide grunt, but she seemed distracted by something none of us could hear. When she reached up and clicked the button on her radio mic, I realized she’d been listening to whoever had been talking in her earpiece. “Copy. I’ll head that way right now.”

“If there’s nothing else, please, I’d like to be left to my silence,” Astrid said.

Luke glanced at Jessica, who motioned for us to follow her.

“Thank you,” I said. “And I’m sorry we interrupted.”

Astrid smiled, then waved me over as the other three exited.

They didn’t seem to notice I wasn’t right behind them. I walked back over to her.

“Be careful,” she said. “Even though June is alive, I can sense something evil surrounding this whole thing. I hope you find her.”

“Can you tell me what the something evil is?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I hope our paths cross again under better circumstances.”

15

“They’re taking him into the station,” Jessica was saying as I tiptoed out of the hotel room. The security guard was no longer in the hallway—probably returning to his duties—leaving Luke and Jessica talking in hushed tones.

“Who? They’re taking who into the station?” I asked.

Jessica glared at me, then turned and walked away without an explanation.

What Astrid had said about men never truly loving only one woman echoed in my head as Luke watched her walk away, and I watched him watch her. Did he still have feelings for her? Or any of the other women he dated? Or was Astrid just operating from a different perspective?

“Who are they taking to the station?” I asked again.

Luke glanced at me as if I’d snapped him out of a trance. “Horace. They’re taking Horace to the station.”

“Why?”

“It was his blood on the window,” Luke said. “He lied to us.”

“What exactly did he lie about, though?” I asked, my mind reeling.

Luke started down the hall after Jessica. Though she’d already gotten in the elevator, the doors closed behind her.

“He knew about the shattered window, for starters,” Luke said over his shoulder. He walked like a man on a mission, his tone irritated.

I followed closely behind, nearly running into him as he stopped at the elevator. He pushed the button repeatedly as if that would make the elevator car come more quickly.

I didn’t want to frustrate him, but it didn’t feel right that Horace would have done something to June. Even Astrid said he loved June too much to do anything to her. “Okay, so maybe he knew it would look bad if he said he saw signs of a break-in but didn’t call the police.”

“It does look bad,” Luke said, stepping onto the elevator and pushing the doors closed button before I was only just inside.

“I’m not convinced,” I said. “There’s something not right about it.”

Luke sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “I know you’ve worked on many cases, and they always seem to have deeper, hidden agendas, but sometimes the most obvious answer is the actual answer. Horace lied to us. I don’t know why he called us up here when he was the one who took June, but he’s the only one who has evidence directly tying him to the crime. Astrid said it herself. He was still in love with June. Maybe he didn’t want anyone else to have her if he couldn’t. He did attack that guy at the bar just for being in June’s company.”

“I’d like to respectfully disagree,” I said, not backing down. “But if you’re right, I’ll happily let you tell me you told me so.”

Luke reached down and grabbed my hand. “I don’t want to say that. Let’s not fight about this right now, okay? At least not until we get a better read of what’s going on.”

“How can we do that?” I asked. “I doubt Jessica is going to divulge any information to us.”

“Maybe not us,” Luke said. “Maybe I should head down to the police station alone. It might get us farther in the long run.”

He made a solid point. She’d likely tell him more without me around. That didn’t mean I liked it. But I trusted Luke. “I can go back to June’s house and look around again while you do that.”

“It’s late. You could go back to my parents’ house and get some sleep.”

“I don’t think I could sleep,” I said. “And I feel we’ve missed something at June’s house. She had to have been working on current cases, right? Where are those files?”

“Maybe Horace took them,” Luke said.

It was possible. “I’d like to check again, if you’re okay with that.”

“Of course I am.” He brought my hand up to kiss my knuckles.

When the elevator doors parted to the lobby, Jessica stood talking to the mayor and a massive guy with an anchor tattoo that stretched up his neck onto the back of his bald head. The bottom of the anchor spread around his neck, almost like a backward necklace.

Luke noticed them, too, and stopped just outside the elevator.

They were far enough from us that we couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the exchange looked heated. When Jessica threw her arms up in the air and stormed out of the hotel, Luke started toward the mayor.

“Hello again,” Mayor Thompson said when he saw us. I half expected him to introduce us to the man at his side, but he didn’t.

“What was that all about?” Luke asked, motioning toward Jessica.

“I was trying to tell her about the problem with the disfigured deer, but she said she had more important things to deal with at the moment.” The mayor adjusted his long red tie. “Please tell me you haven’t seen any more since you’ve been here.”

“We’ve been busy with the disappearance of my aunt,” Luke said.

“Oh, yes. Still no word on her whereabouts?”

Luke was about to reply when the large bald man leaned over and whispered something in the mayor’s ear.

“Right, thank you,” the mayor replied, then turned back to us. “Well, I have to be going. Politics never sleep. I hope you enjoy Big Mountain while you’re still in town. And I do hope you find your aunt.”

He and the bald man walked out of the lobby toward the conference center portion of the lodge.

“I hate politicians,” Luke said, watching him go.

“Let’s go,” I said. “You can drop me off at June’s before you head to the police station.”

Luke followed me toward the door.

The mood wasn’t as tense as it had been, but we drove to June’s in silence.

16

June’s house was quiet and warm. The contractors had been there and covered the broken window with plywood.

I sank into June’s worn desk chair, the creak echoing softly in the quiet space. It was late, but there were three more suspects on our list, and I needed to contact them as soon as possible if I was going to clear Horace’s name. Then, I’d work on finding her current case files.

Making calls and trying to figure out what happened to June—not that anyone had an actual idea yet—would help keep my mind off how much Jessica was probably flirting with Luke at this very moment. I clenched my teeth at the image, reminding myself that Luke was a professional. And he cared about me. That much I knew.

I started with Randy Swain.

Randy was the man who had suspected his wife of cheating, but June had found no evidence to support his suspicions.

The phone number he’d given June went straight to voicemail, so I called his wife’s phone number.

“Hello?” A high-pitched southern twang hit my ears.

“Hi there, my name is Rylie Cooper. I’m trying to reach Randy Swain.”

“He’s not here at the moment.,” she said, her voice sharpening slightly. “It’s pretty late to be calling, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said quickly, my fingers tracing patterns across June’s notes. “I’m trying to find someone, and I thought Randy might know where she is.”

“Who are you looking for, darling?” The sweetness was back in her tone, layered with a cautious curiosity.

“June Hannah,” I answered, leaning forward and holding the phone tight to my ear.

There was a brief pause and a sharp inhale before she said, “Well, Randy better dang well not know where she is. She has a restraining order against him.”

“That’s kind of the reason I’m calling,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “June is missing.”

“Oh, Honey, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. When did she go missing?”

“A few days ago,” I said, flipping through the pages of Randy’s file. In the pictures June took of his wife, you could tell they had money. Her hair and nails were always done, her clothes were of high quality, and she drove a Ferrari.

“If she went missing a few days ago, it couldn’t have been Randy. He’s been sitting in county lockup for the past two weeks.”

I closed the file and tossed it to the side. “County lockup?”

“Yes, ma’am. Check fraud. Again.” The words came out casually as if she was completely unfazed by it. "If you need to speak with him, I believe there are visiting hours. Not that I'd know. I refuse to visit him when he’s behind bars."

"But you’re his wife?" I asked gently, curiosity pulling my attention back.

"Yes, ma'am," she said. "For ten years."

"Forgive me if this is blunt, but it seems you're doing well for yourselves. Why would he commit check fraud?"

She chuckled softly. "I make all the money. Randy doesn't like to use what he calls my money, so he does things here and there to make some on his own. Most of them get him into trouble."

"What sort of trouble?"

"Everything from bad checks to bank robberies." She ticked them off as casually as someone might recite a grocery list.

"And you’re still with him?"

"I love him." Her voice held a quiet strength, unwavering despite his trouble.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry again for the late call.”

"Sure thing, Darling," she replied. "Have a good night. And I hope you find June."

The line went dead, and I put my cell phone on the desk. The clock on June’s wall ticked softly, relentlessly. Two more names to go.

* * *

The next two were relatively easy to mark off the list. Luke had whittled down his list, but he didn’t check social media. Peter Gardner, the man embroiled in the child custody dispute, was at his sister’s wedding in Chicago, as evidenced by several photos and videos.

Then there was Zeke Collins, who June had served a subpoena to be a witness in a drug case. The drug case was against a company called Blackridge Holdings, though I couldn’t find an actual name to go along with the case other than high-powdered attorneys hired by the company. Either way, the case had been dismissed when Zeke had been found dead in his vehicle a week before. They’d ruled it a suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. I wasn’t sure how Luke hadn’t come across this information unless he had only done a preliminary sweep of the names online.

Either way, they were both dead ends, meaning I was no closer to finding someone to replace Horace as the number one suspect.

I yawned. Maybe Luke was right, and Horace was responsible for June’s disappearance.

I leaned back in the chair, fighting exhaustion. I’d expected Luke to be back by now. His parents’ house wasn’t too far away—I could walk back—but I could also rest on June’s sofa until he returned.

My fingers absently traced the edges of June’s desk as I thought back over the case. The only people still on my suspect list were Bryce, Carl, Horace, and Mayor Thompson. And of the four of them, I’d have bet money that Horace wasn’t the actual person responsible.

My thumb caught on a small hidden latch underneath the desktop, pulling me from my thoughts. A soft click sounded, and a narrow drawer slid open from beneath the center of the desk.

My heart raced at the sight of two manilla file folders sitting in the drawer along with seven pieces of individually wrapped chocolate, five hundred dollars cash, two rectangular memory cards, and one unsealed envelope from the mayor’s office.

I checked what was inside the envelope first. The singular sheet of paper dated four days ago was an official permit for June’s building—the one the mayor had supposedly denied. What made him change his mind?

I slipped it back into the envelope and turned my attention to the case files.

The first was labeled O-4 Blackridge Holdings.

A shiver ran down my arms. All the exhaustion left my body. Blackridge Holdings had been the company Zeke was supposed to testify against before he died by suicide.

I flipped the file open and eagerly took in the contents. There was no usual intake form.

June had printed off some information about Blackridge Holdings from the internet and took several pages of bullet-pointed notes. From the dates, it seemed she'd started working on the case about a month ago and had notes all the way until the day before she went missing.

At the top of the second page, she wrote in large letters: Do Not Trust the Police. It seemed like she had written the words and then traced them over as I sometimes did when I was on a phone call.

I thumbed through the surveillance notes.

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 5th

Fire at warehouse

Report blames faulty wiring

Fire department could not access the burning building to put out the flames

Spoke to Mark who mentioned off the record that he doesn't think it was faulty wiring - more like arson to cover something up

No media coverage, why not?

Who owns the building?

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 10th

Pulled business records for Blackridge Holdings - no contact info

Properties include the warehouse, a mill, and a few residential properties

Spoke with the mayor who pushed me off onto his assistant who had no knowledge of the properties

Horace found the name of the former owner. When I called he told me he'd signed an NDA and hung up

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 12th

Started Surveillance at the old mill - building is in bad repair but has new security cameras

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 13th

Trucks come and go from old mill between 2-4 a.m. - no company markings, no daytime deliveries.

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 14th

Dumpster behind mill emptied twice a day - once at midnight, once at noon

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 15th

Carl is following more and more - being less conspicuous - reference case file J-1 C-1

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 21st

Spoke to mayor again about what I'd seen - possibly related to the drugs incoming - he was busy, brushed me off

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 22nd

Mill operations shut down for the weekend

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 24th

Followed one of the workers from the mill to the cabins on north side of town - wouldn't speak to me - hostile, nervous

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - October 28th

At the bar - overheard the worker who wouldn't speak to me talking about their raises - intelligent-sounding - making drugs?

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - November 3rd

Photos of individuals working at the mill - transportation trucks - and all notes to police department

Surveillance Notes - O-4 Blackridge Holdings - November 5th

PD called and told me to leave it alone - they have it handled

June's notes sent a chill down my spine. We'd been looking into the wrong people. It wasn't any of her past clients, and it wasn’t Horace.

This was something much bigger than a cheating husband, a jealous ex, or insurance fraud. It was whoever owned Blackridge Holdings manufacturing drugs operating right under the police department's nose.

I closed the file and opened the other one labeled J-1 CJ—the file related to someone following June—Carl.

The notes, which went back about six months and were much less detailed, were June's sightings of Carl as he followed her around.

Then they turned into her following him some just before she went missing.

The last one made my blood run cold.

November 6th

Carl met with Jessica behind the police station. Cover was blown.

17

Every bit of me wanted to call Luke right then and there and tell him what I’d found, but if he was getting somewhere with Jessica, having my name pop up on his phone screen likely wouldn’t help matters at all.

Sure, Jessica could be dangerous, but she wouldn’t do anything to Luke at the police station.

I took everything out of the drawer and slipped it into my purse before taking the memory cards to the dining room table where Luke had left June’s laptop. Maybe she’d gotten photos of something that could help us—something that would tell us who might be responsible for her disappearance.

The first memory card was filled with photos of cases going back to the summer and ending with what looked like Randy’s case in mid-September. The images made it abundantly clear that Bianca had been faking her injury, just as she said. What the prescription medication was for was beyond me.

I slipped the second memory card into the slot on the side of the computer, and while it loaded, I stretched my arms overhead. My vision started to blur. Exhaustion was taking over whether I wanted it to or not. The initial adrenaline rush from finding the hidden drawer had come to a crashing halt after looking through thousands of photos that led nowhere.

I started through the second memory card, my eyelids heavy. Photo after photo of random people—most I didn’t recognize—flashed on the screen each time I pushed the arrow key. My head fell forward, smacking into the keyboard. I sat up straight, rolling my shoulders and shaking my head. I felt like I’d been awake for days on end. I glanced at my phone. It was well after midnight.

Luke had better be making progress with Jessica, or he’d have another thing coming. I tried to go through the photos again, but my eyes would not focus. I had to sleep.

After closing the laptop, I went to the living room, settling on the sofa and pulling a June-scented blanket over me. I nuzzled into the soft fabric and felt my body relax entirely before my mind drifted to sleep.

* * *

The sound of shoes scuffling down the hallway woke me with a start. The sun still wasn’t up, and according to my phone, I’d only been asleep for a little over an hour.

My first instinct was to call out to Luke, letting him know I was in the living room. Then the haze of sleep cleared, and I realized it couldn’t be Luke. Luke wouldn’t be sneaking around in his own aunt’s house. Especially when he knew I was inside.

Whoever was in the house wasn’t supposed to be there.

I considered my options.

I could try to see who it was and risk being caught.

Or I could hide and stay safe. But then I wouldn’t know anything.

My heart pounded as I gently slipped from beneath the blanket. My feet landed silently on the rug.

I crouched behind the sofa carefully, peering around the edge to get a clear view of the hallway.

They were in June’s office.

The sound of drawers opening and closing and the beam of a flashlight darting around made me thankful I’d taken everything from the hidden drawer and stashed it in my purse.

I glanced around to make sure I had my purse with me. Thankfully, I’d had the good sense to bring it with me to the couch.

A shadowy figure emerged from June’s office, stepping quietly yet quickly into the hall.

I ducked before the broad-shouldered man in a dark jacket, a ski mask, and a beanie hat could see me. Their footsteps paused momentarily as I held my breath.

Had they seen me?

I glanced around to see what I could use as a weapon if they decided to attack me.

But before I could come up with anything, their footsteps continued down the hall toward the back of the house. Maybe they were leaving. They’d come to find something but hadn’t.

I could only hope.

When their footsteps turned toward the dining room, my breath caught. I’d left June’s laptop with the camera card in the slot unattended on the table.

Without thinking, I stood, adrenaline surging through me.

“Hey! Stop!” The words flew out of my mouth before I could reconsider.

The intruder froze, turning slowly toward me, the laptop clutched against his broad chest.

My heart pounded so loudly, I was certain the man could have heard it.

“Put that down,” I said. “That doesn’t belong to you.”

The man stepped toward me but stopped when headlights flooded the living room window. Then, I heard the crunch of gravel as what I assumed was Luke’s truck pulled into the driveway.

The man took the distraction as his opportunity to flee. He bolted through the kitchen and out the back door.

I ran around the sofa, through the dining room, and out the door. “Come back here!” I was halfway down the stairs leading toward the lake when the man disappeared into the trees.

I tried to follow, but it was too dark, I was barefoot, and he had a massive head start.

I grumbled all the way back to the house. How could I have left the laptop out on the table for anyone to take? I felt like an idiot. And I hadn’t even gotten to the most recent photos.

I heard Luke calling my name from upstairs when I walked in through the back door.

“I’m down here,” I called out.

Luke hurried down, fear etched in all the lines of his face. “Oh, thank God.” He gathered me up into his arms and squeezed me tight. “I thought something happened to you when I saw your purse and phone beside the couch, but you were gone.”

“Someone broke in again,” I said, shakily into his chest. “They took June’s laptop and a camera memory card.”

18

On our way back to his parents ' house, I told Luke everything I’d found in June’s office and how I’d narrowed down the suspect pool.

“You were much more productive than me,” Luke said when I finally finished my story, and we’d pulled into the driveway. “I spent nearly the entire night waiting for Jessica, and by the time she finally decided to grace me with her presence, she had refused to tell me anything about Horace.”

I could just imagine him sitting in the police station waiting all that time, only to come up against a brick wall.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still sorry all the same.”

“It gave me a lot of time to think,” Luke said. “You’re right about Horace. I don’t think he did it either.”

“You don’t?” I asked.

Luke got out of the truck, and I followed him inside.

“It just doesn’t make any sense. I mean, sure, his blood was on the glass, so he was obviously there, but I’m guessing he was there after she was already taken. If I’m thinking right, it would be easy to come up with a timeline of his movements in the days leading up to and after June had gone missing. If he’d have taken her or done something with her, I don’t think he would have been spending all that time looking for her, do you?”

We walked up the stairs to the guest bedroom. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

“Plus, if there’s really a drug ring in Big Mountain and June happened across it, that would give someone way more motive than Horace has.”

I yawned. “And if Horace was the guy who did it, then why did someone break into June’s house again tonight and steal her laptop?”

Luke nodded. “We definitely have some things we need to follow up on tomorrow. Let’s take the information to the mayor. He’s out to rid the town of drugs, and if we can’t trust the police, he may be the next best thing.”

I wasn’t certain what pull he’d have if the police wouldn’t be of assistance, but Luke knew the ins and outs of political things much better than I did.

Once we were cozied up under the covers, I laid my head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m sorry I was so short with you earlier,” Luke said, his voice low and gravelly. “My emotions got the best of me, and I took it out on you.”

“I understand. I want to find June, too.”

“I know you do. I appreciate your help with all this. I don’t think I could do it without you.”

“You could,” I said. “But I’m glad I can be here to help.”

We fell asleep within a matter of minutes.

* * *

I woke as the sky lightened, though the sun still hadn’t peeked over the mountaintops yet.

Luke was still completely passed out, snoring softly into his pillow. When I realized we’d only been sleeping less than four hours, I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but it was no use. I was awake.

I slipped out of bed and put on a pair of leggings, a hoodie, a jacket, tennis shoes, a hat, and gloves.

I hadn't been on a run in a while, but right now, it seemed like a good way to release some of my anxious energy and clear my mind.

I tucked my phone into the side pocket of my leggings, stretched a bit, and then started down Luke's road. The morning air was frosty, indicating winter was right around the corner.

I hadn’t been a distance runner in high school. I’d gotten most of my awards for sprints and long jump. But as I aged, I enjoyed the slower pace of a long run.

Seeing Big Mountain this early in the morning made me appreciate how wonderful it was. I'd taken so much of it for granted—the clean air, the mountain views, the safety of knowing everyone in town. Maybe scratch the last one—Big Mountain didn't seem as safe now that June had gone missing.

It didn't seem like I'd been running that long, but I had to have been because I ended up on the road to my old house. The house that no longer stood. As I approached the vacant lot, my feet slowed to almost a crawl, as if they didn't want to take me where I knew I needed to go.

Why was I torturing myself? Did I really need to grieve the loss of my house while worrying about whether June was okay?

If you didn't know it, you might not know a house had ever stood on the property. It was a big empty lot without so much as a blade of grass. Someone hated the house so much they'd even removed the landscaping. My father’s trees. Now, it was just a big square dirt patch.

I couldn't look at it any longer. I had to keep going.

My legs carried me away faster than was probably necessary. I wound through town and past the café. I imagined all the gossip that would be passed around when everyone caught wind of Horace being arrested.

I was about to return to Luke's parents' house when something caught my eye. I'd ended up on the street where Carl's office was. His office building was dark and quiet. I slowed to a walk, unsure why my senses were tingling. Something about the place seemed eerie or off—and not just because it was early morning.

There was a low hum coming from somewhere. I couldn’t put my finger on what the sound was.

I glanced around, taking in the surroundings more closely. That’s when I noticed the house off to the left of the office building. It was set back off the street with a dilapidated fence around the mostly dirt front yard. The old mailbox had a set of brand-new gold letters that spelled out Jacobson.

It made sense that Carl lived close to his office. I just hadn’t paid much attention when we’d been here the first time.

The house was small and unremarkable, with a flickering porch light and a front door that had seen better days. As I moved toward the house, the hum grew louder. That’s when I realized it was coming from the small detached garage on the far side of the house.

My stomach soured.

Thoughts of how Zeke died flashed through my mind.

Before I even opened the garage door, I knew what I’d find inside. I could only hope I wasn’t too late.

19

I slipped my fingers under the bottom of the garage door and lifted, half expecting it to be locked. Thankfully, it wasn’t and rolled up easily, letting out a cloud of exhaust into the cold and sending me into a coughing fit.

Inside the garage was an old Toyota, its engine running. Inside was a person.

Without a second thought, I covered my face with my sleeve and rushed in.

The car doors were locked, but it was definitely Carl inside. He was unconscious, but his head was at an unnatural angle. Not the way I’d think it would be if he’d done this to himself.

I had to get into the car.

Looking around the garage, I spotted a large wrench on the floor.

I lifted it and swung at the corner of the window like I was trying to hit a home run. The glass shattered, raining down onto Carl.

I dropped the wrench and pushed my fingers against Carl’s neck. He was cold to the touch. He’d been dead a while, but his body looked like it had been placed in the car after he’d died. The autopsy would show what happened, but I’d bet my last paycheck that they wouldn’t find carbon monoxide poisoning as his manner of death.

I turned the key in the ignition, the engine hum replaced with a dead silence. My head was pounding by the time I stepped back into the fresh air to call Luke and then the police.

Both said they’d be there as quickly as possible. Luke beat the police and ambulance by a solid thirty seconds.

He hopped out of his truck after coming to a screeching stop in front of Carl’s house. “Are you okay? I didn’t even know you got out of bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, letting him gather me into his arms. “I thought I’d go on a run and ended up here.”

“Did you call the police?”

“They’re on their way.” I pulled away and led him to the garage. Most of the fumes seemed to have cleared out, though my headache remained. “He didn’t kill himself.”

Luke looked inside the car, touching nothing. “Yeah, that’s not a natural position.” He glanced around the garage. “It looks like he was pulled inside. If I had to guess, he probably has marks up and down his back.”

He pointed at the drag marks in the mud and dirt that led from outside the garage to where we stood.

“Before the police get here, there’s something I need to show you,” Luke said, pulling out his phone. “This must have come in right after we went to sleep.”

He held out his phone so I could read a text message from Carl.

Carl Jacobson

may have found her. need your help before it’s too late. not safe to text

A groan rose in my chest. “This had to have been right before he was killed.”

If only we’d seen it. If only we’d stayed awake a little longer. Not only would Carl possibly still be alive, we might know where June was.

“Here to mess up another crime scene, I see,” Jessica said from just outside the garage.

Luke slipped his phone back into his pocket as we turned around to face her.

“I was running by and heard the car’s engine,” I said. “When I got inside, I broke the window because the doors were locked. I checked his pulse, but I’d guess he’s been dead quite a while and not from carbon monoxide.”

Jessica tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Who died and made you coroner? Last I knew, park rangers had no formal training in crime scene analysis. Why don’t you let the experts handle it?”

The memory of June’s notes flooded into my mind. Don’t trust the police. Jessica and Carl together. I swallowed, then asked, “Were you able to get any rest last night?”

“Do I look rested?” Jessica asked, then answered before we could say anything, “No. I didn’t get to rest. I’ve been up to my neck in paperwork and trying to get that horrible old man to give me any semblance of information about your aunt. And now this. Carl is dead. Thanks to the two of you, I might never get a day off.”

“It’s not our fault someone’s out there abducting and killing people,” I said, unable to stop myself.

When she turned to look at me, she didn’t seem as angry as I expected. She actually seemed kind of sad. Then, her face changed. “None of this was happening before you showed up. Now stop playing detective before someone else gets hurt.”

“Before we go, I need to show you the text message I got from Carl last night,” Luke said.

I shot him a panicked look but then realized it would be wrong not to share it with her.

Her eyes grew when she read the text. “What time did this come in?”

“Around two this morning,” Luke said, glancing at the screen. “Two thirteen, to be exact.”

“Can you forward that text to me, please?” Jessica asked, glancing over her shoulder at where Carl sat dead in his car.

20

Luke had insisted I get checked out by the medics before we could leave. I told him it was just a headache, but I let them hook me up to oxygen for a few minutes to appease him.

“I think we need to go to the mayor,” I said when we were safely in the truck and away from listening ears. “Even if we have to show up at his house. He needs to know what’s going on right under his nose.”

“He was at the lodge pretty late last night,” Luke said. “My guess is he’s still at home.”

“Do you know where he lives?” I asked.

“The mayor’s mansion,” Luke said, worriedly glancing at me.

“Right, sorry,” I said. “Slipped my mind.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

I rubbed my head. “Yes. I’m fine.”

He pulled away from Carl’s house, and I got one last glimpse of Jessica as she opened the car door and then wiped at her cheek.

Was she crying?

Surely not.

Or maybe she was. If June had seen her with Carl, perhaps the two of them had been in a secret relationship.

The mayor’s mansion was at the top of a steep drive. Luke put the truck into four-wheel drive to make sure we made it to the top without spinning out. Just as we got to the top of the hill—the house in sight—the garage door opened, and a large SUV started backing out.

When whoever was driving saw us, the brake lights illuminated, and the big guy with the anchor tattoo got out.

Luke rolled down his window as the man approached.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re here to talk to the mayor. It’s important,” Luke said.

“He’s on his way to the office,” the man said. “You’ll have to make an appointment.”

“It’s about his drug campaign,” I blurted from the passenger seat. “We think we know who’s behind it.”

Okay, so we didn’t really know who was behind it, but I was reasonably confident Blackridge Holdings had something to do with it. And my guess was Jessica worked for them.

Either way, this did enough to get the guy to return to the SUV and consult who I assumed was the mayor in the back seat.

When he returned to Luke’s window, he said, “Please follow us to the mayor’s office. He’d like to speak to you right away.”

“Will do,” Luke said, then glanced at me with a beaming smile. When the man had returned to his SUV, Luke said, “You’re amazing.”

“The mayor won’t be happy when he finds out we don’t know who is actually did it,” I said. “But hopefully, knowing that Blackridge Holdings is part of it and that Jessica might be working with them will be enough to get him to help us.”

“Maybe we should leave Jessica out of it,” Luke said softly as he turned around in the large parking area and started back down the hill after the SUV.

“Why?” I asked. “She has something to do with it. June even said so.”

“Aunt June said she didn’t trust the police and had seen Jessica and Carl together. That’s not exactly hard evidence that Jessica is who Aunt June didn’t trust.”

Irritation coursed through me. Was he defending Jessica now?

Town Hall was an older brick building near the center of town, its American flag snapping in the cold mountain breeze. Mayor Thompson waited for his bodyguard to come around and let him out of the car as if he were a celebrity. Luke and I hurried over to him.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us about—”

Mayor Thompson held up a hand, stopping Luke’s sentence. “Let’s talk about it in my office, shall we?”

As we walked into the building, the bodyguard put himself between the mayor and Luke and me. Luke gave me a quizzical look, and I shrugged. It was early, the parking lot was empty, and it wasn’t like Luke had been ready to spill earth-shattering secrets right then and there.

We took the elevator up to the second floor in silence.

When we stepped into his office, he asked the bodyguard to wait outside, then turned to us with a warm, practiced smile. “Now, we can talk. Please, have a seat.”

He shrugged off his long overcoat, revealing an impeccable suit that looked much more expensive than was necessary for a small-town mayor.

As we settled in, I noticed framed photographs on the wall—the mayor with senators, celebrities, and even presidents prominently displayed.

“Mr. Mayor,” I began, “we’ve discovered some troubling information. We believe June Hannah may have been investigating a drug manufacturing operation right here in Big Mountain.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s a serious accusation. What makes you think that?”

“We found notes in her office. She was tracking activities at several properties owned by Blackridge Holdings. She noted unusual deliveries at odd hours and security measures that didn’t match the abandoned state of the buildings.”

The mayor’s fingers steepled together as he listened. “And you believe this is connected to her disappearance? Didn’t they take Horace Walters in for questioning? Are you insinuating he has something to do with the drugs?”

I glanced at Luke, who said, “We don’t believe Horace has anything to do with my aunt’s disappearance, but we do believe her disappearance has something to do with the information she found about the drug business.”

“This morning, I found Carl Jacobson—the other PI in town—dead. It looked like a suicide, but I believe it was murder,” I said.

Mayor Thompson’s face darkened. “This is exactly what my administration has been fighting against. My entire platform is about cleaning up this town, and I intend to keep that promise.” He pulled a legal pad toward him and began taking notes. “Tell me everything you know.”

We took turns explaining what we’d discovered down to the tiniest detail. Well, everything except for Jessica. So far, I hadn’t brought her up because I didn’t want to step on Luke’s toes, but the information was on the tip of my tongue, begging to be let loose.

“And what about evidence?” the mayor asked. “Do you have copies of these notes? Photos? Anything concrete I can take to the authorities?”

“Some,” Luke said cautiously. “We had June’s laptop, but it was stolen last night.”

I remembered I hadn’t mentioned this to Jessica. Not that it would have mattered, but still.

“What about the police?” The mayor asked through narrowed eyes. “Have you shared this information with them?”

I shifted in my seat. I could feel Luke’s gaze on me. “That’s another issue. June’s notes indicated she wasn’t sure the police could be trusted.”

“I see.” The mayor’s pen scratched across the paper. “Did she mention anyone specific?”

“No,” Luke said too quickly.

I sighed.

The mayor’s head lifted as he examined Luke, then me. “You disagree, Miss Cooper?”

I could almost hear Luke telling me not to say anything, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Jessica Sanders has been handling both June’s disappearance and now Carl’s death. She’s been less than helpful.”

Hopefully, that was enough to put the mayor onto her case without pissing Luke off completely. I hadn’t outright accused her of anything.

“Are you suggesting there’s corruption in my police department?”

“I don’t think she was suggesting that necessarily,” Luke said. “It’s just a precaution we’re taking.”

“Have you shared this information with anyone else?” the mayor asked.

“No,” Luke said. “We came straight to you.”

“Good. Very good.” The mayor stood and walked to the window overlooking the town square. “I need you both to lie low for now. Don’t talk to anyone else about this—not police, friends, or even family. I’ll contact the state police and the DEA immediately.”

“What about June?” Luke asked, tension filling his voice. “She’s still missing. She could be in danger.”

“I understand your concern,” Mayor Thompson said, turning back to face us. “But if we move too quickly, we might spook whoever’s behind this. Let me arrange proper protection first. In the meantime, go about your business normally. In fact, you could probably go back to your lives in the city if you needed to. Just act like you haven’t discovered anything unusual.”

Going back to Prairie City was the last thing I wanted to do. And from the look on Luke’s face, I could tell he wouldn’t return until June was found.

We stood and shook the mayor’s hand. “Thank you for bringing this to me. This could be the big break we need to uncover the crime and get this town back to its pristine condition.”

The thought of the deer flashed through my mind. What if it hadn’t been injured but was deformed due to environmental issues from the drug manufacturing? It would explain why the mayor was so adamant about finding it to supposedly relocate it.

As we stepped into the hallway, the bodyguard stared at us until the elevator doors closed.

21

The fire station was exactly as I remembered it—industrial and clean. Shiny red trucks, concrete, and the smell of chili cooking in the kitchen made me nostalgic. We let ourselves in through one of the large, open bay doors.

Even though the mayor had taken on the case, we agreed that we couldn’t stop investigating. The fire the department hadn’t gone to at a Blackridge Holdings property was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Plus, I needed to stop in and catch up. It had been way too long.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter returned from her philandering in the city." Mark sauntered up to us, shaking Luke's hand, then wrapping me in a big hug. Mark was the fire captain when I volunteered with the fire department. He was tall—around the same height as Luke—but built like a bodybuilder. “I’ve missed you, Coop.”

Tears welled in my eyes. I'd been such an awful friend. After all Mark had done for me, I hadn't spoken with him in ages. Yet here he was, acting like it was all water under the bridge.

"What are you doing here?" Mark asked as he pulled away. When he caught sight of my face, he recoiled a bit. "Are you crying?"

I wiped my eyes. "No. It's probably allergies."

"Uh-huh." He gave Luke a wide-eyed look, and Luke laughed.

"We're here looking for Luke's aunt," I said.

"I heard she went missing," Mark said. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Luke said.

"Are you guys hungry?" Mark asked. "I have chili on the stove and cinnamon rolls that just came out of the oven."

“It’s breakfast time,” I said, glancing at my phone to confirm I hadn’t lost several hours in the mayor’s office.

“So, just a cinnamon roll, then?” Mark asked as if he didn’t quite understand why I wouldn’t want chili at breakfast.

“I could go for a cinnamon roll,” Luke said.

"And coffee?” I asked.

“Say no more,” Mark said. “We always have coffee.”

Mark led us through the garage bays and down the hallway to the kitchen. On the wall hung photos of the current firefighters. I remembered when my photo had been up there. I'd been so proud of making it through my probationary period.

The cinnamon rolls smelled like heaven. Even the chili smelled delicious. As Mark waited on us, I asked, "Were you on duty for the Blackridge Holdings call?"

He stopped what he was doing for a few seconds as if surprised I'd brought it up. "Yes, why?"

"It was a total loss," I said. "That just seems weird. Did something happen? Were a bunch of guys sick?"

Mark turned around and gave me a look, telling me to shut up.

When he handed Luke and me our cinnamon rolls, he whispered, "They told us not to go."

"Who told you not to go?" I asked.

"The chief, but someone else told him. I don't know who. We don't talk about that call."

"Why not?" Luke asked.

I took a bite of the roll. It was delicious.

"It would be like the police getting a domestic violence call, being told not to go, and then finding out both people ended up dead in a murder-suicide." Mark shook his head. "We could have saved that building."

"Did anyone die inside?" I asked.

He shook his head. "The chief tried to explain it away by saying the building was too unstable and may have contained dangerous substances, but we all knew that was just a cover for whatever was really going on."

"Do you know anything about Blackridge Holdings?" I asked.

"They own a bunch of properties. I don't know who owns it—probably not someone from around here. It's not the first time we've had to respond to one of their properties."

"What other calls have you gotten?" Luke asked.

"Lots of different ones—altitude sickness, fire alarms, those types of things. None seem to be related. From what I can tell, the properties are owned by Blackridge Holdings but are leased for various uses. Some are residential. Most are commercial."

"The one that burned down—was it being rented to anyone?" I asked.

"Couldn't tell you," Mark said. "Like I said, it's a taboo topic around here. It's not worth being fired over, you know?"

Mark was one of the few paid firefighters in the department. It hadn't been an easy position to get, and if he lost it, he wouldn’t find anything like it within a hundred-mile radius.

I was about to ask another question when three young firefighters wearing probationary firefighter shirts walked in, drooling over the food. I didn't recognize any of them.

Mark said, "Help yourself. It's all ready."

When they noticed Luke and me, the tallest man, who looked barely old enough to drive, asked, "Who are they?"

"That's Luke Hannah and Rylie Cooper," Mark said. "Rylie used to be a firefighter here."

The woman's eyes widened. "I've heard about you. You're the one who cannonballed into the ice, right?"

The two men gaped at me.

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend it," I said. "Got me into some trouble, that did."

Okay, so it hadn't gotten me into that much trouble, but it was still a stupid thing to do.

"I can't wait for ice rescue training," the tall man said. "It's going to be epic."

Ice rescue had definitely been my favorite training.

"You should stick around," Mark said, sitting across the table from Luke and me with three cups of coffee—two in to-go cups and one in a regular mug. "I'm sure everyone would love to see you."

I glanced at the time. "I might have to take a rain check. We need to keep looking into June's disappearance."

"Aren't the police looking into it?" Mark asked.

I winced. "Kind of."

"Let me guess, Jessica?"

"How did you know?" I laughed.

"She's a pain in the butt. No one likes her. The only reason she has a job is because she's having an affair with the mayor."

I couldn’t contain the gasp that burst from my lips. “What do you mean Jessica is having an affair with the mayor?”

Luke tipped his head back, closing his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“They’ve been seeing each other for a while now. It’s non-public-public knowledge. Everyone knows," Mark said. "Everyone but the mayor's wife, I suppose. I caught them once when we had a call to a party—one of the guests had altitude sickness. They were in a back room, naked. I closed the door before they realized I'd seen, but I'll never get that image out of my mind." He made a gagging sound. "Jessica has a thing for married men. It's strange. It's like she wants to make sure she doesn't get too attached, you know?"

"You could have been a psychologist," I joked.

Mark shook his head. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

"Thanks for your help," Luke said, finishing his roll and grabbing his to-go cup.

Mark took our plates and deposited them in the sink. "I'll walk you out."

When we returned to the garage bays, Mark wrapped an arm around me. "You're always welcome back, you know? And not just for a visit. We’d love to have some more experience on the crew.”

"Thanks," I said, trying not to let my emotions get the best of me again.

"And my phone number is still the same, just in case you ever want to call."

"I'll call more often," I said. "I promise."

22

Luke was irritated when we got in the truck, closing the door harder than necessary.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I knew we shouldn’t have mentioned Jessica,” Luke said. “Now, she surely knows we went to the mayor with all the information. If Aunt June was being held somewhere, they’d definitely have to either move her or—”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said. “Just because they’re having an affair doesn’t mean he’s going to tell her. I’d venture to guess his career ambitions are more important than his sexual conquests.”

Luke didn’t seem appeased by this answer but didn’t say anything else.

We drove past Carl’s house and office on our way back through town. The police seemed to have cleared the scene. The garage door was closed again, the street looking like it had before I came across the running engine.

Except now there was a small blue car parked in front of Carl’s office. “Hold on. Stop.”

Luke pressed hard on the brakes before glancing at me. “What? Why?”

“There’s someone inside Carl’s office,” I said. “And my guess is they’re not police since they have Arizona license plates.”

Luke sighed, shook his head, and pulled over in front of the blue car. “Maybe it’s a special investigator or someone from the DEA, like the mayor said.”

“This would be an awfully quick response time for a federal agent.”

Luke didn’t seem to want to deal with this, but I couldn’t let it go. “I can just pop my head in and see what’s going on if you want to wait in the truck.”

“I’m coming with you,” Luke said, opening his door without turning the truck off.

The office door was unlocked, and when I opened it, a woman with puffy red eyes and curly brown hair stopped what she was doing and looked up at me from Carl’s desk. “Who are you?”

“I’m Rylie Cooper,” I said. “And this is Luke Hannah.”

“Are you cops?” Her voice was shaky.

“No,” I said. “We were working with Carl Jacobson on a case.”

“Well, he’s dead,” she said, running a finger under her nose with a sniffle.

“Do you mind me asking who you are?” I asked.

“I’m Carl’s sister, Lisa.”

My heart shattered. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“He didn’t kill himself. He would never have killed himself.” Her voice was full of anger and anguish.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, taking a step toward Carl’s desk. Luke stayed back in the doorway.

“I’m looking for proof,” she said. “Proof that he didn’t want to die. Proof that someone killed him. He called me last night. He was terrified. He said he needed help, but he couldn’t call the police, then the line went dead. When I couldn’t get him back on the phone, I got in my car and drove all the way here.”

“What time did he call you?” Luke asked from the doorway.

She pulled out her phone. “A little past two in the morning. Now, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me?”

I glanced back at Luke, who shrugged. “I’ll go turn off the truck.”

I joined her behind the desk. “Have you found anything?”

"I don't even know what to look for," she said. "I'm a travel agent, not a detective."

I admired her for being willing to try to find something, even if she didn't know what that something was.

The papers on the desk seemed to be from different files. Lisa had made a right mess of them, mixing up pictures and notes. If she didn't seem so frantic, it might have been suspicious. Like she was trying to cover something up.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. What if she was lying about being his sister? Maybe she was the one who killed him and made it look like a suicide.

"I need to use the restroom," she said. "I’ll be right back."

When she'd gone, I pulled up my internet search engine and typed in her name. Relief flooded me when a picture matching Lisa Jacobson and a link for a travel agency popped up.

I returned my attention to the desk. Maybe he had a secret drawer like June. I pulled out each drawer in turn but found no levers or anything suggesting a hidden drawer. Now that all the files had been pulled out, a small leather-bound notebook was left in the bottom of one of the larger drawers. Lisa must have missed it when she'd ripped all the files out.

I picked it up and opened the first page. The title at the top said June Hannah, and dates, times, and notes were listed down the side. These were his notes from following June for the past six months.

Six months.

That was a lot of months.

From my first glance, it looked like he had been tailing her all day, every day. How he'd made any money during that time was beyond me.

When I heard Lisa coming back down the hall, I slid the notebook into my purse. Was it information the police might want to see—yes, but they hadn't attempted to investigate. They’d be here with crime scene tape keeping us out if they had.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, her gaze darting to my purse.

Had she seen me put the notebook inside?

"I was looking for a secret drawer but couldn't find one,” I said. "Were the two of you close?"

"Other than in proximity? Yeah. We spoke on the phone at least once a day. He was my best friend." She sniffled. “I pulled up just as the police were leaving. This horrible woman dropped the news on me like an atomic bomb, then walked away like it was no big deal. It was no wonder Carl didn’t go to the police.”

She glanced around at the messed up desk. "It's too bad someone messed up all his files. Putting them back together in any semblance of order will be nearly impossible."

"Wait, I thought you did that," I said.

She shook her head. "No. It was like this when I got here."

This sent a chill down my spine. Someone had gone through June's files and now through Carl's. Had Carl caught onto the drug business, too? It was entirely possible since he’d been tailing June.

"You good?" Lisa asked, waving a hand in front of my face, pulling me out of my train of thought.

"Sorry, yeah," I said. "Did Carl ever say anything about anyone who might have something against him?"

"He made it sound like everyone in town hated him. I told him he could move to Arizona and live with me until he got his feet under him, but he wasn't ready to give up on Big Mountain. Honestly, I thought he might have been waiting for June to retire so he'd be the only PI in town."

"He talked about June?" I asked.

"All the time," she said. "He idolized her."

"Has he had any cases lately that might have seemed dangerous?"

"He only had one case, as far as I could tell, but he didn't talk about it. He said he didn't want to jinx it. It was a big one, and the payout would have made up for the rest of the year being a bit of a bust. He's behind on all his bills, but this job would have brought him current."

I glanced down at the papers and photos and files on the desk. "Maybe we could find something here."

"It'll take us all day to get these in order," she said.

"Then we better get cracking."

As if on cue, Luke walked in, holding three fresh cups of coffee from the café. “I figured we might need caffeine to get through this.”

“You’re a saint,” I said.

He cleared a spot on the desk for the coffee and a bag of cream and sugar.

“Luke was a police officer, so he’s much better at all this than I am,” I said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Luke said, sipping his black coffee while I added copious amounts of cream and sugar to mine. “But I’ll do what I can to help.”

23

At least three hours later, the desk finally looked like we’d made some progress. As we worked, it became increasingly apparent there weren’t as many files as I initially suspected. It looked like there were only about five or six, but with the number of notes—basically chicken scratch—and blurry photographs, it seemed like at least a dozen.

“Okay, now we need to look for something that might be missing,” Luke said when all the folders had their proper contents.

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked.

"If someone went through these files, this is what they didn't take. If we can find out what they did take—if anything—we might be able to figure out who did this." Luke opened one of the files. "Like this one doesn't have any photos, whereas all the others do."

"You think someone stole the photos from that file?" Lisa asked.

"No, but that would be a good assertion."

"Why no?" I asked.

"Because this case is a basic background check. Photos would be unnecessary."

"Good point," Lisa said, then turned to me. "You're right. He is good at this."

Luke blushed a bit. "I've been doing it a long time."

"Why don't you do it anymore?" Lisa asked.

"It's a long story," Luke said. "But basically, I stopped loving my job. I wanted to do something else with my life."

"He's been renovating apartments," I said. "Fix and flip."

"I've heard that can be pretty lucrative," Lisa said.

"So far, it pretty much pays the bills. But maybe someday it'll make me rich." He smiled. "Can you make out Carl's handwriting?"

Lisa shook her head. "He's always had terrible penmanship. Plus, grammar was not his strong suit."

"This one looks like an infidelity case," I said, holding up the file with the blurry photos of a couple.

Luke pulled out a few photos from one of the other files he’d been looking through. “Wait a minute. I know this place.” He tapped the edge of one photo. “That’s the back of the old mill.”

My pulse quickened. “The same mill June was watching.”

“I don’t understand,” Lisa said. “What’s special about a mill?”

“We think it might be connected to a drug operation,” I replied, flipping through more photos. “June—Luke’s aunt who’s missing—had been investigating Blackridge Holdings before she disappeared.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “And now Carl is dead, too. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Unless this case just happened to be near the old mill,” Luke said. “I can’t make out his handwriting, but it looks like he might have been trying to serve someone a subpoena.”

“Maybe he saw more than he should have,” I said. “When were those taken?”

“A week or so ago,” Luke said.

“If he idolized June, maybe he took the information he had to her,” Lisa said.

It was entirely possible, though it would have made more sense if he had just told us about it when we hired him.

I felt the journal's weight in my purse, but I decided not to pull it out in front of Lisa. I still didn’t know her well enough to trust her with everything, and something told me I should look through it alone first.

“What should we do now?” Lisa asked, her voice small. “I can’t just sit around while my brother’s killer is out there.”

I exchanged glances with Luke. “Why don’t you come with us?” Luke offered. “My parents’ house is plenty big, and we could use your help piecing this together.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Luke said. “And it’s safer than staying here. Whoever killed Carl might come back.”

“So you don’t think he killed himself?” Lisa asked.

“I do not,” Luke said.

This put a smile—albeit small—on her face for the first time since I’d met her.

Lisa agreed to follow us to Luke’s house. Once Luke and I were in Luke’s truck, I touched my purse where Carl’s journal was hidden. “I took something from the office.”

Luke glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“A journal. Carl kept detailed notes on June for months. I didn’t want to show it to Lisa yet. I need to look through it first.”

“Good call,” Luke said. “But don’t you think we should see what’s in it now?”

I shook my head. “Not while we’re driving and not with Lisa right behind us. I’ll go through it when we get to your parents’ place.”

We drove silently for a moment, processing everything that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours and beyond.

“Luke,” I said finally, “do you think it was a mistake telling the mayor everything?”

“We didn’t know he and Jessica were an item. And maybe he didn’t know what she was up to. It could all work out in the end.”

It was what he didn’t say that worried me. The weight of the potential error of what we’d done settled between us as we wound our way toward Luke’s parents’ house. I glanced in the side mirror. Lisa’s car was right behind us. I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d just put ourselves directly in the crosshairs of whoever had taken June and killed Carl.

24

I instantly knew we weren't alone when we walked into Luke’s parents’ house.

Luke noticed the luggage by the stairs and called out, “Mom? Dad? Are you here?”

“Luke? Is that you?” Mr. Hannah called from the top of the stairs. His smile practically lit up the room as he hurried down to gather Luke into a hug and then me.

Mr. Hannah was just about the nicest person on the face of the planet. He looked like an older and slightly shorter version of Luke, except his hair was now on the gray side.

“This brings me back,” Mr. Hannah said with a laugh, looking between us. “It’s like I’ve traveled back in time. And who is this?”

“This is Lisa Jacobson,” Luke said. “She’s Carl’s sister. I don’t know if you heard about Carl?”

“I did,” Mr. Hannah said, shaking Lisa’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Lisa said, her jaw trembling.

“Why aren’t you on your cruise?” Luke asked.

Mr. Hannah's brows knit together in the center of his forehead. "You didn't expect me to stay on vacation when my sister is missing, did you?"

Luke groaned. "I didn't want you to do that. I knew I shouldn't have called."

If he hadn't called, we wouldn't have been anywhere with the case. We wouldn’t have been able to access the safe, the computer, or her phone—not that we really found anything on her phone or the computer, but still.

"I'm glad you called," Mr. Hannah said. “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

"Well, I'm sorry to have ruined your vacation. Is Mom upset?"

"Not in the slightest," Mr. Hannah said. "She's the one who insisted we fly out immediately instead of waiting for a cheaper flight."

"Luke? Is that you?" Mrs. Hannah called down the stairs.

"It's me, Mom," Luke said.

"I just got out of the shower. Let me get dressed, then I'll be right down."

"Let's go into the kitchen. I'll make hot chocolate," Mr. Hannah said.

His hot chocolate was practically famous. At least, it had been when we were in high school. The night before big football games, he'd invite anyone who wanted to come over for a good luck hot chocolate.

One time, almost the entire high school showed up—all three hundred of us. It was a madhouse inside and out. And somehow, Mr. Hannah made hot chocolate for every single person.

We won the game the next day against our biggest rivals. Was it the hot chocolate? I liked to think so.

"Give me a rundown of the case while I work my magic," Mr. Hannah said as we sat at the bar and he set up in front of his hot chocolate bar.

We told him about the suspects, the evidence, how we’d spilled everything to the mayor, only to find out he and Jessica were having an affair.

“And they have Horace in jail for it?” Mr. Hannah asked.

“They do, but I suspect they’ll have to let him go before they can formally charge him with anything. One drop of his blood isn’t nearly enough evidence to charge him with murder,” Luke said.

“And the message you got from Carl, he said he knew where June was?” Mr. Hannah asked.

Luke pulled out his phone. “The text said he may have found her. So nothing terribly concrete.”

Mr. Hannah spun around, holding a tray of five massive hot chocolate mugs with towers of whipped cream and sprinkles. "Ta-da!"

My mouth watered while my heart practically swelled with nostalgia.

I took a sip and nearly cried. It was exactly as I remembered.

"Oh my goodness, it's just like old times," Mrs. Hannah said as she hugged Luke and me. "It's so good to see the two of you."

"It's good to see you, too," I said.

“This is Lisa Jacobson, Carl’s sister,” Mr. Hannah told his wife.

“Oh dear.” She wrapped her arms around Lisa, who seemed to melt into the motherly hug. “I am so sorry about your brother. You must be absolutely devastated.”

Lisa mumbled something into Mrs. Hannah’s shoulder as Mrs. Hannah patted her on the back. “There, there. You’re welcome here for as long as you need to be.”

When Mrs. Hannah pulled away, Lisa dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

Mr. Hannah handed Mrs. Hannah a mug of hot chocolate, and she smiled at him sweetly. Mrs. Hannah didn't look a day older than the last time I'd seen her. She was tiny next to Mr. Hannah, with big blue eyes and a smile almost permanently affixed to her face.

"This might be your best batch yet," Mrs. Hannah said to Mr. Hannah after taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

He beamed back at her.

"I'm sorry I ruined your vacation," Luke said.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Hannah said. "I'm glad you told us. I don't know that there's much I can do, but your father might be able to speak to the police chief."

“I’d put a pin in that for now,” Luke said. “We’ve already made a bit of a mess going to the mayor without knowing he and Jessica were an item.”

“I don’t think the chief will have anything to do with their sordid affair,” Mr. Hannah said. “But I’ll respect your wishes. Just know I’m happy to help where I can.”

Mr. Hannah was a well-respected retired judge with connections I suspected went well beyond the county and state lines.

We settled into the living room with our hot chocolates. Lisa had relaxed ever so slightly, Mrs. Hannah's motherly attention soothing her like a weighted blanket.

“So, what’s your next move?” Mr. Hannah asked, his expression serious despite the whipped cream stuck to his mustache.

Luke started, “We looked through Carl’s office and found some things that might help, but we haven’t had time to look into them properly.”

“Carl seemed to be investigating some of the same things June was,” I added. “It might be the connection we’re looking for.”

“Well, there’s no rush right now,” Mrs. Hannah said gently. “You all look exhausted. Why don’t I get dinner started? You’ll think better on a full stomach, anyway.”

I hadn’t realized how famished I was until she mentioned food.

“That would be wonderful,” I said. “Can I help?”

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Hannah replied with a warm smile. “You’re our guest. Besides, I’ve been out of the kitchen for the past week. I’m dying to get back behind the stove.”

* * *

About an hour later, we gathered around the dining table. Mrs. Hannah had outdone herself with T-Bone steaks, mashed potatoes, and fresh vegetables that tasted better than any restaurant meal I’d had in months.

The conversation had steered clear of June and Clark, focusing instead on lighter topics like the highlights of the Hannahs’s cruise, Lisa’s insider knowledge about travel, and memories of Big Mountain from years past.

The doorbell rang just as Mrs. Hannah was serving her famous apple crumble.

“Are you expecting someone?” Mr. Hannah asked Luke.

Luke shook his head. “No. Let me get it.”

We heard muffled voices from the entryway, and then Luke returned with Horace trailing behind him. Horace looked awful—his clothes were wrinkled, eyes bloodshot, and shoulders slumped.

“Horace,” Mr. Hannah said, standing. “We didn’t expect to see you. I thought you were in police custody.”

“They released me an hour ago,” Horace said, his voice raspy. “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Hannah said, already setting another place at the table. “Sit down. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Horace sank into the extra chair with visible relief. “Thank you.”

“Why did they let you go?” I asked as Mrs. Hannah placed a generous portion of food in front of him. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Horace moved the food around on his plate but didn’t bring any of it to his mouth. “They found something in Carl’s car. A suicide note.”

The clatter of silverware against Lisa’s plate filled the sudden silence. “A suicide note?” Lisa repeated.

“Yes,” Horace said. “Apparently, he confessed to… to killing June.”

Mrs. Hannah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Mr. Hannah wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“That’s impossible,” Lisa said. “My brother would never hurt anyone, let alone June. And he definitely didn’t kill himself.”

“Did you see the note?” I asked.

Horace shook his head. “I only heard the officers talking about it when they were letting me out.”

“Maybe they were mistaken,” Lisa said. “That could have easily been forged.”

“They also found June’s camera and camera bag in his car. The camera bag had blood on it,” Horace said apologetically.

“Isn’t that convenient,” Luke said.

“Maybe too convenient,” I agreed. “Carl texts Luke, saying he found June, then suddenly turns up dead with a suicide note and June’s bloody camera bag?”

“Someone is framing him,” Lisa said, her voice shaking angrily. “Someone killed my brother, and they’re trying to make it look like he killed June and then himself out of guilt.”

“Which means whoever did this is trying to tie up loose ends,” Luke said. “Carl found something—or someone—they didn’t want to be found.”

My thoughts went to Carl’s journal in my bag. My fingers itched to open it, but it wasn’t the time.

“So that’s just it?” Lisa asked. “They let you out and, what? The cases are closed?”

Horace shrugged, a look of profound sadness in his eyes. “I suppose so.”

Mrs. Hannah began collecting plates, her hands slightly unsteady. “I think we could all use some rest. This has been quite a shock.”

“Lisa, let me show you to the guest room,” Mr. Hannah said. “Horace, you’re welcome to stay too. There’s a pull-out sofa in the den.”

“Thank you,” Horace said, handing his plate of uneaten food to Mrs. Hannah. “I don’t think I should be alone right now, anyway.”

As everyone dispersed to their respective rooms, I lingered in the dining room, staring at the darkness beyond the window. Was June still out there somewhere waiting for us to find her? Or was she really gone?

If time wasn’t up, we were coming close to the buzzer.

25

I stared at the ceiling, sleep refusing to come despite my exhaustion. My mind kept replaying everything we’d learned—the Blackridge Holdings connection, Carl’s death, June’s bloody camera bag, the suicide note.

None of it made sense.

After tossing and turning for hours, I finally gave up. The house was completely silent besides the occasional rumbling of the heater turning on.

I reached for my purse on the floor beside the bed and pulled out Carl’s journal. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well be productive.

Using the flashlight on my phone, I began flipping through the pages. The earlier entries were mundane observations of June’s daily routine—when she stopped at the café, what time she checked her mail, and who she met with. But as I moved on to more recent entries, they became more focused.

October 15 - J visits old mill property. Takes photos from tree line. Stays 47 minutes. Leaves when truck arrives.

October 19 - J returns to mill. Photographs license plates. Almost spotted by delivery driver.

October 23 - J meets with unidentified woman at café. Woman appears nervous. Leaves through kitchen.

I flipped another page and found something interesting.

October 26 - J drove to remote location off Mountain Pass Rd. Second trip this week. Very secretive.

My heart raced. Below the entry was a crude map sketched across two pages with detailed directions.

North on Mountain Pass Rd. Right at the fallen pine tree. Dirt road unmarked. 2.3 mi to fork. Take left (right goes to quarry). 1 mi. Cabin hidden behind boulders. Not visible from road. Lots of security measures. Fence with barbed wire on top. Cameras everywhere. Guard with large gun. J parks out of sight and leaves less than 30 min later.

What was June doing at a remote cabin? As I flipped through the pages, Carl noted she visited semi-regularly for weeks.

The last journal entry was dated the day June went missing.

November 6 – J goes to secret cabin. Stays longer than normal. Had to leave to meet with PD. J back home late afternoon. No movement rest of day. End surveillance 2200 hours.

I pondered the last entry. Had Carl known something? Why hadn’t he gone back to watch June the next day? Panic rose inside me. Maybe Lisa was wrong. Maybe her brother did have something to do with June’s disappearance—June’s death.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit here wide awake doing nothing.

I almost woke Luke, but he’d been so torn up about finding out his aunt might be dead that it had taken him hours to fall asleep. He needed the rest.

I slipped out of bed and pulled on my jeans and a warm sweater—a decision formed in my mind. June had spent a good deal of time at this secretive cabin. Maybe someone there knew something—anything—about what was going on. Either way, I needed to see it for myself.

I scribbled a quick note explaining where I was going and left it on my pillow. Then, I quietly made my way downstairs, wincing at every creak of the old floorboards.

Luke’s truck keys hung on a hook by the door, just like they had since he’d started driving. I hesitated. Luke wouldn’t care if I took his truck, but he wouldn’t be thrilled that I was heading off on a recon mission without him. As I slipped the keys off the hook, I made a silent promise to be extra careful, then headed out the door.

The night air bit at my face as I hurried to the truck. The frost-covered gravel crunched beneath my boots, sounding impossibly loud in the still night. I started the engine, cringing at the rumble, and pulled slowly out of the driveway.

The roads were deserted at this hour. As I started toward Mountain Pass Road, a thought occurred to me. If I pulled up driving Luke’s truck, it would put everyone on edge. Even if they were the good guys, they were obviously guarding something. Getting inside would be far easier if they thought I was June.

I made a U-turn and headed back to June’s house. I slipped out of the truck and entered June’s garage. Her car was still parked inside, messy as the day was long.

The smell of stale chips and a cheap air freshener wrinkled my nose, but I didn’t have time to worry about all that. I backed out of her garage and headed back toward Mountain Pass Road.

Carl’s directions were perfect. Even in the dark, I arrived at the gates of the cabin in under twenty minutes.

I cut the lights about a hundred yards from where I thought the cabin might be, not wanting to announce my arrival just yet. In June’s car, she had three different garage door openers. It had taken me three tries to get her garage door to close when I’d left her house.

I’d guess another one was for Luke’s parents’ house, and hopefully, the last one would open the gate to the cabin. I pulled right up to the gate, holding my breath. I pushed the buttons on the two remotes I knew weren’t for June’s garage. Neither did anything to open the gate.

I let out a groan in frustration. Then I heard a voice. I half expected to look out the window and see an armed guard pointing a gun at me.

When I looked around, I saw no one—not a single person—but the voice was still there.

I rolled the window down a fraction of an inch to hear someone say, “June? Is that you?” The voice was coming out of a tiny speaker box I hadn’t seen before, hidden inside one of the bushes next to the gate.

This was it. This was my way of getting in.

“It’s me. Open the gate,” I whispered.

And just like that, the gate creaked open, allowing me to drive inside.

When it clicked shut behind me, my stomach did a flip-flop. Now, I was trapped. This had better be worth it.

26

As I pulled through the gate, I spotted a small cabin nestled between trees and bushes, almost invisible. A faint glow came from one window, partially blocked by thick curtains.

I put the car in park and stepped out. I had no plan, no backup, and no idea what I was walking into. The minute whoever had spoken to me over the intercom saw that I wasn’t June, who knows what they’d do?

“Don’t move,” a deep voice commanded from behind me.

I turned and stared down the barrel of a shotgun.

The man holding the gun was enormous—at least six-foot-four with shoulders that rivaled any professional NFL lineman’s. His face hid in the shadow, but I could see a thick beard and narrowed eyes.

I slowly raised my hands. “I know, I’m not June.”

“Why are you driving her car?” he asked. “And how did you find this place?”

He didn’t lower the gun as he spoke, but at least he hadn’t pulled the trigger first and asked questions second.

“I’m Rylie Cooper. I’m trying to find June. I’ve been helping her nephew.”

The gun didn’t waver. “You need to leave. Now.”

“Please,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite my heart galloping in my chest. “June is missing. She might be in danger. I found notes about her coming to this cabin.”

“Keith? Who is it?” A woman’s voice called from the cabin’s door.

“It’s no one,” he said, not taking his eyes off me. “She’s leaving right now.”

“I just want to know if June’s okay,” I continued. “She was investigating Blackridge Holdings when she disappeared.”

At the mention of Blackridge, Keith’s voice tightened. “How do I know you’re not working with them?”

“I’m not. I swear. I’m just trying to find June. Her nephew is my boyfriend. He’s worried sick.”

“June Hannah?” The woman’s voice was closer now. “Is that why you’re driving her car?” She peeked around the hulking man in front of me.

I recognized her instantly from her social media photos, though she looked different without the perfect lighting and makeup. “Nora Polpeter?”

Her eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

My mind raced to connect the dots. Nora was here, in a remote cabin that June had been visiting secretly. “I’ve been looking into June’s missing persons case. I found files about your husband in her office.”

Keith still hadn’t lowered the gun, but Nora touched his arm. “It’s okay. Let her in.”

“We don’t know who she is,” Keith protested.

“So pat her down, search the car. If she knows about June and me, she’s either here to help or she’s with Bryce. And if she was with Bryce, she would have brought more men.” Nora’s gaze was steady as she studied my face.

After a long, tense moment, Keith lowered the shotgun and stepped aside. “Turn around, put your hands on the car, and spread your legs.”

It was apparent he had some law enforcement training as he patted me down with expert efficiency.

“Any funny business, and you’re out,” he said when he was done.

I nodded and followed Nora into the cabin. The interior was simple but comfortable. The main room had a small kitchen, a wood-burning stove, and doors leading to what I assumed were bedrooms.

Children’s toys were scattered in a corner. A small pink backpack rested against the side of the sofa. A stuffed rabbit was propped against a cushion. Her children were there too. Then the realization dawned on me. “Is this a safe house?”

Nora gestured for me to sit at the tiny kitchen table. “I was beginning to think Bryce’s goons would find me before anyone came to help.” She glanced at Keith. “Not that you haven’t been incredibly helpful.”

Keith didn’t look like he cared one way or the other, as he kept one eye on me and the other on a monitor that showed various parts of the property.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why are you hiding here? And what does it have to do with June?”

“June was helping me leave Bryce,” Nora said quietly, glancing toward one of the doors. “My children are asleep. I don’t want them to hear this.”

I nodded and waited for her to continue.

She took a deep breath. “Bryce is not just a cheater. He’s abusive. Dangerous. When I found out what he was involved in, he threatened me. Said if I told anyone, he’d make sure I lost my children.”

“What did you find out?” I asked though I was piecing it together myself.

“Bryce owns Blackridge Holdings,” Nora said. “He’s been using various properties to manufacture drugs.”

“Why did you decide to leave now?” I asked.

Nora’s eyes filled with tears. “When I confronted Bryce, he broke my arm.”

I hadn’t realized she was wearing a cast beneath her oversized hoodie until she pulled the sleeve up to show me.

“He’d done things before, but the look in his eyes this time scared me. I knew he’d do anything to keep his secret.” She swallowed back the emotion threatening to pour down her cheeks. “I was desperate. June had already been helping me with the infidelity case and told me to call her if I ever needed anything else. So I did.”

“And she set up this safe house,” I said.

Nora nodded. “I’m not the first woman she’s protected.”

“That’s why she has all those clothes and toiletries in her car,” I said. “She was bringing people supplies.”

“She said she would get us to another house, somewhere farther from Bryce, but then she disappeared. I went into town—the café—and asked about her.”

Keith shot her a look.

“I know, it was a bad idea,” she said. “But I was desperate. When I’d talked to my mother and sister, they told me Bryce had sent some guys over to ask about my whereabouts. They’ve been terrified. So I thought maybe someone in town knew something about June. I thought I’d been careful, but perhaps I hadn’t been careful enough.”

“Do you think someone followed you back here?” I asked.

“Not all the way,” Nora said. “Keith saw an SUV on the main road yesterday that seemed out of place. They didn’t come all the way up, but they were definitely searching for something.”

“We need to get you out of here,” I said. “Tonight.”

Keith shook his head. “Even if someone were to find the cabin, there are so many safeguards in place here that we won’t find anywhere else.”

“Did you hear about Carl Jacobson’s death?” I asked. “He’d been following June and knew about this place. Someone killed him and left a note saying he killed June.”

“They’re covering it up,” Nora whispered. “It’s Bryce. He’s behind all of this.”

“Are you sure you can’t come with me? You could stay at Luke’s parents’ house. His dad is a retired judge,” I said.

“We’re safe here,” Nora said, smiling at Keith. “And if there’s anything I can do to help you take Bryce down, please let me know.”

“Do you have any evidence or physical proof that he’s connected to Blackridge Holdings?”

She shook her head. “I wish I’d have thought to grab more than I did, but we left in such a hurry.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “We’ll get it figured out.”

27

“You’ll call me the minute you find something?” Nora asked, walking me back to June’s car.

“I will,” I promised. “And if at any point you feel unsafe here, please call Luke’s parents. You can trust them, and I know they’d do everything they could to keep you and the kids safe.”

“Thank you for finding me. I was losing hope that anyone was still looking for June.”

“I won’t stop until I know what happened to her, one way or the other.”

Keith stood at the gate, watching us with wary eyes. “I’ll escort you back to the main road.”

I nodded. It made sense. They couldn’t risk me leading anyone back here, even unintentionally.

As I pulled onto Mountain Pass Road, Keith gave a curt nod before disappearing into the trees. I checked the time—almost 4:30 a.m. Luke would be waking up soon and finding my note. He would be furious, but I couldn’t return to the house now. I was too close.

Instead of returning to town, I turned toward the old mill June had been watching. Everything was falling into place. If Bryce owned Blackridge Holdings, he was responsible for the drugs. He was likely also responsible for Carl’s death and even June’s disappearance. Now, I just had to prove it.

I parked June’s car on a service road about a quarter mile from the mill. The sky was still dark, dawn easily a couple hours away. It was perfect timing. If June’s notes were right, the mill would be active now while the rest of the town was asleep.

Searching through June’s car was an adventure. I needed a flashlight. I could use my phone but might need it to record or take photos.

Finally, I found one behind two hundred fast food napkins in the back of the glove compartment. As I crept through the trees toward the mill, I did everything possible to stay out of sight. The cold air pinched at my cheeks as I moved through the underbrush, grateful for all the years I’d spent hiking these same mountains.

As I approached the edge of the clearing, I spotted the mill. It was a massive structure—three stories of weathered brick, looking every bit the abandoned building I’d expected. Except it wasn’t abandoned. Two unmarked box trucks were parked at the loading dock. Lights glowed from several windows.

As much as I wanted to get closer, I couldn’t risk going out into the clearing and being caught. I pulled out my phone and waited, ready to start a video. A side door opened within less than fifteen minutes, and workers began loading boxes into the trucks. They moved efficiently as if they’d done this a million times before.

All those drugs being sent out into the world, ruining lives. I shook my head.

My breath caught when a familiar figure stepped out and started barking orders. It was the tattooed man who worked for the mayor. Even from the distance, I could see the anchor creeping up his neck.

I tapped the button on my phone to start the recording, zooming in as much as possible without the video being completely distorted. The slightest shake of my hand sent the video jerking around. I steadied my arm against the tree to make sure I got a good shot of the man with the tattoo.

As the second truck was nearly loaded, another vehicle pulled up—a sleek black SUV that I recognized immediately.

The mayor.

He stepped out, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. No tie, messy hair, and a scowl on his face. The tattooed man walked to meet him before they disappeared into the building.

I needed to get closer.

When the second truck pulled away, and the men loading it had disbursed, I sucked in a deep breath. June could be inside. And if she was, I needed to help her.

Moving carefully from the shelter of the trees, I hurried across the open space to the side of the building. A large, rusted dumpster stood with its cracked plastic lids against the brick directly under a window.

I climbed up on top, careful not to step anywhere that would deposit me into the rusty metal bin.

I couldn’t hear everything, but through the broken pane, I could hear the mayor saying in a tight voice, “It should have been handled by now.”

“Bryce is taking care of it,” the tattooed man replied.

“Like he’s taking care of June? Or that idiot PI?” The mayor slammed something down on a table littered with Styrofoam cups. “We’ve been exposed. The feds will be all over this place if we don’t clean it up now.”

“They have no proof,” the tattooed man said. “Once we finish processing this batch, we’ll shut down this location completely.”

“And what about the environmental repercussions? What if that gets out?”

They moved away from the window, deeper into the building, their voices trailing. I shifted my position, trying to see them better.

I realized my mistake too late.

My foot went through the brittle plastic lid, snapping it. I tried to regain my balance, but it was no use.

I went down into the dumpster ass first.

28

Glass shattered beneath me, the shards cutting my palms.

I froze, silently praying they’d walked far enough away that they hadn’t heard me.

With my breath held, I thought I got away with it.

Then I heard the tattooed man shout, “Check outside.”

I didn’t wait to see who would come looking. I scrambled out of that dumpster, the adrenaline removing the pain of the cuts on my hands.

I bolted toward the trees, keeping low. A gunshot pierced the air as I reached the trees. I ducked as the zing of a bullet lodged into a tree right next to me.

I ran faster, zigzagging through the trees.

By the time I reached June’s car, my lungs were burning, my legs felt like rubber, and my hands were bleeding profusely. I fumbled with the keys, my hands slick with blood, the muscles either too cold or damaged to grip them correctly.

Finally, after multiple tries, I got them into the ignition, and the engine started.

I pulled onto the main road, heart hammering against my ribs, my hands painfully tight on the wheel so I didn’t lose control and slide off the road. I needed to get back to Luke, or at least where I had cell service, so I could send him the video. Surely, it would be enough to bring in the proper authorities, not corrupt Jessica.

A car was gaining on me, its high beams flashing. I pressed the gas pedal harder but could only go so fast around the slick curves.

The headlights behind me grew larger. I half expected to see the mayor’s SUV in my rearview mirror, but instead, I saw what looked like a Bentley.

The Bentley pulled alongside me. The windows were too tinted for me to see who was driving. They jerked their vehicle toward mine, the metal scraping with a horrific screech. Whoever was driving had just scraped up a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car.

I swerved, trying to maintain control, but June’s car was no match for the Bentley. I fishtailed, sliding sideways toward the shoulder. It didn’t matter what I did. The car was completely out of control. I plowed through a snowbank as I skidded off the road, only to slam into a tree.

The impact wasn’t terrible—at least I hadn’t tumbled down the side of the mountain—but I was now stuck in a snowbank deeper than the one Luke and I had encountered when we arrived. The front end of June’s car was wedged against a pine tree, and no matter how much gas I gave it, the front wheels spun uselessly in the snow.

The Bentley had stopped a short distance away. I could see a man walking back, silhouetted against his headlights.

I didn’t have time to try the tire deflation trick, even if I thought it would help. I checked my phone—no service.

My gaze passed over June’s car for something to use as a weapon, but discarded chip wrappers and old water bottles wouldn’t do anything against the man closing in on me.

Then my mind caught on an idea—the screwdriver I’d used to take some air out of Luke’s tires was still in my jacket pocket. It was the best I could do. I slid my phone into my purse, pulled the screwdriver from my pocket, and slipped out of the passenger side door, away from where the man was approaching. Thankfully, June had disabled the dome light from coming on when the doors opened. She really had thought of everything when it came to being stealthy.

“I know you’re in there,” a voice I recognized called out—Bryce. “There’s nowhere to go, Ms. Cooper. You’ll freeze before you make it to town.”

That wasn’t entirely true, especially since the sun would rise eventually. I wiped the excess blood from my right hand on my pants to get a better grip on the screwdriver.

I crouched behind the car, then made a break for the trees. The snow was deep, and my legs were beyond tired, but I couldn’t stop. If he’d been in charge of taking care of Carl and June, I knew he’d have no trouble taking care of me, too.

“Running will only make this worse for you,” Bryce shouted behind me, slamming the car door after realizing I wasn’t inside any longer. “I just want to talk.”

Right. I didn’t believe that for a second.

I pushed deeper into the forest, trying to make my way toward town. The cold air burned my lungs. If I could just put enough distance between us, I could circle back to the road and get to town that way.

But Bryce seemed to know these woods, too. I could hear him gaining on me, his longer legs allowing him to move faster through the deep snow.

“Your boyfriend is probably looking for you by now,” Bryce called out. “Shame he won’t find you.”

I stopped behind a large tree, trying to catch my breath as quietly as possible.

“You know, I admire your determination,” he continued. “It’s the same quality I saw in June. She couldn’t let it go, either. If she’d have just told me where my wife and kids were, she wouldn’t have ended up in this predicament.”

Was he using the past tense on purpose?

I shook my head. I couldn’t focus on that right now.

“I don’t know what you think you saw.” His voice was getting closer, but I couldn’t move. He’d see me if I moved now.

He was directly on the other side of the tree. As he started around the tree to my left, I slipped to my right, trying to keep the enormous tree trunk between us.

“The mill is completely legitimate.”

I highly doubted that. As he continued on the path deeper into the woods, I knew I had to decide. I could try to stay hidden, or I could try to make it back to the road and hope that I’d get far enough for someone to drive by and pick me up.

I chose the road.

I started running again, my purse slung over my shoulder, and the screwdriver clenched in my fist. Between my footsteps and ragged breathing, I couldn’t tell whether Bryce had realized I was running again, but it didn’t matter.

The trees were thinning. I could see the road ahead.

Bryce’s Bentley was still idling where he’d left it.

If I could reach it, I could get away and leave him stranded.

I had just hit the icy gravel when a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me backward. I spun around to face Bryce, his breath coming out in white puffs in the cold air between us.

“End of the line,” he said, his grip painfully tight on my arm. “You should have stayed out of this.”

“Like June?” I spat back.

His eyes narrowed. “June should have kept her nose out of my business, and she wouldn’t have ended up in this predicament.”

“What predicament?” I asked. “Is she dead?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he started pulling me toward his Bentley. I struggled, digging my heels into the snow, but he was too strong.

“I sent all the evidence to Luke. The DEA and FBI will be here any minute.”

“Save it,” Bryce interrupted. “We both know there’s no service on this mountain. Your little rescue mission to find June will end in the same way it did for her. A tragic accident. Maybe the authorities will even find your bodies together.”

As we reached the Bentley, he pulled the back door open. If I knew one thing, it was to never go to a second location.

It was now or never.

I twisted in his grasp and stabbed the screwdriver into his thigh with every bit of strength I could muster.

Bryce howled in pain, his grip dropping as he staggered backward.

I didn’t waste the opportunity. I yanked open the driver’s side door and scrambled in, locking the doors.

He recovered quicker than I expected, limping to the door and pounding on the window. “You’re dead! You hear me? Dead!”

I jammed the car into drive and floored it, spraying snow and gravel as I tore down the mountain. I saw Bryce growing smaller in the rearview mirror, a dark figure against the white landscape, still shouting after me.

29

I drove down the mountain with my hands gripping Bryce’s steering wheel so tightly my cut-up palms stung with each turn. Every pair of headlights in the darkness jerked my gaze to the rearview mirror, half expecting to see him somehow following me.

When I pulled into the Hannahs’ driveway, the sky had just begun to lighten from black to deep blue. I’d barely turned off the engine when the front door flew open, and an angry Luke rushed outside in sweatpants and a t-shirt, barefoot despite the cold.

He yanked open the driver’s door. “Where is she?” Relief washed over his features when he realized I was the one driving behind the darkly tinted windows. “Oh my—what the hell were you thinking?” He stopped when he noticed my bloody hands and torn clothes. “What happened?”

“Bryce,” I managed, practically falling out of the car into Luke’s open arms. “It’s all connected. The mayor. The drugs. Carl. June.”

My legs wobbled beneath me, but Luke held me up.

“You’re bleeding. How badly are you hurt?” His hands gently examined my cuts, concern etched into his face.

“I’m okay.” The words came out shakier than I’d intended. “I found Nora. Bryce owns Blackridge Holdings. I have proof. It’s all on my phone.”

Luke wrapped his arm around my waist, steadying me as we headed toward the house where Mr. and Mrs. Hannah, Lisa, and Horace stood in the doorway. Mrs. Hannah swiped a finger under her eye, brushing away a tear.

Guilt washed over me. I’d made them all worry. I hadn’t expected to be gone long enough for them to notice, but they had, and I’d made Mrs. Hannah cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I said when we walked inside. “I shouldn’t have gone alone. I thought I’d be back more quickly.”

“We’re just happy you’re okay,” Mr. Hannah said, his deep voice even deeper with emotion.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then you can tell us everything,” Mrs. Hannah said.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Mr. Hannah said, already heading for the bathroom.

Luke helped me to the couch, and I sank down gratefully as Mrs. Hannah brought me a glass of water. I gulped it down, not realizing how thirsty I’d been, until the cool liquid hit my throat.

Mr. Hannah returned with the first aid kit, and Luke began cleaning the cuts on my hands. I winced as he sprayed antiseptic on my open wounds.

“Carl’s journal mentioned a cabin June had been visiting. I thought it might lead to her.”

“And did it?” Luke asked quietly, not taking his focus off my hands.

“Not directly. It’s where Nora’s been staying with her kids. June helped her get away from Bryce. The cabin was supposed to be temporary until June could get them somewhere more permanent, but then June went missing.” I winced as Luke used tweezers to get bits of glass out of the gashes on my hands. “Bryce owns Blackridge Holdings. He’s behind everything. Well, he and the mayor. And that tattooed guy. They’re manufacturing drugs at the old mill.”

“How did you go from a cabin to the old mill?” Luke asked.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Mr. Hannah said. “Tell us everything.”

I sucked in a breath. I started with the cabin—all the safety measures and Keith’s protection—and ended with stabbing Bryce in the leg with the screwdriver.

Lisa’s eyes went wide. “You stabbed him?”

“It was self-defense,” I said. “He was going to kill me.”

“And he probably would have if you hadn’t gotten away,” Luke said, his jaw tight with frustration. He finished bandaging my hand and sat beside me, his arm protectively around my shoulders. I leaned into him.

“Did Bryce say anything about June?” Mr. Hannah asked.

I thought I’d gone over that, but maybe I hadn’t. “He said she should have just told him where his wife and kids were. That she should have stayed out of his business.”

“Maybe she’s still alive,” Lisa said. “If he was trying to figure out where his wife and kids were but still doesn’t know, it would stand to reason she’s not dead yet.”

Horace, who had been silent until now, said, “I know more about Blackridge Holdings than I initially let on.”

All eyes turned to him.

“I didn’t think it was important before. I did some real estate work for them a few years back.” He stared down at his hands. “I handled a few property transfers. Nothing illegal, at least not that I was aware of.”

“Do you know what properties they own?” I asked, lifting my head from Luke’s shoulder. “Places they might be keeping June?”

Horace nodded. “I have some ideas. There were several residential properties they acquired. I could make a list.”

Mr. Hannah stood, went to the dining room, and returned with a notepad and pen. He handed them to Horace, who started copying down the addresses from his phone.

When Horace finished his list, he handed it to Luke. “These are the three properties I know of that would be isolated enough to hold someone captive without drawing attention.”

“We need to check them,” I said, standing despite my exhaustion.

“No,” Luke said. “You’re injured. I can go.”

“You’re not going alone,” I said.

“Why not? You went alone to the cabin. And to the old mill.”

“I already apologized,” I said. “I didn’t realize it would end up the way it did.”

“You could have died,” Luke said.

“And if you go alone, you could die,” I said. “I’m going with you.”

Luke and I stood frozen in an epic stare-down until Mrs. Hannah cleared her throat, reminding us we were not alone in the room.

“Fine,” Luke said. “Dad, can you contact some of your friends at the state police? We need someone we can trust. And maybe a DEA or FBI agent who might be in the area?”

Mr. Hannah nodded. “I’ll make some calls, but it might take time to convince them and get them here.”

“We’ll just have to hope they’re quick,” Luke said. “We can’t wait for them to get here. If June’s alive, we must get to her before Bryce does.”

Lisa stepped forward. “I’ll help. I dated a guy a while back who worked for the FBI. He wasn’t an agent or anything, but he might be able to get someone here quickly. We ended on good terms, and he always liked Carl.”

Mrs. Hannah wrapped her arms around me, then Luke. “Be careful. Both of you.”

Outside, the sky had lightened to a pale gray. Luke took the driver’s seat of Bryce’s Bentley, and I slid into the passenger seat, trying not to wince as my bruised body and wrapped hands hurt every time I touched something.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his gaze darting to my hands.

I nodded. “I can’t just stay here knowing June might still be out there.”

He started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry that I went alone,” I said.

Luke sighed. “I probably would have done the same. I know you’re not used to working with anyone else, but when I’m around, I’d like to be kept in the loop, even if you have to wake me up.”

I gave him a small smile. “Deal.”

30

The roads were slick as Luke and I drove through Big Mountain toward the first house on Horace’s list. I shifted my weight, trying not to use my hands, when I saw something between the center console and my seat. I used both hands to pull it out, ignoring the pain that throbbed inside the wrapping.

“What’s that?” Luke asked.

My heart felt like it stopped when the realization hit me. “It’s June’s laptop.”

“The one that was stolen?” Luke asked.

“Bryce took it.” I shivered. He’d been in the house while I was sleeping. If he had seen me, I likely would have been one of his victims.

I opened the laptop and typed in the password, then pulled up the photos on the camera card that was still inserted in the drive. Had Bryce been able to access this? He was the owner of a big tech company. Surely, he would have been able to hack through June’s password. But he hadn’t removed the camera card. He must not have noticed it in the slot.

“What are you looking for?” Luke asked, glancing at the screen, then returning his gaze to the roads.

“June’s camera card is still in it,” I said. “I want to see the last photos she took.”

The last images on the card showed the old mill from various angles. As I scrolled through, my breath caught. “There’s a photo of Bryce coming out of the mill with the mayor.”

Luke glanced over. “Wow, that’s a much better picture than the video you got.”

I wanted to feign outrage, but he was right. June’s photography skills beat mine ten to one.

I continued scrolling backward through the photos, each one more damning than the last. June had gotten pictures of trucks arriving and leaving, workers unloading chemical supplies, and even photos of the inside of the mill where a makeshift lab had been set up.

“Wait,” I said, stopping on an image that made my stomach clench. “Look at this one.”

The photo showed Bryce standing near his car, embracing a woman.

“We’ve already seen that photo,” Luke said. “They were in Bryce’s file.”

“Right, but I hadn’t looked closely,” I said, zooming in on the woman in Bryce’s arms.

“Jessica,” Luke said, his voice flat.

“She was the one Bryce was cheating with,” I said.

“Him and the mayor?” Luke asked. “I wonder if they know about one another.”

“Maybe she’s the mastermind behind the whole thing and has been playing them,” I said.

Luke didn’t reply, and we fell into a thoughtful silence.

As we drove, I kept scrolling through the photos, looking for anything else that might help us.

We rounded a corner onto a tree-lined street of well-maintained homes. It was the kind of neighborhood where people wouldn’t suspect anything sinister going on with their perfect lawns, cute mailboxes, and kids' bicycles in the driveway.

“Are you sure this is right?” I asked, double-checking the address against Horace’s list. “Didn’t Horace say he picked places out of the way?”

“This is it,” Luke confirmed, parking a few houses down the street. “It doesn’t exactly scream hostage situation, does it?”

We sat watching the house for several minutes. A minivan was parked in the driveway. Dark curtains were pulled over most windows, but light was visible inside.

“Someone’s home,” I said.

“Keep your hands out of sight and let me do the talking,” Luke said.

I put the laptop in the back seat while Luke checked to make sure his gun was secure inside his jacket.

My heart raced as we approached the front door. When Luke rang the doorbell, I heard tiny feet racing toward the door.

“Mommy! Someone’s here!” a child’s voice came from the other side.

The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing a tired-looking woman in her thirties with a toddler on her hip and a school-aged boy peeking around her legs.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Luke cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you so early. My name is Luke Hannah, and this is Rylie Cooper. We’re looking for my aunt. She may have been in the area recently.” He pulled up a picture of June on his phone and showed her.

“I’ve not seen her,” the woman said.

“May I ask how long you’ve lived here?” I asked, going against Luke’s wishes. He shot me a glance, but I ignored him. He knew better than to expect me not to talk.

“About two months,” she replied. “We bought it from a property management company. Blackridge something.”

Luke and I exchanged glances.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, switching the toddler to her other side. “Is there something wrong with the house?”

“No, nothing like that,” Luke said. “We’re just trying to track down my aunt. She was investigating some properties in the area, and we thought your house might have been one of them.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help,” she said, bouncing the fussy toddler. “I hope you find her.”

We thanked her and headed back to the car.

“They’re flipping properties,” I said once we were inside. “They probably buy them, use them for whatever shady business they’re doing, then sell them again.”

“That family has no idea what might have happened in their home before they moved in,” Luke said, his voice irritated.

I pulled out Horace’s list. “Let’s try the next address.”

As Luke started the engine, my phone buzzed with a text from Lisa.

Lisa Jacobson

FBI contact is sending someone. ETA 3 hours. Be careful. Dad talked to the state police, too.

I relayed the message to Luke.

“That’s something, at least. But we can’t wait that long.” He pulled away from the curb and headed toward our second destination.

As we drove, I opened the laptop again, studying the photos more carefully.

Something caught my eye in one of the images. Something I’d missed before. In the background of a photo showing the tattooed bodyguard, there was a partially visible street sign.

I zoomed in as much as I could.

“Luke,” I said, my pulse quickening. “This street sign in the background—it’s Pinecrest Road. That’s the third address on our list, not the second.”

As if reading my mind, Luke made a U-turn away from the second house toward Pinecrest Road. The second he’d completed the U-turn, flashing lights illuminated behind us.

31

A police cruiser appeared seemingly out of nowhere, its siren giving a short whoop to signal us to pull over.

“You have to be kidding me.” I twisted in my seat to see the car. My stomach dropped. “It’s Jessica.”

Luke cursed under his breath but pulled over to the shoulder. “Hide the laptop.”

I quickly slid it under my seat as Jessica approached the driver’s side window. Her hand rested on her duty belt, her face set in a flirty smile. The smile quickly fell when Luke rolled down the window.

“Luke? Rylie?” Her gaze darted between us, then to the vehicle itself, then back to us. “What are you doing driving Bryce Polpeter’s car?”

“Jessica, I can explain—”

“Step out of the vehicle. Both of you,” she demanded. “Now.”

“We don’t have time—” I started.

“I said out! You’re in a stolen vehicle belonging to one of the wealthiest men in the country. Do you have any idea of the kind of trouble you’re in?”

The tension was suffocating. With a sigh, Luke opened his door and stepped out. I followed suit, my body protesting every movement.

Jessica’s eyes widened when I walked around to the driver’s side of the car, and she saw my bandaged hands. “What happened to you? Did you steal this car? Where is Bryce?”

“I didn’t steal it,” I said. “I mean, I did, but it’s not what you think. Bryce attacked me this morning. I took it to get away from him.”

Jessica’s face paled slightly. “Bryce attacked you?”

“It’s the truth,” Luke said. “And we think he and his partners might be holding my aunt captive.”

“His partners?” Jessica asked. I couldn’t tell if she was playing dumb or really didn’t know what was happening.

“Show her the video from the mill,” Luke said.

Jessica crossed her arms, waiting.

I pulled out my phone and showed her the footage I’d captured—the mayor, his bodyguard, and the operation they were running.

She watched until the end, then glanced up at me as if waiting for me to show her more.

I glanced at Luke.

“That’s it,” I finally said.

“Forgive me, but I didn’t see Bryce in that video. Did I miss him?” Jessica’s voice was filled with irritation.

“Well, he wasn’t inside the mill,” I said. “But we have photos of him in the mill, and I can have his wife tell you about his connection to the property.”

“Nora?” Jessica’s eyes widened. “She’s missing now, too. Bryce reported her disappearance yesterday.”

“She’s hiding from him,” I said. “He’s abusive. He broke her arm. June was helping her escape.”

Jessica’s gaze darted to the car, then back to us as if processing something.

“When you said they’re partners. Who did you mean?”

“The mayor and Bryce,” I said. “You were seeing both of them, weren’t you?”

“I—well—that’s none of your business.”

“We have proof that you were seeing both of them,” I said. She didn’t need to know that we didn’t have solid proof of her seeing the mayor. “Which would make anyone think, ‘Hmm, wouldn’t Jessica know about their nefarious dealings? Especially when she covers for them?’”

Jessica glanced around as if checking for anyone watching. She lowered her voice. “Get back in the car.”

We hesitated.

“Now,” she hissed. “I’m not arresting you. Not yet, anyway. But we can’t talk here.”

Luke and I exchanged a look before returning to Bryce’s Bentley. Jessica marched back to her cruiser, turned off the lights, returned to us, and slid into the back seat.

“Drive,” she instructed. “Just around the corner where we won’t be visible from the main road. This car is like driving a big flashing Hey Look at Me sign.”

Luke drove and parked around the corner. Then he turned to face Jessica. “Explain.”

Jessica took a deep breath. “The mayor and I—well—it’s complicated. He approached me when I first joined the department. Asked me to look the other way on certain things. At first, it was just minor violations—noise complaints, zoning issues.” She paused discomfort all over her face. “The relationship developed from there.”

“You’ve been helping him cover up a drug operation?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. Not that I was sorry.

“No,” Jessica said. “I didn’t know any of that. Maybe I looked away too much and buried my head in the sand. But what was I supposed to do? He had me in a corner.”

“What about June? Do you know where she is?”

Jessica shook her head. “I knew she was investigating something, but she never told me what.”

“But you spoke with Carl,” I said. “And June saw you.”

“I saw Carl following June and confronted him about it,” Jessica said. “He told me to back off and that he was only doing his job.”

“Someone hired him to follow June,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

“The mayor had been paranoid about June after he denied her request for some building,” Jessica said. “He thought she might have been following him to get dirt on him so she could get her permit.”

“That’s why he ended up giving it to her,” I said.

“But she didn’t stop following him after that,” Jessica said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he had Carl following her and reporting back to him.”

“So maybe, in a roundabout way, Carl was responsible for June’s disappearance,” I said.

“Carl didn’t die by suicide,” Jessica said. “He was murdered.”

“I know,” I said.

“This is all great,” Luke said. “I’m glad we’re clearing the air and everything, but we need to find June. She might still be alive.”

“Haven’t you been looking for her this entire time?” Jessica asked.

“Yes, but now we think we know where she is,” I said. “We were heading there when you pulled us over.”

Jessica straightened in her seat. “Where?”

“A house on Pinecrest Road,” I replied.

“2437 Pinecrest?” Jessica asked. “That’s one of Bryce’s properties. He uses it for private meetings.”

“Private meetings like the ones you and he had?” I asked.

“Yes,” Jessica admitted, looking away. “I know the layout.”

“When was the last time you were there?” Luke asked.

“It’s been a while,” Jessica said. “Bryce and I haven’t seen each other as much since Nora left him. I don’t think it was as fun when we didn’t have to sneak around.”

“Will you come with us?” I asked.

“What?” Jessica looked surprised.

“If you’re telling the truth about not being involved in June’s disappearance, here’s your chance to prove it. Help us find her.” I waited expectantly.

Jessica hesitated. “I should call for backup.”

“No,” I said. “The mayor has too much influence. If word gets out that the police are coming, he might move June. Or worse.”

“Besides,” Luke said, “this way, you can control how the story comes out. You help rescue June, and you’re a hero instead of an accomplice.”

Jessica was silent for so long that I almost told Luke to just leave her there, but finally, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll help.”

Luke put the Bentley in drive and sped off toward Pinecrest Road.

32

When we were about a block away from the house where we suspected they were keeping June, Jessica told us to park. “We’ll go on foot from here. We can’t just pull into the driveway in Bryce’s car. Especially if he’s inside. He’ll know right away it’s you.”

The house was a gray two-story with dark green shutters, set back from the road on a large lot. It looked pretty run-down, but not enough to cause the neighbors to complain to the town.

“No cars in the driveway,” I said.

“The garage is big enough for two vehicles,” Jessica said. “They could be inside.”

We crept toward the property. It didn’t help that the sun had come out in all its glory. It almost felt like a spotlight was trained on us.

The house appeared quiet, with no signs of movement.

“Let me check the front,” Jessica whispered. “I can look natural if anyone’s watching.”

Luke and I hung back while Jessica approached the front door casually as if making a routine visit.

“Should we trust her?” I asked. “What if she’s in it with them, and she’s telling them where we are right now?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Luke said. “Keeping potential enemies close is usually a solid plan.”

Jessica peered through the windows, then returned to us. “I don’t see anyone moving inside, but there’s a chair in the dining room with what looks like ropes on the floor beside it.”

“Aunt June,” Luke said through gritted teeth.

“We need to get inside,” I said. “Is there another way in besides the front door?”

“Back door through the kitchen,” she replied. “Less visible from the street, but there will be cameras. We won’t have long before someone will show up.”

We tiptoed through the yard to the back door, which was locked.

“Can you pick it?” I asked Jessica.

“Not without tools.”

Luke didn’t hesitate. He bent his arm and used his elbow to break out the door's small window before unlocking it. We slipped into the kitchen, listening for any sounds. The house was eerily quiet.

“The clock is ticking,” Jessica said. “We should split up.”

“The house isn’t that big,” I said. “We should stay together.”

We both looked at Luke to decide. “Stay together for now.”

Jessica looked irritated but didn’t say anything else.

The chair Jessica had seen did have ropes on the floor by it, but there was no sign of June. A few dishes were in the sink, and a pan with crusty macaroni noodles was on the stove.

“There are bedrooms down the hall,” Jessica said, leading us away from the kitchen.

The first bedroom was empty—no furniture at all.

When she pushed open the door of the second bedroom, an intense smell of urine hit my nose, causing my eyes to water. And there, tied to a chair in the center of the room, was June. Her hair was matted with dried blood, her face bruised, her eyes closed, and a piece of fabric tied around her head and shoved into her mouth.

“Aunt June?” Luke said, rushing to her, his voice filled with emotion.

Her eyes opened wide, a mixture of relief and fear.

Luke pulled out a pocket knife and started cutting through her restraints.

I hurried over and untied the gag, removing it from her mouth.

“Luke,” she rasped, her voice weak. “They’ll be back soon. The mayor and his man.”

I glanced behind me as if I thought they might be standing in the doorway. Thankfully, they were not.

“They left about twenty minutes ago,” June said. “Said they’d be back with Bryce.”

I turned to Jessica. “We need to get her out of here now.”

Luke had just finished cutting June’s restraints when the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway reached us.

“They’re here,” June whispered, panic in her voice.

Luke helped June to her feet. She was unsteady, clearly weak from the ordeal.

“We’ll never make it out the back door in time,” I said, my mind racing. “They’ll see us crossing the yard.”

Jessica moved to the window, peering out carefully. “It’s all three of them. They’re heading for the front door.”

A plan formed in my mind. “Jessica, you need to distract them.”

“What?” she looked at me incredulously.

“Go out the front, intercept them before they come in,” I explained. “Tell them you were worried and heard rumors about federal agents coming to town. Just give us enough time to get June out the back.”

Jessica hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

She slipped back through the hallway toward the front of the house. We heard the front door open and then close. Through the window, I could see Jessica approaching the three men. Even from my position, I could see the surprise on the mayor’s face at her presence. Bryce didn’t look quite so surprised.

“Now,” I whispered to Luke.

Luke lifted June into his arms, and we ran through the kitchen, out the back door, and through the yard toward Bryce’s car.

I could barely hear Jessica’s voice, perfectly concerned and not accusatory. “What’s going on? The chief told me the feds were coming but wouldn’t tell me why.”

The mayor’s response was too quiet to make out, but his tone was angry.

We had just reached the edge of the property when I heard the mayor’s voice rise sharply. “It’s not my fault they’re on their way. You were supposed to take care of the blonde girl. You were supposed to take care of the old lady. You did neither.”

Bryce’s response was just as loud. “I wanted to know where my family was. She was the only one who knew.”

“Well, her time is up. You’ll have to find your family another way.”

The next thing I heard was the slam of the front door before I heard the mayor’s booming voice shout, “She’s gone!”

“Rylie, run,” Luke whispered urgently, several yards ahead of me.

I heard shouting behind us.

I took off after him.

We made it to Bryce’s car, where Luke gently placed June in the back seat before taking his spot in the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life just as the tattooed bodyguard spotted us, his gun drawn.

“Go!” I shouted.

Luke floored it, tires squealing.

“They’re all behind us,” I said. “Go by the house. Get Jessica.”

Luke was already on it.

Thankfully, Jessica was standing at the curb.

Luke skidded to an almost stop right next to Jessica. She flung the door open and dove across June. Luke drove away without bothering to make sure the door was closed.

The sound of a gunshot echoed behind us, a bullet hitting the back window of the Bentley.

“We’re fine,” Jessica said. “Keep going.”

It wasn’t until we were back in the middle of Big Mountain that Luke finally slowed down. “We need to get Aunt June to a hospital.”

“I’m okay,” June said. “Let’s get somewhere safe first.”

Luke glanced over at me. I couldn’t argue that we needed to get somewhere safe. It wouldn’t take long for Bryce, Mayor Thompson, and his bodyguard to get in the car and chase us down.

“Where should we go?” Luke asked.

“I have an idea,” I said.

33

Our first stop was June’s house. We left Bryce’s car in her garage and got in Luke’s truck. Sure, they knew what Luke’s truck looked like, but they’d be looking for Bryce’s car.

The entire time we drove, I kept an eye on the side mirror, half expecting to see the mayor’s SUV pull up behind us.

I’d called Luke’s parents, told them that June was safe, and made sure they got out of their house. They agreed to meet us at our destination—the Big Mountain Lodge and Resort. If there was ever a place I knew like the back of my hand, including every place to hide, it was there.

“The Big Mountain Lodge and Resort?” Jessica asked from the back seat, sitting beside a quiet June. “Why would we go there? They don’t have any special security or anything like that.”

“It’s the last place they’ll look,” I said. “And I know someone there who can help us.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Luke said, glancing at me with something like pride in his eyes. “It will be full of guests. Harder for them to do something and get away with it.”

“Exactly. The mayor is not going to kidnap someone from a hotel of income generators,” I said.

“Who do you know there?” June asked. Her voice was still raspy. Jessica had given her a bottle of water, but it wouldn’t fix days of dehydration.

“Blake Dresden. She’s the event planner who helped when—” I stopped myself before saying she’d helped plan my almost-wedding. “She’ll help us.”

Luke nodded, clearly picking up on my hesitation.

As we approached the lodge, I called Mrs. Hannah to make sure they’d made it out of the house. She told me they’d already arrived at the lodge and had tracked down Blake, who assured them that the boathouse was available.

Blake rushed out to meet us when she saw Luke’s truck.

“Park down there,” she said when I rolled down my window. “Behind the boathouse. That way, they won’t see your truck.”

Blake always looked put together and stylish with her gorgeous curly brown hair and nose ring.

“Thank you so much,” I said. “We’ll also need medical help if you have some.”

Blake glanced at my wrapped hands.

“Not for me. Luke’s aunt has been held captive for days.”

“I’m just fine,” June said, but her voice was so quiet I didn’t think even she believed herself.

“I’ll get someone down there right away,” Blake said. “You don’t want me to call the police, right?”

I turned to look at Jessica.

She shrugged. “It probably won’t hurt at this point. They’re already going down for their crimes. The officers will have to decide which side they want to take.”

Blake glanced from Jessica to me as if to ask what I wanted her to do.

“How about you find the medical staff, and we’ll take care of the police,” I said.

Blake nodded and headed off toward the lodge.

Luke parked where Blake had told us to and then helped June out of the car. She objected to him carrying her but walked slowly, keeping most of her weight on his arm.

The smell of pine and boat exhaust brought back memories of when Luke and I often snuck off to the boathouse as teenagers. We’d only been caught once or twice, but this was one of our favorite hideouts.

The second the door opened, tears flowed. Luke had to keep telling everyone to be gentle with June as she winced under every hug and kiss. But the smile on her face told me she’d be okay. Eventually.

Even though the boathouse was under construction, it still had a few sofas, chairs, and a TV upstairs in the loft. Since it was almost winter, all the boats had been removed from the water and put in storage.

Blake and a doctor—a man I’d never seen before, possibly even a guest at the hotel—walked in only about fifteen minutes later. The man instantly started assessing June’s condition.

“The controls for the heat are on the wall,” Blake explained to Jessica and me. “The bathroom is functional. I brought food, water, and extra blankets. You can stay here as long as you need to.”

“Thank you so much for doing this,” I said.

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled. “I’m just so happy to see you back here after—well—you know.”

“Life takes unexpected turns sometimes,” I said.

“Doesn’t it just?” Blake said, glancing at Luke with a sweet smile. “It’s so good to see the two of you together. After he showed up that night, I thought for sure you’d be calling to schedule another wedding, but when I didn’t hear from you, I wondered if the two of you hadn’t worked out.”

“We didn’t at first,” I said. “And, no offense, but if it ever gets to that point, I don’t think we’ll be getting married here. It would just be too weird.”

She sighed. “I suppose I understand. But don’t be strangers. After all this is taken care of, come back and say hi every once in a while, okay?”

I hugged her. “Of course. And thank you again for your help.”

“I called the police department,” Jessica said when I walked back to rejoin the group. “I figured the information would be best coming from me. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them where we are.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

Once the doctor was finished, he made sure June was settled on the most comfortable couch and instructed us to keep a close eye on her. Mrs. Hannah was already fussing over her in every way imaginable.

Lisa still hadn’t heard from her FBI contact, and time seemed to go on forever as the sun peaked in the sky and started dropping toward the horizon.

The boathouse was cozy, but it was getting a little too cozy with so many people.

“Should we be making a plan?” Mr. Hannah asked Luke and me quietly. “We can’t stay here indefinitely.”

“We shouldn’t move until we know it’s safe,” Luke said.

“How will we know when it’s safe?” Mr. Hannah asked. “I haven’t heard a peep from my contact with the state police.”

June shifted on the couch, grimacing. Horace was at her side instantly, adjusting her pillow and offering her water. If only he knew Astrid—his current girlfriend—was only a few seconds away in a room at the lodge.

I shook my head. I didn’t need to insert myself into anyone else’s love life. After all June had been through, she deserved every bit of attention she got.

“Finally,” Lisa blurted out, holding her phone up in the air like it was a trophy. “It’s over.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The DEA raided the old mill. Found enough evidence to arrest everyone involved.” Lisa’s gaze darted up from her phone to Jessica.

Jessica had been pretty despondent since we’d arrived at the boathouse. Whether it was because she thought she’d get in trouble or she was still processing what happened right under her nose, I didn’t know.

“The FBI picked up the mayor at Town Hall acting like nothing was wrong,” Lisa continued, reading the information from a text or something.

“And Bryce?” I asked.

“They caught him at the local airport, trying to charter a private jet.” Lisa shook her head. “I guess there aren’t many of those readily available here.”

“Not exactly,” Mr. Hannah said.

“The guard turned on everyone.” Lisa scrolled a bit on her phone. “He’s already trying to make a deal to testify against the mayor and Bryce.”

I glanced at June, who had closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling steadily while tears slid down her cheeks.

“Both the DEA and the FBI want statements from all of us,” Lisa continued. “But they’ll give us some time.”

Relief washed over me. It was finally over. Then I remembered. “I need to check on Nora. She needs to know it’s safe.”

“I’ll go with you,” Luke said.

“We’re going to take June to the hospital,” Mr. Hannah said. “Don’t leave town until we’re back, okay?”

Luke glanced at me, and I nodded.

“Okay, Dad, we won’t.”

Mr. Hannah wrapped an arm around Luke. “You did great.” He glanced at me. “Both of you.”

34

This time, when I pulled up to the cabin, a shotgun barrel did not greet me. In fact, even Keith smiled when I told them that Nora didn’t need to worry anymore.

The kids seemed only too happy to pack up all their toys and leave the small cabin.

Luke and I ended up alone back at his parents’ house. Mr. Hannah had called him to tell him that besides some minor injuries and severe dehydration, June was in surprisingly good condition. They’d monitor her overnight, but barring anything significant, she’d be cleared to go home afterward.

Once again, I had a hard time falling asleep. My mind raced with everything that had happened.

I slipped outside and sat on the Hannahs’ back deck, wrapping a thick blanket around my shoulders. It wasn’t snowing, but the air remained crisp. The moon was bright in the sky, spotlighting the gorgeous mountains. It was so beautiful it made my heart hurt. I missed the mountains.

“Can’t sleep?” Luke’s voice came from behind me.

I shook my head. “Too wound up.”

He joined me. I lifted the blanket, and he slipped beneath it, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s been quite a week.”

“Quite a life,” I said. “I thought I’d put all this behind me when I left.”

“The town?”

“The feelings,” I whispered. “The sense of belonging here.”

Luke was quiet for a moment. “When I got the call about Aunt June, I thought we’d be in and out. Find her, make sure she was safe, and get back to normal life.”

“But?”

“But being back here with you…” He paused, searching for the words. “It’s like I never left. Like we never left.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “Like everything that’s happened since high school was just a pause.”

He turned to face me, his expression serious in the moonlight. “Do you think we needed that time apart to figure things out?”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking of all the growth, pain, and learning we’d both experienced. “But I think I always knew I’d end up back here. With you.”

He smiled widely. “I love you, Rylie Cooper.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered, leaning into him.

His arms were solid and warm around me. They felt like safety. Like home. Like everything I’d been searching for.

35

Two weeks passed in a blur of federal agents, statements, evidence, and media coverage. The story of Big Mountain’s mayor, a prominent tech CEO, and their drug manufacturing operation made headlines across the country. The discovery that they’d been dumping chemicals in the nearby woods—resulting in wildlife deformities like the three-legged, one-eyed deer we’d encountered—only added to the scandal.

The mayor, his bodyguard, and Bryce had all been charged with numerous crimes. Word on the street was Jessica had made a deal with the DA to give them all the information she had on the mayor and Bryce for complete immunity. She’d also given up her position on the police department, though I suspected she’d have been fired if she hadn’t resigned first.

June had recovered enough to give a statement. She moved more slowly now, her body still healing from the ordeal. She’d stayed with Luke’s parents, relishing being pampered by Mrs. Hannah’s cooking and Mr. Hannah’s company.

We returned to Prairie City after speaking to the DEA, FBI, local and state police, and probably a few hundred other agencies.

I’d given Ursula my final answer—I wouldn’t be going to the police academy.

With tears in my eyes, I’d handed in my uniform and badge and thought that was it.

I was wrong.

Two days later, I got a text from Nikki.

Nikki

Beer and wings. 7 PM. No excuses.

I smiled at the directness of it. Typical Nikki.

That evening, I pushed open the heavy wooden door of our local haunt with Luke right behind me. The usual Friday night crowd filled the space, but I spotted my friends immediately in the corner.

“Cooper!” Ben’s voice boomed over the noise as he waved enthusiastically from a group of several round, high-top tables pushed together. “She’s here, guys!”

As I approached, Antonio and Oliver—AKA Nikki’s boyfriend, AKA Naked Guy–lifted a hastily made banner that read: We’ll Miss You, Rylie!

Someone—probably Ben—had drawn little Christmas trees in each corner despite Christmas being over a month away.

“Did you seriously think we’d let you leave the job without a proper send-off?” Nikki pulled me into a hug with a surprising fierceness. Behind her, Luke smiled as if he’d known about this all along. Tears stung my eyes.

“It’s not like I won’t still be around,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “We can still hang out.”

Greg hurried over from the bar, holding a tray of shots. “Everyone grab one.”

Antonio raised his shot glass. “To Rylie Cooper, who never met a suspicious circumstance she could walk away from.”

“And probably never will,” added his girlfriend, Alicia, with a warm smile. I was so happy things had worked out between them. They were the cutest couple.

“To Rylie,” the group echoed before we downed our shots.

Ben slid a gift bag across the table. “From all of us. Don’t cry, or else I’ll cry.”

Inside was a framed photo of all of us at last year’s Christmas party, and beneath it, a top-of-the-line multi-tool engraved with Rylie Cooper, Best Shit Magnet in the World.

“You guys,” I managed, feeling a lump forming in my throat.

“No, no, no. No tears,” Nikki said, though her voice wavered slightly. “It’ll be good for you to get away from all the dead bodies. Maybe your next job should be in an office somewhere. Somewhere without knives or guns or, you know, catfish traps.”

Ben shuddered. “I still have nightmares about that. First day working together and boom—corpse.” He grinned. “But seriously, who’s going to help me get through winter patrol now? No one else appreciates my Christmas music like you do.”

“I’m sure they’ll find someone,” I said.

Dusty arrived late, sliding into the chair with a nod. “Sorry. Had to finish up some paperwork.” He raised his beer. “To the only ranger who spent more time filling out incident reports than actual rangering.”

“Speaking of paperwork,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

I turned to see Ursula standing there, looking strangely out of place in the casual bar setting.

“Hey, Ursula,” I said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I couldn’t miss saying goodbye to my most—uh—interesting ranger.” She smiled. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be amazing in whatever you choose to do next.”

“Careful, Ursula,” Detective Bryant said, appearing beside her with a beer in hand. “You’ll make her head even bigger than it already is.”

“Takes one to know one,” I said, jabbing him in the ribs with my elbow.

I could have spent hours and hours in the presence of my friends, but as the night wound down, Greg insisted on a final toast. Everyone gathered around, even Detective Bryant, who I suspected had stayed far longer than he’d planned.

“To Rylie Cooper,” Greg said, raising his glass. “The most unconventional park ranger I’ve ever supervised, who somehow solved more crimes than all of us put together.”

“To Cooper!” they all cheered.

Ben started singing what sounded suspiciously like We Wish You a Merry Christmas with modified lyrics about solving crimes.

I looked around at the people who had been my colleagues, my friends, my support system, and felt my heart grow in my chest like the Grinch’s. I’d miss spending my days with these people, but I knew no matter what happened, they’d always be a part of my life.

* * *

Two days later, I stood on June’s dock, watching Nora and her children play in the fresh snow across the lake. They’d moved back into the home they’d shared with Bryce when she decided she didn’t want to return to California. According to June, her mother and sister planned to move in with them soon.

I heard footsteps on the dock behind me and turned to see Luke approaching with two steaming mugs.

“Thought you might be cold,” he said, handing me one.

“Thanks.” I wrapped my hands around the warmth, the wounds from the glass still slightly painful but healing. I liked to think of them as battle wounds.

When June told us she needed to talk to us—the entire family plus me—Luke and I made the trip back over the mountain straight away. Now, we were just waiting for Luke’s sister, Samantha, to get off work so she could join us on a call.

“We’re ready,” Mrs. Hannah called from June’s back deck.

Luke kissed the top of my head. We walked back to the house hand in hand, snow crunching beneath our boots.

Inside, June sat at the dining table with Mr. and Mrs. Hannah, Horace, and Astrid. A phone sat in the middle, and from it came Samantha’s voice, telling her parents about her workday.

They all looked up when we entered.

June smiled. “All right. We can get started now.”

All eyes turned toward June.

“I have something important to discuss,” she said. “These past weeks have given me a lot of time to think. About my life, my work, and what I want for the future.”

Everyone sat on the edges of their seats, waiting to hear why she’d called us all here.

“I’ve decided I need a break from the PI business,” she said. “From Big Mountain. I’m not as young as I used to be, and this experience took a toll.”

“Where will you go?” Luke asked.

“I want to travel,” June said, a smile spreading across her face. “There are so many places I’ve never seen.”

“For how long?” Mr. Hannah asked.

“That’s the thing,” June said. “I don’t know. Maybe six months. Maybe longer. Maybe for the rest of my life. Which brings me to the next part.” She focused her gaze on Luke and me. “I need someone to take care of my house. And my business, if they’re interested.”

“Well, I can’t,” Samantha said, her voice coming through the speaker. “I’m perfectly happy in New York. I can’t leave my job.”

June’s gaze was still on us as the room became awkwardly silent.

“Oh, you guys, I was kidding,” Samantha said. “I know she’s not asking me.”

June’s eyebrows raised as if asking us an unspoken question.

“Aunt June, what are you saying?” Luke asked.

“I’m saying I’d like you and Rylie to stay in my house. Run my business. Make them your own.” June smiled. “You two make a great team. You’ve proven that. And Rylie needs a job, from what I understand.”

I laughed and nodded.

“I know. It’s a lot to ask,” June continued. “And it’s a big decision. You don’t have to answer right now—”

“Yes,” I said, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice. “I mean if Luke wants to…”

“Absolutely,” Luke said without hesitation. “We’ll do it.”

June’s face lit up with relief and joy. “Well, that was easier than I expected.” She glanced at Horace and Astrid. “I guess I didn’t need the two of you here for backup.”

They laughed.

Mr. Hannah raised his coffee mug. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” we all echoed.

Later, as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, Luke and I stood in June’s office. Or rather, our office now.

“We’ll need to make some changes,” Luke said. “Maybe move a bookshelf. Get a second desk.”

“Hmmm,” I said, imagining life going forward.

“And we’ll have to come up with a name for our PI business,” Luke continued. “I think Hannah and Cooper Investigations has a nice ring.”

“Cooper and Hannah,” I corrected with a grin.

He laughed, pulling me close. “We can talk about it.”

As we stood together thinking about our future, I couldn’t help but reflect on the long, winding road that led us here. From childhood friends to high school sweethearts, from painful separations to an unexpected reunion.

“You know,” I said, “when we started looking for your aunt, I never imagined it would end with us staying in Big Mountain.”

“Life rarely goes how we expect,” Luke said, kissing my forehead. “But sometimes it takes us exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

Through the office window, I could see the mountains in the distance. This view, those mountains, this town had shaped me, defined me, even when I’d tried to leave them behind.

And now, with Luke by my side, I was ready to call them home again.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading the Rylie Cooper Mystery series! If you haven’t already, head over to Ireland and join Shayla on her adventures!

Read about Rylie and Luke’s very first case together for free in Stacked!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

After twelve books, closing the chapter on Rylie Cooper's adventures feels bittersweet. Thankfully, there’s no shortage of people to thank—each of you is woven deeply into the fabric of these stories and my heart.

Nolan, your steadfast confidence and unwavering calm have been my lifeline through countless late nights and plot tangles. Thank you for always believing I could do this, even when I wasn’t so sure myself. I love you so much.

To my wonderful kids—thank you for celebrating every book as if I’ve won a Nobel Prize, even if you don’t quite grasp why I spend hours talking to imaginary people. You bring laughter, joy, and meaning to my every day. I'm endlessly grateful to be your mom.

Mom, thank you for always showing up—whether it's through a phone call, a long visit, or cheering on your grandkids. Your consistent love and support run deep, and I'm forever grateful. And extra thanks for reading my mysteries, even when they aren’t quite your cup of tea. It truly warms my heart.

Keri, your daily phone calls are my anchor, ensuring I never drift too far into introversion. I cherish every conversation, every laugh, and every bit of sisterly wisdom you share.

Dad, your journey through my Magical Mane Series has been one of my favorite parts of writing it. When you finally reach this book, know that every supportive word and every moment we’ve spent together fills me with gratitude. I love you immensely, today and always.

Lurea, your sharp eyes and thoughtful insights have kept me sane and my manuscripts polished. Thanks for making the editing process feel less like pulling teeth and more like crafting art. You're incredible.

Kathy, you're such a shining star in my corner. Your encouragement, positivity, and unwavering support have meant the world to me throughout this series. Thank you for cheering me on so loudly and proudly.

Shawna, our friendship brings joy and hilarity to my life in equal measure. Thank you for being the keeper of inside jokes, hilarious TikToks, and much-needed moments of clarity. You're truly one of a kind.

ARC Team, your honesty, enthusiasm, and kindness breathe life into every release. Your words inspire me, humble me, and encourage me more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for being an essential part of my journey.

To my incredible readers—twelve books later, you're still here, invested and eager, championing Rylie Cooper until the very end. Your support has meant everything, and I can't thank you enough for loving these stories as fiercely as I do.

Here’s to the adventures we've shared and those still to come. Onward!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stella Bixby is a native Coloradan who loves to snowboard, pluck at the guitar, and play board games with her family. She was once a volunteer firefighter and a park ranger, but now spends most of her time making up stories and trying to figure out what to cook for dinner.

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ALSO BY STELLA BIXBY

Rylie Cooper Series

Catfished: Book 1

Suckered: Book 2

Throttled: Book 3

Tampered: Book 4

Whacked: Book 5

Bungled: Book 6

Snowed: Book 7

Wasted: Book 8

Booked: Book 9

Signed: Book 10

Haunted: Book 11

Shattered: Book 12

Shayla Murphy Series

Mistletoe Malarkey: Book 1

Hooved Homicide: Book 2

Veiled Vengeance: Book 3

Muddy Murder: Book 4

Celtic Clue: Book 5

Magical Mane Mystery Series

Downward Death: Book 1

Bowling Blunder: Book 2

Spotlight Scandal: Book 3

Tango Trouble: Book 4

Spelunking Speculations: Book 5

Festival Fiasco: Book 6

Jamboree Justice: Book 7

Cosmic Conspiracy: Book 8

Bonfire Betrayal: Book 9

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2025 by Crystal S. Ferry

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system presently available or yet to be invented without permission in writing from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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