The New Girl

Copyright © 2025 by A.J. Rivers

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

“I’m going to need you to step back, everyone. This is a crime scene.”

Out of all the tasks he had on the job, Chief Scott Simmons of the Juniper Springs Police Department hated crowd control the most. Other than a murder scandal a few months earlier, the little town didn’t see much crime on a regular basis, so when something big did happen, crowds were usually all over it like flies on trash. Robberies happened, but residents hovered like buzzards when a dead body surfaced, and they all wondered the same thing he did: Was it murder, suicide, or accidental death? Overdose? Natural causes? As his officers spread crime scene tape across the yard to keep the pesky onlookers out, the neighbors strained to see inside the small, rural home. Chief Simmons gave the officers time to tape it off before stepping inside himself.

He’d seen… and smelled it all too. The beginnings of decomposition greeted his nose in an unfriendly manner but didn’t churn his stomach like it once had. To him, it was little more than the smell of a dead mouse at that point. Some things you should never get used to just happen when you’re on the job for so long. That didn’t mean it wasn’t unpleasant, but he had boasted the development of a cast iron stomach for a few years now. “What have we got?”

The coroner sat back from the body, pointing. “Blunt force trauma to the head. Liver temp measured twenty-six degrees; body is in full rigor. She’s been dead at least forty-eight hours.”

Two days, eh?

One of the investigators strode up to him. “Delivery guy called it in.” He pointed outside the door to a delivery man who couldn’t be a day over thirty, Chief Simmons thought. The guy had scoliosis coming to him from the way he stood with a hunched-over back, hands buried in his pockets.

“I’ll go talk to him in a minute.” Chief Simmons glanced at the bagged items in his officer’s hand. “What else have you got for me?”

The officer held up the evidence. “Found a wallet. Victim’s name was Jennifer Ingress. Take a look at this.”

Chief Simmons walked with the investigator over to the coffee table. His eyes went straight to a dark spot on the corner with traces of hair stuck to the table by a sticky, dark red matter. “Well, that explains the blunt force trauma.”

“There’s more.” The investigator pointed to the coffee table. “Take a look at what we found all over.”

He held up an evidence bag with a familiar white substance. He knew better than to believe it was powdered sugar or baking soda. “I see.”

“We’ll get this to trace, but other than that, there were no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle. It did look like she was stumbling around, but nothing is broken or seems to be missing.”

He wouldn’t draw any conclusions until the reports came back, but the crime scene spelled out one thing for him: heroin overdose. Chief Simmons hated those calls. People who took their own lives into their hands without giving a thought to family, friends, or future. The stuff was deadly, he knew, and she had to know too.

“Let’s get this bagged up and ready to go. I’ll go talk to the guy.”

“You got it.”

Chief Simmons stepped out of the house, noting silently to himself about the lack of forced entry at the front door. No splinters around the door frame, the doorknob was not tampered with. This was looking more and more like an overdose. “Hello.” Disguising his feelings behind the authoritative mask that he always wore at crime scenes, he squared up with the delivery guy. “What’s your name?”

The guy looked like his nerves were all standing at attention; eyes wide as if he’d been to war and back in a single night, the sniffing, the shifting from foot to foot. “Jay Appleton.”

Simmons made a note of that. Appleton? What kind of a name is Appleton? Perhaps the made-up kind. “You got some ID?”

Another sniff. One of Jay’s hands slipped from his front pocket into his back pocket and withdrew a wallet. He flipped it open and started sliding his fingertips on top of the plastic card where his ID was. It took him several tries, maybe due to sweat or the tremor in his hands, but Simmons waited, giving him a chance to pull it out. “Here you go.”

Simmons took hold of the ID, confirming that the name wasn’t as made up as it sounded. Jay Appleton. 26. With the nerves of a teenager. “Why are you shaking so badly?” He asked the obvious out loud.

Jay’s hand slipped back into his front pocket, glanced inside the house. His eyes fell on Jennifer, and a shadow passed through his gaze. “I’ve never really been questioned by the cops before.”

Relax, dude, we’re not gonna waterboard you. “First time?”

“Yeah.” Jay shifted his gaze to the ground, finding the rocks that conglomerated together to form the sidewalk more interesting than making eye contact. “That and, well, Jenny was my friend. It’s really unnerving when you see your friend lying dead, not sleeping… just dead, you know?”

He could comment but chose not to. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Jay appeared to be forming compound sentences together in his head, the way that his face hardened into a mask of hard determination. “Jenny’s my friend. Gets stuff delivered all the time. One of those, you know?”

The ones who sat around and thought of stuff to order online? Yeah, he knew the type. And he had a few names for them too.

“We would always talk and stuff and became really good friends, you know? She gave me a key to her place.”

Simmons paused on that, tasting the words before daring to swallow. Jenny gave some random guy, a delivery person no less, a key to her place? Maybe something she had done when she was high sometime… and, Jay, having the twenty-something-year-old teenage brain that he had, accepted it without thought. “You have a key?”

“Yeah. Recently she said she wanted me to have a key.” He pressed his hands even farther down into his pockets. “So, yesterday, I go to deliver her package at the door, and when I knocked, she didn’t answer. I knocked a few times, but still no answer. And her car was here, so I figured that she was, you know, napping or something.”

Jay had the vocabulary of a kid’s show, asking Simmons if “he knew” a lot. “Right?”

“Today, I came back to deliver another package, and the one from yesterday was still on the porch… and her car was still here and still no answer. I knew something was wrong. So, I knocked even louder, then I used my key and went in.” Ice crystals formed in his eyes, his gaze shifted outward, as if wandering the universe, at a loss without his so-called friend. “That’s when I found her. I saw the blood, saw her lying there… still… so I called you guys.” He ejected the last of his breath, devoid of words but replete with the rocked emotion a kid like him must be feeling.

Chief Simmons pondered the statement and tucked a few things away for the time being. He has a key to her place. That’s not something you usually give a delivery guy. Unless you’re really close. Unless you know the guy. Or unless you were high when you gave it to him. He’d seen people do the strangest things when high. Make purchases of absolute garbage, randomly decide to get up and go eat at a nice place all because that moment made them feel like it was the best thing to do. Those little spur-of-the-moment decisions that could have no impact at all, or could be the determining factor in a worse situation. “Officer Barnes here is going to get your statement. I’m sorry for your loss, Jay.”

Jay offered him the slightest hint of warmth on his face as he nodded. “Thanks, man.”

Simmons stepped back inside the house and sighed as he looked around. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”

SMH. Shaking My Head.

Carrie Sweet fueled the flames of disgust with her own life by thinking of all the abbreviations used in text and on social media these days and how applicable they were to her life. She could think of a few that were similar, only stronger in language and miserable chagrin. However, never being one to use any curse words, she decided that Shaking My Head could be used in a more professional setting. It wasn’t wrong for her either. She had been shaking her head since everything had hit the fan with the hot mess express that spelled out her life over the last few weeks.

She thought that she had been happy. Ever since she had moved out of that stuffy little town called Juniper Springs, she thought her life would finally get started. She’d have a good job, boyfriend, college, every American girl’s dream. Carrie bit her lip as she tried to fight down the strong emotion she felt in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t the town itself. Carrie’s passion was writing, which, if she were honest with herself, she could do from anywhere. So, it was definitely not the town. It was the going back to the town and having to start all over from square one again. Sadly, circumstances had left her no other option. Carrie had tried to think positively. After all, maybe moving to Juniper Springs would do her some good. The nature surrounding the town would give her some inspiration. Her friend Lizzie still worked at the newspaper office. The job offer she had given her three years ago may still be open. But positive thoughts would only carry her so far. Sure, there might be a good opportunity for her, but the might aspect didn’t outweigh the reality that slapped her in the face.

I’m recently single. Poor, poor Jason just couldn’t handle me anymore. As a writer, Carrie’s guilty pleasure was memorizing the meaning of names. When she had learned Jason’s name meant ‘healer,’ she had burst out laughing. Healer? Ironic how he did the exact opposite to me. Healers don’t break people.

She turned the radio knob down with a determination to end the happy music that poured into her ears. If she wasn’t in a good mood by then, nothing would put her in a good mood. Nothing, that is, except the chance to see her grandmother’s cottage again. It was beyond her why her grandmother had willed her the cottage after her passing, but she was willing to take it. She’d had no other choice than to move with her mom to the big, unfamiliar city of Denver, Colorado, with a man who pretended to be her father. But no one could ever fill that role in her life. So, yeah. Carrie’s final conclusion? Life was a mess. But it had shining points like her grandmother’s cottage. Her own home. And, that was about it.

Carrie glanced at her GPS. The muscles in her neck groaned and strained to keep her head up, her eyelids wanted nothing more than to droop if only for a few moments. But she was twenty minutes away—the home stretch! She could keep herself awake by listening to the directions the GPS gave her for navigating downtown until she found her grandmother’s cottage. She just had to stay awake until then.

In the blink that it took her to glance down, she felt her car jolt to the side. A loud bang shot into her thoughts, and she jerked her head up. Had she hit something? Why was her car suddenly so difficult to control? It wanted to weave, first into the left lane, then into the shoulder. The warning gauge flashed on her dash panel. The words low tire blared across her screen as if kindly reminding her that her tire had gone flat. Low tire... no kidding.

“Ugh! This cannot be happening!” Carrie yelled. The other notification on her dash read 12:15—not p.m.—a.m. She was supposed to be at her cottage by now, but after taking a wrong turn somewhere in Oregon, she’d lost about thirty minutes… and now this!

She eased her car to the side of the road, tapping her brakes as she did. A glance in her rearview mirror assured her that the U-Haul trailer aligned with the line that marked the pavement. “This. Cannot. Be happening.” She repeated the mantra through gritted teeth. Anger began to waltz with fear deep in her gut, and out there, all alone, she let herself growl in frustration. It was the middle of the night, far away from anyone she knew, and her tire had decided to blow. It wasn’t as if an inanimate object would decide when to break down, but it sure seemed like it had joined the club of everything that was against her… like it was taunting her when she was so close to her new home.

Oh, and speaking of taunting.

Carrie looked out the windshield, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings. What she saw made her anger begin to win the battle with fear inside her. A large sign, with four spotlights illuminating the pine trees surrounding the words, Welcome to Juniper Springs! stared right back at her. If it could laugh, Carrie was sure it would be howling with laughter right now.

If that was her welcome to Juniper Springs, she wanted nothing to do with it. She was already resentful about returning, and that sign was just a reminder why.

She punched the button that controlled her emergency lights and got out of her car. Her muscles thanked her as they stretched for the first time in a few hours, but her entire body felt weakened by the ordeal. She looked first toward her left front tire, then the rear. A sigh heaved its way through her chest and out of her mouth with the force of the waves pounding the surf at the ocean. Not only was it flat, but the rim was also sitting on the ground. How was that even possible to go that flat when all four tires looked just fine that morning?

Think, Carrie. Smart people can get out of situations worse than this, and you’re smart, right? Don’t let a tire defeat you! She could try to change it, but if she didn’t tighten the lug nuts hard enough, it would probably be safer to drive on the rim than risk her wheel falling off. She could call for help, but who on earth would be up at this time of night? Tow truck drivers never sleep, right?

She slipped back into the front seat of her car and leaned her head against the headrest. The last thing she wanted was another expense, not to mention the awkward drive with the tow truck driver to her granny’s cottage. Then he’d know where she lived and... and…

Carrie felt panicky tears threatening her eyes. No, no, she would not let this defeat her! She knew it was exhaustion, but she couldn’t help the fear that settled in around her heart… along with the defeated feeling that stabbed right through it. First my boyfriend. Then my job. Then the move. Now, whoop-de-doo. This too. Cherry on top, here ya go.

Her eyes were attracted to a light reflecting off of her driver’s side window. A Ford truck passed her by, slowing its pace by several miles at a time. Slower, slower, slower…

Brakes squeaked. Taillights came on. Then the white of the driver’s backup lights shined in her eyes as the truck started to parallel park in front of her on the side of the road.

Carrie’s heart lodged in her throat. Not only was she isolated, but now she had company. Her finger fumbled for the lock on her door, and she punched it, feeling comforted by the resounding click throughout her car. She snapped her gaze to the door to make sure she had pushed the right button, not wanting to push the unlock button by accident.

The truck door swung open, and a long leg stepped out, its foot covered by what looked like a cowboy boot. Oh, great. A hero. Just what she needed. Should she pretend that someone else was in the car with her? Could she get out on the other side and run if she had to? What would happen to her if this guy turned out to be some kind of scoundrel? No one knew she was here; no one would ever know if she turned up missing in the woods. Her mom might figure it out when Carrie didn’t call and tell her that she made it to the cottage all right, but by then it would be too late.

The tall figure walked up to the window and paused. Carrie squeezed her eyes shut. She could at least tell him to go away. Politely, of course. She could control her fear and anger long enough to be polite, as long as she needed to. She cracked her window only enough to let a breeze leak through, but not enough for him to get his fingertips inside.

“Are you okay?” The figure leaned toward her window. He glanced at her back tire, then back at her. Carrie couldn’t make out the features on his face, but his voice had a strong, pleasant sound to it. Don’t be fooled by his voice, Carrie. She gripped the steering wheel, sweat trickling down her temple. “I’m fine. Just a flat tire is all.”

“I can see that. If you like, I can change it for you.”

Of course, he would offer that. It’s an offer that both a good Samaritan and a person with bad intentions would suggest. She didn’t want to come across as rude if he was the former option, so she diced some friendliness into her withdrawn tone. “No, no, I’m good! A tow truck will come help me out, and I’ll be on my way, but thank you!”

The guy hesitated. Carrie could draw very few conclusions, but judging by his voice, he was probably mid- to late-twenties, early-thirties at most. While the voice sounded pleasant, there was no way she was letting him help her.

He glanced one more time at her tire, then back at her. “Ma’am, I can understand why you may not want a stranger to change your tire. But it would save you a lot of time and money if you didn’t have to call that tow truck. If you like, I can change your tire for you without you even having to get out of your car. It’s up to you though. It’s just not safe for you to be out here all alone at this time of night.”

You’re preaching to the choir, there, buddy. As if pointing that out would change her mind. Still, he didn’t push her… didn’t beg her to let him help her… he just offered a safe alternative. Somehow the thought of him giving her the option to stay locked in the car soothed her enough to believe that he probably didn’t mean her any harm at all. No matter what, though, there was no way she was getting out. It irked her that he was right. She would have no idea if any tow trucks were operating this time of night, and for all she knew, this guy could have better intentions than any tow truck driver. Just because someone was a part of a company didn’t make them trustworthy. She felt her body relax into the notion and nodded. “Okay, okay. If you don’t mind, then go ahead.”

“I’ll have you back on the road in a jiffy, Ma’am.”

Ma’am. Carrie inwardly groaned. It made her feel old to hear herself called that. She wasn’t ready to leave her twenties behind. Even at twenty-three, she was still wishing time would slow down. She found the lever for her trunk with her fingertips and popped it. “Don’t mind the mess back there.”

“Ah, it’s all good.”

The man strode back to the trunk of her car, swung it open, and began to rifle through some things back there. Carrie felt her car swaying back and forth as he grabbed the spare tire and some tools from the back of her car. While still tense and wary of the stranger behind her, she had been just as dissatisfied about the tow truck option. Tomorrow she could go to the tire store and replace the tire. Good thing she had enough money stashed away for some rent plus emergencies. She felt the exhaustion begin to cloak her again and hoped it wouldn’t take too long or she would be too tired to drive.

One side of the car began to lift into the air, and with it, the burdens began to lift from her shoulders. Metal on metal, a jack was shoved underneath her car’s frame, and the vehicle settled, awkwardly balanced in the air, not unlike a seesaw. Grinding, scraping… Carrie had no idea that changing a tire could be so noisy, especially from inside the car.

As the awkward moments ticked by, she watched her clock and sat in the seat, thinking over the night’s events. She finally felt the left side of her car deflate and return to its normal balance on the road. The weight of the old wheel sank low in her trunk, which closed with a resounding thud. Her midnight hero walked back up to her window again, and she cracked it, slightly. “All done, Miss. I checked the other three tires, and they all seem to be good. You’ll need to get the donut tire changed as soon as you can, but you should be able to get to your destination safely now.”

Wow, he had even checked her other three tires. Talk about going the extra mile. “Thank you so much.” Carrie forced a little smile into her voice. “I really appreciate you doing this for me. Do you want me to…” pay you? Wasn’t that the kind thing to offer to strangers who fixed your tires?

“Not a problem!” Ignoring the offer, he stepped toward his car, lifting his entire arm in a wave as he did. “You be safe now!”

“Thank you!” Carrie closed her window the rest of the way and took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her blood cells, and replace the anxiety she had felt a few moments earlier. She was going to be all right.

She waited until the Ford pulled away before clicking off her emergency lights. Following suit, she looked over her shoulder, then pulled out onto the road herself. Let’s try this one more time.

Carrie’s GPS quipped at her that she had finally arrived just after one in the morning. She pulled into the driveway and killed her engine, laying her head back against the seat. I’ve made it. Finally safe. Pulling the keys from her ignition, Carrie filtered through them and found the key that would unlock the cottage that now belonged to her. She couldn’t believe it. Her own house. Free and clear.

Carrie could go to sleep right there in the front seat of her car, but she wanted nothing more than to stretch out on her own bed. She exited her car one final time for the night and stepped onto the cobblestone pathway to the cottage. Her ears had grown accustomed to the constant dull roar that her car had made on the road. Even music couldn’t drown out the constant hum after a while. Now that it was finally off, Carrie’s ears searched for something else to hear and were met with the sound of a chorus of crickets and other insects, along with the occasional hoot of an owl. Some people found the forest terrifying at night, but to her, it was almost like the bugs and the nocturnal birds were welcoming her home.

The house itself was like something from a movie, or a novel that she had enjoyed reading during high school. Although she couldn’t see much of it, she envisioned most of it from her memory bank. Her eyes made out the porch shadowed in the night. Memories played in a reel through her head, and she remembered all the times she had spent out there on the covered porch. Granny always had a wreath hanging on the door for any season: spring, winter, holidays, fall—she loved her decorations. Even now, a wreath for the last season Granny had been here hung on the door as if no one had ever left.

Carrie reached into her car and grabbed the overnight bag that had been her constant companion since she started this trek across the last few states. With a swipe down of her phone screen, she turned her flashlight on and let it illuminate the cobblestone path for her to follow. The blinding white light cut through the darkness and alerted her to any obstacles she might encounter.

She waved the light around the porch before stepping onto it, making sure no unfriendlies were hiding there. When she concluded that she was safe again, she slipped her key into the door and cracked it open.

The door creaked as it swung into the cottage. Carrie stepped through, leaning her body against the door to close it. Silence greeted her ears. Pure, sweet silence.

She flipped on the lights, again assuring herself that she was alone in the cottage. It gave her a feeling of isolation, but she was too tired to be afraid of anything. She climbed the stairs and found herself in her granny’s master bedroom. She’d heard that in her later years, Granny couldn’t navigate the stairs too well, so she’d set up a spare room for herself on the lower level, in what Carrie would probably turn into her office. But Carrie liked being up high. The writer in her found more inspiration in looking out a window at the ground below, being level with the birds and the squirrels. She flipped on a light switch and found the master bedroom filled with a large, queen-sized bed that was covered with a beautiful quilt she knew her grandmother had made.

Carrie set her bag down on the floor and reached out for the bed, hands stretched outward. She was tempted to hug it, but instead, she felt her body flopping down on it. The sides of the bed came up around her slender body and seemed to embrace her right back. Carrie’s eyelids dropped. With no job and nothing to do but get settled the next day, she felt slumber rolling over her in waves until her conscious mind turned off.

A pleasant warble. A chittering tweet.

Carrie’s eyes fluttered open with reluctance at the unusual sounds that greeted her ears. She groaned and rolled over onto her back. “What time is it?” she asked no one in particular. Her hands fumbled around her body until she found her phone. The flashlight hit her eyes, making her cringe, but she sighed when she saw it had only five percent battery. Really? She’d been so tired that she had left all the lights on, including the one on her phone.

Good thing she didn’t have a job to get up on time for.

Eight-thirty in the morning. Seven hours of sleep and no alertness to show for it. She sat up, her entire body groaning, and looked out the window. The sun shone pleasantly through the trees, creating little ribbons of light that danced with delight on her floor and across the foot of her bed. The birds were singing in abundance, announcing their little “good mornings” in the most beautiful way possible.

Despite the exhaustion that still lingered, Carrie felt herself warming to the idea that her new home was the stuff of dreams. A beautiful cottage at the end of a secluded driveway, with the sound of a creek laughing and babbling, right behind her house. She stretched out on her bed, crossing her arms behind her head, and listened to the water rippling through the creek. There was no other sound more beautiful than the sound of rushing water. It was as if in those few moments she lay there, the sound of the water itself washed away all of her stresses and cares.

After a few minutes, Carrie forced herself to get up. She needed a nice cup of coffee to start her day. She’d always been a morning person, even after a long trip such as the one she had the day before. After setting some coffee to brew, Carrie began the grueling task of hauling in boxes from her car. She hated the work of unloading as she was forever bumping her head on the low roof of her car, so she was thankful that the small U-Haul carried most of her things.

And she was more than ready to get settled and get the mess behind her! There was nothing more dissatisfying than stacks of boxes lingering around, holding things that were waiting to be put away in their new homes. As the stack of boxes in the living room began to grow higher than herself, Carrie placed her hands on the small of her back and pulled her elbows backward, trying to stretch her back and pop everything back into place. Writing on a laptop took up most of her time when at work, and she never wanted to get the back and neck pains that most office workers succumbed to.

While enjoying her little respite, her eyes swept over her new home, taking in the décor that her grandmother had set up over the last few years. Granny had always been a picture taker and had at least one or more pictures from even the smallest visit. She had proudly displayed a lifetime of memories on the wall for anyone to walk in and see. They said that one could tell a lot about a person from the pictures hanging on their walls and Granny’s walls told Carrie what she already knew… Granny had adored her family, every member, every child, every adult. Her heart softened at the thought.

Granny had spent the last few years of her life enjoying her little paradise away from the rest of the world, surrounded by reflections of the things she loved. The cross-stitch picture on the TV proclaimed her love for crafting, and the quilt draped over her recliner announced her love for quilting. Tears pricked Carrie’s eyes. I miss you, Granny. Thank you for this chance to live close to you. Carrie walked up to the wall, running her fingers over some of the pictures. Family pictures of Granny and her siblings. Pictures of her family, her grandchildren. Carrie smiled at a picture she had of Carrie, adorned in a cowgirl hat, boots, and rope. Carrie had loved horses so much when she was a child that everyone was sure she would be a ranch owner when she grew up. But no… writing took that place in her heart rather quickly. Once her first poem was published in the school paper, the rest was history.

One particular picture caught her attention, and she gave in to the emotion that had already welled up inside her; Aunt Ashley and Carrie’s cousin, Shelley, Ashley’s daughter, standing in front of Granny’s cottage and smiling, leaning their heads on one another. Carrie stared at the picture, memories welling up in her eyes. Aunt Ashley lived only a few minutes away, right there in Juniper Springs, and Carrie would probably never get the chance to meet up with her. It was like she was all alone in this town because Aunt Ashley would never speak a kind word to her. She had demonstrated how furious she was when Carrie had inherited the cottage instead of her, and that had slammed the door on the possibility of any relationship with her.

Carrie blew a wisp of hair out of her face. There was no sense in dwelling on the memories or the hope of a future that could never be. The only thing to do now was get herself settled and, when she was ready, call Lizzie and set up a job interview.

Ryan Blair pulled his truck into a parking spot and turned the key in the ignition. The engine hummed to a stop as he stepped out of the truck and breathed in the fresh stain smell emanating from his cousin’s clinic. The building was so new that it practically sparkled fresh, somehow looking like a Christmas present that had just been opened.

The last time Ryan had been to the clinic had been before it had burned to the ground late that past November… and oh, how different it had looked then. The sign had been missing letters, the paint had been peeling, and the overall feeling had been very unassuming. Now that his cousin had taken it over, after Ryan’s aunt had passed away, the entire clinic put off a very welcoming spirit, even for a place where sick people gathered to get well again. The logs that made up the structure were stained with a dark mahogany color, a small awning overshadowed the front door, and the sign actually contained all the needed letters like it hadn’t in a long time: Juniper Springs Clinic. The log-cabin style clinic complemented the mountain ambiance of the town with perfection. Lance was gifted that way. How he was able to walk into a mess and turn it into a masterpiece was beyond Ryan, but he applauded the efforts nonetheless. Now he was running both a pharmacy and a clinic just as it was before, only without the scandal that had blown up at the clinic last November. Quite literally, actually.

Ryan held his head high and kept his strides even as he opened the door to the clinic portion of the building. The waiting room had a bright, sunny paint to it with pictures of deer, bears, and hunting lodges lining the walls. The smell of fresh paint assaulted his nose, but a woodsy scent strove to cover it up. A candle, perhaps, or an air freshener? Lance was always all about his environment smelling better than just a regular sterile hospital. Ryan strode up to the front counter where the receptionists sat behind a glass pane with little holes cut into it to make speaking with them easier. While it was for their health and protection, Ryan had always thought that it resembled little bugs being trapped in a container with holes poked in the top so they could breathe.

“May I help you?” A middle-aged receptionist lifted her head, extending to him a greeting that made him feel as welcome as the ambiance of the clinic did.

“Yes,” Ryan spoke with confidence. The authority of being related to the owner leaked into his voice. “I’m here to see my cousin, Dr. Blair. He’s expecting me.”

“He’s just finishing up with a patient.” The woman gestured to the waiting room. “You’re welcome to wait here until he’s finished.”

Ryan placed his palm on the counter and dragged it off, slowly, as if closing a deal of some kind. “Thank you.” He turned, setting his sights on a few chairs that weren’t occupied by anyone in the near vicinity, and sat down. He opened the pages of his trusty notebook and began going over the list of questions he wanted to ask his cousin if he had the time today.

“Breathe in for me…” Dr. Lance Blair pressed his stethoscope against the chest of his patient, listening to the flawless breathing. “And out again.”

Mr. Hillard, an English teacher for Juniper Springs High School and loved by many students, released the breath that he had been controlling. Lance took the earpieces out of his ears and looped the stethoscope around his neck. “You’re in great condition, Mr. Hillard. I can’t say the same for everyone who comes in here around your age, but you are in excellent health.” Lance chuckled a bit, giving some thought to the aches and pains he, himself, was too young to be feeling. “What’s your secret, hmm?”

Mr. Hillard laughed and gave a shrug as if living a healthy lifestyle for him was nothing. “You know the drill. I eat my green veggies, I make sure to incorporate exercise into my daily routine—it’s really very simple for me.”

“I can see that.” Lance nodded to him. “Your heart is in excellent condition, as are your lungs. Do you even have any aches or pains to speak of?”

“Only when I sleep wrong on my pillow.” Mr. Hillard admitted with a knowing smile. Lance, again, had to agree. Everyone over the age of twenty-two had experienced it. That feeling of being run over by a semitruck, dragged thirty miles through the desert, and clobbered with a brick merely by sleeping on their pillow wrong. That horrid crimp in the neck that left you no choice but to push through the pain. It certainly wasn’t the worst he had ever felt in his lifetime, but it wasn’t pleasant either. “I can say that you’re lucky. I think we are done here for the day.”

“All right.” Mr. Hillard set about gathering his things. “Thanks again, Doc. The clinic looks great, by the way.”

“It’ll be even better when the smell of the stain wears off.” Lance admitted. “The stuff makes my stomach churn.”

“You’ve really done a lot for this small town.” Mr. Hillard’s voice held a somber note. Lance knew that he was probably thinking of the woman who had owned the clinic before him, his own mother, Mariann West. The thought of her murder last November still thrust a stab of pain through his heart, but he did his best to honor her memory by managing the clinic above and beyond the best it could be. “I’ve lived here all my life.” Mr. Hillard went on. “Taught school here, seen kids come and go from this town, and I can say that what you’re doing here is noticeable. Juniper Springs really appreciates you honoring the small-town ambiance instead of bringing your Seattle Hospital ways with you.”

Lance let his laughter bubble up in response. “I can honestly say that I was more than happy to leave the big-city lifestyle behind.”

Lance followed Mr. Hillard out into the waiting room. He knew his cousin had been waiting for a few minutes, and he didn’t want to keep him any longer. Mr. Hillard, one of only a few patients who didn’t need to stop by the pharmacy after his visit, strode right out of the door and into a sunny day as bright as his countenance. There was a time when Lance would have envied Mr. Hillard for the cozy life he seemed to live. Certainly, he must know heartbreak, but probably not the tragedies that Lance had endured up close and personal. But now Lance’s life sparkled with the hint of a new beginning, and he was happy with it so far.

There was that voice he knew—sometimes getting mistaken for his own, as both Ryan and Lance had a commanding, mellow tone to their voice. Ryan glanced behind him and rolled to his feet when Lance entered the waiting area. He hadn’t seen his cousin since the holidays, and then only briefly. “Hey, man!”

Lance clapped him on the back, grinning broadly, something he wouldn’t have done when he had returned from the military a few years ago. Something, or someone rather, had brought that light back in his eyes, and it was good to see. “Long time no see! How are you doing?”

“Couldn’t be better.” Ryan settled back down in the waiting room chairs, Lance sitting beside him. Ryan crossed his right ankle over his left knee and gathered his notebook again.

“What have you been up to?” Lance asked.

“Oh, just working.” Ryan set his arm on the back of the chair. “You know that I run the Juniper Springs Times—been doing it since shortly after I got out of high school. The paper is going well.” He nodded in agreement with himself. “Although there isn’t much to write about at present.”

“Just working?” Lance asked with a slight tilt of his head. “No girlfriend, no social life?”

“Ah,” Ryan scratched the back of his head and breathed a laugh. “You know I don’t have time for either of those things. Just heading up the paper in town keeps me busy enough.”

“Yeah, I read the paper every chance I get.” Lance acknowledged. “You do a great job there. The articles actually make sense when I read them. You know how to get the scoop.”

“That I do.” Ryan replied. “Years of experience and lots of connections in this town get me to where we need to go. Which is why I’m here.” He shot Lance what he hoped was a winning grin. “I was wanting to run a story on the new clinic and was hoping we could set up an interview sometime? The new clinic has been the talk of the town lately, and I was hoping to get the scoop on it before everyone else did.”

“I’d be happy to support you and schedule an interview.” Lance glanced up at the wall, his eyes focusing in on a calendar. How could he even see that far? “But it can’t be today. Or this week, probably. We’re swamped. The mobile clinic was enough to get us by, but certainly not enough for these good folks. They’re flooding us with business now.”

“Good to know. And good for you.” Ryan nodded toward his cousin. “So, let’s say I’ll get in touch with you next week and we can set up a time for when you’re available?”

“Sounds good to me.” Lance agreed. A commotion sounded from the receptionist’s desk, and he glanced over. “I’d better go see what those hens are up to now.”

Ryan hid a laugh. “Hens?”

“They’re always clucking about something.” Lance winked, then stood to his feet. He extended a hand to Ryan. “Thanks again, buddy. I’ll talk to you next week.”

“You too.” Ryan loved it… getting the interviews he needed anywhere he went, not only to help his paper grow but to inform the citizens of Juniper Springs about every little detail that went on in their town… not that there was much to report. Juniper Springs, other than the events of a crazy killer occurring last November, was a quiet little town.

Nothing ever happened there.

The open windows welcomed the fresh morning air into the cottage.

August certainly did have its share of summer heat, but Carrie was never one to crank the air conditioning all the way up once it reached seventy, or crank the heat on when it reached sixty-nine. There were few things she loved more than fresh air, and today was one of those days. The wind teased the lacy curtains, blowing them up and back down again.

A week had gone by, and although Carrie had moved her things around to settle in, she hadn’t wanted to destroy the beautiful shrine to the family that her grandmother had made. She didn’t touch the hand-made quilts, the kitchen décor, the pictures on the wall. She left every bit of Granny that she could, but added her own touch; one more suitable for a twenty-three-year-old girl. There were other pictures, too, but Carrie loved the old-fashioned look of things and enjoyed the scenery that most of the other pictures offered.

She began to feel more at home once her own clothes hung in the closet and her own soap and towels filled the bathroom, but the most important room was her office. She loved the idea of being able to write in her own space, and the spare room Granny had set up was perfect. Moving the bed into the storage area outside, Carrie replaced it with a futon, desk, and office chair. She had a shelf dedicated to her favorite drink, tea, within easy reach while typing away at her keyboard. The desk boasted little other than a container for some pens, office supplies, and her laptop, which had been idle since she had arrived in Juniper Springs.

Though it wouldn’t be for much longer.

Carrie settled on the couch and opened her phone. Seven days had passed for her to enjoy the freedom of sleeping an extra hour if she felt like it or staying up late to enjoy a show, but now the responsibility of work called her. And she was eager to answer the call.

She scrolled through her old contact numbers until she came across Lizzie’s. She pressed the number and held the phone to her ear, hoping beyond hope that she still had the same number.

An older, more mature Lizzie’s voice sounded on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lizzie, this is Carrie Sweet.” She swallowed, also hoping the girl’s memory wouldn’t fail her now. “How are you?”

Lizzie gasped. “Oh, my goodness, Carrie! How in the world are you? I haven’t heard from you in ages!”

“I know. It’s been forever!” A smile creased the corners of Carrie’s mouth, and she leaned back, allowing the sofa cushions to enfold her. “I’ve definitely been hanging in there. Hit a few bumps in the road, but you know, that happens to all of us, right?”

“It does, but I’m sorry to hear that. Are you back in town?”

“Actually, I just moved back to Juniper Springs. Mom moved to Denver with her new husband, and I had to come back here. Life in Oregon just didn’t work out.” She sighed, closing her eyes to fight off the visions of the memories.

“That’s terrible. Where are you staying?”

“Granny passed away a few months ago, and she left her cottage to me.”

Lizzie gasped again. “What? For real? I mean, I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother, but you have her cottage?”

“Yes!” Carrie felt her excitement uncoiling in her chest every time she talked about it. Sure, life was down in the dumps at the moment, but she had a cottage to call her own and nothing could dampen that. “Oh, and it’s a beautiful cottage too. Washer, dryer, bed—everything—I just had a few things to bring with me, so I’m already settled.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Carrie could launch into her spiel of asking Lizzie for a job, but she didn’t want to come across as too self-focused. Besides, Lizzie still had that friendly, draw-you-in personality that had sparked a close friendship between her and Carrie in high school… the kind that drew you into hours of conversation when you had only fifteen minutes to chat. Carrie’s best friend, Veronica King, had left before high school began, leaving a void in Carrie’s social life as she entered into the most difficult years of school. That is, until Lizzie entered, and the two had clicked in a single afternoon. They both had shared a passion for writing, both took Mr. Hillard’s English classes together, and both enjoyed afternoons spent writing stories and creating role-play games with their characters. The memories embraced Carrie now, like the couch cushions behind her back, and for a moment in time, the world felt all right again. She was bathed in sunlight, driving away the shadows that had become Carrie’s life. She needed to know how her high school friend was getting along in life. “So, what about you? Good job, good family?”

“I still work at the newspaper office!”

Carrie blew out an eased breath. So, she still worked there. Good. The chances of her getting the job were a hundred times better than if Lizzie had moved on.

“And I absolutely love it here. The work is stimulating and satisfying. I feel like I’m actually doing something with my life that I’m proud of, you know? I’m also engaged to a really great guy. Remember Evan, the nerd from high school?”

No, not Evan who looked like he had walked right off of the pages of a science fiction novel! With the geeky glasses and tall skinny appearance? “No! Really? Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” Lizzie squealed. “We’re getting married next year. What about you? Do you have a boyfriend pining for you back in Oregon?”

Ouch. Of course, she would ask about that. Carrie felt the question stab through her heart. Lizzie had intended it as Cupid’s arrow, but to her, it was the poisonous arrow of death. “Um,” she dragged out the word. “No, no, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Lizzie gasped. “Oh, girl, I’m sorry. Why does it sound like it was a complicated mess?”

“It was.” Carrie clamped her arm over her stomach. “The guy was a jerk, really. He said my standards were too high so he, um…”

Cheated on me with the skank who led to my demise at the magazine office and ruined my entire life…

“Broke up with me.”

Painful silence greeted her ears. Had Lizzie put the phone down to talk to someone and Carrie would have to repeat that entire scenario? When she spoke again, she knew that wasn’t the case. Her silence had been of a different nature… pondering the wisdom in asking her next question, and asking it anyway. “So, you’re still going with the ‘waiting’ game, huh?”

The one thing that Lizzie and Carrie had never agreed on. She huffed a sigh. “Yeah.”

“Girl, I told you, the whole ‘waiting’ thing is never gonna fly. It’s not going to get you places, and it’s also not going to get you good relationships. I don’t know a single guy who would be willing to be put through the wait that you’re expecting.”

She didn’t call to get a lecture about her purity, and she didn’t want to discuss it either. Why were they even talking about this? “Look, it’s not about that. The fact is, he cheated on me, and I realize that the right guy would never do that and would never push my boundaries, so I’m happy to move on. There’s more to the story than just that, so…”

“I’m sorry, Care.”

Carrie tried to add some pep back into her voice. “It’s all good! We can agree to disagree. Hey, you still work at the paper office you said?”

“Yeah?” The warmth was back in Lizzie’s voice, gaining strength as she spoke.

“Well, I was wondering. You had offered me a job there about three years ago, and I was unable to take it.” Because I thought my life was going somewhere other than Juniper Springs. “Is the offer still open? If it is, I was wondering if I could talk to you about it.”

“Yes, it’s still open! We have a position open right now, as a matter of fact. So, if you want to, you can come down today to discuss it!”

“Great! I can come down today!” Carrie couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice. It was her friend, so she didn’t mind as much. Lizzie wasn’t some stuck-up snob who would look down on Carrie’s “unprofessional” enthusiasm. If anyone had that, between the two, it was Lizzie. “What time?”

“Can you do one forty-five? I have a meeting with my boss, and after that, I should be free.”

Carrie counted down the hours. “One forty-five is perfect.”

Dress to impress. Fake it till ya make it. Carrie had staked her entire career on cute little rhymes like that that encouraged her to do her absolute best and mask the discomfort she had behind a facade of confidence. She stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, judging her appearance. Just because Lizzie was her friend didn’t mean that the job would automatically go to her if she didn’t look or act her best, so she forced herself to think of it as a regular interview. Her eyes swept over her red and black pinstriped skirt that extended a little below her knees. Her heels were a perfect match to the outfit, and she chose a dark red blouse to compliment the red pinstripes that wrapped around the skirt. She wore just enough makeup to be professional, but not caked on to look fake. As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she gave herself a pep talk.

You really are beautiful, Carrie. Don’t let Jason or anyone make you think otherwise.

Was she really, though? She had a dark blue tint to her eyes that popped whenever she wore darker colors like red, green, or black. Blue was the best, but Carrie didn’t have any professional-looking blue blouses. Not yet, that is. Her dark brown hair hung in perfectly brushed waves around her shoulders, also creating a pleasant contrast to the dark blouse. Her eyes popped, her hair glowed, and she was ready to take on the world.

Fifteen minutes later, Carrie headed to the newspaper office. Her goal of arriving ten minutes early was met, and she silently patted herself on the back for being early. That would leave a good impression for sure.

I may not be perfect… but at least I’m early.

She inflated her lungs with a sigh that was meant to give her strength and stamina, but inside, the voices began pounding at her thoughts again with awls and hammers. Do you really think you’re good enough to get this job? You haven’t written for a newspaper before. You were fired from your magazine job, so how is that going to look on your resume? All the thick, beautiful resume paper in the world isn’t going to hide that fact.

Carrie gritted her teeth and exited her car with determination. She lifted her chin as high as she could to appear that she knew what she was doing, even though her insides quaked with anticipation.

Is this the door? Do I go in the front door or somewhere else? What if I go into employees only somehow? She wasn’t going to let the fear show in her eyes.

She pushed on the door, completely ignoring the thoughts in her head, and stepped through. Just do it, she told herself. Her fears melted as soon as she saw Lizzie with her beaming smile and snazzy outfit. Carrie was definitely not overdressed.

She had a few seconds to look around the newspaper office. While she had imagined a neatly organized little area for people to hide away and write, the office looked like just any ordinary nine-to-five cell. The grey carpet groaned out at least twenty years of being walked on and never being changed. Cleaned? One could only hope. At least the office had cubicles for the most part. Framed by oak-trimmed walls that were just low enough to peer over while being seated, they were staggered throughout the room at different angles. Toward the back, another wall created a hallway with two different directions to go. She guessed that one was probably another office, and one was perhaps a break room.

The only desk not in a cubicle was the lifeless, grey desk right up front where a young girl sat. Lizzie had herself seated on the girl’s desk, but as soon as Carrie walked in, Lizzie slid off and jumped to her feet.

“Carrie, how are you, girl?” Lizzie crossed the feet between them in seconds and wrapped Carrie in a roughly affectionate hug. Lizzie hadn’t changed a bit since high school other than some minor aging in her face. Carrie was never able to tell if her hair was naturally blond or dark brown as it had been streaked with such since the day they’d met. She still wore her glasses, tucked into the pile of hair on her head; that fluffy, messy bun she’d always liked so much. Her gaudy, floral blouse screamed out ‘Attention!’ from the moment you saw her. But Lizzie’s personality, Carrie knew, would welcome anyone, whether they were rich or poor, or whether had a good life or a bucketload of mistakes like Carrie.

Carrie found herself wishing her best friend’s embrace never ended, but it did all too soon. “Glad to be here!” She motioned a wave to the receptionist. “Hi.”

The girl, shyer than Carrie had ever been, fingered a wave back.

“Come on over to my desk; let’s have a little chat. Thank you for being early.” Lizzie didn’t walk; she sprang to her cubicle. Carrie was sure that her shoes had springs in the heels. How could anyone be that cheery? The blood in her veins was more energy drink than blood, maybe?

Lizzie seated herself on the chair inside her cubicle. She nodded to the one across the hall. “Pull up that chair right there. Mark is our main photographer; he’s out shooting some pics of the bear that was in someone’s swimming pool this morning.”

Bear? In someone’s swimming pool? Carrie paused, her fingertips just barely touching the chair. Yet another reason to be overjoyed about moving back to Juniper Springs. She pulled the chair over and sat in it, crossing her legs. She watched as Lizzie struggled a bit to cross her own, trying to mask her new, more generous body shape. Carrie would have to remind her it wasn’t the outward appearance that defined someone; it was their heart. She herself had promised to live by that motto for her entire life. She hadn’t done a good job of it though. Hence, why she had fallen for Jason. She’d ignored the red flags… poor, poor judgment.

Lizzie’s desk was a reflection of exactly who she was. An extra-large drink sitting on a coaster, anime pop figures and small posters of her favorite shows lined the walls. Not a single square inch of room for anything else. How could she work in such a distracting environment? It was even difficult for Carrie to focus on the interview. She needed order.

“So…tell me a little about yourself.” Lizzie laughed. “I know, I know, I already know you but…”

“Standard interview questions, yes, I get it.” Carrie grinned. “Well, I’m twenty-three. I have been writing since before high school and have only worked to improve myself since then. Um,” Carrie kicked herself. Um? You’re a writer, you can come up with a different word to fill the silence! Might as well come clean with the other side too. “I should let you know that I worked for a magazine company back home in Oregon, but I was—” Should she? Yeah, she should. Honesty was better than a discovery later on down the road. She dove in with both hands and feet. “Fired, but not for anything I did.”

“Fired? Who on earth would fire you?” Lizzie recrossed her leg, adjusting in her seat.

“My ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend.” Bitterness dripped from her tone. “She started a rumor about me, which wasn’t true. She said I was leaking information to competitors. So instead of examining both sides of the story, they fired me instead. No one would discredit Angela... she was personal friends with the other… well, you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know.” Lizzie glared at Carrie as if imagining Angela there. “Angela, huh?”

“Right?” Carrie tried not to laugh. “Talk about opposite day.”

“Well, I’m sorry that she put you through that. But what’s a loss for them is a huge win for us!”

Hope had ignited in her heart since she had phoned the newspaper office, but now it was set ablaze.

“How fast can you type?”

“Last I timed it, 125 words per minute,” she announced proudly. “Though I type slower under pressure.”

“Girl, you fly over the keyboard!” Lizzie admonished. “You might as well be talk-typing at that rate.”

“I do that slower because I spell-check everything.” Carrie laughed.

“You’re comfortable doing interviews? Going places to do some…” A mysterious and excited look flashed in Lizzie’s eyes like she was about to share some juicy gossip. “…investigating?”

“Sure am. I did it all the time for the magazine,” Carrie proudly shared.

“Not that we have anything exciting ever happen in Juniper Springs. The most excitement we get is car accidents, the latest football news, hunting season, an occasional homicide, and arson.” She practically jumped in her seat. “You should have been here last November. What Valentine’s Day is to a flower shop, November was to the Juniper Springs Times. Some guy at the old clinic was stealing meds, killed the owner, and tried to burn down the evidence! We had a private investigator, the new owner of the clinic, the police, and everyone in on it. It was like one of those crime novels I read.”

“Wow.” Carrie nodded the entire time. Would she ever land a story that exciting? She could imagine herself driving to the scene of such a crime, getting all the exclusive information, and being the first to broadcast it in the paper. She imagined it now. Juniper Springs Killer Finally Caught, Police Say. Written by Carrie Sweet. It was music to her ears.

“So, that being said,” Lizzie found her serious side again and discussed payment options for Carrie. Carrie quickly did the math in her head and determined it was enough for her to survive plus some. And doing what she loved? This was too good to be true.

“We are a bit understaffed, which isn’t really an issue since a lot isn’t going on, but as we get closer to the holidays, the high school games will need coverage. And we’ve got new properties going up, so we’ll need someone, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re hired!”

Carrie straightened, dropping her professional air. “Really?”

“Really!” Lizzie’s face scrunched into an overly excited expression. “I’m so happy we’re finally going to be working together!”

“Me too! Thank you!” Although Lizzie’s enthusiasm tempted her to erupt with the same, Carrie didn’t want to appear immature to anyone, so she toned it down. “Thank you so much for this opportunity; it means so much to me.”

“Come on—I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Lizzie sprang up and led her around the office. “This is Beth, our secretary.”

The shy girl waved again. This time she managed to squeak out a “hi.”

“Happy to be working with you,” Carrie responded with all the sincerity she could muster.

“Mark—our best photographer—you’ll meet him. Super tall guy with white hair, boisterous voice—he’s great.”

While she was speaking, one of the back doors creaked open. Carrie glanced over, stopping short as a young man emerged from the back. His dark eyes froze her right in her steps. His sharp jawline carved into her delightfully, and his stance was one of power.

“Right on cue.” Lizzie walked right up to him. She still had the cheerfulness in her voice, but it wasn’t over the top. She had toned it down in about three seconds flat. She made her way across the office to the newcomer, probably her manager, but the spring was gone from her step. Carrie found herself hesitant. She didn’t want to speak, lest the frog in her throat made a squawk she never wanted. She had the sudden need to impress this man, despite the fact that he looked maybe only a little older than she was.

“Mr. Blair, this is Carrie Sweet. She’s the girl who came in for an interview today, and I’ve asked her to join our team. Carrie, this is Ryan Blair, the owner of the Juniper Springs Times.”

The owner? She’d be working for him? This time, Carrie really did cough, masking it in the bend of her elbow.

He extended a hand to her. The very motion set her heart ablaze. His presence swallowed her, and a buzzing beehive suddenly erupted into her thoughts. The man, Ryan Blair—what a magnificent name—smiled, yes, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was concealed behind a mask of impenetrable professionalism. Not grumpy, Carrie noted, just very, very serious. Maybe a bit too serious. “Glad to have you on board, Miss Sweet.”

“Call me Carrie.” Carrie took his hand, nearly cringing at the electric spark that shot up her arm and zapped its way into her heart. “Please.”

“Carrie.” He nodded to her and released her hand. In the seconds that it took for him to say her name, Carrie understood why Lizzie had toned down her actions and voice. She could see from Ryan’s persona that he would take no nonsense from anyone. Simply by walking into the room, he had become like a hawk flying high over its prey. Everyone scattered into undivided attention on their work. His deep, rich, resonant voice held a tone of a challenge. Cross me. I dare you. I will win. And she had no doubt that he would. “Thank you for coming in today. I trust that Lizzie went over everything with you. Scheduling, start date, pay?”

Oh, the pay they had, but she had forgotten to ask when she could start working. She couldn’t lie. “Um, well,” You said “um” again. Stop it, Carrie! Her face burned red. “We did talk about pay, but the start date is yet to be determined.”

Ryan cast a glance at Lizzie and raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget to set a date for her to start working?”

“I was waiting to clear it with you.” Lizzie’s voice held a confidence that she couldn’t possibly be feeling. Nothing escaped this man’s attention. And if someone messed up, he was sure to catch it with that super magnet gaze of his. “Okay. Well, let me just go over it with you so we’re clear. The hours are Monday through Friday from eight a.m. to five p.m. We stagger lunches from eleven to one; you’ll get an hour. Weekends are off unless there is a need to come in on Saturday because we’re working a big story. Of course, there will be some overtime hours involved if you are working on a big story. Is that agreeable for you?”

Carrie swallowed. He omitted no details either. “Yes, sir.”

“Great.” He clapped his hands together, glancing around the office for a moment before returning that gaze to settle on her eyes. She dared not look away, even though that look of his could bring her down to a smaller version of herself. “We’re very serious about how we do things. I’ve been running the paper since I was out of high school, and I’d like to keep up the good reputation that it has. I trust that you will represent the company in a manner that’s worthy of that reputation.”

Was that a compliment, an insult, a warning? Or all three? Lizzie had welcomed her with open arms, but Ryan, handsome though he was, seemed to be laying out the rules for her: take it or leave it.

“Of course,” she replied, dousing her answer in all the politeness and confidence she had. She didn’t even know where she got it from at this point. “I will uphold the reputation and do my best for the paper. I’m honored to be a part of the Juniper Springs Times and look forward to working with you.”

Had she said too much? Was Ryan a man of few words?

There was that smile again. Professional. Polite. Teasing the corners of the lips but never lighting the face. “I look forward to working with you as well. Lizzie, here, will show you to your desk.” He offered one final time, "We’re glad to have you with us, Carrie.”

Her mind started fluttering. Was he impressed, or had she blown it? Did he distrust her already? Was her personality too bubbly, and he thought she wasn’t as serious-minded as she could be? If anyone was bubbly, it was her. Should she tone down her chipper behavior? Maybe he didn’t like Lizzie’s demeanor but kept her because she was good? What if Carrie wasn’t as good as she thought? She couldn’t live up to Jason’s standards and hadn’t been a good enough employee for the magazine office to give her a second chance... what if she wasn’t that good after all? Despite the joy of landing a new job, Carrie felt the weight of the world on her shoulders now and wanted to cry.

As Ryan strode away, bitterness rose like bile in her throat. Who did he think he was? The man seemed very confident in himself. While Carrie strove to show how confident she was, she didn’t want to ever appear arrogant. He had practically given her a list of his achievements and what she had to do to not mess them up.

“Don’t mind Ryan,” Lizzie said as she walked toward an empty cubicle. It almost seemed like she was shadowing Ryan back to his office. “He seems really stern, but he just takes his job very seriously. He has no room for unprofessionalism. He’s just different around new people, but he’s really not that bad. He’s a great boss with high standards. Don’t let him intimidate you.”

Different was a word for it. Carrie could have strangled herself. She had allowed herself to be drawn in by his outstandingly handsome appearance but had neglected to follow her own strategy of never looking at outward appearances before gazing into the heart. She had failed again. She should most definitely never date again. He had shown her where his heart was. His achievements. His paper. His reputation.

And she’d uphold it… although begrudgingly. And the spark that had been sent into her own heart began to fade. It still danced a bit, though not as gleefully as before.

“Your desk is in the back corner,” Lizzie announced. “I’m sorry it isn’t much.”

“No! I love it!” The cubicle was enough to cheer her up. She loved the secluded cover, and if her desk had been anywhere close to Lizzie’s, she’d never get any work done unless she opted to write from home. Her corner was her corner. She was determined to keep it neat, tidy, and decorated only with her favorite things in life—beauty: flowers, birds, particularly her favorite flower, the pansy. Remembrance.

She glanced over her shoulder and mentally groaned. The only problem with her new office was the fact that it was so close to the office of her new boss where she would be working under his watchful and quite possibly critical gaze: the scrutinous and devilishly handsome eyes of Ryan Blair.

Ryan raked his fingers through his hair, once he was safely concealed behind the door of his office. What was that, Blair? ‘We take things very seriously here.’ What kind of answer was that? She probably thinks you’re a jerk!

How could he have fumbled out the words and launched into a list of his achievements? He had desperately wanted her to be impressed. Instead? She was disgusted. And rightfully so. He had to make things right with her. He had to.

It wasn’t just the fact that she had a bombshell beauty that created nuclear havoc in his brain. He was surprised she hadn’t recognized his voice. But he had recognized her. She was all dolled up today, but the last time he’d seen her lovely blue eyes was when they were peeking through the crack in her little car window. He wanted to ask how her tire was doing and if she got a new one. But he had to bide his time. Wait for the right moment. Especially now that he had blown it.

He tipped his fingers to the blinds and pulled them down, revealing Carrie leaving the office. Her absence left him feeling choked for air. He could not believe that he was working with her. He saw past the beauty—past the damsel in distress on the side of the road.

He saw clear back into high school as he had watched her from afar. She had spent minimal time on the cheerleading squad, but he had enjoyed the movements of her body as she danced gracefully in the afternoon light… the way the sunlight had reflected off her hair and the youthful innocence that had beamed from her dazzling blue eyes. He drew in a breath, holding on to that memory.

He’d make it right with her. He would. Maybe apologize—say he was taken off guard. For now, he was just thrilled to have the same woman on board with him that he had gazed at during his high school years, yearning to speak with her, but never having an ounce of courage to do so. The most beautiful woman in the world.

Avery Hart always had too many tabs open on her computer. And in her mind.

Today her focus had been consumed by the different cases floating around the desk at her attorney’s office. Once again her calendar had something scribbled on nearly every day of the week, but not all of it was work related. Her eyes rested on the circled date that approached with the speed of the molasses drawn from the trees in January.

Lunch with Lance. 12:30.

Her smile flickered, knowing that she would be seeing him very shortly. She and her boyfriend Lance tried to work time for each other around their busy schedules, but it wasn’t easy. Sometimes it seemed impossible.

Avery settled back in her chair, mentally ticking off the schedule set before her. For as busy as she was, she wasn’t overwhelmed, and it felt good for a change. Things in one court case were wrapping up nicely while another was just getting started.

As if reading her thoughts, the bell ringtone that connected clients to her direct PI line filled the room with an ear-splitting disruption. She laid her pen down, picking up her phone. The number was one she didn’t recognize, and her curiosity piqued.

She swiped the screen and held the phone to her ear. “Avery Hart, Private Investigator, how may I assist you?”

A woman coughed on the other end—the throaty kind of cough that ground its way through your chest. “I’m sorry. Right when you picked up the phone!”

Avery breathed a smile, remembering her phone etiquette and how challenging it was some days. “That’s all right, ma’am.”

“Is this Avery Hart?”

Again, phone etiquette! Avery kept her voice as patient as she could. “Yes, it is.” Okay, the woman didn’t hear me because she was coughing. Relax, Avery.

“Okay. I have a question. I’m not sure how to do this. I’ve never done anything like this before. But I am looking to hire a private investigator for a family matter.”

Family matter. Who was cheating? Maybe it was an inheritance? Avery readied her pen.

“Can you take on homicides?”

Avery stopped in her tracks. Her mind spun. Of course, she took on homicides. The last one she attempted had nearly gotten her and Lance killed. “Yes, ma’am, I can take on homicides. Do you suspect homicide, or is it confirmed? Have you notified the police?”

“The police aren’t doing squat.” The woman barked, not at Avery but at the situation. Avery blinked in surprise at the woman’s outburst. It wasn’t like her friend Chief Simmons to leave stones unturned, but sometimes he did brush over things that should otherwise be investigated.

“Okay. Please tell me more.”

The woman sighed. “I’m sorry. My name is Pam Ingress, and my daughter was found dead a month or so ago. They ruled it as a drug overdose, but none of us believe it was. You see, my daughter, Jenny, she did get into drugs years ago, but she had been clean for five years. And I’m sure that if she was into drugs as heavily as she was, we would have seen signs of her relapsing, but we didn’t. She’s been clean as a whistle.”

Avery took notes. The woman’s name, her daughter. “Jenny Ingress, is that correct? Or is she married?”

“Not married. She had a long-term boyfriend, but he’s been out of the picture for quite some time.”

Boyfriend bye-bye. “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your daughter?”

The woman sniffed. “No. Jenny was a gem everywhere she went. She had the sweetest personality…” Pam’s voice cracked with emotion.

Avery paused, giving Pam time to compose herself. She let herself feel the compassion she did for every client, knowing that they were going through one of the worst times in their lives. Every case was a story, she told herself, not a number.

“I’m sorry. This has all been so sudden.”

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Avery wished she could hand the woman a box of tissues and sit with her instead of having this talk over the phone. “When was the last time you saw your daughter?”

“A few days before she was found dead. I feel so horrible. She was found by a package delivery guy. A delivery driver! Her own mother didn’t even know she was dead!” She started to sob.

“We can’t always be responsible for not monitoring our loved ones’ lives twenty-four seven.” Avery jotted some things down. “She didn’t live with you, then?”

“No. But she came around often… trying to rebuild relationships with her siblings and parents after being hooked on heroin all those years. We were so proud of her. She was clean again.”

So, Jenny had gotten clean from heroin. Died of a suspected overdose. Avery had questions building like a cumulonimbus cloud in her head. “May I take your number, Pam? There are a few more questions I have, and then we can get this ball rolling.”

Avery hung up the phone. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the notes she had taken. Was she ready to take on another possible homicide case? It sounded so similar to the one that she had taken last year.

Accident? Or not?

She was ready. It was like a person who loved the ocean and just had to keep returning to it. Likewise, she had to keep returning to the large cases like this that could potentially turn into something bigger.

Time to put her hat in the ring once again.

It felt so good to be sitting behind a desk again.

Carrie had selected every piece of her outfit with care, including a star that she always wore to new adventures. It was like a good luck charm. Complete with earrings and light makeup, she looked ready to take on the world.

She did, however, hate being the awkward new girl. Having to ask Lizzie where everything was, going through the step by step on how to clock in, what time lunch was, what the job entailed. She wanted to be so good at her job that she worked circles around everyone else and to know the inner workings of everything like the back of her hand.

Ryan walked through the doors at precisely 7:55 a.m. Prompt and on time. Carrie expected nothing less of him. She couldn’t help but notice how scattered and distracted everyone was before he walked in, but as soon as he strode through the door, the crew became settled and gained a sharper focus. At least, they looked like they did. Ryan glanced over in her direction, and she nodded to him, not wanting to let him see how she felt. He intimidated her, but she didn’t want him to know that little factoid about her. He was her new boss, after all, and she couldn’t give him any reason to doubt her. The last thing she needed was to get fired from two jobs in a row.

Lizzie scampered up to him, open folder in hand. He slid over to her side, looking over her shoulder as she flipped through the notes for that morning. Carrie knew she should look like she was working, but she wasn’t really sure what to be working on. Lizzie had given her a list of things to research, but none of it held any interest for her. Sales reports on real estate? Who reads about that? The promise of progress in Juniper Springs? Wow, we’re getting the grocery store remodeled. Fascinating.

What was far more fascinating was the way Ryan listened with intensity as Lizzie described whatever she was telling him. That serious, focused look… that commanding nod. The guy was definitely cut out to be a boss, and everything about his focus told Carrie that he knew what he was doing better than probably anyone in the room.

When he turned his head, somehow it reminded her of the owl that she had seen at dusk last night. That slow motion, the wisdom reflected in the owl’s eyes that could pierce through your soul when he looked at you. She didn’t want to mention the awe-inspiring spirit that exuded from him.

Carrie gave a sharp shake of her own head and indulged in a sip of coffee to regain her focus. Why was she sitting here comparing Ryan’s movements to that of the owl when she shouldn’t even be watching him? But she couldn’t help but notice when he took a paper from Lizzie and strode toward her. She straightened her back, pretending not to notice. She wanted to appear so focused on her work that he would already be impressed with her work ethic. He didn’t need to think she was a daydreamer.

Which she wasn’t. He was just distracting her this one time. Must be an off day.

“Good morning, Carrie.”

She stopped typing random things into the computer and looked up at him. “Good morning!”

He pulled a chair from one of the desks and sat down next to her… again with those slow movements that combined manliness and intelligence. “What has Lizzie got you working on this morning?”

She didn’t want to complain. She wanted to give Ryan the impression that she was overjoyed with the boring work that Lizzie had given her as she rolled away from the desk, pointing to the list. “Progress in Juniper Springs. I’ve been turning over some good information for it. It also has helped me get reacquainted with the town, so that’s been a win-win.”

Ryan studied the list, shaking his head. Had she said too much? Was Ryan a man of few words? No, what was that? A small smile teasing the corners of his mouth? Just enough to flash across his face like a headlight reflection of a vehicle turning into a driveway. There and gone again. “How can you possibly be getting something good from that?”

He set the paper back on her desk and held out the one that Lizzie had given him. “How about if I give you a real story. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to get your feet wet and let you try out the fieldwork of the job. And it’s better than,” he rolled his eyes over to the progress paper she so detested, “Progress in Juniper Springs.”

What? A real story? She hadn’t had a real story since she’d gotten fired from the magazine. She had figured it would take forever to get back into the fieldwork of the job, and here Ryan had handed it to her on a silver platter. Carrie jumped at the opportunity, her eyes dancing. “Oh, that would be great!”

Ryan held out the paper, showing her. As he moved closer, the air shifted between them, and she caught a whiff of his cologne, woodsy and masculine… desirable too. Carrie smiled, breathing through her mouth, and pretending to focus.

“There is a new museum opening on the outskirts of the business district celebrating the town’s history and what we represent. It’s part information center and part tourist attraction. The property is being developed as we speak, but I need someone to go over there and do some talking, find out more about the project. If we like the direction you take it, this will be your story to follow.”

He was giving her a chance, right off the bat! Carrie felt herself liking him a bit more just for that fact. “Thank you so much, Mr. Blair. I’ll get right on that. I can leave the office to go talk to them, then?”

“Address is on the paper.” Again, he smiled. And this time it reached his eyes, which quickly lowered as he shifted in his seat. The first sign she’d ever seen of him being uncomfortable. “Listen, Carrie, about yesterday.”

She put her paper aside and turned her body to face him fully. Was he giving her an apology?

“I’m afraid I may have been too blunt. My point was that, well, we had to let one of our reporters go recently because she was behaving unprofessionally both here and after hours, and her actions were giving us a bad name. Not that you were doing the same, but I know Lizzie doesn’t really like to talk about it because she’s the one that got her the job. So, I wanted to bring it up, but I did it at the wrong time, and I’m sorry if I came across as blunt.”

Blunt. Is that what we’re calling it? How about arrogant, conceited, maybe a tad bit rude? An apology was an apology, though, and she’d take what she could get. It made her smile come easy. “No worries. I’m always awkward around new people, so sorry if I came across that way too.”

He rose to his feet and studied her as if he wanted to say something to her but was trying to form the words. Her heart jumped to her throat. Had she been too awkward?

“You didn’t,” was all he said. A quiet, low voice that somehow assured her that he knew the fault was his. “You can take an early lunch around eleven if you like and head out there after noon.”

“Again, thank you.” She held up her assignment. “I’m excited to get started.”

Avery knew the police station better than anyone else in the town. She had been fortunate enough to make friends with the chief early on in her career. While they both knew that private investigators and police didn’t often work together, Simmons had been more than happy to have her help on a few cases in the past, particularly the one involving Lance Blair’s mother last November. “You have impeccable instinct,” he’d informed her over the years. “I can’t say that about all of my team. So, I don’t mind your input once in a while.” With a hint and a smile, he had prompted her, knowing that the case was more likely to be solved in a timely manner if she were involved.

Avery slipped into the station, feeling like it was a second office, a second home. The officers knew her and treated her as one of their own, and she was relieved to find some of them standing in the lobby, discussing something of their patrol that morning. When she walked in, the group was set ablaze with a welcoming hue.

“Morning, Miss Hart!” Officer Davies stepped out from the group. “Hot on the trail of another case, are you? Or are you just here because you missed us?”

Avery cut them a laugh. “A little bit of both, you could say. As for hot on the trail, well,” she slipped her hands into her pockets and raised her shoulders in a shrug. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Chief is expecting you. He’s in the office.”

Of course, he was. He often complained to her about how his paperwork was a ball and chain that kept him from the outdoors more often than he wanted. How he envied her for being able to have the freedom to roam about the town and visit new places while he remained behind the desk for most of his job. Avery let a knowing smile lift her eyes and nodded. “Thanks, guys.”

She found her way around with no problem, and sure enough, there was her friend working on something in the office. “Well, don’t you look thrilled?” Avery minced some teasing into her tone.

“Oh, sure. Loving my life right now.” He huffed a sigh and practically threw his pen aside. “There’s not a thing I love more than putting ink on paper and rewriting the same information again and again.”

Avery didn’t bother to hide her smile. “I know. You do it all the time, so how can you not love it?”

He folded his arms across his chest and glanced up at her. “But I can always take a break for you. I hear that you’re working on certain things.”

Avery stepped into the room, slipping into the chair across from him, and swung her blond hair out of her face. “Certain things involving a possible overdose or homicide.”

He sighed, annoyance flickering across his face. “Never. Never in my life have I received so many phone calls regarding the death of one person. Her family, her friendly-friend, her mother again. To be honest, Avery, I’m more than happy to hand this one over to you and let you deal with the family.”

Avery studied her fingers curled around one another in her lap, twirling her two pinkie fingertips around each other in thought. “They just want to know what happened to their Jenny. She was just as well-loved as any member of your family or mine.”

Chief Simmons let her observation sink in for a moment before releasing a sigh. “You’re right. It’s just that some people don’t understand that I have a job to do.”

“I get it.” Avery stilled her hands.

“But, onto the business.” He reached over, grabbed a file from the mountain on his desk, and flipped it open. “Heroin was found all over her house. There were no signs of forced entry anywhere in the house. Blunt force trauma to the head, traces of heroin in her system. We do have a person of interest though. Jay Appleton.”

Her brows creased in concentration. “Jay Appleton.”

“Yeah. Good luck with him. He calls us every day begging for updates. We always tell him the same thing. Ongoing investigation, we can’t give out details, blah, blah, blah, but there aren’t any details to give out! We’ve practically made this a closed case because everything points to an overdose except for one thing. The person of interest did have a key to her house.”

“What?” Avery’s thoughts snagged on that and let it soak in. “Okay, so was he a boyfriend or something?”

“Just a friend, so he said. Said that Jenny gave him a key one day because she ‘wanted him to have it.’ Who can make sense of that? Anyway, he was the one that found her.”

“Well, the first witness is usually the first suspect.” Avery knew her first plan of action. Talk to Jay Appleton. “And that’s more than a little strange.”

“We thought so too.” Chief Simmons let his back rest against the back of his chair. “That’s about all I can give you for now. You know the boundaries; you know the rules. Just don’t do anything crazy.”

“I’ll be careful. You know I will. I’ll see what I can dig up… and keep you informed if I find anything extra interesting.”

“Sounds good.” A reluctant sigh followed his woeful look at his paperwork. “You want to trade jobs for the day?”

“Sorry, Chief.” Avery stood, slipping her bag onto her shoulder. “But I’ve spent enough time behind a desk this week. I’m ready to get out and do some investigating.”

No sooner had she left the police station than she punched Jay Appleton’s phone number into her phone, saving the contact as she did. She held the phone to her ear, wondering if he was going to answer or decline her call, thinking she was trying to sell him something. A rustle on his end sounded, and a rather confused voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hello.” Avery hoped he could hear the professional smile in her voice. “My name is Avery Hart, I’m an investigator working a case. May I speak to Jay Appleton please?”

Silence followed on his end before he answered. “That’s me. You’re an investigator, you say?”

Avery saw no sense in disguising herself. If what Simmons told her about Jay was true, then he sounded like the type to give out too much information, whether he meant to or not. “Yes. I’m reaching out to you and wondering if you know anything about Jennifer Ingress.”

Another silence. “Sure, I do. Are you working on her case?”

“I’m digging up a few things,” Avery evaded. “Can we meet somewhere and talk? I’d like to get to know Jenny a little bit.”

“I’m free today.” He answered faster than any of her other questions. “Where? When?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Avery checked her watch. “The park downtown in, say, an hour?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. See you there.” Avery hung up, buzzing with excitement. It had been a while since she had been on a case this big, and unraveling the mystery was too much for her to resist. She decided to grab a quick lunch and then head over to the park.

The hour passed too slowly for her as she tried to fill it with a nice wrap from the cafe. When she finally showed up at the park, she surveyed the scene. A lot of parents were scattered nearby playing with their children on the playground. No one else sat in their vehicles looking upon the scene. Last time she had been here, she had come away with unwanted company. She shuddered at the memory of being rammed into the ditch, her car spiraling out of control... she replaced those memories with gratitude that she’d survived.

She stepped out of her car, her attention drawn to a younger guy sitting on the park bench away from the playground. His posture was stooped as if he had great sorrow and a large burden on his shoulders. His folded hands rested between his knees, and he sat with a vacant stare toward the playground. Avery’s instincts whispered to her that this was probably Jay, and she approached with hesitancy. “Jay Appleton?”

Her instincts had been correct. His back uncurled into a straight line, and his eyes fixed on hers. “Are you the investigator?”

Avery nodded, letting her strides carry her forward. “Yes, I am. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Jay got to his feet, reaching out to offer a hand to shake. “Sure, sure. Um,” he sniffed and glanced around, hands sinking deep into his pockets. Avery picked up on what Chief Simmons had been telling her about Jay’s nervous behavior. She made a mental note of that and gestured to the park bench. “Let’s have a seat.”

She settled beside him, making mental sketches of his character silently as she observed. His body rolled forward, elbows resting on his knees, and he was tapping his fingertips together. One knee shook up and down as the ball of his foot served as the propeller for this action. Back crooked, no eye contact.

Avery herself was mindful of her own body language. She had taken a course on the nonverbal science of body language in an attempt to make herself more welcoming as she asked otherwise uncomfortable questions. Open posture, she told herself. The guy was a host of information, bursting at the seams, ready to spill everything he knew; but a wrong word from her would cause him to clamp up again, which was something she neither wanted nor needed. Right now, the case was an abstract painting. She needed his testimony to rearrange the colors and get a better picture. She turned her knees toward him, not crossing her legs, and leaned into him. Compassion flowed into her eyes. “First of all, Jay, I’m very sorry for your loss. It sounds like you and the…” She came short of saying victim. She changed her inspector’s lingo to make it more personal. “You and Jenny were close?”

Jay sniffed. He reached to rub his left eye, and Avery noted the return of the nervous tremor. “We weren’t like that if that’s how you mean.”

That was a wide term that had many varieties. Avery needed to know which one. “When you say like that, what do you mean?” she said slowly.

“Like, we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. We weren’t even going out or anything.” He lowered his hand, returning it to steeple his fingers between his knees. His leg still provided a little mini earthquake, and his eyes still wandered the playground rather than hers. Avery wasn’t too sure she liked the lack of eye contact, but she listened carefully to absorb everything he said. “We were just friends.”

“Can you describe your relationship with her then?” Avery kept her voice calm. “So that I can get a clear picture of what it was like?”

“I delivered her packages.” Finally, like Velcro scraping from Velcro, he tore his wandering gaze away and fixed his eyes on hers. “The girl was always ordering stuff. She always answered the door, and she always had a smile on her face. Well, you know how it is when you get the regulars.”

No, she didn’t. Not in her job, and for that, she did feel glad. She nodded for him to go on as if she understood.

“You get to talking and get to know them. Jenny was like me. Born and raised in Juniper Springs… would have loved to travel and start a life somewhere big like New York or Los Angeles, but circumstances kept us stuck here in Juniper Springs. She always had a joke for me whenever I was there, and it was refreshing to see a friendly face. She was so sweet that I got kinda sweet on her, ya know?”

“Did you ever ask her out?” Avery pried.

The firm shake of his head told her that it had never even been an option. “Nope. Never did. She had a deadbeat boyfriend when I first started comin’ around, so that wasn’t my place. Then even after he was out of the picture, I still couldn’t work up the courage to ask her out. Wish I had, you know?”

“So, she had a boyfriend. Do you know his name?”

Another shake of the head. “Nope. But I do know that her smile was a lot less bright whenever he was at her house when I delivered her packages. Behavior was really quirky too.”

Avery’s eyebrow raised with curiosity. “Quirky?”

“Yeah, like she was more of a chatterbox, you know, talking at the speed of light.”

So, he knew what the speed of light was, but felt the need to insert a “you know” between sentences. Was the guy awkward in speech or maybe he was smart enough to know a few things?

“She always acted like she was sick. Then she got rid of him, and the sickness started to get better.”

“So, the boyfriend goes, and the sickness goes,” Avery noted. “What kind of sickness? Flu-like symptoms?”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Her nose was always running, her eyes always looked more bloodshot and tired. But in the last few years, she looked like she was getting better. Had more of a pep in her step.”

Heroin. And his story corroborated exactly what Pam had been telling her. Clean for five years. “So, when you delivered packages to her, recently, had she ever shown signs of a relapse into these symptoms?”

“No! She was doing great!” Jay’s sigh packed a wallop into his feelings. “They’re saying a drug overdose killed her, huh?”

Avery let the wall go up around her a little bit, and her muscles stiffened with that. “I can’t really say as it is an ongoing…”

Jay jumped in with the word going and finished at the same time she did. “...going investigation, I know, I know. I’ve heard the song and dance before. But—” When he returned his gaze to her, his own eyes mirrored Jenny in the bloodshot appearance he had told her about. “But you don’t think someone…” He hesitated as if he’d never said the word in his life. “Killed her, do you?”

“I’m trying to find out what happened to her. That’s why I needed to know about Jenny so that I can get as close to that as I can.” Avery’s trained professional response rolled from her mouth like a robotic answering service. “You really had feelings for her, didn’t you?”

“I had the most serious crush on her you could ever imagine.” A flame ignited on his pale cheeks, and he had to drag the word from his mouth, a tug at a time. “She was so sweet, probably the sweetest girl that I knew. Yeah, maybe she had some problems with drugs… but she was getting over them.”

“But you never asked her out.”

“No. I said that.”

Avery drew a pinched breath through her nose and stepped out onto the thin ice of this conversation. “I’m told you have a key to her place. Can you tell me a little about that?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Again, he used a vague word, but this time he offered some elaboration. “It was some time ago. A month and a half, maybe—I don’t know—I wasn’t paying attention. One day she answered the door, and tells me that she lives by herself. Doesn’t get a lot of visitors. She then hands me the key and says that since I’m there practically every day that I should have a key just in case she doesn’t answer or something.”

A noose tightened around his words, leaving it out in the air for Avery to examine. Delicious. Something for her to pick apart. So, that’s what Jenny had said? “Did she seem nervous when she gave you the key?”

Jay’s leg had finally stopped twitching, and he held it rigid. His fingers had even ceased their tapping. He held his gaze with the strength of a magnet straight out in front of him. “Nah, not nervous.” His gaze drifted over to his left side and swept its way down to his foot. “Just more like a thing, I guess.”

“What kind of thing?” She mentally sighed… immature vocabulary: like, you know, thing, and that. Apparently some held on to that clear into their twenties.

“Like, I don’t know!” A defensive tone leaked into his voice, and his back went rigid like someone had slapped an ironing board to it. “Maybe she was trying to make the first move?”

Somehow, Avery doubted that. If she were to make the first move on a guy, it most certainly would not be to give the guy a key to her place. She would need at least a few drinks and some dinner before she even thought about handing her key over to a stranger. Either Jenny was entirely too trusting, or she was high, or maybe something else was afoot.

“Okay. Did she seem different? Any scabbed skin, bruising, watery eyes, maybe she was sick the day that she told you, maybe she was talking nonsense?” She figured she would help him out with a few key symptoms of heroin addiction.

“No.” The word could barely get through Jay’s thin-pressed lips. “She wasn’t high. What?” His eyebrow lowered, and his upper torso pivoted around to face her. Disgust marred the look on his face along with a defensive pointed stare. “You don’t think it’s possible that a guy like me could get a girl that easily? You don’t think that I’m the kind of guy that a girl would trust with her life? You doubt that she liked me, even a little bit?”

Avery held up her hands. “I didn’t say or imply any of that. I’m working a case right now, and I need to know if there were any signs of a relapse. I’m not saying you’re not a likable guy.” She never said her thoughts out loud. “I’m just saying that maybe something was up that we need to be investigating. It has nothing to do with you.”

The corner of his nostril turned up in a sneer, and he swept back to look at the park again. His head shook from side to side. “Jenny didn’t know I liked her. So, maybe she was making the first move to imply that maybe, just maybe, she liked me back. Sometimes a girl likes a guy back. It happens only occasionally. Maybe not much to me, but it does happen.” He sighed.

Avery bit her lower lip for a moment. She had been feasting on the thought that the guy had a key and how out of the ordinary it seemed for a girl to just hand over the key. But then again, some girls were good at hiding their addictions. Maybe she had been high as a kite when she handed the key over to him. But there was something else aside from the fact that he had a key. It went far beyond that simple little silver thing that opened doors and complicated matters. “How long were you her delivery person?”

“Seven years, give or take. Yeah, I haven’t done much with my life.”

She nodded and let a few moments of silence hang between them, and she counted each one. One, two, three, four… “You seemed to know her really well. You seemed very observant of her,” she rolled her hand through the air, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t set him off again. “Behavior, when she was sick, when she wasn’t.”

“And?”

So, he didn’t deny it. “Are you just an observant person, or was she just that special to you?”

“She was special. But I’m very observant as well.” He straightened, this time his chest puffed with pride. “I know that you drive a Dodge Avenger. Black.”

The breath froze in her lungs. He’d had his back to her when she had pulled up. “Very impressive!” She dismissed her discomfort with a laugh and a sorry attempt at a joke. “Maybe you should join the private investigator world. We can use observers like you!”

His lip curled. “I only observe when I want to.”

Avery became like a statue, staring hard at him. I only observe when I want to? What on earth did that mean? “Since you are so observant,” she forced a smile and nodded her head toward him, “can you tell me what happened the night that you found Jenny? Anything at all that would help me in my case?”

Jay closed his eyes. Avery heard his audible breath draw in slowly… until it hovered in the air between them. “I delivered her a package the day before. I noticed her car was still in the driveway, so she was home. I knocked, then knocked again. I wanted to talk to her. She was the highlight of my day. When she didn’t answer, I got sad, set the box down on her porch, and left. The next day, I came around evening. I saved her for last. I figured she had been sleeping or something and missed my delivery that day, so I wanted to get as much extra time talking to her as I could, so I saved her for last, well, second to last, so it wasn’t obvious to the dudes back at the office that I was doing that.”

A premeditated conversation based on what his bosses would think. Noted. And, the last or the second to last? Why couldn’t he get his story straight?

“I noticed the package from the previous day was still on the front doorstep, the car still hadn’t moved, and she still wasn’t answering. So, I had this key, right? She’d given it to me because she wanted me to have it, and I opened the door. That’s when I found her. She was lying there, bleeding out and cold. It didn’t smell very good in there. So, I ran to her and called out to her, but she didn’t answer. I shook her, but when I touched her, she was cold.” A shiver ran down his spine, and he shuddered back into his jacket. Why he needed that hoodie in this summer heat was beyond her. She was sweating in her T-shirt. “So, I freaked. I called 911 and stayed with her until the cops got there. There was blood. There was so much blood.”

“Did you notice anything else?” Avery asked. Maybe he’d mention the heroin sitting around.

Jay shook his head. “All I could see was her. And I was devastated.”

Avery let a soft moan escape from her. Normally she would reach out and touch someone’s shoulder to comfort them, bring them into a state of feeling comfortable with her. But she just had one more question to ask. “You know the day before you left the first package? Did you see her that day?”

Jay leaned his head forward, smoothing his hands over the back of his neck. “No. I didn’t. She didn’t have any packages that day.”

Avery nodded. “Listen, thanks for your help. I’m sorry I had to make you relive one of the most awful moments of your life.” She glanced around the bench before rising to her feet. He followed her like a shadow. “Thanks, again. And I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

He held out his hand for her to shake. As if everything they had shared somehow made her trust him. If anything, it had the opposite effect on her. “Do me a favor, would you? Find the guy who did this, and catch him, and give him the death sentence, would ya?”

Avery shook her head. “I’m not an enforcer; I’m just here to investigate. But I can promise you, we’re doing all that we can. Hey—” She reached into her purse, withdrawing her private investigator’s personal business card. She held it out to him. “If you can think of anything else that might help, please give me a call. Every little bit helps.”

A rapid series of nods followed as he studied her name and number. “Thanks. I will.”

The first thing Avery did when she reached her Dodge Avenger was lock her doors and start the car. But she didn’t pull away… yet. As Jay walked away, she watched him until he disappeared. Had he walked here? Didn’t bother to drive? She pulled out her notebook and jotted her thoughts down.

Jay isn’t the brightest, but he is super observant. Knew what I drove without even seeing me get out of it. Freaky. Claims to have not seen the victim two days prior to her death. Had a key that she just randomly gave him. Who just gives someone a key to their house like some sort of charm bracelet saying they just want them to have it?

She bit the pencil between her incisors and stared out the window, letting her thoughts do the rest of the sorting. He admits to having a major crush on Jenny but never making a move. Knew she had a boyfriend and observed every single tiny detail about her. Says she gave him a key, but what if he just observed where she put it? People put keys under doormats or in flower pots all the time. The more she pondered, the more determined she was to tell the police not to dismiss this as an overdose case. Not yet. After all, maybe Jenny had herself a stalker in the form of Jay Appleton. And if she did, why did he decide to suddenly snap and kill her? And if he didn’t kill her, then maybe he saw who or what did.

Ryan’s directions to the construction site did a better job of getting Carrie there than her GPS. Unknown location and all, she understood. She pulled her car to the side of the road and felt the talons of discomfort digging into her brain. Would she be in the way? Would she be bothering people? She got out of her car with a notebook and tape recorder, then straightened her blouse. When she had worked for the magazine office, she’d already established a name for herself, so going places wasn’t that difficult. Here, no one knew her, and she wondered if they would be as welcoming.

She strode up to the fence that surrounded the area, looking through. She noticed a construction trailer and wondered if she should try there first. Was everyone at lunch? The day was unusually quiet, except for the motor of a tractor running somewhere. The last thing she wanted was to be traipsing around the site around a bunch of men. Today, of all days, she had chosen to wear her pencil skirt, so she braced herself for the snickering and muttered jokes she was sure to face.

“Hello, there.”

Carrie turned at the sound of a young voice next to her shoulder. The voice belonged to a younger man, hard hat adorning his head that pressed his jaw-length black hair against his face. The man’s icy blue eyes blended in with his unusually pale face. Even his size small clothing hung on his thin body. Was he a construction worker or a model posing as one?

Carrie put on her working mask, professional and cheerful. “Hello. I’m Carrie Sweet. I’m with the Juniper Springs Times.”

“Jeremy Carr.” A bony hand extended her direction. When she grasped it to shake, she remarked silently how much it felt like grabbing a handful of clothes pins—round and bony. “Pleasure to meet you.” He put his hands back into his pockets. “So, what brings the Times out here?”

“Well,” Carrie nodded her head to the site. “I’m doing a story on the Museum project and how it is a reflection of the beauty of Juniper Springs, and I was wondering if I could get some information regarding the project.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Jeremy extended a long arm and leaned his body against the fence. “What I can tell you is that progress is coming along nicely, and we’re expecting to be finished by the deadline.”

“Which is?” Carrie clicked her pen open.

“January sixteenth.” He breathed a laugh and looked out over the construction site. “The company built that new clinic in such a short amount of time, now everyone wants tighter deadlines.”

Carrie wasn’t sure what a good deadline was for a building project, but she scribbled it down anyway. “Tell me more about the vision of the museum.”

“The vision?” Jeremy parroted. “Well, Juniper Springs is more than a tourist town in the fall during hunting season or in the summer when everyone wants to float the river. We are the stuff of cozy towns and romantic getaways, a town that when you visit, you feel like you don’t have to go home because you’re already there.”

Aww. Great line! “Can I quote that?” Carrie checked.

“Sure!” Jeremy straightened, proud to be recognized in the paper. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

Carrie paused in her writing. Uh-oh. Already she was getting hit with attention she neither wanted nor appreciated. Next would be where she lived, her phone number, can I show you around, you name it. “I was raised here. Just moved back.” She skirted around as much as she could.

“Then you’ve probably already seen the welcoming attitude of all of us Juniper Spring-ans.” He laughed at his own word concoction.

So, he wasn’t flirting. Carrie felt herself relax. “I mean,” she grinned and swept her hand toward the site, “who knew? A construction site of all places!”

“Even our construction sites, yes!” Jeremy laughed, then looked over at the path. “Oh, there’s my boss coming now. He can answer whatever questions you have.”

He looked like the boss. Grey hair and crow’s feet encroaching on his pleasant face. Years of sun-filled workdays withering his skin. He approached Carrie with openness. “Hello, Miss. Can I help you with something?” He sniffed a laugh. “Is Jeremy here bothering you?”

For once, Carrie could say no. Not many guys who stood talking with her could have that same definitive answer. “No, sir, he was just helping me with my project.”

“Carrie, here, is from the Times, and she’s doing a story on the museum project.”

“Oh, fantastic.” The warm voice that the boss had made all of Carrie’s earlier concerns about encroaching on their time disappear. “I’m Bob, the manager. The real magic is the minds behind the site; we’re just the workers turning that dream into a reality. The city hall wanted a place where tourists could come, feel welcome, grab a map and some fliers of local attractions, and just chill for a while. Not to mention, creating a few new jobs along the way for the workers here who are passionate about bringing a friendly environment to tourists.”

Why did people always say “passionate?” Who could possibly be passionate about helping someone find their way to the main highway or the local cabin rentals? Or working in customer service at all? “I see.”

“The museum project is a proud statement of who we are. We are proud of our town... this is home.”

“It is such a beautiful place to call home.” That, Carrie did agree on. “Not too many people to make it crazy, but not too few either. Cute shops, old-fashioned environment. I can’t imagine—”

“Boss!”

A panicked voice interrupted her friendly words, and all eyes snapped over to yet another worker, running up the hill as if his life depended on stumbling his way to Bob. “Boss! We found a... there’s a dead…”

He put a hand to his chest, heaving out breaths as fast as he could take them in. His flesh looked paler than Jeremy’s, which was saying something. Bob seemed rather annoyed at the younger, early twenties display of drama before him. “What is it? Come on, deep breaths.”

“There’s a dead body in the dumpster!” He gagged, possibly about to lose whatever lunch he had just eaten.

Carrie felt the color drain from her face to her toes. A dead body? Here? She looked at Jeremy as if they had somehow connected in their first few moments.

The annoyance flushed from Bob’s face, replaced quickly by alarm. “Don’t touch it!” he yelled. He sprinted down the hill. Jeremy took off after him, more out of macabre curiosity than panic. And Carrie? Well, she was a reporter, right time, right place. Ryan would be beyond impressed at this. She wasn’t going to just let this go. She tried to keep up, hating herself for wearing heels.

Down the dusty hill and around a corner she went. A foul smell assaulted her nose, and she heaved a gag. So much for enjoying an early lunch. She put her hand over her mouth, protecting her nose from the assault of the worst odor she had ever smelled.

“Move! Move!”

The men who were huddled around the dumpster parted, so Bob could get through. As they did, Carrie caught a glimpse of something she had never wanted to see in her entire life. The head was concealed by the man standing in her way, a grown man struggling to keep his stomach contents in check. But the body resembled a stretched balloon, and the skin had taken on a greenish tint with a hint of red. Nothing like the dead bodies seen in the movies where they looked like little more than sleeping people with blood on them. But the image burned itself into her mind forever, and Carrie found that she wasn’t excited. She was petrified.

“Call the authorities!” Bob pinched his nose. “Someone!”

A man pulled out his cell phone. The chatter started up again. “I knew it wasn’t a dead mouse.”

“Who throws a dead body in the dumpster in August? That’s messed up, man.”

Carrie stared… could not rip her eyes away. Jeremy noticed her, doing a double take as he looked over. “Carrie? You okay?”

Carrie moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, drawing it back in quickly. As if the germs from the cadaver could somehow find their way onto her tongue. She nodded. “I…” Her voice was muffled by her hand, and her stomach contracted into another gag.

“Here.” Jeremy stepped forward, took her arm. “I’m going to walk you back to your car.”

Grateful for his support, Carrie took one more look at the body. Her stomach lurched, and a gag made its way up her throat, but she managed to keep down her lunch.

Jeremy walked with her back up the hill, but the gruesome details pounded into her thoughts. “Pretty creepy, huh?”

Creepy was a walk in the park. This was beyond horrible. Carrie nodded.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Carrie slid into the front seat of her car. She sat there for a moment, inwardly groaning… focusing on taking deep breaths of fresh air and trying to forget the stench of death a few feet down the hill. “It’s just... I was not expecting to see that today.”

“None of us were.” Jeremy crouched in front of her car’s seat and looked up at her. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

Carrie didn’t want to be seen by anyone else. She just looked over at Jeremy, nodding. “I... I guess so.” She cast a glance in her rearview mirror, getting a glimpse of her pale face. “I had better get back to the office. I need to get some more work done and…” Her voice trailed off, and she searched her lap, the steering wheel, the radio, for some semblance of sanity. “Yeah.”

Jeremy nodded. He reached down, touching the very tip of her knee. Carrie’s skin crawled, not from his touch but from the unusual feeling it gave her. She didn’t like to let guys touch her this close, and her body stiffened.

It was just a brief moment before he removed his hand altogether. “You’ll be okay?”

She nodded and started her car. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to get it out of my system. Listen to some good music, watch a kids’ show tonight—that should help.”

Jeremy nodded as he stood to his feet. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Carrie.” His hand fell upon the roof of her car. “You take care, okay?”

She reached out to grasp her door handle. “You, too.” And, thud. Just like that, the door closed on all the horrible things she had witnessed.

Carrie hadn’t seen the face, but the body was enough. Each time she blinked, her mind played a clip, a flashback of the images she had seen at the construction site. Her mind was whirling with concern. Had she gathered enough information for the story? Would Ryan be disappointed with how little information she had gained, or would he be understanding? Would he be upset with her for not sticking around to talk to the police? You could have gotten the scoop before anyone else did! What were you thinking leaving the scene like that?

I’ll soon find out, she thought as she pulled into the parking lot at her new office. Her hands still shook making it difficult to get the key out of the ignition. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had moved here, intending to get away from the things that caused her mental anxiety, and instead, they had followed her to Juniper Springs. Her legs trembled as she got out of the car. She tried to gather her notes in her arms, but the wind blew the first top sheets off of her stack, running with them across the parking lot.

“Darn it!” Carrie began to chase after them as fast as she could in her shoes and skirt. She stomped on one of them, leaving a black shoe impression in the top right corner. Well, she’d have to recopy those notes. There was no way she could work with an imperfect page; her mind would be too focused on that. As she bent to retrieve the other paper, her keys landed in the parking lot with a clink!

“What is going on?” She picked up her keys and stretched to her feet, brushing her hair out of her face. She had to gather herself—had to act like she was a woman and not some scared little girl.

She lifted her chin and pushed herself to walk through the doors of the office. Her blood flooded her system when she saw him, however, leaning against the receptionist’s desk talking with Lizzie and Beth. When they saw her, a hush settled over them. She noticed how Ryan’s eyes locked on hers, and concern filled them. “Carrie?” He pushed himself off the desk, coming around to face her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Carrie took in a shaky breath. How could they tell that something had happened? Did she look that bad? “I…” She forced herself to breathe. “There was a cadaver found at the construction site.”

She had even used a nicer word. Cadaver sounded so much better than “dead body,” but even the very mention of it made her stomach lurch. She wanted to lose all of that early lunch. She started to heave again, just at the thought of the stench.

“What?” Lizzie gasped.

Ryan stepped forward, taking immediate action. “Everyone, just hold my calls. Carrie, come to my office.” The way he looked at her with concern mixed with worry touched her somehow—like he actually cared about her well-being instead of whether or not she got the story.

But, go to his office? Didn’t that sound a little like the principal’s office? She put her head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anybody, and stepped toward the back. Ryan followed like her protector. She stepped aside, letting Ryan take hold of the door and swing it open for her. “Go ahead.”

Carrie stepped into his office, not surprised by the cleanliness that hung around every corner. File cabinets, a well-organized bookshelf displaying books, more files, and some awards. Framed awards and newspaper stories scattered over his walls in a manner that was pleasing for the eye to look at, not crowded. It definitely showed that Ryan was running more than just a paper. It was a lifestyle for him.

Carrie turned to face him as he closed the door. “Please, sit down Carrie. You look like you’ve seen a…” His voice trailed off. No doubt ghost was his word of choice, but given the circumstances, he had decided against it.

Ghost? Great going, Ryan. Nice choice of words, there. “Well, you look very pale,” he concluded.

Carrie had looked like a ghost herself the moment she had stepped through the door. Those beautiful blue eyes of hers were blue pools of sorrow, her face frozen into a horrified mask. It seemed to take every effort for her to sit down in the chair and find her balance. She still clutched the notes and her pen in her hand. Ryan nodded to the desk. “Why don’t you set those down for a minute?” Get her mind focused on little things.

“Oh. Right.”

Carrie’s movements mirrored the dripping of molasses from the trees in January as she moved the files and her keys to his desk. He had to get her out of this stupor, but he wanted to make sure she was okay above all else.

“What happened out there, Carrie? Do you want to talk about it?” Ryan began slowly. “Here. Let me get you some water.”

Her nod was robotic. “Thank you, you don’t have to do that.”

“You just sit there for a moment; it’s okay.” He stood to his feet, moving to the water dispenser he had just for him in his office. The cone-shaped cups were a pain because you couldn’t set them down and they’d practically disintegrate in your hands, but it worked in a pinch for now.

“I have to get to work. I have to get this done.” Carrie’s voice was catatonic. Ryan poured her some water and gave a firm shake of his head. “I’m not worried about it, Carrie. It’s not at the top of my priorities list right now.” He would have added you are, but even in his mind, that sounded too forward. He strode over to her, holding out the water. “Here.”

She looked up at him as gratefulness fought for space with terror in her expression. “Thank you.” She sipped it with shaky hands.

He wheeled his chair around to face her, making it a more personal meeting rather than a boss to subordinate that the desk between them would indicate. “Tell me what happened.”

She sipped her water again, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. “I’ve never seen a dead body before.” She stated. “Dad and Grandma were both cremated, so I never got to see them.” She winced, probably thinking that the information was too much to share. “This body was disgusting, Ryan. I know that it was once a human life, and it’s horrible for me to call it disgusting, but it was. It was all…” She pursed her lips as if trying not to throw up. Her face contorted into a pained expression. She waved her hand over the front of her body, and Ryan tried to focus on her words and feelings, not on the shape of her perfect curves. “Bloated and green. And the smell…” She gagged once, no doubt still able to smell it.

Ryan reached forward. “Don’t think about it.” He told her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her throwing up in his office. He knew if she threw up, she’d be mortified and wouldn’t be able to face him again. He shot to his feet, grabbing the coffee-scented candle on his desk and popped the lid off. “Here.” He handed it to her. “Smell that and think about how good that nice smell is.”

Carrie held her water in one hand while plunging her nose into the candle’s container. In a few moments, her sides stopped heaving. “Thank you. I just…” Tears reflected in her eyes, and she shook her head. She leaned forward as if the weight of the world had just settled on her shoulders. “I feel like there could have been something I might have done... maybe CPR or... or…”

Ryan shook his head. “Carrie, they were too far gone, whoever they were. This isn’t your fault, and there is nothing you could have done. What you’re feeling is normal. I have friends in law enforcement, and they’ve told me that people often have unexplained feelings of guilt after seeing a cadaver for the first time.” He kept his voice low and soothing, not knowing how she would take the words he carefully handpicked to say. “I need you to just reassure yourself that this is normal and that you are not at fault. Can you do that?”

Carrie nodded. “It was just so unexpected, you know?”

Ryan couldn’t agree more. He had sent her out thinking that it was an easy assignment, and it had turned out to be something that he wouldn’t have sent even his most seasoned female reporters out to investigate. “I can imagine.”

“It was so weird, you know?” Carrie sniffed, looking around his office. He noticed how she failed to make eye contact with him… she probably didn’t want him to see how vulnerable she was, and he understood that. “There was this body that was supposed to be breathing, supposed to be blinking, supposed to be talking, and it was just... still. No breath, no movement, nothing. My brain just said that something about that was wrong.”

“That’s the very response that makes us human,” he assured her. “It just shows you have a tender heart and…” Oh, he could get so very personal here. He swallowed what he would have said and replaced it with something else. “And that’s not a bad thing, Carrie.”

She let her eyes dart out the window, then down to the desk where her files sat, untouched. Then slowly, like the gears grinding in an old car with no oil, she raised her eyes to meet his. “You would be a good therapist.” She forced a little laugh.

He joined her laughter with caution, not wanting to make light of a harrowing situation. Not just for Carrie, but who was the dead body? Clearly a body dump, but how long had it been there? Who was it? Had justice been brought to the killer, or had he or she gotten away with cold-blooded murder? Accident? He shook his head. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Look, I’m really sorry for dumping all of this on you. I just was not expecting this on my first day, and I was a little shaken up.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he assured her, adding a smile to his demeanor. “I tell you what. The story about the museum is minimal, and it would be wrong to focus on just the project while another story is underlining it, anyway. One that’s also more important.” Like the murder. Or accident. Clearly, it was someone else’s doing. Who would kill themselves in a dumpster? No one he knew for sure. “Since today was so traumatic, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I won’t be upset if you do; in fact, I highly encourage you to do so. Your concentration can have a little rest, and we’ll focus on something a little less crazy tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Carrie studied him, no doubt discerning for herself whether he really meant that he wouldn’t be upset with her going home or if he was just saying it to be nice. But he wasn’t upset. His heart went out to her; he wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her and get her mind off of the atrocity she had witnessed, but she hardly knew him. She probably didn’t even recognize him from school, or she would have said something. She finally released a breath and broke off eye contact with him. “You know, I think I might take you up on that. I can’t work like this right now, anyway. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

He softened his expression even more if only to reassure her. “I don’t mind. We can be flexible and work with you, here.”

Carrie glanced down at her water cup, downing the rest of it. “Thank you.” She looked around for a trash can.

“Ah, here. I’ve got it.” He reached and took the cup from her. “Get some rest, Carrie. We’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if anything comes up.”

She got to her feet, looking a bit more solid than she had when she first came into the office. “Thank you,” she whispered. She gathered her things and headed for the door. “I really appreciate this. Thank you for being willing to work with me.”

“Of course.” Ryan also stood, opening his office door for her. “See you tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again, then ducked out the door. Ryan closed it with a snap behind him and watched her through the glass. She stopped and said something to Lizzie, who gasped and stood up. The two girls embraced before Carrie left the office. Ryan seated himself again. He had been looking forward to working with Carrie, and the fact that she might not come back after this hit him like a brick. If only he could tell her how he had admired her since high school, how the thought of getting to work with her on a daily basis thrilled him more than he cared to admit, how he wished he had spoken to her when they had gone to school before he had to leave. But that was in the past. Only tomorrow could determine just how much he would be seeing of her in the future.

But at that moment, he had work to focus on. He sat down behind his desk and picked up the phone. He felt remorse over the loss of a life, and concern for how it affected Carrie, but there was still a story to get to the bottom of. He dialed a few numbers, determined to do just that.

Avery parked her car in front of the Juniper Springs Clinic, her engine purring to a stop. She loved the new car which replaced the old one she’d totaled last year. Correction, she didn’t total it. The jerk running her off of the road did. A crazy lunatic who had been the object of her investigation for a cheating case. Crazy, crazy times.

After getting out of her car, Avery clicked the key fob, and a satisfying beeping sound informed her that the car was locked. She swung her bag up onto her shoulder and practically raced into the clinic. If she were a child, she would have run from the excitement of seeing Lance again, but of course, that wasn’t socially acceptable now that she was an adult.

Upon setting foot into the new building, she was greeted with the choruses of the receptionists on duty, Milton, Sue, and Dawn. “Hi, Avery! Hi, Miss Hart!”

Avery flashed them a sunbeam of a smile. “Hey, guys.” She leaned against the counter. “Where is the good doctor, today?”

Dawn’s eyes shimmered with delight at the part of being swept up in a romance unfolding before her very eyes. She let her gaze drift just past Avery’s shoulder and focus on something behind her. Avery turned on her heel, setting her eyes on the man that she loved, who saved her life in more ways than just pulling her from a burning building. He strode into the waiting area, the pharmacy door swinging closed behind him. “There she is. Hello, beautiful.”

It didn’t matter that they had been dating for a little less than a year. She still felt that electric surge course through her body every time she saw him striding toward her with that strong spirit and setting his eyes on her and only her. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hungry?” he asked.

Avery held up the insulated lunch bag. “For some food and some great company.”

“I can offer one of those.” He chuckled, setting his heavy attention on the reception desk. “You know where to find me.”

Avery hated that fact. If only she and Lance could hide away for an hour—no, longer than that—and eat their lunch in the peace of each other’s company without having to worry about being interrupted by business. As it was, Avery’s PI direct line was hidden away in her bag, so she understood the importance of staying by the phone.

The setup in the back of the clinic mirrored the original clinic. Lance had wanted to stay with the original blueprint of his mother’s clinic, so he had made sure that happened—not to mention the setup was easier than most clinics Avery had seen. No this-way-or-that to get lost on the way up to the front counter. Just straight back and to the right was the break room where she and Lance had shared so much of their time together. Lunch became her favorite part of the day because, even if it was only a little less than an hour, she could spend it with him.

Lance removed his coat and hung it on the back of the chair. “How has your day been going, my dear?”

Avery snickered. “My dear? Hey, Lance. The year 1880 called and said it wants its term of endearment back.”

“What would you rather me call you?” His winning smile melted her insides. “My darling?”

“Lance…”

“My baby?”

“Stop it!” Avery pushed her hair out of her face and sat down next to him, opening her insulated lunch sack. “None of those pet names work for me, and you know it.”

“Hmm.” Lance folded his arms, leaning back in his chair and studying her, mockingly grinning. “Challenge accepted. What pet name does work for you?”

“You’ll think of something.” Avery withdrew the sandwich she had packed earlier that morning. She prided herself on always being well stocked with lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, and delicious mustard in the refrigerator for those mornings that she was running late to the office or had too much to do to prepare a real lunch… which was every day, come to think of it.

“But I noticed you never answered my question.” Lance took the lid off of his soup. The aroma of minestrone delight moved across the table and into Avery’s nose, causing her stomach to growl and making her regret her decision to bring nothing but a plain sandwich. Would he be willing to make a trade, like in high school days?

“What question?” she asked.

“How is your day going?” He popped his soup into the microwave and pushed a few buttons. The longer the soup warmed, the more the office smelled like five-star cuisine.

Avery bit into her sandwich, chewing more on her thoughts than the roast beef. Did she really want to answer that? She loved her life, loved her job, loved the pay, but there was so much about it that she didn’t like. Take today, for example.

“I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, I guess,” she managed to reply. “Not overwhelmed like I can’t get it all done. But overwhelmed in my mind, you know?”

His face fell into that listening face, the one that he gave her when he blocked out everything except what she was saying.

“I’m dealing with two difficult court cases right now that are major, and I can’t stop thinking about them. Then, of course, that new case I’m taking on for my investigator work.”

“Mm.” He removed his soup from the microwave and shut the door. “The Jenny Ingress one?” He moved down to sit beside her and began mixing his soup.

“Yes.” Avery took another bite of the sandwich and decided that since her appetite had vanished in those few moments, it was better that she settled for the sandwich anyway.

“Do you have any new leads on it?” Lance had been privy to most of the details in her life since they had started dating at the end of last year. There was hardly anything she hadn’t confided in his listening ears that she could legally give away. And he had been the same. She had sat and listened as he went on and on about the dream of building the new clinic from the ground up to honor his mother’s old clinic, somewhat of a relic in his eyes. How he daydreamed about opening his own practice and how working it for a few weeks had given him the bug for it. She had listened to his complaints about the people he worked with and shared in his laughter when he wondered if it were possible to live on minimal brain cells for some of them.

As for Avery, well, she knew that legal cases were matters of extreme confidentiality, so her court cases remained tucked away inside of her unless it was public information… but her private investigating on the other hand? It wasn’t so much that Lance constantly asked her to keep him in the loop. But after her being kidnapped and nearly losing her to the fire last year, he wanted to be a part of every detail of the most dangerous side of her life—at least as much as she could legally tell him. But it wasn’t just that. She wanted to confide in him and needed to talk to someone about what could sometimes be the most arduous part of her life. Sometimes—most of the time—she uncovered plenty of things she didn’t want to see.

“I have a few things I’m trailing. I got a call from Chief Simmons earlier today with the coroner’s report,” she replied. Maybe it was too much information that should be kept confidential, but it was Lance. If not now, she would wind up telling him eventually. “Tox report came back, and Jenny had traces of heroin in her system. And the coroner said that it was cause of death. She did have blunt force trauma to the head, though, which is what confuses me.” She set her elbows on the table, brow furrowed as she thought. “If she fell and hit her head—they think it happened around the same time—then how could she have OD’d on heroin? Wouldn’t she be unconscious?” She looked up at Lance. Of course, being a doctor, he was the perfect one to talk to. “I mean, how can a person be bleeding out from their head and not know it?”

“It can happen.” Lance kept eating his soup, probably well accustomed to talks of blood and head injuries while eating. “Did you know that your brain doesn’t actually have feeling, but the nerves do?”

Avery froze, staring at her sandwich and deciding that maybe it wasn’t the best time to talk about those things. “Thanks for sharing, Lance.”

He chuckled. “No, I’m serious. I have seen people before who have come into the emergency room not even feeling the pain of a split open head. I won’t bore you with the medical explanation of it, but it can happen. Not for every case of course, but it can.”

“Huh.” Avery reached up and touched her head to smooth her hair. “That’s terrifying.”

“It really makes things dangerous,” Lance agreed. “When you don’t know something life-threatening is happening and that time is of the essence, it can be more dangerous than you realize.”

Avery nodded in thought. “But you know what I think?”

“Hmm?”

“I think she hit her head because of the overdose. I think she was alive when she hit her head and just either bled out or was knocked unconscious which gave the heroin time to work its dark magic on her.” She sighed. “I wonder if she was trying to call for help and then got defeated by a coffee table in the way. Maybe she was dizzy or hallucinating and didn’t even mean to fall.”

“Could be.” Lance stirred his thoughts into his soup. “But you said the family doesn’t think it’s an overdose?”

“No. They said she’s been clean for five years and has shown no signs of relapsing. It could be that they missed it. We found some prints at the scene that weren’t the victim’s, but they came back unknown.”

“Boyfriend, friend maybe?” Lance mused.

“Maybe. There weren’t any signs of a struggle at the scene. Just the stuff you’d expect. But I do have a theory.”

“Well, let’s hear your theory.” An amused smile pushed the corners of his lips up as he kept working on his soup.

Avery leaned her weight onto her elbows, digging into her theory with both hesitancy and fervor. “We have a person of interest. Package delivery guy.” She didn’t give names. Didn’t dig into too much detail. After all, he wasn’t even labeled a suspect yet. Just a POI. “I met him and talked with him. The guy isn’t very bright, but he is very observant. When I asked him about his observance, he replied with,” she made air quotes, “‘Only when I want to be.’”

“Only when he wants to be, huh?” Lance’s laugh echoed his disbelief. Of course, he bore a skepticism for every human he met, so it wasn’t surprising.

“That’s what I thought! The guy said that she gave him a key to her place and everything, but they never made a move on each other, but he had a major crush on her. You know what I think?”

“Hm?” He took to drinking the last of his soup instead of slowly spooning it into his mouth. Avery kept going. “I think that Jenny was indeed on drugs and that she had been clean. But I think that she knew she had a stalker. I think this guy was stressing her out, and it forced her back into her heroin. You know how stress can cause a person to relapse?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I think that’s what happened. So maybe he didn’t kill her, but he stalked her. Because if the cause of death was the drugs, then he didn’t pull a gun on her or anything. The only thing is, I gotta prove it. And I don’t know how I’m going to do that.” Avery sighed and pushed her hand up through her hair. “I love solving cases, Lance. But I hate trying to put the pieces together. It’s like I’m trying to put a hundred-piece puzzle together, but I only have three pieces.”

“But you’ve done it before,” he replied. “I watched you do it with Mom’s case last year. You knew it was a homicide before anyone else did, and you had but two pieces to put together, and you did it. You’re a genius at what you do, Avery; you just have to believe that.” He aimed her that encouraging smile that she loved.

Avery sighed through her nose. “Thanks, Lance.”

Lance reached out, touching her hand with understanding. She stopped everything for a moment, just relishing in how good his hand felt upon hers. It was enough to draw her to look up at him and let herself get lost in those dark, brown, intense eyes of his.

“You know what I think?” he asked, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

“What?”

“I think we’ve just been too busy lately and haven’t spent enough quality time together.” Lance wrapped his fingers around her hand, squeezing life back into it. “Part of that is my fault. The new clinic is eating up all my time. Getting everything organized after that mobile clinic we had has been a nightmare. But we need to set aside some time to spend with each other. No cases, no clinic. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

He was asking her out on a date! They hadn’t gone out in what seemed like forever, but whenever he did ask her for that quality time, just the two of them, her heart soared with joy. She didn’t stop the joy from spreading a smile across her face. “Not a thing.”

“Let’s grab some dinner. And go for a walk around Juniper Springs.” He sat back. “I know how much you love your walks.”

“I do love me some fresh air,” Avery agreed. “I would absolutely love that.”

She got lost in his eyes as Lance gazed into hers. Together, they studied the features of each other’s faces, just reveling in the love they shared between them. The one thing Avery loved the most was being in Lance’s presence, his embrace. Finally, he drew in a breath.

“Tomorrow really can’t come fast enough for me.”

“For me, either,” she whispered.

“Dr. Blair?”

Even though he did his best to hide it, annoyance flickered across Lance’s face. His body slowly turned to where Sue’s voice approached from the doorway. “Yes?”

Apologetic, Sue pointed to the handheld that Lance installed in the break room. “Hospital called. Says it’s urgent. They wanted to speak directly to you.”

Lance frowned. The hospital? Seattle? “Thank you, Sue.”

He shot one more look at her and sighed. “Again. Can’t come soon enough.”

Avery giggled a little bit. Lance covered the distance between the phone and the table in a few seconds and held the phone to his ear. “Dr. Lance Blair speaking.”

Silence.

“Yes, I am.”

More silence, but a static voice on the other end.

“Cardiac arrest?”

She still felt concern rippling through her for whomever the patient was. She returned to eating her sandwich, tuning out the other side of Lance’s conversation. When he hung up, his gait on the way back to the table was marked with thoughtful steps. She tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

Lance settled down in his seat, vacant stare trying to work something out. “Mr. Hillard, the English teacher?”

“Mm-hmm?” She took a sip of water.

Lance looked up at her as if she had all the answers to the questions he had. “He had a sudden heart attack. He’s in the hospital in a coma as we speak.”

Memories could be strange things.

When Jason broke up with Carrie, she thought about it all the time; it became like a dark cloud hanging over her head, affecting the way she thought about herself. This time, after seeing that dead body, things were different. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the scene in technicolor. When she dropped a dish into the dishwater, it would dance across her eyes like a deer fleeing across the highway. When she woke up, it still lingered in her memory. Even her cozy little cabin felt too innocent for the things she had witnessed at work on her first day—too happy, too secure, like nothing could possibly be awful in the world.

As Carrie sat down to a breakfast of Grape Nuts and yogurt, she made a decision. The only way she was going to overcome this was to take the bull by the horns. Jason and Angela were something she could run from. They weren’t in her life anymore… but this? She wasn’t running from this. She was taking it on and not backing down.

Carrie had that same combat-ready energy in her step when she arrived at work that morning. She hated the atmosphere she walked into. For starters, she was the center of attention when she walked in. Lizzie, Ryan, Beth, Mark… everyone turned to look at her with wide, curious eyes as if they were determining what type of mood she was in. But she wouldn’t let it get her down. Nor would she show any weakness.

“Good morning, everyone.” She let her words drop like a bomb on the mood.

Relief seemed to flicker across Ryan’s eyes, and Lizzie pursed her lips as if she were about to cry. She rose from her seat. “Carrie. We’re so glad you’re back. Are you feeling better today?”

She didn’t want the attention—didn’t want everyone babying her. She allowed herself to be folded into Lizzie’s hug, but she preferred the friendly hug that she had given her on the day that she had interviewed. She held it for a while, letting her disinterest show on her face before pulling back. “I’m really fine, you guys. Really. I was just a little shaken yesterday, but I’m not going to let this bring me down. I have a job to focus on.”

“That’s a great attitude.” Ryan finally spoke, cuing her into the thoughts in his head. “Why don’t you come back to my office, and we can discuss your assignments for the day?” He seemed to sense that she wanted a private talk with him, free from the eyes that would surely follow her like a hawk throughout the day.

Carrie released a breath through mildly closed lips and nodded. “Let’s do it. I’m ready.”

She added an extra spring in her step that she wasn’t feeling as she followed Ryan back to his office. Memories of the emotions she was feeling yesterday swept over her, as if she were retracing her steps in déjà vu. The last time I walked toward his office, I was a mess. She needed to make new memories.

The door sealed out the rest of the world, although Carrie somehow wondered if Lizzie would be listening on the other side of the door. The girl was a dear, but also a busybody. She loved “pouring the tea” as she called it, which was actually a nice way to say “gossip.”

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better today, Carrie.” Ryan eased himself into the chair and pointed at the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

Carrie did as he asked, crossing one leg over the other… something she always did when trying to hide how nervous she really felt. “Thank you. And hey, I apologize for yesterday. Like I said, it caught me off guard, and I wasn’t ready.”

“Before you go any further,” Ryan held up a hand, “you don’t have to apologize at all. If this is the first cadaver you’ve seen, then you have reason to be unnerved. So, don’t apologize. I didn’t call you in here for a reprimand.” He flattened his lips together, and he studied her. “I don’t mean to come across as stern if that’s how you see me. I don’t want to seem that way with you.”

“But you try to be professional. I get that.” His observation had come out of nowhere, and Carrie wondered if she was acting too skittish around him. He did intimidate her, yes, but he wasn’t necessarily stern with her.

“It’s not that. I just don’t want you to think that I’m going to be hovering over your shoulder, and criticizing everything you do. Some companies may do that, but Juniper Springs is different. We’re more family-oriented here, and I want you to know that you haven’t done anything that has made me upset. In fact, just the opposite.” He let his face crack into a slight smile. “You showed up today which shows dedication. And I appreciate that.”

Wow. He really was telling her all of this on her second day, wasn’t he? He barely even knew her. Or did he? He somehow seemed vaguely familiar to her, as if she’d seen him before, maybe in a grocery store or somewhere. He even fit his name well. Ryan. But everyone was named Ryan, so that didn’t set him apart for anything. But the way he was praising her so? It gave her the shot in the arm she needed. “Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Blair.”

“Mr. Blair is my father,” Ryan chuckled. “Call me Ryan, please.”

She sat back in her chair. “Ryan.” She felt heat rise to her face at uttering his first name out loud. It felt somehow divine on her lips… something she couldn’t quite explain.

“Speaking of showing up today…” Ryan leaned forward, letting the atmosphere build into a seriousness. “I understand that the events of yesterday probably traumatized you a little bit, so that being the case, if you want me to, I can give that column to Lizzie and have you write something else.”

Nope. That was what she came to fight for! Carrie’s life was a dumpster fire right now, and her reaction yesterday only proved that she had not healed from all the garbage that Jason had put her through. The old Carrie would have never been such a hot mess after seeing a dead body. Maybe a little shaken, but not to yesterday’s extreme. She wouldn’t have shown that to the face of complete strangers, particularly her boss. She had once been known for her stiff upper lip, her eyes on the goal no matter what, and she had lost that. This was going to be her saving grace—the one thing that could pull her out of the mental funk she was in. She just had to present her case in a way that would make sense. She didn’t want him to think that she was taking on more than she could handle.

“Actually,” she ventured, “I was wondering if I could be put on the story. Not just the museum but the finding of the body as well.”

Confusion derailed on Ryan’s face. “What? You want to be put on the story?”

“If at all possible.” Carrie released a quiet breath. She already felt like she was going to explode, she didn’t need too much air in her lungs to help her do just that. “I was thinking about it yesterday and, well, you know how I was saying that I wanted to do something for the person who was found?”

He nodded.

“Well, I think that if I were to tell their story, then maybe it would help me process the trauma of seeing the dead body. It would help it become real rather than surreal to me. Not to mention,” she shrugged, palms upward, “what reporter doesn’t want a big story, right? I know I’m new in town, but this could be my big break—my one story that gets my name out there. If you’re willing to take a chance on me, I won’t let you down.”

Boom. Ball was in his court.

The girl was... resilient.

No, not resilient.

Bulletproof.

A completely different person had left his office yesterday afternoon, shaking, crying, processing what she had seen. But the little warrior had gone home, processed it, and come back fighting. She had spirit, and it just doubled his attraction for her. She was amazing.

This was something he didn’t want to take away from her. She was already gun-shy, he could tell. The way she kept apologizing for things that weren’t even mistakes. Her former boss must have been a real stickler.

But should he trust her with this huge story? Just because she had that warrior’s personality didn’t mean that she was a good writer. The museum project would have been great to start her out on, but the story behind the murder?

He let the gears turn in his head as he thought it over, and a solution presented itself with a chorus singing in the background. “Tell you what. I know you can handle it, but just on the off chance that it gets to be too much, here’s what I’ll do: I’ll let you have this story, but under the supervision of Lizzie. She’ll be your partner in the story, if you will. If you find you can’t do it, pass the torch over to her. If you can, then it’s yours. But I’ll have you working together on this one to ensure the story stays alive, no matter what happens. But as of right now, you can do the research, write the story.” He grinned at her. “Impress me.”

He could read it written all over her face. Challenge accepted. “I will do more than that.”

“I like your spirit,” he commented. He reached over into the front drawer of his desk and pulled out a folder. “These are the notes that you left yesterday. I made some phone calls, and I was able to find out some information that may help you with the case.” He set the files on the desk and slid them over to her. “The victim’s name was Veronica King.”

Veronica King?

A nuclear explosion went off in Carrie’s head, and she had to grip the desk for support. “Veronica... King…” Where was her voice? Why was she just breathing out words at this point? “Are you sure?” It wasn’t true… it couldn’t be.

Ryan went from confident to confused again. “Yes, I am sure. I wouldn’t have given the name to you if I wasn’t sure. Why?” Horror mounted his features. “Did you know her?”

“Know her?” Carrie’s back slammed against the back of her chair so hard that it rocked, and her fingers flew to her mouth. She chewed her nails for a moment before deciding that was a knee-jerk reaction that had better be left in high school days. “I went to school with her way back when. She and I went to middle school together, and we were best friends until she moved away freshman year. We lost touch, but you never forget your first friend, you know?”

Something strange darkened his eyes, but she couldn’t describe it—like a knowing—or perhaps he was adding something to her statement in his head. “Well, that puts a damper on things. I’m sorry for your loss, Carrie.”

She swallowed and lowered her head. “Thank you.”

A silence occupied the words that they would have otherwise been speaking to each other. Carrie decided she wouldn’t be the one to break it. She waited for Ryan to take the lead, which he did.

“I won’t take it away from you, but since this is really close to home…” His tone implied the rest of the sentence, but he said it anyway. “It’s not too late to back out.”

“No.” Carrie’s refusal set firm in her tone. “I need to do this. For Veronica. She didn’t deserve to be left in a dumpster to rot like this, so I am going to do my part.”

Her eyes searched him, begging him to relent and let her do this story. Whether it would be a biased conflict of interest or an open-minded investigation, Carrie was pursuing it like a hunting dog, and she couldn’t let it go. Not now. Not after this new information had just been revealed.

Ryan settled into his chair, not quite so visibly relaxed as he had been after agreeing to it the first time. “If you’re sure?”

“I need closure, and so does Veronica,” Carrie stated. “It’s entirely up to you, but…” she let her voice trail off.

Ryan lifted his hand, setting it down on the pages again. “All right. The same situation applies though. If Lizzie thinks that this is becoming too much for you, I will have her take it over. Understood?”

Carrie couldn’t be more grateful if he had just handed her a raise. “Understood. Thank you. I won’t let you down,” she promised again.

She gathered the notes into her hands and looked up at him, determined to be strong. “Is there anything else you needed to discuss with me?”

Ryan shook his head. “That was it. The rest is on you.”

“Thank you.” Carrie stood to her feet. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get started on this right away.”

“Go right ahead.” He encouraged her with his tone. “Send Lizzie in here, and I’ll fill her in on the details.”

“Will do.” Carrie gave a single nod and turned, making the door her destination. Her mind was already on the case. Maybe it was stupid of her to take on something so close to her heart, but it was something she could control at least. Angela’s lies and Jason’s cheating, coupled with the mental abuse he inflicted on her couldn’t be controlled… but this? No, this she could control. Besides. It wasn’t just for her.

It was for Veronica too.

Carrie could still see her face in her mind’s eye. Little Veronica thought she would never be popular because kids with glasses, red hair, and teeth full of braces would never be considered beautiful. Carrie, however, was the queen bee, but she never wanted it to be that way. She wanted to show Veronica that every girl was beautiful in their own way. In her eyes, Veronica was cute as a bug. Shy. Spoke with a slight lisp, but Carrie was never sure if it was a real lisp or the retainer she always had to wear. Either way, they both had the same dolls, and that was what drew them together. They played with their dolls until it was time to go in, and the rest was history. Carrie had tried to keep in touch, but over the years, the texts became fewer and fewer as both girls started their own lives, gained friends, and started dating. Such was the way of life.

Carrie flipped through her notes. She had to start writing something, but what? All she could think about was how horrific it was that Veronica had wound up the way she had. She deserved a proper burial, not a dumpster where her body could decompose like that. She should have been treated with respect.

Someone’s footsteps on the carpet disturbed the surrounding air, and she looked up to see who it was.

“Jeremy?”

Sure enough, there stood Jeremy Carr from the construction site, standing over her desk with a hesitant smile. The baggy jeans, the sloppy hairstyle, and everything else that defined him. “Hey, there Carrie. Um,” he said as he scratched the back of his head. “I know you were pretty shaken up yesterday, so I just wanted to stop by and see if you were doing okay.”

Aww, he really did that for me? He cared enough to come by and check in on me? The gesture touched Carrie, and she rose to her feet, her cheeks puckering with a smile. “Oh, that is so sweet. Thank you, Jeremy.” She sighed, looking down at her notes. “Yeah, I’m doing okay. I’m still working on processing it all right now, but I’m doing good with that.”

“I honestly didn’t expect to find you so chipper.” Jeremy slugged his weight onto one leg, tapping the toe at the end of his other leg on the ground: tap-tap-tap. Super distracting. Could the guy really not stand still? “But I’m so glad you are doing okay.”

He had to print that out. Change the front-page picture. What was he thinking when he had chosen the first one? Ryan’s mind was a gong on an anvil for each project until he looked out the window and caught sight of…

What. Was. This?

He moved to the window and looked through the blinds, not that he had to. His eyes were narrower than the blinds. Carrie stood talking pleasantly with someone, and that someone did not deserve her pleasantries. She was new in town, and he was preying on her. Oh, no. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Not to Carrie. She was too gentle of a soul to wind up with the likes, or in the bed, of one like him.

He grabbed something, anything to make it look like he wasn’t going out specifically to eavesdrop, and left his office with thunder.

“You’re a strong girl,” Jeremy commented. Carrie wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment or a bit too forward, but she lowered an eye and tilted her head anyway. “I... thank you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ryan exit his office, and tension wound up inside her again. Even though he had stated that he wasn’t stern, he might think that Jeremy was some kind of interest of hers and she wasn’t getting her work done. She started to scatter her papers, gathering them into one pile. “I really appreciate your kindness in checking up on me.” She said loud enough for him to hear. “It wasn’t fun, but I’m getting over it!”

He scratched the back of his head again. And stepped forward. “No problem. So, I was wondering…”

Oh no. He had that tone. The phone-number tone, the date tone, the are-you-single tone. Her face hardened into a mask. “Yes?”

“Are you seeing anybody? I know you said you were new in town, but if you’re not, would you like to go out for a drink with me sometime? I could show you the town and… I don’t know.” He tried for a smile, but it looked more like a smirk, like he knew she was going to accept. “I like you. You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful. Is there anything else? Was that honestly the only reason he was asking her out? She had just met him, for goodness’ sake! “Um,” she said, trying to turn off her mind, but all she could see standing in front of her was Jason—smirking just like Jeremy, charming her, flirting with her, and eventually asking her out. She accepts. They start dating. Jason finds out that she isn’t comfortable with touching or anything inappropriate. Discovers that she’s never even been with a man and begins to deprecate her. Demeaning her in front of everyone, including her friends and his friends. Making her feel stupid for driving mistakes, missing her turn, or forgetting something on the grocery list. But she stays with him… why? To this day, she isn’t sure. And then he starts being gone a lot. And then that text comes in. I saw Jason with another woman... do you know her?

Stop.

Jeremy was not Jason, but she was not ready to go through any of that again. She could even tell by Jeremy’s personality that he wouldn’t be too keen on not being able to do certain things with her either. And then the cycle would start all over again.

But she had to be assertive. That’s what got her places and a better reputation. She let her hand flop down to her side. “Jeremy, I’m really flattered. But I’ve just gotten out of a really bad relationship, and I just want to take some time to focus on me right now. I’d love to take your number to—” never call but be polite, “—keep in touch, but I’m not dating anyone right now.”

Anger brewed on his face. His eyes darkened. “I’m not asking you to marry me, just to go out for a drink with me.”

The fact that he wasn’t respectfully taking no for an answer told her that he didn’t care one bit about her welfare. He wanted her and was just using it as an excuse to ask her out. She stiffened, the wall going up around her heart. She’d never date again at this rate if this was the pool of available young men. “I know and completely understand, but I’m not ready for any relationship right now, even if it’s just a simple drink. Maybe someday way down the road, but I just want to focus on myself for right now.”

His jaw tightened. She didn’t like the angry look in his eyes. Before he could say another word, Ryan’s voice interrupted, and his shadow overcast Jeremy and Carrie. “Is there a problem here?”

Authoritative. Rumbling. The sound of thunder growling in an angry sky. Jeremy turned to look at him and held up his hands. “Nah, man, I was just checking on the lady here. She was at the construction site yesterday, and I was just making sure she was okay.”

And asking to ruin my life, but you conveniently left that part out, I see.

“I’ll see you around, Carrie.” He lifted his hand in a wave and began to walk off.

As soon as he exited the building, Carrie could finally breathe again. “Thank you.” She poured the relief she felt into her voice.

Ryan glared daggers after Jeremy as he left. “Be careful around him.” His tone had both a warning and an overprotective hue to it. “That’s Jeremy Carr.”

“I know,” Carrie agreed. “He was at the construction site yesterday. First guy I talked to, as referenced in my notes.”

Ryan turned to see her. “He’s known as the town player. Just be careful.”

What? She had just turned him down, and Ryan was getting on her case like a big brother? I’m not your little sister. Who did he think he was? He had been her boss for a little less than a week, and sure, he had seen her at her most vulnerable and treated her with kindness. But that didn’t mean he had any right to be so overly protective. He was her boss, and her dating life was none of his business. Did he really think that just because they shared some conversations in the office that bordered on personal that he was the expert in her life now?

She dropped her gaze to the floor, not wanting him to see the rebelliousness flaring in her eyes. He dared to cross a boundary that triggered her anger, but she was more afraid of him reading her facial expression and getting upset with her. Maybe even firing her. She had to handle this professionally.

Oh, but that meant being honest… and the last time she was honest with a guy? She closed her eyes, trying to get Jason’s condescending face out of her mind, and raised her face to meet Ryan’s. “I really appreciate your concern. However, I would prefer to keep my personal life separate from my work.”

He appeared stunned. She’d made sure to keep her answer assertive, concealing how she really felt about the situation, but no doubt he had read it in her eyes. The emotion changed colors on his face, deepening the dark color in his eyes. His jaw twitched, but she couldn’t tell if it was anger or merely concealing how he felt. He dipped his head and held up a hand. “My mistake. Sorry for overstepping my bounds.”

He turned, striding toward his office. Carrie watched him go, feeling the tension building in the air between them. She began to overthink her situation, wondering if her answer had upset him or hurt his pride. Ryan didn’t seem like he wanted to be put in his place at all, but she couldn’t let him think that her life was an open book. He had no idea what she’d been through.

She sat down at her desk, determined to focus on work without being bothered by anyone else.

Lance could not have picked a happier town to settle in.

With the woman he loved strolling by his side, he let her laughter settle in his heart and cherished it like a rare jewel. Her hand linked fingers with his as the sun began to hide behind the hills. The town of Juniper Springs nestled itself in the middle of a beautiful mountain range that towered above the road that led through the town. Though the summer heat threatened heat stroke and nausea, this time of year offered beautiful evenings, perfumed by the scent of fresh-cut Juniper, and lit by a bonfire here and there. Lance didn’t care for any bonfire gatherings, but he did love the town itself. The old-fashioned buildings lined the road and embraced them as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Have you had much of a chance to just walk and enjoy the town where you now live?” Avery inquired. She and Lance both tried to steer the conversation away from their jobs and just enjoy the time together.

Lance shook his head. “I drive to work with my windows down sometimes. That’s about all the enjoyment I get.”

“Maybe this year we can actually enjoy a bit of the Christmas decorations downtown,” she suggested. “You should see this place at Christmastime, Lance!”

He chuckled. “I did see it.”

“Yeah, through the windows of a mobile clinic in the grocery store parking lot.” She slapped his arm teasingly. “But I mean really experience it! The string lights that stretch across the road, the hot chocolate stand that opens, the crisp air…”

“Why are we talking about Christmas already?” Lance gently squeezed her arm back in response. “Are you one of these people who puts their trees up before Thanksgiving even rolls around?”

“Tree? Me? Decorate?” Avery burst out laughing. “I do it when I have time to, which means that if I have time before Thanksgiving, I’m putting up that tree because I know an opportunity to do it may not come around again until New Year’s! Besides…” She straightened her back, lifting her nose into the air. “It has been proven that people who put up their Christmas decorations early are typically happier people compared to those who don’t.”

Lance wrinkled his nose. “You need to stop reading magazines.”

“I will do no such thing,” Avery teased, laughing.

“You can’t just wait until the end of the year to be happy,” he offered. “There are plenty of activities during this season to do just that! You just have to stop working so much.” He was trying to get a rise out of her, and oh, was it ever working.

“I will have you know that I get out plenty, Lance Blair! It’s you who needs to get out there and get some sun! Look at you! You look like a ghost straight from the graveyard with that pale face of yours.”

Lance’s shoulders moved up in a shrug, hung for a moment, and then dragged back down. He took his time, enjoying the mini massage it gave to his shoulder muscles. Avery was right, but what choice did he have? “And your point is? You work all the time, too, you know.”

“Yeah, but at least my job can get me out and about! I spend a lot of time outside when I’m investigating, thank you very much. I drive with the windows rolled down, watch people as they hang around at the lake.” Her thoughts descended from teasing him into something more personal. “When was the last time you went to Juniper Springs Lake?”

“You’re assuming I’ve been there since I started the clinic,” he said, chuckling. “Bold of you to assume I actually get out and do things.”

Avery kicked at a rock, watching it skitter away in front of them. “You know, summer’s almost over. September isn’t that bad weather-wise. Maybe we can go for a day trip to the lake. I’ve been wanting to go back. I haven’t been there since November.”

“You went to the lake in November?” Lance angled his face to see her. “Were you that desperate for summer to return?”

“No, no,” Avery laughed. “It was for a case I was working on. Fact, the same guy who tried to take me out was the one that brought me to the lake.”

“Oh.” Darkness colored Lance’s voice. George, the guy who had shot up his mother’s cabin, now his cabin, and had nearly killed Avery on too many occasions.

Avery heard the change in tone, and her gentle laugh broke the tension. “What do you say? We’re years overdue for a float trip, don’t you think? Juniper Springs has a lovely river, too, and we need to visit it more often.”

“We will.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They spared some space between them, giving the late August heat room to breathe, but he couldn’t have her walking so far away from him either. He had moments of random urges that he needed her close, needed to feel her in his arms… and with the distance work put between him and her, moments like this were easy to steal when he could. Steal and savor. “I’ll check my schedule and see if maybe we can take a Sunday, grab a picnic, and head up there. We need more time like this, one-on-one anyway.”

“That would be great,” she agreed, her voice flooded with affection. She moved her head to look into his dark eyes, a smile spreading across her face that spelled out contentment and happiness. She stopped walking for a moment and slipped herself into his embrace, tucking her head against his chest. He held her close, resting his chin on top of her head, and looked out over the town where they found themselves. Down the way, he noticed the gazebo where he and Avery shared their first kiss in high school. Hanging baskets of dark pink and purple flowers decorated it, making it look like some sort of enchanted garden, though that was probably due to all of the memories they’d shared there. But it was on the other side of the street, and he was content to stay on the side they were on for a while. They walked by the small, colorful, flower beds, tucked between the boutique and jewelry shop.

“I’ve missed you, Lance.” Avery’s voice sounded muffled against his shirt, and he gently moved her head back slightly. She gazed up at him, taking in his chocolate-colored eyes. Her own eyes reflected the sky’s blue with a hint of starlight in the sparkle she had there… the sparkle that she had unveiled with him a few times when they had managed to steal away alone. “I know that you have the clinic and I’m up to my ears in work. I catch myself thinking of you every chance I get, wishing you were there with me in that extra time.”

His chest lifted and fell with a sigh. “I know. I’ll establish some reasonable hours for myself when the clinic steadies out a bit. I’ve missed you too.”

“I wasn’t saying that to make you feel bad.” Avery shrugged one shoulder. “I’m just speaking my honest opinion.”

He tightened his grip on her, not enough to choke her but to encircle her with spurts of affection. “You can always be honest with me.”

“Really? I can?” She lifted her head off of his chest and took a few steps back. He let her slide through his arms with reluctance until he held her at arm’s length from his body. A chill swept in with her absence, but he didn’t let it show. Her eyes shimmered with some kind of playfulness, but was she really asking him in all seriousness? Of all the questions she could have picked?

“Of course, you can,” he urged her. “You should know that by now.”

“Okay.” She nodded to his sleeve. “You have cocktail sauce on your shirt.”

Right, sure he did. “What?” His gaze snapped down, and sure enough, some remains of his dinner were splattered across his upper sleeve. “How in the world did that even get there?”

Avery covered her mouth to mitigate the burst of laughter she succumbed to.

“Ah!” Lance shook his head, trying to scrape it off with his thumb. His long strides took him forward, resuming the walk. “This shirt cost more than, well, never mind.”

“I know—I know!” Avery’s eyes rolled playfully. “Only the finest, right?”

Their laughter died down, bringing with it the stillness of the evening. The world around them began to grow still, and Lance enjoyed the peace of not having a thousand things to do, a thousand thoughts pounding his head, and a thousand problems to solve. He allowed himself to think back on his favorite memories with the woman beside him and to give them life by vocalizing them to her. “Speaking of a river float, remember that summer that we went together with our friend group?”

“That time you were the first to capsize the kayak out of anyone in the group?” Avery giggled. “Oh, yes, I remember.”

“That wasn’t funny!” Lance cried. Of course, she remembered that. “I didn’t even get a chance to row out! I was getting into it, and it tipped over! Soaked our lunch too.”

“Oh, now that wasn’t funny!” Avery admitted. She stepped closer to him, rubbing her hand along his back. Did she have any idea how comforting, how warm her touch was? Oh, he could so spend the rest of his life with this woman. He was stupid to let her go the first time, no matter what the future held. But those days were past, and he was enjoying the present with her. “My sandwich was with you.”

“Well, the fish were happy,” Lance said. “They got a good meal and were too full to go for the fishermen’s bait that same day, so it was a win-win for them.”

“I didn’t care about those fish. I cared about my lunch! I had to eat bologna sandwiches!”

“And yet, you lived.”

“Bah!” She waved him off. “The first of my nine lives. I’m up to my seventh now, I think.”

Lance let his eyes disappear behind folds of tired flesh, and his sigh became one of resentment. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, you were there with me last fall.” Avery shrugged again like it was no big deal. “That had to count for at least five lives.”

Lance shook his head with insistence. He couldn’t handle it anymore. He pivoted to face her, taking her into his arms. Her laughter instantly descended into seriousness, and she became as swept up in his presence as he was in hers. He locked gazes with her, feeling that electric field between them, pulling her closer and closer to him.

“You have your whole life ahead of you. Two lives or not.” He grinned at the joke but let it fade into the passion blazing in his eyes. “And I want to spend it with you, whether one or two or nine lives.”

“That’s awfully romantic,” Avery said, her voice carrying the breathless effect he always had on her, “considering that only cats have nine lives.”

“Then take care of yourself.” He inched his lips closer to hers, then closed the gap, sealing her lips with his own. Avery melted into him, sliding her hand up his back and digging through his hair. Her other hand stroked his back up and down, and the good feeling washed over him. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the feeling of this woman in his arms, indulging in their kiss. They had shared so many over the past few months, but they never ceased to be saturated with the passion he felt for her. He broke it off, blinked open his eyes, and found hers resting on him. “Because I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” she proclaimed with too much confidence, “because you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He breathed a smile and tipped her back up, releasing her. He had no idea that he had kissed her with such passion that she had been leaning back like a dancer moving with her dance partner in an elegant dip at the end of a symphony of delight. Only once the moment had passed, a cool breeze blew, and he started to feel an all too familiar ache in his right ankle from being on his foot too long that day. It hadn’t been bothering him very much recently, but on those days when he had walked a few extra miles, his old military wound reminded him that the scar and damaged muscles were still here. He chose to ignore it. The moment was too perfect for him to end with talk of his old wound. He could bear it.

As it so happened, he didn’t have to worry about ruining the moment. Avery’s cell phone accomplished that. She let out a gasp of exasperation and fished in her purse for her cell phone. “I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry!” Lance chuckled. “We just need to put our careers to bed for a day.”

“I’d like to see that happen. They find you.” Avery retrieved her cell phone, and a fire flashed from her eyes as she beheld the name. “What in the world? Dude, let me have a night off in peace!”

He had never seen her react to her PI direct line in such a way. She was always open, curious, and ready to jump into work, however reluctant. “Chief Simmons?”

“No.” She clicked the off button. “I don’t get that annoyed with him. This is the delivery guy I told you about. He calls me, day and night, incessantly begging for updates of which I either have none or can’t give them out! He never quits!”

Concern began to ripple through him. “He calls you that often? Do you need me to talk to him?”

“No, no.” Avery laughed as she replaced her phone into her purse. “I need him. He’s a key player to my case. I don’t need you scaring him off.” Her eyes shone with a teasing knowledge that he would indeed scare the creep off and he’d never come back again. Lance wouldn’t hesitate. The guy didn’t need to be calling Avery so often. “Why don’t you just block him?”

“I can’t do that,” she replied. “I gave him my number because if my theory is not correct, he may be the only piece that helps me solve this thing. My only witness. I can’t get rid of him. Not yet.”

“Don’t you just love the people you are forced to work with sometimes?” Lance sighed and resumed his place beside her.

“Sometimes I do, and sometimes I want to rip my hair out.”

“Don’t do that.” He smoothed a hand over the back of her hair, relishing in the feeling of the softness. “Your hair is too pretty to rip out.”

She settled into a soft laughter. “Thanks. Sorry for the outburst. I get annoyed when people try to be overly helpful… and disturb my precious few moments with you.”

He let a small chuckle cover the wince as he put some weight on his right foot. “People annoy me to no end—I get it. No need to apologize.”

He stopped for a moment as the ache in his leg intensified a bit. He cringed slightly, picking his foot up and rotating it to see if it would help. Avery’s gaze rested on him, concern deepening her expression. “Is it bothering you today?”

“It’s been acting up a bit, but I’m all right.” He gave the right of way to a frustrated sigh, wishing that he could take longer walks with Avery than what tonight had allotted for him.

Avery let compassion overtake her concern and set a hand on his back. “Do we need to go back?”

“Only if you’re ready.” He didn’t care if she needed a few extra minutes. He would endure the discomfort if it meant seeing her happy as she walked another five miles.

But she valued him just as much and let a soft smile assure him. “We can go back. We always want the walk back to be shorter anyway.” She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

The couple turned, making their destination the truck that Lance had parked a few blocks down. He hated having to turn back, but like always, wanted to make light of an otherwise dark situation. He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s pretty bad when a patient who’s older than I am has fewer aches and pains than I do. At least, he did.”

Avery’s gaze flickered over to his. “You mean Mr. Hillard, don’t you?”

How could she always read right into his soul? Lance nodded. “I just don’t understand it, Avery. He was in perfect health just a few days ago. It hadn’t even been a week since I’d seen him, before his sudden cardiac arrest. I mean,” he gestured with his hand, “I understand it can happen—cardiac arrest can hit the healthiest at any time—but it’s rarely without some sort of explanation.”

“Hmm.” He could see her mind turning this over and over. “What could cause it?”

“A number of things,” Lance replied. “Sometimes a surprise or stress can bring on a heart attack. Did you know that most of the time, when someone falls from a great height—it’s not the sudden stop that kills them—it’s a heart attack on the way down?”

“I think you did tell me that.” Avery nodded. “Back in the day when you would spout out random facts while prepping for medical school.” Like he ever stopped.

“I’m sorry I ever subjected you to that.” Lance’s short laugh was overrun by his thinking mind. “But still. It could be caused by a blockage, but I contacted the hospital, and they said there were no blockages found.”

“So maybe it’s shock?” Avery inquired.

It had to be shock. What else could it be? Lance studied Avery, knowing she was turning the scenario over and over again in her head. She had always been able to smell out something that was out of place, and from the look on her face, it seemed this stuck out like a sore thumb. She knew as well as he did that a happy man like Hillard wouldn’t just drop dead.

“Maybe it was staged to look like a heart attack? No, they’d find something in his system if that were the case. A surprise, maybe?” Avery voiced her thoughts aloud.

“Or maybe his heart just decided it was time to give out. Any number of explanations could cause it. I just don’t understand it.” Lance shook his head, just as frustrated with it as the family was.

“So, is there any new word—other than the poor man had no blockages?”

“He’s still in a coma.” Lance’s answer drained the life out of the evening for a few moments.

Of course, he didn’t understand it. Neither did she. Her heart settled on the thought that he had to have endured some kind of shock for this to happen. But what could it be? The man was a teacher, after all. One of his students?

“Did this happen at school as far as you know?” Avery asked.

“No, he was at home,” Lance replied.

“Were there any signs of a robbery? A gunfight? Maybe a forced entry?”

Lance’s laugh betrayed his amusement. “Avery, I didn’t bring it up for us to analyze. Not tonight. We’re not working tonight.” He slid an arm around her shoulders, eyes glimmering with both jest and a warning for her to stop thinking about work. “Remember?”

She sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll turn it off. Sorry, baby. I can’t help it sometimes.”

Lance turned the tide of their conversation with a single laugh. “Baby. Now I see what you mean by our need for different pet names.”

“You see!” Avery threw her hands into the air. “Nothing works!”

“I have an idea.” He let her into his thoughts at length. “My cousin Ryan has been needing to meet with me to discuss a time to set up an interview for the paper. What if I plan to grab dinner and, well, of course, bring you along? He wants to meet you, and we can squeeze in more time together. Sound good?”

He could see her light up at the prospect as her brain instantly began racing around. “That sounds lovely! I’d love to meet your cousin!”

“Great. I’ll phone him tomorrow and set up a time. We all could use the break.” Lance gave her a squeeze and kept walking. But she didn’t turn it off like he’d asked her to. He could tell she was still thinking about something… she had just turned off her commentary. But he knew her brain was plenty busy, like his, trying to figure out why in the world a perfectly healthy man would drop with a heart attack out of nowhere.

What kind of shock would cause that?

This was it. Time to take that first step and write that first sentence.

Carrie sat at her computer, the cursor on the screen teasing her. Come on, write something. You know you have to. Yes, she knew she had to, but the words just wouldn’t come. She set her fingers to the keyboard and typed out a sentence or two. Museum Project and Body Found! Too lame. Backspace, backspace. Museum Site – Celebrating or Representing? Too biased. Delete.

She sighed, sat back, and twisted her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp as she did. Okay, forget the title. She could just write the article and come up with the title as she went along. She set her hands to the keyboard again—willing—begging the words to come. She tapped on the door of the archives of her brain for words; she pounded on it for just one sentence. By the time a few minutes passed, she was ready to take a battering ram to it.

She sighed and let her back hit the rear of her chair. She could get up to get her fourth cup of water, but she had been distracting herself since she had clocked in that morning. Maybe if she walked over to the water jug, poured some water, and sat back down, the walk would jog her brain a little bit. When that didn’t work, she tried freshening up in the ladies’ room. Also didn’t work. Glass after glass, walk after walk, and still nothing.

She tapped her finger on the desk, chewing on her lower lip as she thought. What could she do to generate some words? She could just type out an outline maybe. Type an outline, then fill in the rest. She leaned forward, willing herself to just write and not overthink.

Yesterday the museum project turned into a disaster. While the museum is being built and is expected to be completed in a few months, work may be halted with the finding of the deceased body of one Veronica King.

That’s all she had. The story needed life.

Veronica needed life.

And then something sparked an idea. While she wasn’t in charge of the obituaries, she could at least write something of an epitaph for her to let the people of Juniper Springs know that it wasn’t just a human being that was found, but a person. A girl with a personality, a story, habits that she engaged in every day; a young woman who was walking the path of her own story that ended so very abruptly and tragically.

Carrie moved her mouse over, clicking into her search engine. She paused, gathering herself. This was the hard part. She forced herself to relive the moment and use those words to type into the search engine.

How long has a body been…

She paused. A body? Dead? The words seemed so cruel, so cold, so calloused. But the search engine only understood clunky keywords and didn’t respect phrasing. So, she forced herself to continue.

How long has a body been dead when it’s green and bloated?

Done. Don’t think about it, don’t linger. And, search.

Three to five days, it bloats. But the green sticks around until week three when it starts to turn red. Carrie’s stomach churned with the details. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard-hitting if she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand and could still smell the stench of rotting flesh when she thought about it. But come to think of it, there was a bit of red, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just all green, was it?

She grabbed her pencil and wrote a few notes. Two to three weeks, maybe?

That told her an estimate of when her friend had left this world behind. But who was her friend? Who had she grown into after middle school… after high school? Well, if there was one way to find out, it was the open journal of every girl, boy, man, and woman in the United States: their social media page.

Carrie berated herself for not bothering to look up Veronica’s social media until now when it was too late to friend request her. Out of sight, out of mind, she told herself. She’d been so wrapped up in her new life that the friends of her old one had faded into the past… until that fateful day when they brought back her memories in vivid color. She typed Veronica’s name into the search bar and scanned through the pictures that came up. There. That was her. Smiling face, teeth finally perfected after all those years of braces and retainers. Carrie let a sigh slip from her soul. All that work for nothing, only to be snuffed out in her early twenties. She still wore the glasses that she had in middle school, but they fit her face better than they had back then.

She clicked on Veronica’s page, both relieved and dejected to find her friend’s page the same open book as everyone else’s social media page. Part of her wondered if the reason for her demise was because of her openly sharing so much personal information on the internet for any old stalker to get his or her hands on.

Eating some mac and cheese after a long day!

Heading to work. Already can’t wait to be off.

I’m soooo bored! Friday night, and I’m the only one not working. Does someone wanna hang out, pleaaase?

She scrolled up to the beginning of her page. The last known post was, well, would you look at that? Three weeks ago yesterday! Amid all of the sobbing emojis and colorful background, her friend’s poorly written lament spilled across the page.

Whyyyy? Where have all the good men gone? Why can’t I find a good man?

Carrie could agree with that one, but why make it so public how desperate you are? Carrie preferred to keep things to herself. But it sure helped her out in figuring out who her friend had become. So, she was having relationship issues, was she? Carrie glanced over at her relationship status. Single. Must be recent, just like her.

No—now was not the time to think about Jason. Focus.

She scrolled back past the stupid memes and minute-by-minute dictation of her friend’s life and found a post from a week before her lament for the lack of good men.

A single rose stuck out of a vase sitting on what appeared to be Veronica’s dresser. The caption to the photo read something completely different.

Look how well my man treats me! I’m so happy with my man.

Wow, a single rose. How romantic. How... cheap.

Surrounded by hearts and smiley faces, it seemed like a different person posting. Carrie tapped her finger on the mouse. Didn’t it seem that way with most relationships today? She knew of so many overnight relationships that it broke her heart. Week one. Meet the guy and gush over him to your friends. Half a week later, go out on a date. Week two. You’re so in love with each other that nothing else matters, not friends, not oxygen, not food, just each other. By the end of week two, you hate each other, call each other names, and break each other’s hearts, never to see one another for the rest of your days.

Carrie shook her head, assaulted by feelings of her own failed relationship. If only it had been two weeks instead of the year she’d dedicated to Jason.

Moving on, she glanced over at Veronica’s listed lifetime achievements. She grabbed her pen again. Relationship, single. Went to Juniper Springs Middle School, high school in Idaho, moved back to Juniper Springs. Works at: Beta Car Insurance as a team member. Team member, huh? Very helpful.

Carrie typed the insurance company into her search engine. Her nerves began to rise at the thought of making a phone call. People in the office would overhear. What if they disliked the way she made a phone call? Found fault with it somehow? What if Ryan or Lizzie felt it was not professional enough? What if she was distracting?

Stop overthinking. You’ve got this.

Carrie picked up her office phone and dialed the number before she could talk herself out of it. She had to be able to do things without overthinking them, or else the voices in her head that told her she’d never be good enough would catch her in a web of lies.

The phone rustled on the other end. “Beta Insurance, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hello. My name is Carrie Sweet. I’m with the Juniper Springs Times here in Washington, how are you?”

“Just fine, ma’am. What can I help you with today?”

“I am doing a story, and I was wondering if I could speak to someone in charge?”

After being transferred a few times, jumping through proverbial door after door, she finally got connected with the person she assumed to be Veronica’s boss. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Carrie put on her customer service sweet voice and introduced herself again. “I’m calling on behalf of Veronica King.”

The woman sighed on the other end. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

That was an understatement. Carrie nodded. “Can you tell me anything about Veronica? I’m doing a story based on our findings, and I’d like to get to know her as a person more than just as a story.” It was true, but it sounded good as well, so she hoped it would fly with the woman.

“There really isn’t much to tell,” the woman replied. “Veronica was one of our remote workers. She never had to come into the office or anything. Most people tell me she kept to herself.”

True, Carrie thought. For the last couple of posts she had scrolled on Veronica’s social media page, it looked like she never left her house, never went to parties, only on dates with whomever broke her heart. Did she really never leave her house? Carrie didn’t mind staying in her little corner and writing, but she needed socialization, too, every once in a while.

“Veronica admitted to me when she interviewed for the position that she didn’t like to go out. She was something of a hermit, really, and only went out when she had to. That’s why she said this job was perfect for her. She was a quiet sort of girl. Not the kind that should turn up dead in a dumpster.”

Carrie couldn’t agree more. Her pen flew across the page. “Thank you so much for this information.”

She chatted with the woman for a few more minutes before clicking the phone down on the receiver. She took a quick glance around the office, but no one even cared that she was on the phone. No one had been eavesdropping, Carrie assured herself, and with this new information she moved her mouse to reactivate her screen. I wonder if I could get the name of the guy who broke her heart after a week. She clicked on the first post where Veronica had bemoaned the lack of good men and scrolled to the comments section. Not helpful, not helpful, not helpful. Carrie cringed at the number of comments that were nothing but broken heart emojis and no dialogue whatsoever. Did they really think that sending images instead of actual condolences was going to make her feel better?

No names, no names, but then… there was a longer comment. Carrie clicked on the “see more” option and began to read.

People get really sick of the constant drama from you and will stop being your friend, so just stop trying. No one likes you anyway. Maybe if you weren’t such a whiny-butt, your bf would have stuck around. I don’t blame him. I’d leave too.

What in the world? The force of the comment threw her back into her chair. What a terrible, awful thing to say. She glanced at the name. Regina Pitre. Regina. Latin for queen, eh? Not very queenly, are you? Maybe Bloody Mary but certainly no Queen Victoria.

Carrie scrolled back to the post with the single rose and read a few more comments, but surprise slapped her again when Regina’s name popped up under this post too.

You’re so ugly, it’s a wonder anyone wants you.

Again, the comment was so cruel that it sucked the breath out of Carrie’s lungs. Could one human being really say that to another human being? And to sweet Veronica of all people?

She couldn’t help herself but click on a few more comments on various posts, cringing any time she saw Regina’s name pop up which was surprisingly common. And each time, the words were even more ugly than what she was calling Veronica. Ugly. Skank. Drama queen. Slang terms that made Carrie close her eyes… words that she would never repeat to another woman as long as she breathed.

They say that scrolling is just as addictive as some drugs, and Carrie agreed with whomever had been the first one to make that statement. It was nice to get inside her friend’s thoughts, but it angered her whenever she read Regina’s name in the comments. Finding a post from a month ago, Carrie’s eyes scanned it, looking for any sort of information or clue. She wished she could have physically been there to hug Veronica as she read each word of her bleeding heart.

Needing some good thoughts and prayers today. Today has been an awful, awful day, and I cannot stop crying! Did you guys see that news story today about the dog that was found on the side of the road and how he was reunited with his owner? I’m just missing my fur baby who died last year, and I’m so lonely right now, I could just die.

Carrie held her breath. Admitting to social media that one wanted to die usually led to some sort of investigation—the social media platform reaching out with the hotline number to call, or someone reaching out in love. While a few comments were collected, Regina’s somehow managed to be right on top of this one. And her cruel words made Carrie’s blood tip past boiling.

Then why don’t you just go die? No one wants you here anyway. You are such an attention seeker. You’re constantly posting things that are literally the pettiest things in the world. People are starving worldwide, people are homeless, and your dog literally died a year ago—get over it!!! This is the reason that no one likes you and that you’re alone. Because no one likes an attention seeker who makes everything all about them! The world would be better off without you.

Carrie needed a break. She couldn’t handle this anymore. Anger boiled inside her, and she thrust her chair back, marching to the water container near the front desk. How? How on earth could someone say those rotten things to another human? Carrie hated posting anything personal online because in the cyber world, people often forgot that they were talking to actual people instead of typing out words to mindless robots. But this was just borderline inhuman. Who was this Regina lady anyway?

Carrie sipped her water, trying to calm the quaking rage in her hands, but her mind whirled with possibilities. It sounded like Veronica was lonely and kept to herself. What if she was the victim of cyberbullying? Could that be the reason behind her death? Was it really a homicide or…?

Carrie shook her head and returned to her desk. Surely if this was an issue, Veronica would have blocked Regina. Maybe she was a toxic friend that Veronica couldn’t bring herself to separate from? Whatever the case may have been, Carrie wasn’t going to put it in her article—not until she had a chance to verify some things. But she did know a few things about Veronica that she could share.

She plopped back down into her chair and set her fingers on the keyboard again. Only this time, she couldn’t type fast enough. She made sure to include a few important words in her report as well… words such as “beautiful, caring, and unique.”

Avery’s home office looked like an adventurer’s.

Papers were scattered all over and pinned to her wall, lines drawn through the papers, all pointing to one thing: the picture of Jennifer Ingress. But that was just about all she had. As she sat there with her eyes glued to the wall, Avery examined every possible angle the case could take. She had her victim, Jenny Ingress, along with unknown fingerprints at the scene which could be from anyone. She knew they didn’t belong to Jay. His fingerprints were in the federal system as a package delivery man. But so far, he was her only person of interest. Who else would it be?

What had finally caused Jenny to snap? Avery couldn’t wrap her brain around it. Jay hadn’t seen her for two days. Was he messaging her somehow? Surely, he had her phone number or social media, right? What had caused the snap?

Avery herself snapped and collapsed onto her futon with a sigh. “Jennifer, come on. Talk to me, girl. What pushed you over the edge?”

Avery had gotten lucky with her last case. Mariann West had detailed everything in her diary that pointed her to the trail of her murder. But Jenny’s only “diary” was her social media page, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Memes, random pictures, happy things. No indication of being stressed out. Avery noticed that Jenny didn’t have much to brag about in the way of posts. No diary, no notes, nothing. What irritated Avery was that the last case had given her a delicious number of clues that she’d had to string together. But this case didn’t allow her any clues except for Jay’s stalker-type behavior and the key to her house, if that was even a clue at all. The heroin. Yes, she had that, and the table with blood from her head injury. Everything was stating the obvious. What was she missing?

She checked her notes again, going over every single detail of Jay’s alibi. Jenny had been found about forty-eight hours after her death, and Jay had claimed that he wasn’t even there that day.

Jenny hadn’t ordered anything that day.

The sentence struck Avery as oddly specific, but she couldn’t figure out why. What if the answer wasn’t in the delivery person as much as the packages she was getting? Wasn’t it odd that she got so many packages a day? Or was she just a hoarder? Maybe these packages were meals and snack items?

The way to get her answers was so obvious that Avery nearly laughed. Of course, she had a friend in the business. Maria had been the manager of the parcel delivery office in Juniper Springs for as long as Avery had been an attorney at law. Maybe longer. She would know.

A few hours later, her video call blinked at her to answer. She slid in front of her computer, adjusted her hair, and accepted the call. Her friend’s smiling face filled the computer screen as Avery’s own picture slid up into the corner. As soon as Maria saw Avery, her eyes lit up. “Hey, friend! How’s it going?”

“Could be better, could be worse.” Avery shrugged. “How is life down at the office?”

Maria’s groan said everything that her words didn’t. “Busy as always. Never changes. How is your work going?”

“I am actually working on a case right now.” Avery moved her notes closer to her. “And I was wondering if I can ask a favor.”

“Name it.”

Avery glanced at her notes and gave her the date of Jenny’s death. “Your driver, Jay Appleton? He said he didn’t deliver to her house that day. Can you verify that for me?”

A long sigh. “Jay. That boy.”

Avery’s ears perked. “Problem child?”

“You have no idea. He’s annoying as can be. Has to be told to do just about every little detail even though he’s been with us for about seven and a half years. Hold on. Let me get his itinerary for that day.”

For the first time, Avery felt impatience clawing at her as she waited for her friend to return. When Maria finally did, she had an annoyed tone to her voice. “Well, he didn’t deliver a package to her that day, but he did swing by her house. GPS tracking has him there for a solid seventeen minutes that he should have been working.”

Avery swallowed. “Seventeen minutes?”

“That’s what I’ve got! The boy was obsessed with Miss Ingress. He stopped at her house for a longer amount of time than anyone else’s house on the route. He would even skip deliveries on the other side of town if he was running out of time just to deliver her package to her if need be.”

“So, it was more than just a crush? It was more of an obsession?”

“You could say that. I’d love to fire him, but aside from that, he’s one of my best delivery drivers. Knows the route through Juniper Springs as if he made it himself. Usually gets done on time if he’s not jabbering with Jenny for too long.”

“Did you know that Jenny supposedly gave him a key?”

Maria’s jaw set firmly. “He had a key to her place?”

“Yep!” Avery hated getting him in trouble, but the trail that had run cold was suddenly growing hot.

“That’s against policy. If he had a thing going with her on his own personal time, that’s one thing; but to my knowledge, he didn’t. I had to implement disciplinary action against him for that seventeen-minute stop, so he’s not going to be happy about this.”

“Hey, can you not tell him you got this information from me?” Avery asked. “He thinks I’m on his side right now, but I’m thinking he’s connected with this death somehow.”

“You got it.” Maria gave a long sigh. “Please keep me posted. If he had anything to do with Jenny’s death, I definitely don’t want to keep him around the delivery station. In fact, I have a mind to give him some time off for a while. I don’t know.”

“I’ll keep you posted. And thank you so much for the information!” Avery couldn’t be more grateful.

Maria looked up over the top of her device and nodded before returning her attention to Avery. “Hey, I gotta go. But if you need anything else, let me know.”

“Thanks again.” Avery hung up, then swiveled around in her chair, eyes scanning the walls where her story board was set up. So, if she was understanding correctly, Jay had not only lied to her about not being there, but he had no reason to be there in the first place. Seventeen minutes was certainly enough to commit a murder, especially if he was grappling with her and she hit her head. That didn’t explain the heroin, but maybe she wasn’t as clean as everyone thought she was.

Avery dialed Chief Simmon’s number and held the phone to her ear. “Hey there, Chief. Listen, I found something out about Jay Appleton that I think you might want to hear.”

The museum project was brought to an abrupt halt last Monday when the body of twenty-three-year-old Veronica King was found dead at the construction site. The project was set to be completed by mid-January but may have to be put on hold for a few weeks while police investigate. Due to the location of Veronica’s body, police are ruling out suicide and believe this to be a homicide. There are no further details at this time.

The investigation into Veronica King’s death may prove a challenge as Veronica was known to be a hermit, keeping to herself, and working remotely from home. With so little information to go on, it will be difficult to discover the true cause of her death, but any citizens with any information are requested to contact the Juniper Springs Police Department. As for today, the city gathers their hearts around the friends and loved ones of this girl who was loved by all who knew her.

Ryan’s eyes scanned the article that his little prodigy had turned in well before her deadline. Carrie had really thrown herself into the story, and it showed. Somehow throughout the story, Carrie had managed to tie in the museum’s important place in the town with the finding of Veronica’s body, all the while telling the story rather than reciting details like a robot. He lowered the lid of his laptop, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, and head nodding his approval. “Very impressive, Carrie. Was this all your own words?”

“Yes.” Carrie sat across from him, her hands folded around the knee that crossed over her leg. How beautiful, how picturesque she looked sitting there with those gorgeous brown waves falling around her shoulders. Did she have any idea how beautiful she really was? “Lizzie helped me with proofreading and gave me some references, but I wrote the story myself.”

“You have a true talent for writing.” Ryan struggled to keep himself in check. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also brilliant. A perfect fit for the paper’s office and not just someone that he wanted to spend more time with. But like a director at an actor’s audition, he kept his poker face, cracking only a bit to praise her work. She needed to know how amazing she was.

“I know it isn’t much,” Carrie went on to explain. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t a huge article, but I didn’t want to pound the issue either, you know?” She glanced around the office for a few moments, her dimples and cheeks deepening in color. She could mask her nervousness behind confidence, but he could see right through her. Maybe it was because he observed every detail of her pretty little life from the moment she walked through the door each morning to the moment she clocked out. She could be her own undoing if she kept defending herself though.

“Carrie,” Ryan began, leaning forward. His tone matched that of a coach or maybe a teacher rather than her boss. “You don’t need to explain or apologize. When you present your work to me,” he nodded down to his laptop, then back up at her, “you can just turn it in and be proud of it. If I need changes made, I’ll let you know.” He breathed a laugh, and her face changed from pink to red, and her eyes widened, unblinking. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Well,” she fumbled for words, “I’m sorry.” Realizing she had just apologized again, she slapped her palm to her forehead and laughed with more nervousness than a girl on a first date. Ah, first date, how lovely that sounded. No, no, focus, Ryan. “I did it again, I’m so…” She burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m just a mess with words today. I’m better at putting them on paper.”

Ryan let an amused smile flicker across his face. Was it he who was making her nervous, or was she just nervous in general? Watching her drop that confident air and fall apart like this was endearing, if to no one else, to him.

“I’m a writer, and the greatest fear of any writer is turning their work in to have it read by their boss.” Carrie shrugged. “So, I feel like I have to defend it, I guess, in a way… not,” she held out her hand, “not from you, per se, but just in general.”

“I understand that. I’ve heard that from a few writers. But your writing has impressed me, Carrie. You breathed life into an otherwise, for lack of a better term, dead story… and the way you did it was simply amazing.” He slapped his laptop fully closed. “Keep up the good work, and just know that you don’t have to defend anything to me. Your writing is very good. You have the potential to be a long-term journalist if you’re interested.” He flashed her a smile. “Stay on the trail of this story, and Lizzie will get some more things together for you to work on for today. Thank you, Carrie.”

Her mouth hung open for a few seconds before she rose to her feet, swallowing. “Thank you, Mr. Blair, I appreciate it.”

Call me Ryan, please, he wanted to beg. He had asked her this before, but she never seemed to want to use his first name—not in the office setting at least. The one thing he hated about having her work for him was the canyon between boss and employee. As she left the room, he noticed a slight spring in her step, and he couldn’t help but head to the window. He observed her through the blinds, skipping toward the water cooler. That girl could sure drink water—probably was healthier than anyone else here in the office who lived on coffee and sugary drinks.

Ryan let a sigh inflate his lungs and released it, wishing that he could somehow bridge that canyon between them. There had always been that canyon, even in high school. He could only observe her from afar, just as he did now. She was so beautiful and didn’t even know it. The way her body moved with the grace of a ballerina, the way her eyes sparkled with life, although weighed down by whatever burdens caused her to doubt herself so much. She hadn’t always been like that. He remembered her when she was back in high school: those few candid photos he took of her for the “school paper”; the way she interacted with the other students; the way she tossed her hair and let it catch the sunlight without realizing that she had done so. Her innocent beauty had more power over him than gravity.

His door cracked open, and Lizzie tiptoed into the office. He didn’t acknowledge her right away, as he was loathe to tear his eyes away from Carrie, but he forced himself to do so. “Yes?”

“I have the report ready for you.” Lizzie gingerly stepped into the room, following his gaze out the window. Carrie had gotten her water and was returning to her desk, the spell broken. Ryan cast one more glance at her, but not unable to see Lizzie’s grin spreading wide across her face. “What’s the matter? Cat got your... eye?”

Ryan breathed a laugh. Lizzie’s pause indicated that she had forgotten what phrase she wanted to tease him with midway through her sentence. How often she did that. He turned his back to the window, reached for the report. “Thank you, Lizzie. No, I was just observing.”

“Observing.” Lizzie’s head nodded slowly, up and down. “Right.” Feigning innocence on the matter, she looked down at her pages and flipped through them. “You should ask her out.”

Ryan let a frown strike his face as if the thought was appalling. He didn’t want her to know that he had wished he could do that since he saw her again, but things prevented it. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know what that would do to the work relationship?”

“Well, you’re not denying you like her.” Lizzie shrugged one shoulder, slapped her papers closed and handed them over with flair. “So, that means you do. And yes, it would destroy that relationship, but it wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“She’s a good writer.” Ryan took the papers from Lizzie. “A very good writer. And maybe I’d like to ask her out, but…” But that’s none of your business? No, that’s too abrupt. She’s just trying to help. “She’s just gotten out of a bad relationship.” It wasn’t the boss-to-employee relationship that worried him; it was what she’d told Jeremy. And while she would probably turn him down anyway because she was a decent girl, that didn’t mean that what she told him was untrue. Ryan had no doubt in his mind that someone had destroyed the confident heart Carrie had once had. It had to be the ex. “I don’t want to press the issue.” He turned his back to Lizzie, setting his papers down on his desk. He thought of a million ways he could dismiss her, but no words would form in his mouth. It was almost like he wanted her to stick around and press the issue herself—give him ideas on how to woo her from a woman’s perspective without him asking.

He knew Lizzie all too well because she did just that. “Well, what about something that’s not a date? Surely you can come up with something different, right?”

Hm. Well, there was something. Now Lizzie had given him an idea and had therefore served her purpose in this conversation. Now it was time to return to work.

Ryan flashed her a smile that he hoped she could read in his eyes. Okay now, Lizzie. Time to talk about something else. “Thank you, Lizzie. Now, I’ll look over this report, and we’ll discuss what needs to be done. Please tell Mark I need the front page in here by one-thirty.”

Lizzie’s smile fell into her work face, and she nodded. “I’ll get right on that.” She turned on her heel, leaving the office behind.

Ryan returned his gaze to the window, unable to see Carrie as her desk was adjacent to the wall that made up his office. Something that’s not a date. But a date. And he had the perfect idea pop into his head. It was risky, but it was worth a try.

You don’t have to defend anything to me.

As Carrie went about her writing and research, she had been digesting Ryan’s advice to her all day. The story she had now was a boring little write-up, nothing compared to the big story, so her mind had remained elsewhere for the rest of her day.

Why did she feel like she had to defend herself without anyone even attacking her first? Why defend her work when Ryan hadn’t even read it yet? Maybe if she pointed out the flaws in her story before he noticed them, he would understand that she saw them too. But why? Why did she have to overthink everything? She was probably annoying in the way she defended herself constantly. The fact that he had pointed it out made it obvious. Oh, and she had acted like such a fool in there! Smacking herself in the head? What were you thinking, Carrie?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Jason really had messed her up in the head. She used to be naturally confident, but now she had to talk herself into doing the simplest things like making a phone call with Lizzie sitting right next to her or bringing herself to talk to Ryan.

Then again, was it the lack of confidence or something else?

The more she worked for Ryan, the more she could see through the cracks in his armor. She had seen him as proud when she first started working there, but as she watched him day after day as he floated around to different desks talking with the journalists and the receptionist, she could see one thing: he loved his paper, and he loved what he did. No wonder he was proud of it and wanted to show off his achievement. And, in her eyes, he had every right to be.

For the last day or so, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He had that stare that could unveil you and look into your soul. She wondered what he had found there. His constructive criticism of her defending her work or stuttering over her words told her that he wanted to help her overcome whatever this mental roadblock was. He cared enough to help her achieve and praised her when she did a job well. He was stern, yes, but maybe it wasn’t unwarranted. At least he gave praise when praise was due. And of course, those handsome dark eyes of his—the physique that indicated he may have been in sports at one time—no writer she knew was as physically fit as he was. For the life of her, she couldn’t recall why he seemed so familiar to her. Had he ever interviewed her before?

“Well, I’m going home!” Lizzie announced. The large drink sat tilted in her hand, more water than soda now that the ice had melted down and mingled with the drink. Her purse slung over her shoulder, she looked ready to go home and relax. “Got any exciting plans for this weekend?”

Carrie shook her head. “I’m not much of an ‘exciting plans’ person.” It was true, she wasn’t. But she did see Ryan’s office door open, and his light go off. He was there, he was coming out, and she couldn’t explain why the thought thrilled her tonight more than usual. “You?”

“My fiancé and I are spending the weekend on the lake.” Lizzie’s face shone with excitement. “I’ve got to go home and pack. I always overpack, so it’ll take a while.”

Of course, she overpacked. Carrie giggled. “All right, then. Have a great weekend together!”

“You have a great weekend too!” Lizzie grapevine stepped toward the door. “With whatever it is you do. Bye!”

Carrie lifted a hand. “Bye!”

As soon as Lizzie left, the atmosphere felt stale. She certainly did bring the light to the office, so when she wasn’t there, the office felt dark.

“So, no big plans for this weekend, I hear?”

Carrie stiffened. Ryan’s voice. If Lizzie brought the light, then he brought the electricity. “No, not really.” She spun her chair around to look up at him. “It’s been such an exciting two weeks, so the dull weekend sounds appealing. I’ll probably busy myself with researching some more.”

“You need a day off.” He chuckled, then lowered his gaze to the floor as if searching the braided carpet loops for the words he wanted to string together. “Do you ever get out much since you came to town? Meet new people, make new friends?”

He seemed to be asking for health purposes. Mental health, physical health maybe. She shook her head, the loneliness slapping her in the face. No, she didn’t. The paper had been her life. She was too shy to go out by herself after hours. They say you can never go home again, and the last thing she wanted to be was a stranger sitting somewhere and getting hit on by the wrong guy again... she didn’t want to fall prey, and she knew how weak she was. She’d pity someone, fall for a loser, only to have her heart broken all over again. But a friend would be nice if Lizzie wasn’t running with her fiancé all the time. “No, I don’t,” she replied. “I don’t know anyone here anymore. It’s been too long.”

“Mm.” Ryan pondered her words for a moment, then met her gaze. Carrie felt her breath catch in her throat and didn’t want to blink, lest she break the spell he cast on her with his eyes… those eyes that made her forget her loneliness even if for a few seconds. “Listen, Carrie. I know you’ve been going through a rough time lately.”

She had to break the spell. She couldn’t let him see the pain in her eyes. She quickly lowered them to the same spot on the carpet that had held his attention a few moments ago and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your welcome back into Juniper Springs wasn’t exactly warm, and I know you went through a lot before that.” He sighed. “So, I was wondering. My cousin and his girlfriend are going to dinner at the steakhouse at the end of town tomorrow night, and I’m going along, too, so I can meet his girlfriend. I was thinking just as a fresh start, a new beginning to your return to town, would you like to come with me as my companion for the evening? From what Lance tells me, you and Avery will get along very well, I’m sure.”

What? Did he just…?

Carrie couldn’t look up fast enough. She searched his eyes while searching her heart all the same. All the logic inside her told her that she had to turn him down—tell him “no”—she wasn’t dating anyone…

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t dull the excitement that kindled in her heart. Not only was she not spending the weekend alone again, but she would be spending some time with Ryan. And for some reason, the thought ignited an exhilaration in her that rained fire on her heart. She found herself actually wanting to spend that time with him. Just as a friend, of course. Not a date. He didn’t ask her out on a date; he specifically said companion.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want to get in the way of your hanging out with your cousin or his girlfriend.”

Ryan lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Nah. I’m not all that interested in girl talk anyway, so I thought you might bring some of that for Avery, so she’s not bored.” His face fell a bit, but he kept it in check. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I thought you might need cheering up and—”

“I’d love to.”

She’d never blurted anything out in her entire life. Her words were always kept in check except perhaps in the heat of an argument, and lately she overthought everything, including ordering at the drive-through window. But this time? It’s like the words bolted from her mouth, and she didn’t have time to rein them in. And she didn’t care. She was glad they did before she could talk herself out of it. “It sounds like fun!”

Ryan’s eyes lit up a bit. She was probably just imagining it, but he seemed happier than when he had first walked in that morning. “Great! Uh,” he clapped his hands together, “we’re meeting at seven at the Steer Clear Steakhouse.”

Carrie burst out laughing. “Steer Clear?”

“Yeah, they were trying for a play on words, but it ended poorly.”

Her mouth creased in silent laughter. “Terrible marketing strategy!”

“Hey, it’s worked so far!” Ryan held out his hands in a lowered “I surrender” position and joined her laughter. “You know, cows, steers.”

“I get the pun.” She let her laughter die down. “Okay, seven. I’ll be there!”

“Great!” Was it just her, or did Ryan seem to be almost giddy like a child? This was the first time that she had ever seen him drop that serious, professional air. He had transformed from an owl to a field mouse in a few seconds. “See you then!”

She surprised herself by smiling even more than she had when Jason had asked her out for the first time. “See you then.”

Steer Clear Steakhouse might have had a poor marketing strategy, indicated by the name they chose, but the steakhouse itself had a very inviting appearance.

Carrie waited in her car until she saw Ryan’s truck pull in. She had been observing the steakhouse that sat on top of a small hill with wooden steps leading up to it. A porch covered in string lights held happy, laughing guests, and the wooden structure seemed to hum with excitement. When Ryan’s truck pulled up, Carrie stared at it for a moment. A dark green Ford. Again, why did everything about Ryan seem so familiar?

Ryan stepped from his truck, and Carrie slipped out of her car. She had agonized all day over her apparel, not sure what to wear to a date/nondate. In the end, she opted for her nicest pair of blue jeans and a dark green blouse to top it off. Her makeup was done a bit milder than she did for work but just enough to make her feel pretty. She had agonized over that, too, with a strong desire to make herself pop with beauty. Eyeliner or not? Let her eyes just stand out on their own or cover them with mascara? Hair up or down?

In the end, she had settled on what made her feel most beautiful. Some blackest black mascara, mild lipstick, and a portion of her hair held back with a barrette.

Ryan stopped short as he took in the sight of her. “Wow, don’t you look stunning!”

“Oh…” Why was she blushing at his compliment? She was absolutely not developing feelings for him! She looked down at her attire to hide her blush. “It’s just jeans and a blouse. Nothing special.”

Ryan muttered something. Carrie couldn’t quite make it out over the muffled country music drowning out the words mangled by his lips pressed together. “You don’t have to be… you just are.”

Was that what he said? Her ears snapped up with her head to listen better. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ryan fumbled with his keys. “Just trying to lock this…” His truck beeped twice, letting him and everyone else know that it was secure. “Silly truck.”

Carrie hid her laughter behind a smile. “Ah, okay.”

The country music that blared through the speakers from the live band on stage made Carrie want to cover her ears. She set her jaw and let Ryan lead her through the crowd of people. He scanned the crowd, his gaze hovering over the tops of the people in the restaurant before he lifted his hand in a wave. Suddenly feeling isolated, on the outside looking in, Carrie hugged herself, wishing she could only get smaller. How small could she make herself, to be overlooked?

“There’s my cousin.” Ryan nodded toward the table in the corner. “Come on.”

Like she would go anywhere else. Carrie followed close at his heels, her heart pounding from the sensory overload in the restaurant. When they broke through the crowd that hovered around what looked like a dance floor, she spied the table where Ryan was headed. There was no mistaking who Ryan’s cousin was. They had the same eyes, the same gaze that could pierce any armor that you put up. Ryan’s cousin sat across from a blond whose hair stretched to about the middle of her shoulders. The woman turned to greet her, lifted a hand in a wave, and directed her gaze right at Carrie.

Ryan ushered Carrie closer to the table. His cousin and the woman both stood to welcome them. “Hello, everyone!” Ryan’s flat hand gestured to Carrie as if presenting a princess. “Carrie, this is my cousin Lance,.” Turning his gaze to Avery, he grinned. “And you must be Avery, it’s great to finally meet you! Lance, Avery, this is Carrie, our most recent hire at the paper’s office.”

Lance extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Avery did the same, meeting her gaze with a welcoming smile. “Hello.”

“Well.” Avery raised her eyebrows and aimed a congratulatory grin at Carrie. “Congratulations. Do you like working with a Blair?”

“Ah,” Carrie laughed. Working with a Blair. She must know how intimidating they could be if Lance was anything like Ryan. “He’s a great boss, and I love the work.” She could launch into an explanation of how earth-shattering her first day had been, but she didn’t want to give Avery the impression of ungratefulness.

Lance swept his hand toward the table. “Well, shall we have a seat?”

“Sure.” Carrie felt relieved that Ryan claimed the seat next to his cousin so she wouldn’t have to sit by him. Not that she would mind, in fact, probably quite the opposite, but she didn’t want to be tense the whole time.

Carrie still felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb. She tried to lessen the blow of feeling like an outsider by ordering a simple water and house salad. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when Avery ordered the same thing.

“So, how do you like Juniper Springs, so far?” Avery sipped her water through the straw, looking Carrie in the eyes as she made conversation.

Carrie brightened at the friendly tone in Avery’s voice, showing no indications of her being an intruder. “I do like the town. I’m actually from here and just recently moved back.”

“Oh, really?” Avery nodded. “What brought you back here?”

Of course, she would ask that. Everyone always seemed to find that button and hit it with an open palm. Carrie swallowed. “It’s a long story.”

“That was about the same answer I gave.” Lance seemed to have caught on to her hesitancy and aimed a friendly tone across the table. “There really is no easy answer for moving back home if it’s for any other reason than just missing it.”

Boom. Nailed it. Relieved at the exit he handed to her, Carrie lit up with a smile. “That’s exactly right!”

“Lance runs the clinic that just opened,” Ryan explained to Carrie, “which is why we set up this little dinner. I still need that interview, cousin, before the new clinic becomes old news.”

Lance shrugged. “Sure. Let me give you a chunk of all of that free time on my hands that I don’t know what to do with.”

Laughter rippled through the table. “Seriously though.” Lance brought the conversation back around. “I think next Wednesday I can finally step out and take a break for a half hour. I try to reserve my lunch for Avery, but she’ll be working that day, won’t you?”

Avery nodded. “That’s my day off.”

“And you’ll be working?” Carrie nibbled on the straw before taking a sip. “You must be a workaholic like me.”

“She is.” Lance aimed a teasing glare across the table, and Avery’s mouth hung agape. “I am not!” She bickered before rolling her eyes in jest. “I’m a PI, so I use my days off to dedicate to a case if I’m working one,” she answered.

Carrie perked at that. “A PI, as in private investigator?”

“Mm-hm.” Avery nodded as she took another sip of water.

Carrie’s eyes returned to the table, excitement building inside her. With a sudden urgency, she felt the need to tell Avery everything—to get her expertise, to get some tips on how to uncover the trail for a story—what could be done legally as a reporter, what could be considered an infringement on rights, how to find out who did it.

“Do you have any advice on mystery solving?” she prodded.

“Oh, boy, they’ll be over there talking all night now.” Ryan sat back, looking at Lance with mock despair. “We might as well let them talk.”

Carrie nudged him with her foot, under the table, in mock-irritation. “Hush. I need some girl-talk anyway.”

“This is hardly girl talk.” Lance shifted in his seat to face Ryan so he didn’t have to yell as loud over the music. “Well, I guess for Avery it is.”

Avery laughed and gave Carrie her full attention. “Why? You working on a big story?”

Carrie nodded, thinking she must be a terrific investigator and incredibly perceptive. “Yes… actually.”

Stirring the ice around in her water with a straw, she looked at Avery. “My first day on the job, I discovered a body.” She still hated talking about it. “Turns out it was a friend from childhood. Anyway, that’s the story I’m working on.”

She had no idea what thoughts were racing around in Avery’s mind. Was she judging Ryan for putting her on the story? Or maybe Carrie for even accepting it? Maybe it showed a lack of remorse for her friend.

“I’m sorry,” Avery said. Her gaze narrowed. “And you’re taking on the story? By choice?”

“Oh, yes.” Carrie nodded. “In fact, Ryan tried to talk me out of it.”

Avery nodded. “But you just couldn’t let it go. You want to be up close and personal. You don’t trust anyone else with the story.”

Avery was reading right off of the pages of Carrie’s mind. “What, do I have a teleprompter on my face or something?” She laughed, smoothing a hand over her forehead. “You’re exactly right.”

“That’s how my mind operates.” Avery turned in her chair to better see Carrie, then propped her head up with the elbow that rested on the corner of the table. “I take every case personally, even if it’s not related to me.”

Carrie gestured at her with an open palm. “That is exactly right! Veronica was my friend.” She lowered her hand. “And I know I’m just a reporter, but I want to find out who did this to her. They don’t deserve to go free, just as she didn’t deserve to be dumped in a dumpster.”

Avery’s gaze was set as she listened. “I separate all of the elements of the case into categories. You have suspects, you have evidence, and you have facts. Look for connections too. Look for anything unusual. My eye goes straight to the things that are out of place.”

“Like what?” Carrie tilted her head.

“Like, for instance. Last year, there was a car wreck that proved to be fatal.” Avery’s gaze softened. “Unfortunately, it was Lance’s mom.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Carrie’s face descended into sadness. Terrible, terrible news! She glanced over at Lance, talking with his cousin as if his life hadn’t been missing a person since last year.

“Well,” Avery dipped her head, “thank you. He and I are working through it.”

He and I. Not just him. I like that.

Avery went on. “When I went to the scene, the police told me it was an accident. But I noticed different colored glass on the road from headlights. Hers was clear, the other was cloudy, and there was no car with cloudy headlights at the scene. There was a lot about that scene that suggested that it was planned. Maybe I’ll tell you more sometime, but the point is, sometimes the smallest things can be the most significant in a make-or-break case.”

Carrie returned to the part of her brain that she had tried to keep locked away: the crime scene, that terrible unfolding nightmare. Was there anything unusual? “What sort of unusual thing would you look for in a construction site dumpster?”

“I might look at several different things,” Avery started. “What was the victim wearing, did she have any jewelry on, what time of day was it, who had access to the scene?”

“Or why no one noticed it until that day.” Carrie mused, seeing where Avery’s trail of unusual things could lead. It made sense. The smell was terrible, and if her research was correct, how could someone have gone three weeks without noticing her? It had to be a recent dump.

Avery studied her. “That’s right. I can go to certain places because I have a license, but you have to be careful. Of course, I have to tell you to refer back to the police investigation; don’t try to be a hero.” She shrugged. “Legally, that’s what I can tell you.”

“I appreciate it.” Carrie wanted to go back home already and start working on the new trail her mind had found. But their dinner hadn’t even come yet, so she made a mental note to push down her excitement until she returned home.

Over dinner, the conversation turned to many topics, and Carrie decided that Lance and Avery could very easily be her new friends, despite being a few years older than she was. It was also obvious that they were both very in love with each other. Carrie picked up on it, the way that they cast adoring looks at one another, kicked each other under the table playfully, whispered jokes to one another. Carrie watched them interact, and her heart squeezed itself right in two. That. That is what she wanted. That kind of relationship that gave off sparks, representing a warmer glow inside them both. The head-over-heels type of love, the joy of being in each other’s presence.

But that hadn’t happened for her.

Her own relationship had left empty, machine-gunned holes in her heart and made her doubt her own self-worth. She tried not to let her face betray her emotions, but she did let it leak into her eyes. That, she could not help.

After a while, Lance reached his hand across the table to Avery. “Would you like to dance?”

Gone was the blush of a new relationship, but in its stead, a sparkle of a thousand stars came to life inside Avery’s eyes. She took Lance’s hand with alacrity. “You wait until after I’ve eaten to offer to spin me around?”

“I have a remedy for nausea.” Lance cast an overly happy look in the direction of his cousin and Carrie as he led her to the dance floor. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be right back.”

Ryan lowered an eyebrow in understanding. “Go right ahead.”

I have a remedy for nausea. If this was a doctor’s way of being romantic, Carrie vowed never to fall in love with a doctor. She felt like she could slide into herself easier now that it was just her and Ryan, but that slight tension remained—the tension of the strange enjoyment of being in his presence, but not knowing what to say. He was her boss, but tonight he was her friend. What did friends talk about? Should she let Ryan take the reins, or should she jump out and try it this time?

He looked back at her, a satisfied smile across his face. She decided to go for it this time. Be brave, be strong. Be polite and ask about him. She didn’t want to appear rude or ungrateful to him.

“So, Ryan.” She enjoyed the feeling of his name on her tongue. It flowed so much better than Jason. “There’s something that’s been bothering me since I got here.”

Concern deepened his expression again, and he leaned forward. “What is it?”

Oh, no, now she’d made him think something was wrong. Fighting the flush of hot embarrassment, she pressed on with a smile. “You look so familiar to me. Have I seen you before?”

His eyes warmed, and he leaned forward on his elbow. “Thought you’d never ask. We went to school together.”

“What?” She racked her brain, turning over every stone in her memory, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember seeing his picture in the yearbook or ever meeting him. “I’m so sorry. I must have a terrible memory, but I don’t remember graduating with you. Were you in middle school with me or…?” She would let him fill in the rest.

Ryan shook his head. “No. High school. But I left before graduation.” He sat back, allowing her to take in his frame, stare at his face, and see if maybe it could spark a memory.

And it worked. With the context and the face, she remembered exactly where she had seen him.

“You were the one that was always taking pictures for the school paper.”

His face lit up. “That’s me! You remember.”

“I do now… with the context you provided.” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her stomach as she studied him. “Ryan Blair. I knew I remembered that name from somewhere.”

“I’ve always been drawn to the journalism world,” he admitted, “even back in high school when I was running around with the camera and getting the latest scoop on everyone’s lives, the sports teams, all of that. You were a cheerleader.” His face glowed with some sort of fondness that she couldn’t quite understand. “I used to take pictures for sports whenever I wasn’t playing a game.”

“Were you in football?”

“No. Basketball.” He chuckled. “I never wanted to play professionally, but I wanted to do something that was good for my health. Turns out that was not the right choice.”

“Oh?” Carrie frowned, tilting her head. “How so?”

A look of pain flashed across his eyes for a brief moment before he went on. “I was really good at basketball, but I had a terrible injury my sophomore year. I ruptured my patellar tendon.”

Carrie cringed. “Ouch. That’s the knee, right?”

“Right.” He gave in to a minuscule shudder. “I didn’t think I’d ever walk right again, or even walk at all. So, I transferred schools to be near the rehab facility. That’s why you don’t remember me from graduation year.”

Carrie closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be sorry.” Ryan waved it off. “It’s not like I wanted to go pro. Besides, it gave me time to focus on what I really wanted to do.”

“More than just a school paper,” she finished for him.

Ryan nodded. “Juniper Springs Times was my drive, my goal ever since I learned that journalism was my passion. There is something adventurous about going from place to place, writing a story about it, and getting paid to do it. It’s like you’re a part of a mystery and have to solve it—something new every day, you know?”

“You mean, other than stats for progress in Juniper Springs?” Carrie’s mouth creased in jest.

Ryan shared a laugh. “Yeah, that’s the boring job I usually hand off as fast as I can. Course, I haven’t done much writing. I usually prefer to tell stories with pictures, photography, you know?”

“Oh, I’m the writer all the way.” Carrie raised her hand. “I admit it. Words are paints to me. Paints to create a portion of a picture called a sentence, then string those sentences together to form a masterpiece.”

Ryan studied her for a moment. Carrie was almost sure that some kind of admiring gaze swept through his eyes, like a miniature version of the one that Lance gave Avery. It startled her, but it also embraced her at the same time, and she felt herself leaning into that embrace. “That really was beautiful, Carrie. That’s why I love having you on the team.”

He used that word. Love. But it wasn’t her he loved; it was having her on the team. Her spirits dampened a bit, and she glanced down, toying with her napkin in her lap. “Thank you.”

“So. What about you?” Ryan grabbed his glass intending to drink the last little bit that was left. “You want some more water?”

“Oh.” Carrie glanced at her empty glass and nodded. “Please.”

Ryan lifted a hand to grab the waitress’s attention as she passed. “When you get a moment, can we get another Coke and a water, please?”

“Coming right up.” The waitress smiled, taking their glasses off the table.

Carrie used the distraction to talk to herself. What about you, Carrie? What are you willing to share with him?

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes that shined back at her with a touch of innocence. He had no idea that he was asking her to reveal her heart to him. Because one thing he didn’t know about her by now was the one thing that made her who she was: a mess. Did she really want to tell him?

“What about me?” she responded, taking her time.

“Did you always want to be a journalist, writer, or both?” Ryan set his elbows on the table and folded his hands near his mouth. “Lizzie tells me you worked for a magazine before returning home to Juniper Springs.”

“Oh.” Carrie breathed a laugh. “She told you about that, did she?”

“Yes. Why?” His senses picked up on her embarrassment. “Not a pleasant experience?”

The waitress returned with the desired drinks. Carrie and Ryan leaned back to allow her room to put them on the table and clear the plates. Ryan thanked her, but Carrie was too busy giving herself a silent pep talk. No, it wasn’t pleasant, and he needed to know why. He would always wonder why she was fired if Lizzie hadn’t told him. Carrie didn’t see Lizzie telling him why—just that it “didn’t work out—it was toxic”—whatever. But he needed to know.

Carrie lifted her sights off the table as the waitress departed, and her voice lowered to a monotone. “No, it wasn’t. And not by any fault of mine either. Well…” She sighed. “Not work-related, that is.”

He blinked, trying to understand her words. “Okay?”

She sighed. Well, now or never. All or nothing. Here goes. He’d hate her after this for sure and never ask her to go anywhere with him again.

“I was dating this guy. Jason.” She growled out his name. “We were together for about a year, and knew each other a little before that. He was really a great guy at first.” Or was he? He had always demeaned her jokingly before they got together… could it be that she just refused to see it? She went on, shaking her head. “But soon after we started dating…” The words clogged in her throat, fear choking them back.

Don’t you dare admit that to him, Carrie! You’re a stupid, overly innocent girl, and he’ll look down on you for that. He’ll judge you for being innocent, naive, and old-fashioned.

“We came to a difference in opinion. And he changed. He started putting me down all the time. I didn’t realize it at first, but it was all the time. He’d yell at me for the stupidest mistake like if I forgot an item on the grocery list, if I made a driving mistake that wasn’t even a problem… you know, like taking too long to right turn on red. Whenever we’d get together with friends—his friends since I didn’t really know anybody in Oregon—he would always bring stuff up to embarrass me and challenge me on it in front of them.”

Ryan’s eyes deepened into an ink-black anger. His jaw twitched; his eyes narrowed. “What a lousy excuse for a man.”

Carrie allowed herself to indulge in a little giggle. Oh, how she enjoyed hearing someone else speak about how contemptible Jason really was. “Oh, it gets better. I found out through a text that he was seeing another woman behind my back. Angela,” she snorted. “Hardly an angel, right?”

“More like a fallen one.”

“Exactly my point.” She breathed another nervous laugh. “Well, I confronted him about it. My friend of a friend through Jason told me that she saw him with Angela, and when I confronted him about it, he…”

Ryan straightened as if he was going to jump up from this table, find Jason, and beat him. “Do not tell me he hit you?”

Carrie sighed. “No. Thank goodness. But he might as well have. He launched into an entire diatribe of why we weren’t working and why he needed to look elsewhere.”

Ryan wished that he could just drive down to Oregon, find this Jason character in some dark alley somewhere, and show him what happens when you mistreat a woman. Particularly, one as precious as Carrie. The more he understood how Jason had messed with her mind, the more he understood why Carrie felt the need to defend everything about herself, including her stories before he had even read them. Her reactions to him. Her need to explain everything. Her overthinking. It all made sense now, and he wished he could beat the snot out of the guy who had stolen that confidence from her. He resolved that he would treat her with more gentleness from now on.

Carrie struggled, but she blew it off like it was no big deal. “Turns out Angela also worked with me; that’s how they met. She was a friend of the boss and started a rumor that I was leaking information to competitors because I was dissatisfied with my wages. They didn’t even give me a chance.”

Ryan tightened a fist. “Carrie, I’m sorry. It’s not right that you had to go through that.”

“It’s all right.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Live and learn, right?”

“I just don’t understand this ex-boyfriend of yours,” he growled. “Was he blind? He was stupid to not treat you like the treasure that you are.” Personal, yes, but anyone could see that she was a treasure. And he didn’t care if she wondered if he admired her at this point. “Why on earth would he blame you for being the cause of the breakup?”

Shame colored her cheeks and dampened her eyes. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “Because it was my fault.”

No, no, absolutely not! After everything she said about this manipulating sociopath, he had to make her believe it was her fault. “No, it wasn’t Carrie.”

“Actually, it was.” She looked up at him, a wall going up around her expression. “I don’t tell a lot of people this because I get judged for it all the time, but I’m…” She released a shaky breath. “I’m a virgin.”

The wall crumbled. His anger simmered into compassion. And shock. How could a girl as beautiful as Carrie make such a claim?

She answered his silent questions. “I value myself, and I wanted to wait until it was special, until the right time, you know? But Jason could never respect that, and that was the one thing I withheld from him. He would call me out on it in front of his friends and tease me for being a Goody Two-shoes. When we had that fight, he told me that I wasn’t satisfying him enough; I had too high of a standard, so that’s why he cheated with Angela. Because I wouldn’t…” Tears lined her eyelashes, and she dropped her head, letting them fall onto her lap.

She really was a gem. A diamond in the rough. Ryan waited for a few moments, repairing the air between them before he reached out on the table. “Hey. Carrie.”

She looked up at him, her face burning hot.

He reached out a hand to her. But what would he think of her? Too naive, too stupid, just like Jason had said. Something about how nobody holds to that standard anymore but it was always something too precious to give away. Especially to the likes of Jason. In hindsight, she was glad that she didn’t give away her body for the first time to someone who didn’t even respect her heart. She was glad that she had that standard. It wasn’t stupid; it was protection, most of all, for her heart. But Ryan wouldn’t see it that way. He was so far up the ladder in the world already that he would have adopted the view that assumed that when someone was dating another, things were going on. She hated that assumption.

But she didn’t read any condemnation in his eyes. Only genuineness. She didn’t reply, just tried to control her embarrassing tears.

“If abstinence is something that’s important to you, it should be important to the person you date.” His voice was a low, flowing balm that soothed her aching heart. “It’s your body, after all, and no one should force you to do otherwise. Personally, I think it’s admirable that you want to respect yourself like that. It sure saves you a lot of heartbreak, doesn’t it?”

She had just been telling herself that. It was amazing how his words only proved that point in her head. She nodded, glancing to the side. “Yeah.”

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not worth the wait.”

She brought her attention back over to Ryan. “What?”

“You heard me.” He slid his hand back across the table and grabbed his Coke. Carrie watched as he took a long sip from it, pretending he hadn’t said anything at all. But he had said something, hadn’t he? Something that not only rocked her world but hinted that she did have some worth after all.

“Thank you, Ryan,” she said quietly. “That really means a lot.”

“Mm-hmmmm.” He dragged out the last word, setting his Coke down. “Now that I’ve ruined your night by making you tell your story, how about we talk about something else?” He chuckled. “Got family here in Juniper Springs still?”

Oh, if only the change in subject was something that would make her happy, but it didn’t. “Well, I have an aunt and her daughter. Aunt Ashley. But we don’t talk.” She sighed. “My grandmother passed away a few months ago, and she willed her cottage to me.”

“She willed it to you?” Ryan’s eyes widened with exclamation. “Wow, so you’re a regular homeowner, aren’t you?”

Carrie giggled. “I guess so. But Aunt Ashley is very unhappy that grandma didn’t leave the cottage to her. She lives here, after all. So, she basically has written me off at this point and won’t even let Shelley talk to me.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Who needs more drama in their lives, right?”

“I just can’t ask you a question that doesn’t bring up bad memories for you, can I?” Ryan’s eyes sparkled with challenge. “What is something that makes you happy?”

She dragged in a long breath through her nose. “Pansies.”

“What?”

“The flower. Pansies.”

“What, not roses, or lilies? Nothing extravagant like that?” he teased her.

Carrie giggled. “No. I was a nerd and studied the meaning of flowers in school. Pansies mean ‘remembrance.’ They remind us to remember our loved ones who have passed on, but I take it further than that. They have a sort of heart-shaped petal, which I think is more romantic than any old cliché rose bouquet.”

Ryan was back to studying her face, and she wondered if he was trying to read into her soul again. “Pansies.”

“They look cheerful; they even look like they’re smiling! And they have the most vibrant colors!” She took a long swig of her water. “I’m weird… I know.”

Ryan chuckled. “You’re not weird; you’re different, and there is nothing wrong with that. I find some traditions boring anyway.”

“I have a patch of pansies right outside my window by the creek.” Ah, her window, her creek. The words were still magical.

“So, you’re greeted with cheerfulness every day then.” Ryan nodded to her. “That’s the best way to wake up.”

“Indeed, it is.”

“By the way.” He leaned back, something suspicious washing over his face. “Did you ever get that donut tire replaced?”

Donut tire? How did he know? Had he seen it when she pulled in? No, she’d gotten that replaced the next day. Then how did he… “That was you, wasn’t it?” she exclaimed.

“What?” He shrugged in mock innocence. “What are you talking about?”

She slammed her hand on the table, shocked. “That was you who changed my tire that night I first got into town, wasn’t it?”

His smile confirmed everything.

“I…” She rubbed her forehead, sliding over to her temple. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was hesitant to let you change it.”

“Now there is something you really don’t need to apologize for.” His gaze softened into compassion. “I wasn’t mad. I knew. But I also knew that I couldn’t leave you out alone for any old weirdo to find. Especially with the young girls that have turned up hurt lately.”

A smile kindled on her face. Her admiration for him only grew. So, he had changed her tire and hadn’t said anything until now. He had been worried about her. “Thank you, Ryan.”

The dance must have ended because Lance and Avery’s laughter broke through the air, and just like that, it wasn’t just her and Ryan anymore. Carrie picked up her water, almost regretting that she couldn’t have had more time with just Ryan. In the few minutes that they had talked, he treated her with the utmost respect. He almost seemed to admire her standards, not demean them. She’d never known a man that would do that, but he had.

As the companions laughed and talked around the table, Carrie allowed herself to zone out and study Ryan. Sure, he had been intimidating when she had first started at the newspaper, but he had shown her nothing but kindness since she’d arrived. He’d been a strong pillar for her when she had lost her cool over the finding of Veronica’s body, he had checked in on her mental state, and was willing to take action to cover it. And tonight? His words resonated with her.

Don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not worth the wait.

People could write her letters, love poems, even a song. But in Carrie’s mind, those were the most loving words anyone could ever say to her.

It made her want to get closer to him. To bridge that gap. But she withheld herself. Just because she had bared her heart to him did not mean that she could just automatically like him.

Maybe, though, she’d give him another chance.

Carrie hadn’t felt that elated after hanging out with friends in a long time. Somehow, Lance, Avery and especially Ryan had boosted her confidence in herself simply by being there. They had ended the night by promising to get together again sometime. Carrie found herself drawn to Avery. They had the same mind, only Avery had more experience with solving problems than Carrie did. Carrie wanted to pick her brain some more, but she didn’t want to do it during their first meeting. No, she’d take Avery’s advice and run with it. She would begin digging more into the story. Tomorrow.

She took her cottage keys out and stepped up onto her porch humming a little song. But another sound—not an owl, not a cricket, not anything that sounded good—interrupted her thoughts. The good feeling drained.

A footstep? A soft thud, a creak in the boards?

The air around her filled, and she could sense someone’s presence right there, right on her porch. Her porch light lit the front of the cottage, but the side was concealed in pitch blackness.

Carrie froze. Her heart hammered, but it was the only part of her that dared to move. Who knew what could happen if she closed her eyes even for a moment, just to blink? All alone. She hadn’t expected to be out this late, so she hadn’t planned for Ryan or his friends to follow her home.

She dared to move her keys, locking them in between her fingers. Her house key stuck out between her middle finger and ring finger. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped it. “Who’s there?” she called in her most daringly brave voice.

The call of an owl and the chorus of crickets were her only replies.

Maybe it was a deer on her porch. A raccoon getting into her trash. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Intently.

She had to know. She didn’t dare go into her house and risk an intruder getting inside. She forced her leg muscles to engage, putting her foot forward daintily. She moved her body weight onto her leg, moved her other one behind her…

She was at the corner now. She braced herself and looked around the corner…

Thud!

A large object fell behind her. Right behind her. Carrie’s fear erupted in a shriek as she turned around. Glass shattered, light flashed, and the porch light went out.

Carrie’s breaths came in short bursts, sipping through a straw, heaving her chest in and out. Someone had just broken her porch light, and she could see nothing but the spots dancing in front of her eyes as they often did in pitch blackness, looking for something to see. She could only see the flash of the light bulb, green and floating like a ghost in her vision, but couldn’t make out the shape of anything else. She wanted to run, but fear kept her feet glued to the porch.

The crickets blended into the background. No wildlife dared to move. Her ears began to focus and picked up on the sound of another human, heavily breathing on her porch. In… out. In… out. She felt a presence, another body standing right in front of her as he breathed. Ha-whew. Ha-whew.

This was it. This was going to be the night that she died. Murdered on her own front porch. Was this what had happened to Veronica?

A shift in air. A thump as feet landed on dirt. The breathing stopped, replaced by the sound of footsteps running off into the distance.

When Carrie dared to breathe, she sucked in a life-giving breath that assured her that she had not died. Tears formed in her eyes, she was okay… and she let out a cry.

She fumbled with her keys in the dark, her hands becoming the San Francisco earthquake. She could not find the keyhole! Her hands shook the key up and down at a vibrato-type speed, and suddenly—yes—she found it.

She pushed her key into the lock and burst through the door inside. The smell of home welcomed her, but she slammed the door, ignoring the comfort she should have felt. Slamming her body against the door, she turned the lock over and bowed herself at the waist. Someone had been here! Someone had either tried to rob her or scare her, and the latter tactic worked just fine. Her heart was beating so fast that her chest hurt. It thudded in her ears, and she resented the fact that she could hear nothing else. She needed to call the police—needed to replace that porch light. She needed to calm down!

She didn’t dare move from the door. If she pressed her body weight against it, no one could get in. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket, and her quaking fingers dropped the keys. The noise startled her, and she cried out again.

She reassured herself that it was just her keys, and her quaking fingers punched those three numbers that no one ever wanted to call in their lives.

“911, what is your emergency?”

She could barely talk.

“Someone... was at... my... house!”

Carrie wished that the officers who responded to the scene would stay at her house all night. The lights chased each other through the trees, flashing bright red and blue to alert everyone in the vicinity that something was going on at Carrie’s cottage. While the officers examined the broken glass on her porch light outside, she tried to control herself enough to give a statement to the calm officer in front of her.

“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?”

At first, she almost blurted out Jason’s name. But then she realized that it couldn’t be him. He had written her off and had made sure she knew that he wanted nothing to do with her. Besides, why would he want to scare her? He’d already damaged her enough. He didn’t know she was moving to Juniper Springs, and her cottage was hard to find without an address and GPS. It wasn’t Jason.

Well, if not Jason, then who?

She hadn’t been at the paper long enough to make any enemies. She shook her head. “No. I can’t think of a single person. I’m new in town.”

Maybe it had been a squatter, someone who thought the house was vacant like it had been for so long. Maybe a robber. She had no idea.

The officer jotted everything down. Even though he was respectful to her, she could tell that he saw this type of thing every day and it didn’t faze him any. He was going through the motions of his job. When he had finished questioning her, she felt a little more stabilized but not even close to relaxed. “We did find a sledgehammer by the broken glass of your porch light that looks like it was used to break it.”

The color drained from Carrie’s face. A sledgehammer? Someone holding a sledgehammer was a mere few feet away? She had almost gotten her head crushed!

“We’re going to be patrolling this area very heavily tonight, and I’m going to station an officer to stay outside your house all night.” He shook his head. “Too many young women like you have come up missing lately… or worse.”

The confirmation didn’t make her feel any better, but she was glad that they were going to be stationing someone there with her. She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Appreciate was a thin word given the heavy situation. To Carrie, nothing was more unnerving than the vulnerability of nearly being a victim. Whether or not something bad had happened to her, one thing kept ringing in her ears and became her undoing.

Someone had considered her a target.

Carrie’s eyes felt like steel doors when she pulled into work Monday morning. It didn’t help that she had laid awake all night, staring at the ceiling, her heart jumping every time she heard the slightest noise. She had almost had a heart attack upon hearing a squirrel land on her rooftop that morning. Her brain told her that she was hearing floorboards creak under footsteps, someone walking around… but it had been nothing, just phantom noises. For two nights, she had indulged in limited sleep, if any at all, and she was feeling the effect of it now. How well could she survive on merely two hours of sleep? Well, she was about to find out.

Whatever the case was, she hadn’t even allowed herself to wink that first night. The fear drove her eyes open and dry, but she felt the weight of fatigue weighing heavily on her as she dragged herself into work. She needed to tell someone, needed to talk it out. Her hands still shook every time she thought about it.

She set her bag down at her desk, not even putting on a cheerful mask. Lizzie hopped over, eyes dancing from the fun weekend she had undoubtedly had. No interruptions, no stalkers, no killers on her front porch. Just her and her fiancé in the mountains. “Hey, Carrie. How was your weekend?”

When Carrie looked up, her bloodshot eyes and drawn face were all the confirmation that Lizzie needed. “Whoa, girl. What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story. It’s been a crazy weekend.” Carrie sniffed. “Hey, is Ryan here by chance?” She didn’t know why, but he had been her pillar of strength when she was a mess before, and she wanted to explain why her work ethic would be terrible today.

Lizzie nodded. “Been here since about six thirty. Want me to page him?”

“No.” Carrie rose to her feet. “I think I’ll go talk to him if he isn’t busy.”

Lizzie gave her face a hard look over. “Are you sure you’re okay, girl?”

Carrie didn’t want to indulge in too much information. Lizzie would go ballistic, call the FBI, the Marines, everyone she could, and Carrie didn’t want that kind of attention. She just wanted to talk to Ryan who had a good head on his shoulders and would, probably, help her find some kind of solution without losing his mind. Not to mention, she couldn’t help but notice that every time she came away from a talk with him, she felt comforted somehow. “I’m fine. I just have to talk to Ryan about something.”

“You’re not leaving us, are you?”

The thought seized her, and in that second, it tasted like bitter bile in her mouth. Leave the paper? No way! She loved her job too much, was too dedicated and…

She couldn’t finish that sentence. She would not, absolutely not, develop feelings for any man… not for a long time.

“Not a chance!” she assured Lizzie. “I’ll explain later, but I need to talk to Ryan.”

“Okay.” Lizzie took a few steps back. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Carrie sighed and took a look at Ryan’s office door. As she approached it, each step was haunted by the fear that he was busy, that he didn’t want to be interrupted, that he was on the phone... she raised her fist and knocked anyway. Gently, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear.

“Come in!”

He’d heard. What am I going to tell him?

She pushed his door open, poking her head through the crack she’d made with it. “Hey, um, when you get a minute, can I talk to you really quick? It’s nothing urgent.” She didn’t want him to worry like Lizzie had.

Ryan sat at his desk with the computer open, fingers flying over the keyboard. But when he laid eyes on her, he stopped. “I’m just answering emails. Please, come in.”

She breathed and stepped through the door, closing it behind her.

Ryan was on his feet in seconds. “Carrie, are you okay?”

She wanted to cry but forced back tears. She didn’t want to look so vulnerable with him every time she was around him. She didn’t even know how to start this out. “Ryan, I…” She bit her lip, looking toward the window that was covered by the blinds. No one could see in, and she couldn’t see out. Somehow the privacy gave her the courage to at least say why she was a mess. “Someone was at my house Saturday night.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “What?” He came around the side of the desk, standing in front of her.

Broken porch light. Someone breathing. Footsteps.

Ryan wanted so much to ask her why she hadn’t called him but had to remind himself that they didn’t have that kind of relationship. He just listened, hanging on every word and concern gripping him the more she told him. “Did you get a description of the guy?” He was about ready to go out and find the guy himself and teach him what he could expect if he was going to mess with Carrie.

“It was so dark.” Her voice quaked. “And everything was so sudden. Tall and skinny was the best I could do, but I didn’t see if it was even a man or a woman. The breathing sounded like a man though.”

A man. Tall, skinny. Okay, what age? How did he know she was out there? “Has he come back since the police showed up?”

Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think so. The officers have been out there and heavily patrolling the area, so I don’t think he’s been back.”

The question is, would it stay that way? She wouldn’t have officers out there forever. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

“I was thinking about renting a hotel room,” Carrie replied, pushing her hand through her hair. “Or maybe getting a guard dog.”

A guard dog sounded good. He could bark, alert her to danger, and protect her… but the thing was, the dog would have to be trained, and that took time. The thought of Carrie being out in the middle of the woods all by herself made him more nervous than any other fact she had given him. She was so beautiful—a target for anyone with ill intentions—and her innocence shone like the sun, obvious and unmistakable. She might as well have a sign on her head that invited people with wrong motives to pick on her. “Why don’t you stay in town tonight?” he suggested. “We can either get you a hotel room or something, but don’t go home. If the officers aren’t there, this prowler may come back.”

Anxiety flashed across her drawn features, and she nodded, glancing down.

“Also, Carrie…” He leaned toward her, unsure about his next question. For a girl like her, he felt it was important to ask, but how would she take it? He began to tread on the thin ice of her emotions carefully. “Do you know any self-defense moves?”

Carrie’s hair bounced as she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t.”

Of course she didn’t. She was too sweet to ever think about hurting anybody. “Hmm.” He glanced at the window, seeing the blinds drawn. What was he thinking, asking her this? She’d probably use her first act of defense to kick him in the shin and leave the room. But he had to press it. He had to. The thought of her getting hurt gave him more concern than her reaction to his question. “Would you like to learn a few moves that could save your life? You’re a reporter now. Sometimes we have to deal with an angry public. And with this guy sneaking around your house, it wouldn’t hurt to know a few moves.”

Her head jerked up, and he couldn’t quite read the anticipation in her eyes. By the look on her face, she seemed eager to learn these moves. “Oh, can you teach me?”

“I know a few moves,” Ryan admitted. “I’m no blackbelt, but these moves could help you defend yourself if you ever need to use them.”

She studied him for a few moments before letting her head nod in slow agreement. “Please. Can you show me now?”

“Now?” Right when anyone could walk in and see me teaching her how to beat me up, as the phones rang, and people would soon be needing me?

“Please.” Carrie breathed. “I need to know that I’ll be okay if the guy comes back.”

She was terrified. The helpless look on her face melted his insides and tapped at the door of his heart. He softened. In that moment, out of everyone that needed him, Carrie was the one that mattered most.

“Okay then.”

She straightened to meet him, staring into his eyes, ready for a challenge.

“There are a few things that you can do.” His palm turned upward flat, his fingers curled, he raised his wrist to be the first demonstration. “If someone is approaching you, you can always take your palm right here and hit upward. This can cause the nose to break and his eyes to water, giving you time to scramble away. But you have to be careful with this one. You can actually wind up killing a person if you break their nose in a certain way.”

The canvas of Carrie’s face turned into a white sheet. “Really?”

“Yes. So, if you don’t want to do that, you can always go the pepper-spray route, or you can get a hand stick. It’s an object with a blunt end and ridges for you to grab without hurting yourself. It goes on your key chain. You can use it to go for the weak areas.” He pointed at where the jaw connected with the neck. “Here. Jab your keys or fingers into their eyes. Knee them in the groin. That will work most efficiently, believe me.”

She allowed herself to giggle, and the color returned to her face in the form of a rose-pink blush. “Okay.”

“But if someone grabs you…” He started toward her, reaching for her, then paused. She didn’t like to be touched; she’d made that clear. But was this any different? “May I?”

“Huh?” Confusion fought for space in her expression. “Oh, yes, yes, you can.”

Carrie had always recoiled at Jason touching her, because she knew that he wouldn’t stop at a simple touch. But the thought of Ryan taking her shoulders, brushing up against her, turning her body this way and that, using the rudder of her shoulders, made her want to reach out and offer it to him. Her face glowed with warmth as he took a single stride, doing what she had imagined and taking her shoulders in his hands. The muscles in her body went rigid, she held her shoulders forward in a strange position, not wanting to move them, lest he take his gentle touch away.

“So, if someone grabs you from behind…” She felt his right arm snake around her neck, his elbow pressed against her ear, his arm grabbing her and holding her against him as it held against her collar bone. Her confidence in herself dropped as he held her, as she knew that there was no way that a small girl like her could ever get free from this kind of hold. She couldn’t move her arms up, couldn’t get free. “Reach your hands up and grab my arm.”

She did as she was told. Ryan reached around with his free hand, taking hers. “Your fingers are curled around my arm like you’re trying to pull it away. I’m choking you, Carrie. You have to get some air. Take your hand and fold it into the crack that my arm is causing right here.” He tucked her flat fingers around the arm like she was going to pull down, not away. Carrie did the same with her other hand.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Yes. Think of it like you’re doing a chin-up.”

Chin-up. Like she’d ever done one of those in her life. She tried to nod, but her chin pressed against his forearm. “Got it.” She prayed no one would choose this moment to walk into Ryan’s office doors. How would she ever explain this?

“Great, now pull my arm away as much as you can.”

She felt his biceps bulge as he tightened his grip on her—not enough to hurt or choke her—but just enough to make it realistic. She couldn’t help but notice how nice those muscles felt as they held her close. She forced herself to concentrate as she pulled.

“Good, that’s good. But the point here is not to pull my arm away.”

It wasn’t? Then what was the point?

“You just need a little bit of air. Okay. Now the next thing you need to do is this.” He released her and came around to her front. “You’re going to want to drop your weight into a base position.” He demonstrated. His body went from standing to squatting in a zip of a second. He stood with legs spaced out evenly, knees bent forward, and balanced perfectly. “Like this. Let me see you do it.”

Carrie felt a sting of awkwardness pushing at her at the thought of spreading her legs in such an unladylike manner. She glanced around the office as if assuring herself that there was no one hiding along the walls, watching her.

“It’s okay, Carrie. No one’s here to judge, not even me.”

Is he a mind reader? How does he always know what I’m thinking? She felt as if he were sharing his mind with her. She nodded and did as he asked. She’d had to do several similar exercises when she was in cheerleading, so she naturally found a balanced pose. It was amazing what she could remember from those days of training her body into perfect shape and balance, and how it came back to her at different points in her life when she needed it.

“Good.” Ryan congratulated her, then walked around back and resumed his attacker position. “Now let’s repeat what we just did. Grab me... that’s it, very good, now drop your weight.”

Carrie found her position.

“From here, this is where it’s important,” he continued. “It’s a little awkward, I know, but it could save your life. Lean your waist back and press your hips into me.”

Her face became inflamed, and she hesitated, almost telling him that she would do no such thing. I am simply not leaning my hips into this guy—nope, no way—just kill me. Not doing that.

“Just trust me, Carrie.”

His voice soothed her and somehow gave her the courage to go on. She closed her eyes, trying not to blush profusely, and leaned her hips into him.

“Good. Now…” He released her, walking around front. A rush of relief filled her lungs. Carrie fluffed her hair in front of her face, trying to hide the crimson shade she had turned. Ryan didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. “That is the position to be in for this move. From there, you can grab the attacker’s arm, bend forward at your waist and flip him over.”

Carrie’s breath froze in her lungs. She realized she’d been vulnerable with him for absolutely no reason! “What?” she stuttered. “Ryan, I can’t do that! I’m barely over a hundred-twenty pounds. I’m not strong enough…”

“It’s not really a question of strength unless he’s fighting back. If you do everything that I just told you to do in a few seconds, he will be taken by surprise, and you can use that element. It’s really about science,” he went on to explain, pacing toward the window and peering out. “When your hips are lower than your attacker’s, it gives you that leverage you need. This will only work if he is leaning over you, which means his balance is already off and being thrown forward. When you take his arm, bend at your waist, and pull him forward, you’re essentially just helping him out. At least, that’s how I learned it.” He turned around to face her. “I’ll teach you more sometime, but that’s an overload of information already. Hopefully, you won’t ever have to use it, but it’s good to know in the off chance that you do.”

Carrie felt a bit of coolness returning to her face, and the relief that came with that was substantial. She didn’t want Ryan to see how his touch had made her react. Even as he held her like he was an attacker of some kind, the very brush of his touch had sent a warmth spiraling through her body, a desire to lean more into that touch; a desire for it would last forever. His presence was so all-consuming that it robbed her of her thoughts.

“Thank you, Ryan,” she managed. “I really appreciate you teaching me this.”

“Not a problem.” He returned to his desk. “Are you going to be okay today?”

She nodded, more to give herself the assurance than him. “I should be. I’m going to work some more on the story.”

“Go for it.” He encouraged her with one of those gentle smiles of his. “I’ll be here if you need me. And if you need to take an extra break or anything like that, let me know.”

Carrie tried not to let herself think about how awkward it was to have Ryan so close behind her, almost intimate in the self-defense move he taught her. What did he think of her now? She was torn between thoughts like those and the memory of his touch, gently across her shoulders, around her collarbone, drawing her close into that well-built frame of his. Ah, how nice it felt.

She had to focus on work—she had to. Even though her heavy eyes drooped with the watery feel of heavy fatigue, she lowered the brightness on her screen and continued to work. As she switched gears in her mind, the ghost of a memory came back to her in the form of the officer’s warning.

Too many young women like you have come up missing… or worse.

Was he referring to Veronica? Surely that was who the officer was referring to. It made sense, considering that she had been found recently. But he had said women. Did that plural ending include her, or someone else?

Curious, Carrie clicked over to the obituaries file, stashed away in the office database, and began to scroll through it. An older gentleman, a 46-year-old man, Veronica, another elderly woman…

Bingo.

The obituary that was printed about three weeks before Veronica’s caught her eye. A young girl, coal-black hair, blue eyes similar to Carrie’s, and a smiling porcelain face. Carrie’s eyes scanned the obituary, soaking in the details like a sponge.

Jennifer Ingress, 27, went to be with our Lord on July 23rd. Carrie noted to herself that the time frame was eerily close to Veronica’s. And according to her research, Veronica had been dead for at least three or so weeks by the time they found her on August 12th. She had to know more. The obituary wouldn’t give the gory details about how she died, just something about “passing into the arms of her Savior” and the family she left behind: mother, father, three siblings, and an aunt. Huh. Twenty-seven years old and no husband or boyfriend? Curious.

She dug through the archives until she found the story she was looking for. An eerie picture of a house surrounded by crime scene tape and the headline told her that this was exactly what she was looking for.

Local Woman Found Dead at Home

July 27th – Juniper Springs native Jennifer Ingress was discovered by a package delivery worker late Wednesday afternoon. Police are saying that an overdose involving a concussion is apparent. However, Pam Ingress, the mother of the deceased, is pushing for further investigation. “Jenny has been clean for five years,” said Pam. “There is no way she has relapsed. We would have seen signs of that.” Police are asking anyone with any information to come forward.

Carrie scanned the article and the details, suddenly hungry for more. She did some digging, but the only other article that mentioned Jenny was her obituary. The picture had to be recent, and she looked so young, so happy, with no signs of struggling with drugs.

So. This was the other young woman?

Carrie set to work, pulling out her file of what she knew about Veronica and examined the pages to try to find a connection. Cause of death? Veronica was strangled; Jennifer had a drug overdose, possible concussion. So, it wasn’t cause of death. Veronica was twenty-three; Jennifer was twenty-seven. Veronica had red hair, and her social media pictures had confirmed that she hadn’t dyed it, but Jenny’s was coal black. The more she dug, the more frustrated she became.

She was about to look into Jenny's social media when Ryan approached her desk. “Are you at a stopping point?”

Carrie glanced up and gaped at the clock that read the time as later than she had imagined. “What? Is it five already?”

Ryan nodded. “I have an idea.” He moved over to her desk, leaning his palm on the surface. “Lance’s girlfriend is a private investigator. How would you feel about talking to her about this prowler business of yours?”

The idea burst forth in vibrant color. This could be a win-win situation for her. Avery had given her such good feedback that maybe, just maybe, she would be willing to help her find some kind of connection with the two girls and see if the cases were connected. Not to mention that she, herself, would be protected.

“I think I’d like that.” She nodded. “If she and Lance are available, why don’t we grab some pizza or something and talk about it? I’d like to get Avery’s expertise on a few things if possible, anyway.”

Ryan pondered it for a few moments before nodding his acquiescence. “I’ll call Lance and see if they’re available.”

“Great!” For the first time in days, Carrie felt pretty good about things. It was nice not to have to go back home where some potential stalker might be waiting for her… not to mention she would be able to score a few extra moments with Ryan.

Why did that thought thrill her as much as it did?

Lance Blair’s house was the stuff of dreams.

Carrie kept her eyes on Ryan’s truck taillights as she guided her car up the twisted mountain path. The drive took them deeper into the wilderness side of Juniper Springs where a crack in her window allowed the perfume of evergreens to permeate her car. When she pulled up to the house, Carrie caught her breath. She had always loved the log-cabin-style homes, and even though her cottage was as adorable as they come, the large house that overlooked the wilderness drew her fancy as well.

Ryan had informed her that Lance had extra rooms and was willing to let her stay the night so she didn’t have to go home. Avery was there, so Carrie didn’t mind making this her temporary stay for the night. As she closed her car door, she approached the house and felt peace overwhelm her. She would soon be asleep, catching up on all those lost hours the last couple of nights. She wouldn’t have to worry about an attacker, and she could stay where the wind in the pines gave her the soothing feel of seclusion. The trees closed in around her, whispering comfort and home into her spirit, and the smell of Juniper perfumed the air around her. The fallen pine needles linked their fingers together, creating a slippery carpet beneath her feet, dotted with pinecones and animal tracks.

Ryan held the pizza in one hand as he slammed his truck door with the other. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I’m almost jealous.” Carrie crossed her arms over her stomach. “But my cottage is just as nice… when there’s not a crazy, random freak running around outside.”

Ryan offered her another sympathetic smile and nodded toward the front door. “Well, don’t worry. That won’t be happening tonight, at least. Come on. Let’s go eat some pizza—I’m starved!”

After her second slice of pepperoni pizza, Avery remembered why she only ate pizza about once every three months. While it was the most loved food of many Americans, she found the pizza sauce to be bland, and after a while, every pizza—no matter the topping—tasted the same to her. Still, it was a great way to feed a party of people without having to cook and suffer through a large cleanup, and she felt grateful for that.

She was more worried about everything that Ryan and Carrie were confiding in her and Lance. She didn’t blame Carrie for the fear that clearly showed in her eyes when talking about the intruder at her home. Avery would have been scared, too, no matter how many cases like that she’d dealt with. It was certainly the stuff of scary movies.

Avery sat beside Lance, leaning up against him on the big leather sofa; it was so comfortable that everything else in the world was forgotten. Carrie sat on the other end, and Ryan had claimed the easy chair on the other side of the room. A fire crackled, sending flickers of housewarming light through shadows on the walls.

“The police had someone stay with me that night,” Carrie went on to explain, holding a cup of warm spiced cinnamon tea in her hands. “They said that too many young women had bad things happen to them over the last month or so.”

Too many young women? Avery’s attention snagged on that with clawing curiosity.

“I actually looked into who the other women were. Veronica King was one, and someone named Jennifer Ingress was another.”

Bam. That was exactly what she was thinking. “Jenny Ingress?” She scooted forward.

“Yeah.” Carrie went on. “She died about the same time, I think. Veronica had been dead about three weeks when they found her, according to my research.”

So, two girls had died around the same time? Avery let her eyes flash with the emotions that went through her head. Lance leaned around her, studying her face. “You look like you’re working on something.”

“I am.” Avery leaned forward and set her cup of tea on the table. She folded her hands as her elbows dug into her knees and aimed a look at Carrie. “Jenny Ingress is the case I’m currently working on.”

Stunned was the best way to describe Carrie’s expression as she held on for more. “Really?”

“The very one.” Avery reached her index finger up to her lip, chewing on her fingernail as she thought.

“Do you think there’s a connection?” Carrie’s eyes grew wider with some sort of anticipation. “I tried looking for one, but I couldn’t find any. They didn’t look alike. They weren’t really the same age.”

“Do you think we’re dealing with a serial killer here?” Lance stated the obvious.

“If we are…” Avery latched her gaze onto Carrie’s. It made sense in a twisted sort of way… why there had been two murders of girls around the same age gap and the stalking of a third. Whether the guy was really a stalker or not, it concerned Avery that Carrie had recently had a prowler near her house within a month’s time frame. “I would be extra careful if I were you.”

“But the other two were killed weeks ago.” Ryan’s tone indicated that he wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of a possible serial killer running around and making Carrie his next target. He had the same defensive posture Lance did: that straightening of the back, the squaring up of the shoulders, the dark tone that matched his eyes. They were definitely related.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Avery stated. “A serial killer can take a break for months, even years at a time. They’re also known to have a ‘cool down’ period between murders. Others may only kill if something triggers them, sets them off.” Her voice built up the intensity she’d felt when studying serial killers. The thought that something could mentally trigger someone to kill another human being had been both fascinating and sickening to her.

“But what on earth could I have done to set him off?” Carrie exclaimed.

Avery could hear the fear mounting in her voice and softened her gaze. “It could be anything. It could be a hairstyle, something as simple as a sentence or a word setting him off—if we’re even talking about a serial killer at all. We don’t know that; we haven’t confirmed it. Just because two young women wound up dead around the same time frame doesn’t mean it’s a serial killer. It could be coincidence; it could be because of a connection we’ve missed.” Her gut told her that there was indeed some sort of connection. She just had to find it. But then again, why was the cause of death different? Did that mean that these were three separate cases?

A fire ignited in Carrie’s eyes, causing a slow burn. She stared at the real fire in the room with intensity, tapping her fingers one by one around her cup. “Finding Veronica’s killer is my mission. And finding Jenny’s is yours. So, technically, we both want the same thing.” Her head turned slowly to meet Avery’s gaze. “How would you feel about comparing notes? Going over the cases together?”

The only immediate answer was the fire crackling in the room. Lance raised an eyebrow, asking the same question without words as he looked at Avery. Ryan shook his head a few times and looked over at Carrie. “You are persistent, aren’t you?”

“There has to be a connection,” Carrie stated Avery’s exact thoughts. “It would make for a great story, and if this same person is after me, it’ll put them away a lot faster if I get Avery involved.”

She was right. And Avery figured she could stand by to protect her, and possibly other young girls in the area from any further harm. “Let’s do it.”

“Well, that was fast,” Lance teased.

“Think about it,” Avery replied. “If it is the same guy, the more people we have working on this, the sooner we might get him off the streets. I can be closer to Carrie to make sure she stays safe, and we can compare notes so both cases don’t hit a dead end. Right now, they’re at a standstill, but together, we can come up with something that either ties them together, or sends us in a new direction.”

“I like the idea of you being closer to Carrie,” Ryan admitted. “But what does comparing notes mean exactly?”

“Just what it says.” Carrie laughed. “I’ll bring my findings to Avery, she’ll bring hers, and we’ll read between the lines and see if we can come up with something.”

“So long as she doesn’t take you out chasing after bad guys.” Ryan chuckled as he glanced over at Avery. “Lance told me the story of how you chased after the shooter that one night.”

“Oh, that.” Avery waved it off like it was nothing. “He was getting away. I stopped him.”

“You were reckless,” Lance reminded her in that disapproving tone of his.

“I’m not usually that reckless when there’s someone else with me.” Avery casually threw out there.

“I was with you!”

Avery slapped his good knee. “You were fine!”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Do you see what I have to put up with?” He gestured a flat palm toward the woman he’d chosen to be with. Their little scuffle generated a laugh from Carrie and Ryan. “Well, then it’s settled.” Carrie leaned forward, making craters on her knees with her elbows. “I’ll bring the border pieces to the puzzle, you bring the middle pieces, and we’ll see if we can get the whole picture put together.”

Avery’s instant connection with the girl had proven to be true. How many times had she used the puzzle analogy with Lance? Did she and Carrie really think along the same lines? Avery considered asking her to give up her writing career and train to be a PI, but she offered a smile instead. “I like the way you think, Carrie.”

After several jokes about “girl talk” and “we’ve been here forever,” Lance and Ryan had both given in to the slumber that drooped their eyelids. Ryan somehow managed to sleep as he leaned back in his chair, and Lance lay supine on the couch, his snores sounding like he was cutting down an entire forest. Carrie had thrown her exhaustion to the wind, promising “just one more moment, just one more hour” before she, too, gave in to sleep. The thrill of working on the case with Avery had banished her initial exhaustion, replacing it with the excitement of a chase. It was her first real big story. It was too much like reading a page-turning novel where each chapter promised new information, only to tease you into reading three more chapters.

Avery had a few papers laid out, and a notebook open in her lap. Carrie had opted for her legal pad, drawing out a list of things.

“We can throw out age, weight, hair and eye color, and what type of car they drive.” Carrie blew a wisp of hair out of her face. “What if it’s the same guy, but he just went on some random killing spree? What if Veronica was there, wrong place, wrong time? Maybe she went to a party at Jenny’s house or something, and they both died that same night?”

Avery flipped back in her notebook, intently scanning the page. “I found no indications that anyone was there with her the night she died, except for some fingerprints that came back as an unknown male.”

“Well, what about the body dump for Veronica?” Carrie voiced her musings out loud. She had gotten snagged on this one so many times. “The body smelled, and it was during the heat of summer. Do you think that I messed up on the time of death? That it was shorter than three weeks? I mean…” She spread out her fingers, curling them in the hindrance she felt. “How could no one have noticed her until I went there that day?”

“Good point. And I don’t suppose you got any pictures.” Avery took a stab at the obvious.

Carrie confirmed it with a shake of her head. “I didn’t want to remember it, let alone have a reminder of it lying around.”

“Well, what can you tell me about the dumpster?” Avery leaned forward. “Do you remember the dumpster company?”

“I didn’t look.” Carrie ground her teeth and hung her head. “Ugh, I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic!” Avery’s voice deepened. “You just reacted. All you saw was Veronica’s body, and that’s all you could stomach. I’m just trained to see these things, that’s all. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Carrie glanced up at Avery, gratefulness brimming in her eyes. “Thanks.” If only Avery knew how much of a failure she always felt. Even when she did her best, she felt like it was never enough. Her best was someone else’s worst.

“Here’s what we can do.” Avery’s pen stroked out a number one on her page, closing it in with a parenthesis. “Tomorrow, I’ll call the coroner to confirm TOD.”

Carrie blinked, trying to register information. “That’s... time of death?”

“Yep. Very good.”

Carrie’s smile made her feel like she had said something worthwhile.

“And you can call the construction site,” Avery continued. “Find out what trash company they use and also what day pickup is. That little tidbit of information might be useful.”

“Got it.” Carrie made a note on her pages: Call construction peeps tomorrow.

“Once we have that information, we’ll go from there.”

“I don’t know if I can ask this,” Carrie ventured, “but do you have any suspects? I mean, maybe I know someone that you’re suspecting.”

Avery stared at her for a few moments as if contemplating whether or not to confide in her. Carrie knew that she was bound by some legal terminology. Carrie had the freedom of the press while Avery had the chains of confidentiality. But clearly, Avery wasn’t a woman to be held down for long.

She gave in with a sigh, and replied in a hushed tone. “We’re not calling him a ‘suspect.’ We’re calling him a ‘person of interest.’ He’s moving up the scale toward suspect, however. Do you know a guy named Jay Appleton?”

Carrie rolled the name around in her head, tasting it, meditating on it, but nothing sparked an arc of a memory. “No, sorry, I don’t.”

“He is the one who found her. Delivery person. He’s also the guy that called it in.”

“But doesn’t that eliminate him?” Why on earth would he be the one to call the cops and chance them pointing the finger at him?

Avery shook her head. “We have a saying that the first witness is the first suspect. Not always, but often. Sometimes the ones who are overly helpful are that way because they want to shift the blame off of their shoulders. Because they’re so helpful, you know?”

“Makes sense.” Pretty smart too. Hiding in plain sight.

“What about you? Let’s do a reverse.” Avery adjusted her position on the carpet, tugging her ankles closer to her body. Probably her way of stretching her crossed legs. “Do you have anyone you’re suspecting?”

Carrie’s fingers slipped through the notes on the legal pad, eyes scanning the scribbles of things she had found. She stopped when she reached the little note on Veronica’s social media page. Regina Pitre… cyberbully?

Ah, yes, she remembered.

“Well, I have one thing that I got snagged on.” She set her notes in her lap. Her hands had a little bit of a quake to them. She felt so stupid for bringing this up, but it was the only lead she had at the moment. Avery would probably laugh it off, tell her that she was just being over dramatic and needed to stop reading into things.

“What is it?” Avery seemed to be chewing away at the possibility of adding to her short list of “people of interest.”

Carrie sighed. “It’s so stupid, but while I was surfing Veronica’s social media page, I found a troll. And she was saying some horrible things about Veronica.”

“A troll?”

Yep, Carrie should have known. She immediately deflected the blame. “Yeah, it’s stupid, I know, it’s so…”

“Carrie, remember what I said about every little thing being important? Even the stuff that doesn’t seem like it’s important could turn out to be the make-or-break of the case. This may be your broken headlight clue. Let’s have a look at the troll.”

Carrie felt relief sprinkle over her. Avery didn’t think she was crazy. She seemed to encourage her suspicion, actually, and Carrie relished in that. She pulled her phone out and looked up Veronica’s page, finding it quickly as she had it bookmarked. She crawled over to sit beside Avery and leaned her back against the couch.

Avery, her gaze fixed on the screen, listened as Carrie scrolled through the posts, reading every comment made by the apparent queen of trolls, her eyes snapping with anger.

“This is preposterous.” Avery exclaimed.

“Listen to this one!” Carrie bit out, almost loud enough to wake the guys. She found the comment that had sent her over the edge of rage, the comment on Veronica’s post, the one that reached out for comfort. “‘Then why don’t you just go die? No one wants you here, anyway. You are such an attention seeker. You’re constantly posting things that are literally the pettiest things in the world. People are starving worldwide, people are homeless, and your dog literally died a year ago—get over it!!! This is the reason that no one likes you and that you’re alone. Because no one likes an attention seeker who makes everything all about them! The world would be better off without you.’”

Carrie put her cell phone down onto her lap with a defeated clunk. “Isn’t that illegal? I mean, isn’t telling someone to go die an offense?”

“Harassment is, and this looks like harassment to me.” Avery’s jaw visibly tightened. “Who is this heartless woman? Are we sure she’s not a robot?”

Avery grabbed the phone and read over the comment again, shaking her head in pure disbelief. “Unbelievable.”

“Do you think this could be connected to Veronica’s death?” Carrie still hated the thought.

Avery glanced up, her eyes brimming with regret. “There have been countless reports of people who have ended their lives because of something on social media. But that doesn’t explain how she got in the dumpster.”

Carrie nodded. For some reason, the thought of finding Veronica in a dumpster comforted her more than the thought that she had ended her life over some stupid bully who had no idea how her typed-out words could affect others. At least Veronica hadn’t resorted to suicide. Carrie’s sigh felt heavy with sorrow.

“I’m just curious about something since we’re on the topic of social media.” Avery pulled out her own cell phone, then typed in Regina Pitre’s name. Regina’s profile picture filled the screen; she looked like a tough, hardened woman. Her self-tanned skin clashed with her light brown hair thrown back into a messy French braid. She had her oversized lips pursed into a serious frown. Her profile picture could be used in one of those shoot-em-up films where the woman is tougher than all the men in the movie combined. Avery read her description out loud. “Fitness expert. Female bodybuilder. Certainly wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley.”

Carrie agreed. “So, why would a woman as tough as she is resort to something as childish as cyberbullying? Do you think her account may have gotten hacked?”

“She doesn’t give me the feel of a nice person.” Avery scrolled through Regina’s friend list, then hovered, her thumb barely pressing down on the phone. “Carrie, look at this.”

Carrie felt the heaviness in her eyes begin to battle with her, but she looked over to strain her eyes at the screen. Gasped. “Jenny Ingress was her social media friend?”

“Sure is.” Avery hopped over to Jenny’s page. “Thankfully Jenny didn’t post as much, so it will be pretty obvious if she was also cyberbullying Jenny.”

Avery and Carrie scrolled through a few of Jenny’s posts, but the interaction between Jenny and Regina was quite the opposite of Veronica’s. The two girls tagged each other in certain posts, mostly about home décor or memes about how they were that “one person.” Avery halted on a post on Jenny’s page that gave both women reason to pause. A heaviness settled over them at the words that seemed so filled with hope.

Today makes three-and-a-half years of being clean! Yay, me!

“She was on her way to a better life.” Carrie’s sadness felt heavy in her voice.

Avery clicked on the comments, nodding. “It’s always that way with…” Her voice trailed off. Carrie scooted closer to see what had caused her silence and saw it immediately. “Oh my…”

Regina’s comment was nothing short of inappropriate. Girl, three years of missing all the fun, and you’re rejoicing? Followed by a few laughing emojis. Jenny’s reaction was also a laugh reaction, but hers was the only one.

“This lady is turning out to be the Wicked Witch!” Carrie’s exclamation had been breathless. “Maybe she was the reason that Jenny relapsed.”

“Maybe,” Avery bit her lip. “Maybe I’ve been going at this all wrong. Maybe Jay really is trying to tell me the truth, but Jenny was killed by someone else. He never mentioned a woman hanging around.”

“I have to talk to Regina.” Carrie made a note on her paper. “Tomorrow, I’m going to message her and see if she is willing to talk with me. Maybe we need to start looking elsewhere.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Avery raised an eyebrow. “This girl could probably take you down with one hand tied behind her back. I’m just letting you know that if we bring this up, the police will probably get involved. She was harassing Veronica on social media, and that’s not something they will ignore.”

“Well,” Carrie’s eyes shone with a little bit of tease, “Ryan has been teaching me some self-defense moves. Maybe I need to try them out, who knows?” Her shrug was adorable and innocent.

Something flashed in Avery’s eyes. Carrie wasn’t sure if the raising of her eyebrow was intentional or just a knee-jerk reaction, but the words were written all over Avery’s face. Oh, he’s teaching you self-defense, is he? She could hear it all now. Avery probably thought that Ryan was sweet on her. While the idea didn’t disgust her, she didn’t put too much faith in it either. Ryan was just very friendly and kind… and also happened to make her heart swell and flutter like a butterfly clasped in someone’s hands whenever he spoke to her.

Avery flipped her notebook closed. “But until then, it looks like you could use a good night’s sleep.” She glanced at her watch and winced as if it physically hurt to see the time. “Whatever that looks like for you this late.”

Carrie giggled. “I could use some sleep, yes.” She sat back, flipping the top pages on her legal pad back over, concealing her notes from view, but not from the forefront of her mind. She had loved connecting the dots with Avery during the hour or so that they had been talking. Even though the entire case felt like they were running on a treadmill—going seven miles an hour but really getting nowhere—it felt good to talk to someone about it. Especially a tender heart like Avery’s who understood what it was like to come face to face with death and deal with the loss of a friend. She still hadn’t managed to find the time to work through that. Working on the story had given her a drive, something to keep her mind busy as she worked through it all; but combined with Jason’s betrayal, her grandmother’s death, a life-uprooting move, and a prowler at her house, Veronica’s death was the least of her worries. But it still stung. They had been friends. She knew Veronica. And now…

She sighed. “It’s just not fair, you know?”

“What?” Avery slipped her notebook into her tote bag, tilting an ear to listen.

Carrie set her elbows on her knees, letting her chin slide into place. “Veronica and I went to school together. We took the same English class together!” She nursed her words. Saying them out loud was like drinking acid, then handing it to someone else to do the same. “It just doesn’t seem real that all this stuff that we read about in novels actually happens to us.”

Someone must have pushed pause on Avery’s motions. She froze in time, the only thing moving was the gears in her brain. “Carrie…” Her voice trailed off. “You took the same English class together?”

“Mm-hmm,” Carrie confirmed, nodding. “We both wanted to be writers. But she wanted to write fantasy; I was more into romance.” And you see how well that turned out. Carrie forced herself to think about something else, choosing to settle on Avery’s deer-in-headlights behavior. “Why? What is it?”

Avery sat back, straightening her back. “Who was your teacher?”

“Mr. Hillard.” Carrie could still see that smiling face. He was a favorite teacher of hers, always giving her praise, encouraging her to pursue a career in writing. You’ve got the talent, he had told her. You’re going to go places if you pursue that talent. “He was a great teacher. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.”

Avery smoothed her palms out on her crossed legs, tracing the shape of the butterfly position of her knees. “Carrie…” Her hesitant voice stepped out onto personal ground. “What’s the last you’ve heard of Mr. Hillard?”

“I haven’t talked to him since school. It’s been years.” She could hear the weight in Avery’s voice and knew that something wasn’t right. Oh no. More bad news? She couldn’t take any more! “Why?”

Avery’s lip bulged from where she licked the inside of it, and her eyes scanned the carpet before she answered. “Carrie... Mr. Hillard is in the hospital right now. He went into cardiac arrest about a week ago, and he’s still in a coma.”

And another meteor… added to the shower of her life. Another fireball, another crater, another something to work through. Would life ever be easy again? Carrie released a pent-up breath and hung her head, letting her hair curtain her face. “Oh, no. Is he going to be okay?”

“We don’t know. The man was in perfectly good health and suddenly just... collapsed with a heart attack.” Avery gave Carrie a few moments of silence to process the information.

Carrie shook her head, blinking her eyes against the sting of tears. “They come in threes, don’t they?” She sighed, lifting her face, and making the focus of her attention the woodsy décor in Lance’s house. “My relationship ended in disaster, my classmate is dead, and our teacher is in a coma after a heart attack. When does it end?” She didn’t care if Avery knew about Jason. She seemed to be a woman who understood the gears of the inner workings of life and could probably navigate them like an acrobat. She was nothing like the melted mess that Carrie turned into at the first sight of danger.

Avery had doubted the presence of coincidence from the minute they had started talking. Hearing about Mr. Hillard erased all doubt that somehow, it was all related. Even though they had started the night off with some ideas but no leads, now they had to work through the tangled web of possible connections. Two of Hillard’s students, classmates in fact, had been targets, though one had ended up dead and one was alive, thank goodness. And the one link that connected them was also in an unexplained coma. Someone was up to something, and Mr. Hillard knew about it. He had to. That would explain the sudden shock that brought on his heart attack.

“When are you off work next?” Avery asked.

Carrie sniffed, looking back down at the carpet, avoiding letting Avery see through the windows into her soul. “I’m off on the weekends.”

“What about leaving the office for an hour or so?”

Carrie finally gave Avery her attention, the sorrow in her eyes drying up into curiosity. “I can leave to do investigating for stories. Why?”

“I think we may have found a connection for you and Veronica at least.” Avery’s eagerness propelled her forward, balancing the weight on her elbows and knees. “You and Veronica are both victims of a crime because, yes, prowling—stalking, whatever you want to call it—is a crime, and you both went to Mr. Hillard’s class. Maybe the key to unlocking the next step in this case is in Mr. Hillard’s classroom. Can you make a trip with me there tomorrow?”

Carrie looked at Ryan like she was about to ask, then realized that he was fast asleep like she should be. “I should be able to.”

“Great.” Avery flipped her notebook closed. “We can follow this lead tomorrow.” She gave her what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “For now, you should really get some rest. You want a sharp brain for tomorrow.”

Carrie seemed eager for the first time since they had started talking. “You’re right.” She glanced back at Ryan once more. “I’ll let him know in the morning. Thank you so much for taking on this case with me. I knew that we would figure something out together.”

“We’ll find out who did this.” Avery let her determination sink into the air as the final say. “And we’ll give Veronica justice.”

One of the many things Carrie loved about her job was the field trips that she got to take. Who wanted to be stuck behind a desk all day? It would give her a chance to get out and explore Juniper Springs a little bit. She also found that her exploration was taking her down memory lane, and reawakening old feelings for her. She pulled her car into the school parking lot, and the sight of the school triggered an entire host of memories. The last time she had pulled into the school parking lot was on her graduation day—a day where it felt like the sun had risen just for her, and the day was exclusively hers.

The joy that had sparkled in the air that day held no indication of the struggles she would soon face as she set out into the world. She closed her eyes, remembering the days leading up to her graduation and how delighted she had been. She and Lizzie had been two peas in a pod, flitting around the school like butterflies. Prom night had been beautiful; even though Carrie’s date had been rather boring, she had still felt like a princess, riding around in a limousine, all dressed up, her wrist adorned with her corsage, a bright smile touching her face and brightening everyone around her. Those were the days. The best days.

She shook the memories from herself as she slid out of her car. She glanced over to see Avery’s Avenger sitting there in the parking lot. When Avery saw Carrie exit the vehicle, she slipped out of the open car door herself, closing it with a determined thud behind her. “You’re early.”

“It’s my personal policy.” Carrie grinned. “I can never be accused of missing out because I’m late.” She surveyed her surroundings, taking notes like Avery had encouraged her to do. Since meeting her, Carrie had found herself implementing the techniques that Avery had shared—like taking note of surroundings… not that there was anything important about these surroundings. Still, she observed a mostly empty parking lot dotted with a few cars, a Mercedes being one of them, probably Principal Edwards’s. She had always loved her Mercedes. Another car drove by on the road, abiding by that 25-mile-an-hour speed limit sign for the school zone to the letter, despite the heat of summer baking down on them to remind them that school wasn’t in session. There was also an old Ford Taurus, maroon in color. Carrie turned her back to the road, ready to step into a host of memories.

“That’s a good personal philosophy to have,” Avery agreed. She slipped her hands into her back pockets and glanced up the stairs that led to the front doors of the school. “Did you have Ms. Edwards as your principal in school?”

Carrie nodded. “Mm-hmm. She liked Lizzie and me, I remember.”

“Well, good. Then today’s meeting won’t be awkward for you.” Avery laughed as she climbed the steps to the school. “If you were anything like I was growing up, getting sent to the principal’s office on occasion, I wasn’t expecting this to be a good meeting.”

“Oh, you were a problem child, were you?” Carrie raised an eyebrow in jest. “I can’t see that about you.”

“I did my own thing,” Avery acknowledged. “Still do.”

Ms. Edwards had changed since Carrie’s high school days. She still had the same sparkle to her eyes, the same love of her job, but the addition of grey hair and a few crow’s feet had encroached on her once youthful appearance. She had the same look that the principal in every teenage movie had: the hair cut shorter; the professional blazer that she still managed to pull off well, despite the changing times; her block heels that thumped as she walked down the hall, a dull contrast to Carrie’s clicking, satisfying heels. “It is so good to see you living your dream, Carrie!” She unfolded her hands and swept them through the air as she talked. “In all these years, I’ve seen kids come and go, and it breaks my heart to see the kids with the highest hopes living the lowest. When a young girl like you reaches her dream, it does my heart good.”

Little did she know how hard she’d worked to get to where she was today. She managed a polite smile. “Thank you, Ms. Edwards. I’m glad to see you’re still doing what you love.”

“Wouldn’t change it for the world!” Ms. Edwards shook her head as if clearing away the thought of leaving. “These kids are my life.”

Ms. Edwards had talked to Carrie in her later high school years, mentioning that she never was able to have children of her own—which had turned out to be all right with her, as she considered every child who darkened the doorstep of Juniper Springs High School as her own. “I feel like Mr. Hillard was the same way.” Carrie’s face softened into something somber. “Such a tragedy about him.”

“Oh, the worst.” The misfortune struck Ms. Edwards’s face, and she breathed in through her nose, trying to keep her composure. “The kids have set up a little donation for his classroom. We’re going to take it to him next week—flowers, pictures, you name it. He is so loved in this community.”

Indeed, he was. Carrie considered donating maybe a small bouquet of flowers or something to him. When he awoke in the hospital, he would be greeted with the sight of love from all his students, former and current, and it would help him heal. Ms. Edwards led her to the classroom. Carrie remembered walking these halls every day when she was younger. She never dreamed that she would ever return, but there she was. Stopping at the doorway of Mr. Hillard’s room, she was instantly transported back to her innocent, seventeen-year-old self. She remembered walking into her English classes with the bubbly spirit that she carried with her; something that always doubled when she took Mr. Hillard’s class. Part of it was that she was doing something she loved; part of it was because of her English teacher. The guy had been a jewel, a happy man who brought a love of life to the classroom. Even people who hated writing loved Mr. Hillard.

Carrie stepped into the classroom, taking a look around. “I’ll leave you for a few minutes. I have to set up for a meeting tonight.” Ms. Edwards rolled her eyes. “Even in the summer, you never stop having meetings.”

“No problem,” Avery acknowledged. She bid Ms. Edwards good luck, but Carrie had already lost herself amid the memories. There! Her seat where she and Lizzie had put countless hours into learning how to take words and create worlds with them. The dry-erase board, the set-up of the classroom. What she loved most was the window that overlooked a large open field, it had given her a fabulous view of the mountains. Carrie had always loved the scenery and had absorbed as much of it into her writing as she could. That mountain range had been the setting behind many adventurous short stories for her; a setting in which characters had to battle the elements—perhaps a dragon or two—maybe getting across the mountain with an important message while a host of assassins tailed them. The subject of a few of her essays, the mountain range of Juniper Springs had been the perfect backdrop… and the field itself, where she and Lizzie had acted out their own stories, playing the part of their characters as they discovered new adventures. Each setting had a special place in her memory: the springtime, fresh with new adventures… the fall, when the mountain was covered in blazing oranges and reds… the wintertime, a time of survival and the battle against the blizzard to stay warm… the innocent times when the worst that could happen was a story being deleted.

Carrie’s breath became a vapor against the window that shrouded the mountain in temporary mist… or so it seemed.

She heard Avery’s step beside her as the PI followed her gaze into the portal of Carrie’s memories. “Taking a walk down memory lane?”

“When I should be working…” Carrie lowered her eyes to the windowsill and nodded. “Yes. Don’t you ever wish you could go back to your childhood? When times were less complicated and life could be fun?”

“Sometimes I do.” Avery leaned her slender frame against the windowsill, taking a few moments to enjoy the view as did Carrie. “But then I think about how much I’ve been through—how much I’ve accomplished—and how good some things are today. Think about it. The good of your adult years would never have happened if you had stayed a child.”

Easy for you to say, the bitter thought clouded Carrie’s mind. Avery had the boyfriend of her dreams, a happy future ahead of her, and what did Carrie have? Sure, she was doing what she loved in a town as quaint as old stories, but what was all that when she faced it with loneliness? A portion of her thoughts veered to Ryan again, and how his mere presence in the office served as a rush of joy to her being, but that didn’t mean anything. She wouldn’t be dating for a while, as long as she could hold out. Ryan probably felt the same. After all, he didn’t have time for a relationship. He had a paper to run, and she was there to help it succeed. Nothing more.

Carrie pushed off from the windowsill and took a turn around the room. Her eyes lit on a familiar monument, one that she had stared at sometimes during a lecture, thinking about the classes before her. The year that she had started high school, the graduating class of that year had put together a display board with every square inch covered with pictures. The only surface that wasn’t splattered with bright photos was the large ribbon that formed a gift bow across one corner, and the large words that they had painstakingly cut out of cardstock. Thank you, Mr. Hillard: We Love You. Carrie stepped up to view the conglomeration of photos from that graduating class. She didn’t recognize many, if any, of the faces. But as she examined each one, one student’s face tapped on the door of her memory. She leaned closer, narrowing her gaze on it: tall, thin as a rapier with a smile just as thin as if he didn’t want his picture taken; shoulder-length black hair; his arm wrapped around a girl whose eyes shone with the same love of life that Carrie’s once had, although not nearly as innocent.

And then it hit her. Not pleasantly. More like a baseball conking her in the head. “Ugh.” Her lip curled in disgust. Avery snickered a laugh and strode up to her side. “See someone you don’t like?”

Carrie pointed. “I wasn’t in this class, but I know that guy. He asked me out recently and refused to take no for an answer.”

“Don’t you hate it when guys do that?” Avery’s annoyed tone resonated with how Carrie felt. “No means no.”

“I wish they understood that.” Carrie felt Avery stiffen next to her as she leaned closer to the board, studying the picture. “Huh. That’s Jenny Ingress.”

“Where?” Carrie’s eyes searched the board. She had only seen a picture of Jenny in the obituary and briefly on social media; admittedly, she was pretty horrible at facial recognition.

Avery surprised her by pointing to the girl in the picture with Jeremy. “Here. Were they seeing each other?”

Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really get into who was dating who that much in high school.”

“Smart girl.” Avery’s hands slipped into her back pockets again. “Huh.”

“Just to let you know,” Ms. Edwards’s voice called from the doorway. “There’s some fresh coffee if you girls want something to lighten your day.”

“Ah, thank you. I’m okay for right now.” Carrie had had enough coffee to last her a lifetime that morning. Staying up late with Avery the night before after two sleepless nights had been a worthwhile mistake.

Ms. Edwards sighed with sorrow as she aligned herself with the two sleuths. “Those kids really blessed Hillard’s heart when they did this for him. He never wanted to take it down, not even to dust it for fear that one of the pictures would get ruined.”

“I don’t blame him.” Avery pointed. “Did you know this girl, Jennifer Ingress?”

Another sorrow-filled sigh, and Ms. Edwards closed her eyes. “Yes, poor girl. I heard about her in the news a month or so ago. What a terrible thing to happen to her!” The look in her eyes was akin to a grandmother’s upon learning of the death of her granddaughter. Truly Ms. Edwards loved each child, and that had never changed.

“So…” Avery’s voice came out breathless and eager. Carrie could hear her trying to control it, not wanting to sound callous. “Did Jennifer take Mr. Hillard’s class, too, or was it just her boyfriend in this picture?”

Ms. Edward’s face darkened with anger. “They both did. That’s Jeremy Carr.”

So, she felt about him the same way that Carrie did. Good to know.

“Jenny was a great student, but Jeremy was a problem.”

“Oh, really?” Carrie’s voice came out more sarcastic than she intended. “How so?”

“He and Mr. Hillard butted heads all the time. He couldn’t keep his grades up, and he didn’t do anything to bother with keeping them up either. He was only taking the class because Jenny was. But Mr. Hillard expected everyone to do their part. He didn’t put up with kids like Jeremy who were doing just enough to get by. He was always telling him to study so he could go places in his life, but Jeremy wouldn’t listen.”

Doesn’t surprise me. Jeremy didn’t seem to take counsel very well. Carrie glanced over at Avery, but it seemed like her companion wasn’t even in the same room with her anymore. Avery stared hard at the picture of Jenny and Jeremy, and Carrie could almost see her brain working overtime. Avery was onto something, and Carrie couldn’t wait to ask her what it was.

Carrie got her chance as she and Avery descended the stone steps to the high school. “You were thinking pretty hard back there.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Avery didn’t miss a beat. As soon as her two feet landed flat on the bottom of the stairs, she pivoted to face Carrie, digging that penetrating gaze into her eyes. “You, Jenny, and Veronica are all victims of some type of crime… and all three of you took Mr. Hillard’s class. Now he’s in a coma? That can’t be coincidence!”

Carrie pondered the statement for a moment. “You’re right!” She felt the cold seep into her being again—that same fear raised its ugly head. “Do you think Mr. Hillard knew something about Jenny and Veronica’s death?”

“It is very possible. Maybe he even knows who would be out to get them.” Avery sighed, shifting her weight onto one hip. “Now if he would just wake up!”

“Maybe we can go down there, talk to him, see if we can bring him out of this!”

Avery shook her head. “What Mr. Hillard needs right now is rest. You might want to ask Ryan about running a story about him. Ms. Edwards said that they’re collecting donations for him. Cards, flowers, notes—that’s what he needs. A town like this is going to know Mr. Hillard and will come together to help him if they can.”

Carrie nodded. “I’ll talk to Ryan.” The thought of having a reason to talk to Ryan made her blood pulse with eagerness. As she opened her mouth to bring up the possible connection again, her phone buzzed. Was it Ryan? Something told her that it wasn’t him. He had an interview with his cousin today about the new clinic. But that wasn’t the only reason that she knew. For some reason, Carrie always had a sense when it was Ryan calling or texting her. She couldn’t explain it. It was just there.

“Hold that thought, please.” She pulled her phone out, unlocking it. Her heart stopped when she read the name. “It’s from Regina Pitre!” she exclaimed.

Avery’s frown locked her in. “Why is she texting you?”

“I reached out to her, asking if I could talk to her about Veronica. She knows I’m working on the story.” Her eyes scanned the message, little prickles of goosebumps pushing up her skin.

Hi, Carrie. I can honestly say I’m surprised to hear from you. I figured I’d be the last person that anyone would wanna talk to about Veronica. But sure, I’ll chat with ya about her. I will let u know that I don’t have anything good to say, so if you’re running a story about what a great person she was, then you can forget about it. Then again, maybe it would be good to hear both sides of the story and find out the not-so-good side of your story subject. I can meet you today if you’re available. I will be at the gym until three. Let me know as soon as you can.

Carrie cringed at the lack of proper grammar in her text. “She wrote me back a novel.” Passive-aggressive, to say the least. The tone suggested that even though Carrie was the one doing the interview, Regina would be the one to have the upper hand. She typed out a reply, not wanting to anger her interviewee by replying late.

Thank you for your reply! I can be there around three-fifteen if that works for you?

“Hey, I gotta go. Looks like I’ve got another interview lined up.” Carrie dropped her phone into her purse. She wasn’t too thrilled at the thought of leaving Avery. Avery gave her the encouragement she needed. She worried about seeing this Regina girl. Would she tear her down the same way that she did Veronica? Carrie’s heart couldn’t take that—not one more ounce of criticism. “Thank you so much for this today.”

“We didn’t learn much, other than our two victims attended the same class, but different years.” Avery licked her lower lip as she thought. “That’s our connection right there if we needed one.”

“You think it’s the same guy?” Carrie’s voice escaped like a frightened bird.

“Same class, same time frame.” Avery shrugged. “Maybe. But it may be for different reasons. I don’t know. I’m going to go back to my house and add some stuff to my storyboard. Let me know what you find out about Regina Pitre, would ya?”

Carrie nodded. “Sure thing.”

As Avery drove away, Carrie sat in the front seat of her car, nervously staring into the mirror. She ran a brush through her hair, arranged it, and touched up her makeup. The blouse she had chosen for herself today accentuated her slender figure, so if she was going for a pretty-girl look, this was it. But she wasn’t muscular. Would Regina judge her for that? Maybe she would think she was too dumb, too innocent.

Say nothing personal. She reminded herself. She turned the ignition in her car and pulled out of the high school parking lot.

“You are a hard man to get a hold of.” Ryan cracked a smile along with his joke at his cousin, who merely returned fire with his boyish grin.

“You try running the only clinic in town and having everyone expecting you to be at their beck and call.” Lance closed his office door behind him and gestured to his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Ryan gathered his notes and stopped when he saw where Lance had asked him to take a seat. The chair, same as Lance’s across the desk, was the oddest-shaped office chair he had ever seen. With the sides coming up, higher arms, and neck support near the top, it looked more like something out of a spaceship command center than an office chair. “What kind of a chair is this?”

“It’s the best for long hours of sitting at a desk. Back support, neck support.” Lance answered as if it were no big deal. “Try it.”

Ryan lowered himself into the chair, feeling the sides surround him and the instant support around his neck as the two fins came up to cradle it. “Why do I feel like it’s going to tip over backward and dump me?”

“Because it does recline.” Lance pulled his chair up to the desk.

“So, what do you do in here, nap?” Ryan flashed him another joking face.

“Hey, you do what you can to support a healthy spine. Trust me—it pays off in the later years.” Lance leaned forward on his desk, ignoring the neck support he bragged about. “Would you rather I have bar stools in here?”

“Absolutely not.” Ryan cleared his throat, settling into the office chair. It actually wasn’t half bad.

“Then stop whining.” Lance’s smile split the otherwise commanding tone that would have sent anyone but Ryan into a stuttering mess. Having Lance as a cousin was more like having the big brother he never had—someone he could fire right back at.

Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, man, whatever.”

“So, what questions do you have for me?” Lance shifted gears, leaving his joking nature behind, and focusing on his cousin’s newspaper report.

“Can you start off by telling me a little about the clinic?” Ryan pushed the Record button on his phone and set it on the table. “Your ultimate goal, your vision, maybe some history if you’re comfortable with it?”

Ryan was skilled at keeping things to a fifteen- or twenty-minute maximum. After about fifteen minutes, he usually had everything he needed to write an article. Lance had been generous with the information, and listening to his cousin go on and on about the clinic warmed Ryan’s heart. It was good to see Lance happy after so many years of unhappiness. Even though he had a few complaints about incompetent staff and long hours, he seemed to enjoy the world he’d thrown himself into.

Ryan clicked the stop record button on his phone and slid it into his pocket. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, man. And off the record, I’m glad you found someplace to flourish. You found something you’re passionate about, and it shows. Not everyone can say that.”

“Ah, it’s not a walk in paradise.” Lance tilted his head sideways, half closing one eye. “It has its annoyances. I mean, I have to work directly with people. I think you and Carrie have the better job. You get to sit behind a desk and write about them.”

Carrie. Her name brought out a different smile in Ryan, and he lowered his gaze. “Well, you’re not exactly right on that. Carrie’s actually out doing interviews today, and as you can see,” he swooped his hand to demonstrate, “so am I.”

Lance latched on to what he had said about Carrie, and the expression on his face changed into something more manly and curious. “So, Carrie huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” Ryan could feel an interrogation coming on and braced himself. “She’s a terrific writer. I’m so glad that I scored and have her working for me.”

“Working for you, yes. But is there something else I should know about?”

“You should know about? No.” Ryan laughed. “But since you asked, well…” If anyone could serve as his confidante, it could definitely be Lance. “Maybe it’s not just the fact that she’s an amazing worker. Punctual, dedicated, great with words. I’ve known her since high school, and I think it’s safe to admit that I’ve always taken a liking to her.”

“It’s safe to admit,” Lance’s voice narrowed in on the exclusive, “because it’s obvious.”

“Oh, no.” Ryan let his nervousness escape in a laugh. “Really?”

“To me. To Avery. Maybe not to Carrie, but the rest of the world can see it in neon colors.” Lance’s lip twitched in a smile. “You like her.”

Ryan felt the heaviness of such an admission settle on his shoulders. With it came a colossal responsibility: the change in business relationship. The chance to win her heart was delightful, but he knew it had to be treated like glass. One false move, and it could damage her forever. “Yes, I do like her.” He blurted out. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, no matter the responsibility. “I think she’s beautiful, both inside and out. She’s graceful, she’s got a great personality, she has a beautiful heart… she’s just so much more than all of that.” He played with his notes on the table, shuffling them, probably getting them out of order, but he didn’t care. He’d sort them and his feelings out later. “But she doesn’t know how amazing she is.”

“Why don’t you tell her how you feel?” Lance didn’t use a tone of suggestion, but more of a question. “What’s holding you back?”

Ryan didn’t want to betray her trust, so he stuck to the obvious bullet points. “She just got out of a horrible relationship. Really did a number on her self-esteem and probably damaged her trust in guys for life. I feel like if I were to tell her how I feel or ask her out or whatever, not only would she turn me down but it also wouldn’t be a good time for her right now. It would scare her and probably damage her. I don’t want to do that to her.”

“Hmm.” Lance’s gaze drifted off of Ryan and settled onto a picture frame on his desk. Ryan couldn’t see what the picture contained, but whatever it was, Lance was studying it like it had the answers to an upcoming test. A snowfall of silence fell between them before Lance decided to melt it with a quiet voice. “I’ve learned a lot of things in life, Ryan. But probably the most important thing I’ve learned is when you have a woman you know you like, and maybe even love,” he tore his eyes away from the picture frame and set them on Ryan, “don’t let her go. I made that mistake once. I thought I was doing what was best for Avery, but it wound up damaging the both of us.”

“You mean when you dated her before?” Ryan asked.

Lance nodded. “It took years. And those are years I can’t get back, but I wish she had been there during those years. It would have made them a lot more tolerable for both of us.” His sigh contained the years of whatever burdens he was carrying. “But the truth is, we’re together now, and I won’t be letting her go.”

“I’d like to take your advice,” Ryan pressed, “I really would. But Carrie… she’s so innocent and such a beautiful person that I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Have you paid much attention to her body language?” Lance poked a hole in that theory. “Did you know that seventy to ninety percent of human communication is nonverbal?”

“I’d heard that. I prefer oral, myself,” Ryan admitted. “It’s clearer.”

“Not necessarily.” Lance shook his head. “Your body language could be saying the exact opposite of your mouth, and body language doesn’t lie. Actors, professional liars—they can control it to a certain point, but I doubt Carrie is either of those. How does she act when she talks to you?”

“She turns red.” Ryan allowed himself to laugh. “And she stutters. Stumbles over her words. She even smacks herself in the face.” He caved to his laughter, shaking his head. “Gosh, she’s such a mess sometimes, but I find it endearing. And she’s that way because of that deadbeat boyfriend of hers who broke up with her.” His fist clenched. Nonverbal, right? Anger? Protection, is that what it was saying?

“That’s a good sign that maybe she likes you back.” Lance chuckled. “She might want to make the first move. You’ll know. Just pay attention to her cues. Know when the time is right. She seemed just fine with going out with you when you met up with Avery and me that first time. She seems comfortable with you. That’s a good sign. Just think about your future, buddy. I don’t want you to lose something that’s important to you. You really like this girl, and I think she’s good for you. And you’d be good for her too.”

Now it was Ryan’s turn to feel that rush of heat that Carrie probably felt every time she talked with him. Could she be good for him? Lance knew what he was talking about most of the time. This wasn’t some silly school crush; this was the girl that he was never able to forget since high school… the one that if she could only be his, he would show her what love really was. It wasn’t about her body or even her stunning looks. It was her. Her heart. Her values. Ryan knew that hardly anyone would protect those values that he loved so much about her.

His lip twitched in a smile. He looked up at Lance. “Thanks, man. I’ll do my best.” He chuckled. “So, am I being interviewed, or are you?” He crossed his arms, leaning back into the chair with a smug face.

Lance didn’t move. “You brought her up.”

“I can’t help it.” Ryan laughed, then realized how comfortable he was talking about Carrie. “Man. I have got to get me one of these chairs.”

Carrie guided her car down main street in Juniper Springs, giving a portion of her attention to the GPS that told her where to go. The gym was on the street that ran parallel to Main Street, and for all the times that Carrie had driven downtown, she couldn’t recall where the gym was located. When she was in high school, she told herself that she got all her exercise in during gym class and didn’t need to spend extra time after school at yet another gym.

She leaned back in her seat, feeling the most relaxed that she had in a long time. She took notice of how comfortable her car’s seat was and the caress of the breeze blowing through her open window. The summer air had the sting of heat to it, but it also held the perfumed scent of fresh Juniper and the river nearby. As tourists flocked on either side of the street, visiting the small shops, Carrie paid attention to the pedestrian crosswalks, not wanting to add to the growing number of deaths that this quaint little town had suffered.

She turned up the street that led to the gym, shaking her head in thought. How could such a cozy little town, welcoming to all and replete with Tudor style homes and cabins that dotted the outskirts, also host such a cold-hearted killer roaming the streets? Really, he or she could be anybody. Carrie wasn’t so sure that the killer wasn’t female. The more she thought about the messages that Regina was sending to both Jenny and Veronica, the more she began to question the wisdom of going there alone. She had uploaded her location to Lizzie at the office, and it seemed very clear that Regina wasn’t interested in leaving the gym. Still, she felt anxiety scraping along the insides of her brain.

She pulled her car into the parking space in front of the gym exactly when Regina had said to be there. She breathed in, killing her engine, and tried to talk herself into this. She had already decided in her mind that Regina was going to talk down to her, so she wanted to make herself appear as successful as possible.

Remember: nothing personal.

Her heels clomped onto the sidewalk as she shut her car door behind her, swinging her purse up onto her shoulder and stepping toward the building. She tugged on the door, repeating encouraging phrases to herself in her head.

You’ve got this. This is one step closer to helping Veronica.

The gym didn’t host many people during the middle of the day on a Tuesday. It made it easy to survey the room in seconds and observe like Avery had taught her. Skinny guy with gauges and piercings at the front desk. Bodybuilder in the corner lifting weights that probably would crush me if I tried. And there. There on that rowing machine is probably the woman I’m looking for.

Unsure of how it was possible, Carrie thought Regina looked three times tougher in person than she did on her profile picture. She showed off her developed body by wearing some yoga shorts and a tank top that revealed her muscles. The muscles in her arms and legs reminded Carrie of roots on a redwood tree, except for those huge biceps that appeared to surpass Carrie’s body weight by what looked like an inhuman amount.

“Can I help you?” The guy with gauges looked her up and down. Carrie felt her skin instantly prickle with offense. My eyes are up here, buddy. She lowered her voice to make herself sound more serious and replied. “I’m looking for a Regina Pitre.”

“You’ve come to the right place.”

Carrie hadn’t been expecting Regina to have an accent, but it sounded like she had come straight from New York’s golden age of 1920s. Regina had gotten up from the rowing machine in the time that it took Carrie to decide she didn’t like the receptionist, and strode over to where Carrie stood. Carrie breathed in through her nose, desperately trying to calm her nerves, but to her surprise, Regina didn’t look like she wanted to eat her alive. The look on that face, hardened by years of being too tough for her own good, was more accepting than anything. Carrie donned a professional smile. “Hi, Regina. Carrie Sweet?” She extended her hand for Regina to shake.

Regina eyed Carrie’s outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow and glanced back up at Carrie. “Just drop the pleasantries, darling. I know why you’re here.”

So, she might just eat her alive after all. Carrie dropped her hand, trying not to let her face do the same and show how defeated she felt. “Where would you like to get started?”

“Right here is fine.” Regina nodded her head toward the rowing machine. “I gotta stay with my stuff.”

Carrie nodded. “Right.”

She opted to stand beside the machine as Regina sat back down on it, draping a towel around her shoulders. Completely at a loss for words, Carrie tried for the personal approach. “Can I just say, I’m amazed. I used to be a cheerleader, but I never had the stamina to stay with a workout program for very long.”

Regina’s mouth curled into a sneer as if she believed every word Carrie had said based off of assumptions. “It’s my life. Can’t be a fitness trainer and not be fit. Can’t compete when you’re weak.”

“So, you do competitions?” Carrie knew for sure that she would never want to compete against someone like Regina. Competing with her would be like a house cat competing with a polar bear. Not happening.

“Yeah, I do,” she said as if the answer was obvious. “You can read all about it in magazines or watch it on TV.”

“Well, congrats.” Carrie cleared her throat. She really wasn’t sure what to say to this woman, so she dropped the personal air and went straight to the meat. “So, I know we talked a little bit about it, but I wanted to talk to you about Veronica King.”

Regina finished rubbing the towel around her neck and slid it into her hands in front of her. Her eyes never left that towel as she seemed to be massaging it. “What about her?”

“I’m building a story about her murder and trying to get to know her as a person.” Carrie ventured. “I’ve been interviewing people who knew her, and I was wondering what you could tell me about her.”

“Veronica was a thorn in my side.” Regina bit out. When she met Carrie’s gaze, her eyes blazed like a guerrilla fighter’s just before a skirmish. “So, how much do you want to know, and how much are you putting in your story?”

“Well,” Carrie shrugged, “that’s up to you. You can tell me what you really want off the record, or I can just take a few statements down. But I am curious about one thing: Veronica was loved by a lot of people in this town, but it didn’t seem like you and she traveled in the same circles. Can you tell me why she was a thorn in your side?”

“Off the record?” Regina raised an eyebrow. “Veronica was like one of those annoying mosquitoes. You know the kind that you slap away and they just keep coming back? I am a self-made woman.”

No kidding.

“I go out and I do what it takes to get stuff done, and I don’t let anybody get in my way. But that Veronica, she was always whining about how hard life was. Honey, it’s not going to get any easier if you don’t do something. Asking for help will get you run over. You have to go out and take the bull by the horns yourself. Pull up the big girl panties and do it.”

Carrie blistered at the words. Sometimes asking for help is all you can do. She bit her words back and nodded. “Right.”

“The only time she ever took matters into her own hands was when she was messin’ with people’s relationships.” Regina whipped her towel out with a snap that made Carrie jump. Still on limited sleep and still ever aware of a stalker who wanted her, she didn’t need to hear that. Regina either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Carrie began, “off the record, of course. Did she do that… to you? Mess with a relationship of yours?”

Regina’s eyes burned. She turned her head in a slow motion as if savoring the seconds before she lit into Carrie. Carrie felt the sweat breaking out all over her body and wondered if Regina was going to raise her voice to make Carrie feel small. When she spoke, she was surprisingly calm. “I was datin’ this guy back in college. Had a good thing going, but he was really weak. I don’t take too kindly to that. Turns out this guy was Veronica’s friend—cousin, whatever—I don’t care. But they were pretty close.”

Carrie latched onto that. Maybe not to put in her story, but maybe a suspect? Another lead?

“Well, I went to this party by myself one time. I saw my ex-boyfriend there, and we hooked up for the night. I didn’t know Veronica was there, and even if I did, I had no idea that she was a little snitch. Well, there’s a reason that snitches get stitches.”

Ooh, was that a threat?

“Veronica runs right to my boyfriend and says she saw me cheating on him. Little brat had a picture and everything like she was some kinda PI or somethin’. When I get back, my boyfriend is a blubbering mess and breaks up with me on the spot. Now don’t get me wrong. The guy wasn’t my type. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate Veronica running around and spreading lies about me. Do you know what that did to my reputation?”

“I can imagine that it smeared it pretty bad.” Carrie used Avery’s technique. Act like you’re on their side. “It would really make me angry if someone did that to me. In fact,” she shouldn’t go here, shouldn’t go here, nothing personal! But she couldn’t help herself. “I had someone spread a rumor about me, and it cost me a job I had. There’s nothing like a stab in the gut like that.”

“So, you get what I’m sayin’.” Regina pointed at her. “I had to deal with the aftermath for months. But I tell you, the workouts were great during those times.”

“Angry workouts are the best.” Carrie added a little giggle. Then with Regina’s shift in behavior, she decided to use her own little story and try a different technique. She put her notes down and slipped her recorder into her purse. “Look, Regina, I’m sorry to have bothered you. I was doing a story, but considering that you had such a rough history with Veronica, I don’t think I’ll quote you in it because… well, I don’t want people finding out about that and then finding out it was you and then you’d have to relive that all over again.”

Disbelief twisted Regina’s lips into a sneer. “You’re a reporter, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be a vulture.”

Ouch. Well, she wasn’t wrong. Carrie shook her head. “I’m not that kind of reporter. Besides, I’ve been through similar stuff, like I told you, and I’m giving you a break on this one.” She aimed her what she hoped was a mildly teasing smile. “But I was wondering…”

“Shoot.” Regina held a bottle of water to her lips.

Carrie softened her defensive posture, hoping to be as open as she could and not set the woman off. “I knew Veronica from school, and I’m just curious. Do you have any idea what could have happened to her?”

Regina sighed. She took her time in screwing the bottle cap onto the water bottle, tightening it as she did. Carrie’s hopes rose, and with them, the fear that she may have stumbled onto something that she wasn’t sure how to deal with. Could it be possible that she was talking to Veronica’s killer?

“Not gonna lie. I fantasized about killing her when it first happened.”

Carrie’s heart twisted into a pretzel.

“But I never would commit murder.” With an unwavering stare, Regina looked dead into Carrie’s face. “I simply don’t have time for that. I have my career on the line.”

Was she telling the truth? If Jason could look Carrie dead in the face and lie to her, surely this woman—tougher than nails with an agenda against Veronica King—could do the same. To Carrie, having one’s career on the line wasn’t enough to not commit a murder. Regina had the smarts to get away with it… or drive Veronica to suicide. Which still didn’t explain why she wound up in a dumpster, but that was all Carrie could get for now. Carrie straightened and nodded. “I get that. I really do. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. I’m sorry that I didn’t put anything you said on the record.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Regina quickly replied and drank some more water. “I’d prefer you didn’t anyway. Good luck with that story. But if I were you, I’d move on to something better. Veronica’s little life doesn’t interest the people in Juniper Springs as much as who took that life does.”

Carrie turned Regina’s words over and over again in her head as she drove back toward the paper’s office. She felt tempted to stop by the cafe across the street from the paper office to get herself something to eat, but her appetite had fled with Regina’s cruel words.

Veronica’s life isn’t as interesting as the one who took it. Maybe she just meant that people were fascinated with the macabre, and Veronica’s life—the life of a hermit that didn’t get out much—didn’t hold the interest that it should. Something didn’t sit well with Carrie. Regina didn’t deny anything. She even admitted to fantasizing about killing Veronica. Did that mean that she actually would?

Carrie threw a glance in her rearview mirror. She wouldn’t put it past this woman to commit murder or maybe even make it look like an accidental death. The grip on that bodybuilder could snap Veronica’s neck, maybe even land her in the dumpster somehow. Oh! The dumpster! Carrie had to call them and find out what day pickup was!

When she reached the stoplight downtown that really was only there for tourists to cross the street, she dialed the number and held the phone to her ear. “Hello, this is Carrie Sweet from the Juniper Springs Times…”

Of course they remembered her. Sounded like Bob on the other end of the line. “Hey, Carrie! How are you doing? You seemed really shaken up when you left the construction site.”

“I’m doing a lot better, thank you!”

“I really liked what you wrote about the museum project in the paper! You really did it justice!”

“Thank you, sir.” Carrie blushed with his compliment. “I’m also working on another story and was wondering if you could tell me one little detail?”

“Sure.”

Carrie eased her car into the intersection as soon as the green light gave her the go-ahead. She and three other cars made it before the light flickered back to a yellow in her rearview mirror. Huh. Short light. Good thing she was first. “What day does the trash pickup occur for you guys?”

“What day do they pick up the trash?” he parroted. “Monday. We all hate it, because—”

Carrie clutched the steering wheel as her heart did cartwheels. The light behind her had switched to red, but a vroom sent a red car careening into the intersection. Did... did someone really just run that red light? Carrie shook her head, listening further. The man continued, obviously unaware of the reckless driver behind her.

“We have to get there to open the gates on the one day that nobody is on time.”

“I get that.” Carrie laughed. She laid eyes on her rearview mirror again and wondered why the red car was playing checkers on the road, speeding up to pass the person in front of him before zipping back over to his lane again, one car length behind her. There wasn’t enough room on the road for that…

Her throat clenched. It wasn’t just any old car. It was a maroon Ford Taurus. Hadn’t she seen one of those earlier? Where had she seen it?

“Hey, thank you. I have to go. I’m getting another call, but thank you for checking on me!” Wait... she had called him. Oh well, he had still checked on her.

“No problem, sweetie. Good luck with your new story.”

“Thanks.” Carrie mumbled. As soon as she hung up, she worried that she had sounded too rude as she did. But she had other things to worry about more than that. Like the Taurus riding the bumper of the car in front of him.

Is he following me?

Better to be safe than sorry. Carrie turned on her turn signal and guided her car down the nearest right-hand turn, heading back for the street where she had just been. Eyes glued to the reflection of what was going on behind her. The one car passed, but the Taurus’s blinking turn signal alerted anyone behind him that he, too, was turning right.

That’s funny. Carrie turned up another road, grateful for the tic-tac-toe pattern of the streets in Juniper Springs, although not so very grateful for the narrow roads. Her car passed a narrow lane where the flower shop, nail salon, and carved wood gifts store crowded the corner while on the other side, a boutique, a small bookstore, and the Chamber of Commerce sat. Both were busy today, and both had cars parked in front of the buildings with their tail ends sticking out into her lane. Carrie noted the car coming at her from the other side was far enough back that she could make it, so she guided her car to drive down the middle of the road to avoid hitting the parked cars. Once she was safe, she slid back over into her lane again and passed the car. Eyes on the road, she told herself. She was fine…

Except when the blaring of the horn rattled her windows and her gaze shot back. The Taurus had pushed his limits, not bothering to let the driver pass as he, too, turned that portion of the street into a one-way and sped past. The other car pulled over as close to the parked cars as he could get, yelling out his window at the driver that had nearly run him into the parked cars.

So he was that desperate to follow her…

Carrie’s breathing quickened. She stomped on the gas, noting that the Taurus sped up behind her too. She couldn’t see into the tinted windows, so she wasn’t sure if it was one person or two. But one thing she was sure of: they were tailing her. For whatever reason, they were following her. Could it be someone that Regina sent out after her? What if Regina was behind the murder of Veronica King and now she knew that Carrie was onto her? No, she had seen that Taurus this morning. So, Regina couldn’t have known.

Could she?

Or was she one step ahead of Carrie? It didn’t take much to find out what someone drove nowadays. She had to drive past the paper office to get to the gym, so she could have easily spied her car. Maybe that’s why she was so willing to divulge the information… because she knew that Carrie wouldn’t be around long to share it.

Carrie floored it past the attorney’s office that Avery worked at, and an idea came to her. She pressed her gas pedal to take her out of the downtown portion of Juniper Springs, leaving behind the quaint little shops and flowers popping up on the side of the road. She turned her car up Ninth Street and noted that the Taurus was still keeping up with her. She yanked her steering wheel, squealing her tires into the parking lot of the police station.

The Taurus passed, but slowed its pace. Carrie held her breath, wondering if the driver was pulling a gun on her. Maybe Regina wasn’t acting alone. Maybe she had an accomplice… an accomplice who didn’t want her going to the police station.

Just when Carrie was about to call 911, the Taurus squealed away, leaving a cloud of black stinking rubber in its absence. He headed for the neighborhood portion of the town, but Carrie wasted no time. She pushed her gas and returned back the way she had come.

Carrie pulled her car into the parking space, not bothering to park it straight. She hid it from the road behind Ryan’s truck and practically fell out of her car. She took off running toward the front door of the paper’s office. She couldn’t get in fast enough! When she finally pushed through the door, she slammed it behind her and sank her body against it.

All eyes turned toward her. Mark stared at her with the phone plastered between his shoulder and ear, Lizzie had a licorice candy lodged between her teeth, Ryan stood at Carrie’s desk... and his gaze snapped over.

Carrie felt her face flush with embarrassment. She had caused a scene. She sighed. “I’m sorry.” She admitted. “I think someone was following me.”

“And you’re sure it was the same Taurus?”

Ryan held his hand on her shoulder as Carrie sat at her desk. Lizzie, rather, sat on her desk and handed her some water to sip through a straw. Carrie nodded as Lizzie drew the cup of water away. “I saw him at the school this morning, and I saw him following me. He almost caused a wreck because he didn’t want to lose me.”

“How terrifying!” Lizzie cried. “You must have been so scared!”

“I was mildly annoyed,” Carrie admitted. “I’m tired of people showing up unannounced in my life.”

Ryan hoped that all she meant were the stalkers—or rather, stalker—that had so interrupted her life. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Confusion spread across Lizzie’s face before her phone interrupted them. She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I gotta take this!”

She sprang from Carrie’s desk and pranced over to her own desk to answer the phone. Ryan settled his gaze on Carrie, concern deepening the chocolate color to his eyes. She didn’t look so good. She looked like she was completely at the end of her rope, trying not to fall apart. “I want to go home, Ryan.” Her voice was choked with emotion. “I don’t want to have this stalker around anymore.”

“We’ll call the police and tell them what happened.” His voice was strong, but he was just as much at a loss as she was. Anger boiled inside of him. Who was causing her this kind of misery? He wanted to meet him, and give him a piece of his mind, and maybe a few fist blows while he was at it. Carrie missed her home, he could tell. She just wanted to go to her place of safety and be all right for a night. Well, there was one way he could do that. She probably wouldn’t accept it, but what else could he suggest? Staying with Lance again? Finding a hotel? Protective custody? The thought of sending her away and not knowing where she was burned his insides.

He pulled out his phone and quickly called to report the incident, passing the phone to Carrie to report as much detail as she could remember. But he already had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t amount to much.

The call ended with vague promises from the police until silence stretched between them for a long, awkward moment.

He cleared his throat. “Carrie... you don’t have to agree to anything. But for safety’s sake, would you like me to take you home tonight? I could stay with you for a few moments and make sure your stalker doesn’t come back. He may not be so apt to follow us if he sees another truck at your house.”

He expected a fight—a meltdown of an insecure girl—a protest that she couldn’t ask that of him… but her immediate answer surprised him, and probably her as well.

“I’d like that, if you don’t mind.”

It broke Ryan’s heart to see his sweet Carrie so insecure.

She hugged herself as she guided him toward her home, looking over her shoulder every few seconds. Ryan gripped the steering wheel, knowing that the poor girl was living in fear, and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that. He could stay with her for as long as she would let him—which knowing Carrie, would probably be late into the night, and he would be driving home in the wee hours of the morning. But somehow, that didn’t bother him. He had lived off of minimal hours of sleep before.

He pulled in behind the shed of her adorable little cottage and killed his engine. The late afternoon rays spilled their way into the evening and danced in little golden flecks on the tips of the lawn. “What a beautiful place.”

“It really is.” Carrie’s voice contained too much sadness. He could almost read her thoughts. Too bad it isn’t a safe place.

Ryan wanted to reach out to her, but he remembered his talk with Lance earlier that day and read the cues on her face. She had her thoughts set on one thing only: someone was stalking her.

“Listen, Carrie.” His gentle voice brought her attention back to him. He softened his face, hoping to be as comforting as he could be. “I’m here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you while I’m here, all right?”

Carrie nodded, disbelief sparkling in her eyes. “I really appreciate this, Ryan. I hate to be an inconvenience.”

And there it was. Ryan tilted his head, letting a mock confusion adorn his face. “Inconvenience? When has seeing the most beautiful cottage in Juniper Springs ever been an inconvenience?”

Carrie allowed herself a little laugh. “Right. Like it’s the most beautiful.”

“I think it is.” Ryan opened his door, his ears catching the sound of the creek running behind her house. She really did land herself a little piece of paradise, didn’t she? The running creek gave him an idea. Maybe a bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

Carrie came around to the other side of the truck. “Are you hungry? I don’t have anything premade up, so sandwiches are about all that’s readily available.”

After a day like hers, he didn’t want her cooking anyway. He offered her a smile. “Sandwiches sound great.”

Carrying out the idea from earlier, Ryan suggested that they sit out on the back deck, listen to the creek, and watch the sun go down. Carrie struck him as the kind of girl who would choose welcoming nature over watching her favorite TV show, and it turned out he was right. Her eyes lit up when he suggested it, as if he had suggested a trip to Europe.

If it wasn’t for a crazy stalker running around, the night would have been perfect. But so far, the stalker had shown no signs of appearing at Carrie’s house. No random cars in the driveway, Ryan had made sure to park his truck behind the shed so it looked like no one was home. If the stalker saw no cars, maybe he’d think Carrie wasn’t there and go looking somewhere else. But he had just gotten her calmed down, so he wasn’t going to bring up the stalker business now.

Instead, he sat with her on the deck and surveyed the beautiful scene. It belonged on a postcard. Only a postcard couldn’t capture the peace that came with all five senses being tuned into nothing but nature.

The summer air cooled as the sun neared the horizon, allowing nature’s air conditioning to wash over Carrie and Ryan, as they cozied up in the Adirondack chairs. The breeze embraced them, hinting that there was nothing wrong… that they could both relax. The air was perfumed by the smell of the woods, the fresh leaves, the humidity in the air from the recent rain that cleansed the air of the junk that lingered. Ryan wanted to close his eyes and listen but kept them open for Carrie’s sake. Instead, he contented himself with watching her as she closed her eyes, those beautiful blue orbs hidden behind the flesh that still carried the day’s eye shadow. The fading light caused her eye shadow to sparkle, further enhancing her beauty. She seemed to lean into the sound of the wind rushing through the needles, the leaves whispering a collective shhh right back, and the creek flowing beneath them. There were few things more comforting than the sound of the water tumbling over the rocks. A gentle swoosh added a sense of peace to the sunset; the golden rays of sunshine dipped below the mountains, bursting forth in one more vibrant flash of color before disappearing, bidding the day a good night with a promise of tomorrow. The color around them faded, the night air drew cooler but no less comforting, and the stars began to make little pinholes in the ink that spread over the night sky.

Ryan was sure she had fallen asleep by the time the light disappeared entirely, but Carrie’s eyes fluttered open and looked around. “This was such a great idea,” she whispered, not wanting the shrill of her voice to shatter the peace that had coated them. “Thank you for suggesting we come out here.”

“Do you feel more at peace now?” Oh, please say yes. I can’t bear to see you miserable.

She nodded her confirmation. “A lot better. Still a little scared, but that’s okay.”

“It’s okay to be scared. I just don’t want you to be.” He settled back into the chair, his body at an odd leaning angle. He decided he didn’t like it. It was too difficult to jump up if he needed to, so he raised himself up to sit on the edge of the chair. “How do you like living here?”

“I love it.” Carrie’s honesty pleased him. She was happy after all. “Being here reminds me of my childhood on so many levels. I only wish that I could get in contact with my aunt. I’ve been missing her lately.”

“The one you told me about that was unhappy that you got this place?” Ryan himself envied Carrie, but he would never write her off because of it.

Carrie nodded. “The very one. I’ve been meaning to call her, but I don’t know what I would say. Besides, I’ve been busy with work.”

“How are you liking the job?” He sent her a grin. “Be honest. If it needs improvements, I’ll make them.”

Carrie’s giggle was as gentle as the creek beneath them, and he loved it just as much. “I mean, I love it. I don’t love getting stalked or talking to crazy people.”

“Yeah, speaking of, how did that interview with Regina go?” Ryan hated to bring her into this, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask her.

Carrie shrugged her shoulders and held them taut for a few moments before lowering them. “She creeped me out. She has a motive to want Veronica gone, but I don’t know if I should alert the police or not. I’ll probably just tell Avery. She’ll know what to do. I went to my old school today and got a few ideas for a story. Did you know that the students are putting together a little donation for Mr. Hillard? Cards, flowers, mementos in hopes that he’ll wake up soon?”

Ryan shook his head, just enjoying listening to her gentle voice fill him in on her day. Oh, he could do this forever. He really could sit and listen to her talk about her day with her having no idea how much he was simply enjoying watching her live it. “I didn’t.”

Carrie went on to tell him how it might be something she’d like to write about, or maybe even just put it in the Juniper Springs Times, of course, prefacing it like she always did with her “if you don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s fine.” But all Ryan could do was observe her in the emerging starlight, the way her hair bounced over her shoulders, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Finally, she noticed him staring at her and sighed, lowering her gaze with a blink to her lap. “I’m sorry. I’m talking too much.”

“No, no, you’re not.” Ryan pressed his lips together, holding back his emotion. “I love listening to your thoughts.”

“Yeah, right.” Carrie laughed. “It’s probably like picking up the pieces to several different puzzles on the ground, isn’t it?”

“No!” Ryan pressed with a tone that suggested that it wasn’t even close to how he felt. Because it wasn’t. “Your thoughts are beautiful. You care for everyone around you, and it shows.”

Carrie knew she had to sound like a chatterbox, a record playing back at breakneck speed with that high-pitched voice it had. She wasn’t doing it to just make conversation. She was nervous. Having Ryan sitting beside her in such a romantic setting wasn’t helping her in any way, shape, or form. She even used the term romantic when she thought about it. Who else sat outside and watched the sun go down? Sure, they weren’t sitting together, but he was beside her. And once again, his presence served as a calm embrace where she could run to and hide, where her fears melted away. So long as he was there, she knew her stalker wouldn’t dare to touch her.

And that’s not the only reason why she didn’t want him to leave.

She couldn’t deny it anymore, how much she loved his company. How could a person’s presence be both warm and happy at the same time? Her happiness seemed to spike whenever he was around. It didn’t make sense. But she wasn’t so sure that she wanted the moment to end either.

She wanted to know what he was thinking, but he was always so closed-mouthed when he was around her. He never let her into the folds of his thinking. Except once. Once, when he had told her to never let anyone tell her she wasn’t worth the wait. And what had he meant by that? Carrie caught herself thinking about that all the time, and it meant more to her the more she thought about it. But what did that mean? Did he consider her worth the wait? Like he was waiting for her?

But was he?

How did he really feel? She wanted to ask him so much it hurt, but she couldn’t just outright ask him how he felt about her. She set her face hard to study him and let her eyes move over the chisels of his face. The sharp jawline, those perfectly arranged cheekbones, those eyes that held more depth than the Mariana Trench in Australia. She could get lost in those eyes, just as she could go swimming and let the water come up over her head, spread out her arms, let it consume her, bring her down…

She shook her head. Why was she even thinking about this?

“Are you okay?” He breathed a laugh as if amused by whatever her own face was doing as she watched his. “You look like you’re thinking pretty hard about something.”

And she was! But why? Why was she so drawn to him? Maybe if she talked it out, it would pinpoint why she felt so strongly attracted to him. “I was just trying to come up with a way to thank you,” she managed. There, a good, evasive answer. “You’ve been so kind to me, and you’ve gone out of your way more times than I can count. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it was, sleeping in Lance’s chair last night.”

Ryan rubbed his neck as if it were stiff and managed a laugh. “It wasn’t the best sleeping arrangements, but I’ve been in worse. I can usually sleep anywhere. It’s a superpower.”

“Oh, is it?” She matched his laughter. “So, some people can become invisible, some people can fly, and others can read someone else’s thoughts. And your superpower is being able to sleep anywhere.”

“It’s an important one to have.” He laughed. “But I will admit that if I could fly, I’d trade my ability to sleep anywhere for that.”

“Would you?” Carrie pressed. “Huh. I’d choose the ability to read someone’s mind.” Particularly yours. Yours is the only one I care about.

“But that wouldn’t make your job as fun now, would it?” He challenged. And she agreed. Again, she didn’t care about anyone else’s mind. Just his.

So, she just blurted it out. “Sometimes it’s not so much what others are thinking. I wonder about you. You must think I’m pretty crazy, huh?”

“Why would I think you’re crazy?” Ryan let his seriousness overtake his face again, and she watched his eyes harden into something unreadable. He seemed to peel back the layers of her emotions piece by piece and read into her thoughts. She could feel the pull toward him, the way his gaze drew her in like a magnetic ray. “You’ve never given me any reason to think that you were crazy.”

Sure, she hadn’t. “I’m a mess.” She laughed to cover up how she really felt. “Clumsy, stuttering over my words, you know, you’ve seen it! It’s a wonder you even hired me after I demonstrated my clumsiness to you that first day.”

His eyes flashed with emotion, like there was something just hovering on the tip of his tongue, ready to jump out into the air and let them discuss it. But what was it? The only thing he offered her was a simple explanation. “All of us have been a mess at some point in our lives, Carrie. That doesn’t take away from the wonderful person you are.”

There it was again. All he did was build her up. Carrie opened her mouth to retort something silly about herself, but a thought arrested her as she did. Ryan had never said anything demeaning to her, or about her, and she wasn’t sure how to take that. He was the opposite of Jason, who only ever used his words to tear her down. Ryan used his words to rebuild what Jason had torn down. She still thought less of herself, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to be that way around Ryan. She knew if he could see the way she demeaned herself, he would forbid it. Not only had his kindness been overwhelming and self-sacrificial to her, but his encouragement was also something that she didn’t know how to deal with.

She closed her mouth slowly, only to reopen it with a crack into her heart. “I don’t feel like a wonderful person,” she admitted. “I don’t. I feel like I’m too much of a mess, inside and out, to ever be something special.”

Ryan’s face stiffened as he clenched his jaw. An emotion passed through his eyes as he kept his unblinking stare on hers. Carrie wasn’t sure what the emotion was, but it almost looked like some kind of pain, like he felt the same hurt that she did because he allowed himself to.

“Carrie,” his voice evaporated into the night air, drawing her closer, “don’t let the idiot that you were with before define how you see yourself. You have done amazing things with your life. You’re an amazing writer, and you could really take that to many places if you keep at it. You didn’t let life get you down; you got back up and kept going. You’re taking on a case that quite frankly many women wouldn’t be able to pursue even with your kind of strength. And you just…” he pressed his lips together, and Carrie watched the edges of his lips turn white as if he were trying to hold something back, “you have a beautiful heart.”

“Well…” Carrie ensnared them both with a direct look into his eyes, noting the way that his pupils swelled in size when she did. The conversation between them was such a surge that she could easily let her heart skip a few beats. “You have a heart of gold, so beat that.”

And she meant it. Upon first meeting him, he had stopped her dead in her tracks with intimidation and a professional manner of doing everything. But then he had started letting little bits of goodness leak into the way he treated her. The manner in which he dealt with any problem she brought to him was saturated with strength… and just all-in-all being a good guy. And he needed to know that his modern-day chivalry did not go unnoticed.

A heart of gold.

No, he didn’t, Ryan told himself. I just really, really like this girl. Sure, he tried to treat everyone around him with kindness and respect, even though he preferred to keep himself aloof. He could be courteous and austere at the same time, but not with Carrie. Never with Carrie. He cared too much for her to let her face the troubles in her life by herself.

He felt the magnitude of strength in the way she looked at him. She spelled out her statement, unblinking, unwavering and convicted, as if in all her years as a reporter, she had never uttered a truer statement. Her stare had anchored them both in place, and her reciprocation became the vortex winds of a tornado, sucking them both in and closer to each other. He leaned closer to her as she spoke, but stopped. And Carrie let her words simmer in the air for a few moments before she, too, leaned closer to him. Her eyes became tunnel vision, zeroing on his lips. It wasn’t the first time she had done that tonight. Could it possibly be that she wanted to kiss him?

Ryan remained stiff, leaning forward on the edge of the Adirondack chair and watched her. Carrie’s eyes came alive, capturing the starlight in the small sparkle that ignited in her eyes. She raised those beautiful blue orbs up to meet his and let them dance… asking his permission. She leaned her body forward, toward him. Hesitancy held her shoulders back, as if she were nervous to even dare. She probably had something in place to say what she was doing if he didn’t reciprocate. Oh, I was just tying my shoe. Oh, I wasn’t leaning in to kiss you.

But reciprocate? Oh, yes, he did.

But he had to make sure it was what she wanted.

His nerves stood on end, fraying before the lightning bolt of exhilaration hit, but his voice echoed none of the turmoil inside of him. “Can I…” He tilted his head in an almost innocent gesture, a request to proceed. “Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes deepened with emotion, and she nodded. “Yes.” Her voice became a breathless whisper.

Ryan let her come most of the way before he leaned forward, closing the gap between them. His eyes closed, he felt her press her lips upon the surface of his own, and they both released all hesitancy to the wind. Ryan held onto the chair with his right hand, but reached up with his left and smoothed her hair back behind her ear. She turned her face ever so slightly to press against the side of his palm as her lips explored his with a curious passion, the dawn of a new awakening. He could feel it descend upon them as he kissed her, the realization that the tides had now turned, a new storybook had opened for the two of them that could never be closed again.

Ryan’s gentle hand caressed the side of her face, and Carrie melted into it. His kiss and gentle caress became something like an umbrella over her, keeping out the showers of negative emotions she had felt toward herself and instead, trapping them both in their own little bubble of earnest desire. He had returned her kiss, not pressing her to give him more, and had let her close the gap between them. When he kissed her back, she could feel him releasing the enjoyment over to her. Carrie had heard many kisses described; sometimes as fireworks, an explosion, or a sharp flash of exhilaration. But to her, the feeling of Ryan’s lips upon hers and his hand on her face fell under her category of a tender love, a thoughtfulness, a sensitivity toward her. As if somehow, this was his way of comforting her and assuring her that her heart was cared for. That she was loved.

Ryan broke the kiss off, his eyes drifting up to meet hers as his forehead gently settled against hers. Carrie reached up, smoothing her hand through the back of his hair, regretting that a kiss was only a moment in time. But he had unlocked something in her with that kiss—something that drove her to a desire to go deeper, to jump hand in hand with him into the ocean of unknown between them, let the water come up over her head, consume her…

To take a chance at love again.

He didn’t break the silence. She let her thoughts do that for her, screaming loud into her pattern of thinking. She had been so afraid of letting herself kiss another man since Jason had shattered her heart. He had been the only man she’d ever really shared a kiss with except for some boys in college. But this was the first real kiss she could claim to have ever experienced. She’d heard that a kiss said a lot about a person and how true it was. Jason had always been pushy when he kissed her, pressing hard against her mouth, letting his hands try to explore where they shouldn’t. And there was Ryan. His kiss wanted nothing back from her; it just gave her the rush of pleasure and a feeling of being cared for. His tender touch on her face had been her assurance that she was safe with him… safe and cared about… tender and meaningful. Somehow it made her feel alive again. Like a flower pushing its way through the soil as it looked for the springtime sunshine, so did her heart, looking for that warmth of being loved.

What have I done? Kissed her boss—kissed the one man that had shown her how much he cared since her father died. And instead of instant regret, she felt a flash of instant desire. She wanted to know more about this Ryan Blair and maybe even have him care about her back. What would it be like to date a guy like Ryan? One who cared for her and respected her values? She had been missing out by wasting so much time with a loser like Jason.

Why, for the first time, did she feel a spark running throughout her entire body? How could one kiss ignite the desire to feel Ryan’s hands stroking her up and down, pulling her in for more?

Carrie halted her thoughts, letting them crash into the barrier of her better thinking. She wasn’t going to stand up for her values over and over again with Jason, only to let them down for one moment of passion between her and Ryan. She could easily let herself go too far if she persisted, so she made a conscious decision to sit back into her chair. It took every effort from her muscles to do that, but she managed somehow. Her smile was a mixture of all the churning emotions inside her. “Well, that was…” She fought for the word to say. Amazing. Life-changing. Or maybe he’d think that she was taking it too far, reading too much into it. Maybe she wasn’t that good, and he didn’t want her to know it. “Very nice.”

His soft smile showed no sign of disappointment or rejection. Instead, he seemed to agree with her. “It was.”

Carrie let her gaze drift over the night-fallen world and hauled in a nice long breath of the fresh, pine-scented air. “I hate to break up the moment, but I think I’d like to go to bed. I haven’t slept well in a few days.”

Ryan nodded his agreement. His eyes still danced with positive emotions, perhaps a flicker of disappointment for her bringing the moment to such an abrupt end. But the understanding that swept across his features settled her. “By all means.”

She didn’t want him to leave. She couldn’t let a moment like this be set ablaze for a second, then sizzle out into nothing—couldn’t have him driving home, thinking about it when she was tucked nicely in bed. Trusting him for some unexplained reason, she reached a hand out to him. “Ryan…” She pressed her lips together, still feeling his kiss burning there. “As you always say, you don’t have to. But I have an office downstairs. I used to sleep there when I was a little girl, but I took over Granny’s master bedroom when I moved in. Um…” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You are more than welcome to stay there if you would like.”

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Ryan said slowly, again astounding her with his concern for the way she was feeling rather than his own desires. “I’d be more than happy to. I can stay here in case any sort of unwanted company should arrive.”

The thought of him sleeping downstairs washed her with a release that she could sleep in peace—and also an excitement of knowing that he was so close by. “All right. Great. I’ll get some sheets together for you.” She pushed herself to her feet, wrapping her arms around her body as a contented smile made its way to her face. There was no hiding it… the childlike giddiness that surrounded her. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping surrounded by a little girly décor.”

“Oh!” He laughed, standing at the same time as she did. “Oh, no, my manhood will be forever destroyed.”

Her eyes teased. “Oh, I doubt that.” She very much doubted that.

“I really don’t mind, Carrie.” Ah, how good her name sounded in his voice, coming from his lips. “Like I said. I can sleep anywhere.”

Carrie kept turning over the events of this evening in her mind like a fry cook. Where she should be feeling regret and terror over kissing Ryan, she only felt warm pleasure at the memory. His tenderness was doing something to her heart, warming it, drawing it closer to himself, and she couldn’t ignore that. She wouldn’t. The only thing that didn’t make her happy as she reflected on it was that it was robbing sleep from her eyes.

Seriously? She hadn’t slept good in several days, and she needed her sleep. So, why was she wide awake now?

As Ryan slept quietly in her office downstairs, she felt safe enough that she decided to pop a melatonin in her mouth and let the vitamin work its magic on her weary body. She pulled her covers aside, padding her way to the closet where she still kept her overnight bag. She had finished unpacking mostly, but hadn’t bothered to put her vitamins away yet.

She shuffled her bag down off the shelf in her closet, but with each tug, it had brought a pile of scrapbooks closer to the edge of the closet shelf. Curiosity peeked over the edges of her slumber again. She rummaged in her suitcase and popped a single melatonin into her mouth, chasing it with the glass of water at her bedside.

While waiting for the vitamin to kick in, Carrie pulled down a stack of the scrapbooks, and sat cross-legged on her bed. She opened one of the scrapbooks and it didn’t take her but a couple of page flips to realize that this wasn’t just a scrapbook of anyone.

So, this is Aunt Ashley’s scrapbook of her and Granny.

Carrie flipped through page after page, her heart sinking deeper into a chilled sadness. Aunt Ashley standing outside of Granny’s cottage, smiling at the camera. Another page turn showed a picture of Aunt Ashley standing beside a smiling Granny holding Carrie’s cousin Shelley in her hands. Carrie sighed and turned another page. Christmas at Granny’s house. Aunt Ashley seated beside Carrie, smiling at the camera, and Carrie’s face scrunched in hysterical laughter. Her cupped hands extended out toward the camera, and fruit punch ran down both sides of her arms. She remembered that night. Aunt Ashley had made her laugh so hard that she had squeezed her solo cup and caused it to crack, letting the juice run all over her hands. Someone had snapped a candid of that moment in time, forever frozen to be looked upon with fondness.

Or sadness.

Carrie closed the scrapbook and stared at it for a few moments, tracing her finger over the surface, and pondered the canyon between her aunt and herself. Could it ever be bridged? Carrie was willing, but would Aunt Ashley be willing?

There was only one way to find out.

Carrie reached over on her desk, her fingers grappling for every author’s emergency kit on the bedside, which usually contained one pen and a package of sticky notes. She scribbled a reminder onto her notes and stuck it to the scrapbook. She leaned over, setting the scrapbook on her bed and clicked the light off, but not before the words could register in her mind one final time.

Call Aunt Ashley tomorrow.

Avery wished she had Carrie’s love for writing as she worked on drafting her legal document to be presented in court the following Monday. Her mind was still spinning on the words flying from her fingers to the keyboard when her phone jarred her out of her thoughts. Without even checking the caller ID, Avery swiped and answered. “Avery Hart, Private Investigator.”

“Avery, this is Dr. Langston following up on the coroner’s report you requested?”

Dr. Lang… oh, yes. She had requested some information on Veronica, hadn’t she? Avery clicked her pen open, hovering it at the ready over her pad of paper. “Yes! What do you have for me?”

“COD for Veronica King was strangulation. There was a four-plus-one on her upper arms, so there were definitely signs of a struggle. She had been dead around three weeks on August 12th when the body was discovered.”

So, Carrie had learned all of that through research, had she? Way to go, Carrie! “Great. This helps a lot. So, we’re definitely ruling out suicide.”

“Yes. Oh, and one other thing. We did find traces of heroin in her system.”

Avery stopped writing, snagging on this information. “Heroin?” She leaned back. “Are you sure we’re talking about Veronica King and not Jenny Ingress?”

“Nope, this is Veronica. Apparently, she was on heroin, too, at the time of her death.”

Avery chewed on this new information before making a sound. “Huh. Thanks, doc. This helps a lot.” Or did it?

“No problem.”

Avery clicked the call to an end and leaned her elbows on the table. She tapped her pen on the desktop for a few moments. So, both girls died around the same time. Both were students of Mr. Hillard’s. And both girls had heroin in their systems? I wonder if they knew each other…

Her ringing cell phone blared into her thoughts again. Hoping that it would contain some answers, she picked it up again. She let out a groan and hung her head, her hair curtaining her face. She swiped to answer, trying to add a little professionalism into her voice that she did not feel. “Avery Hart, Private Investigator.”

“Hey, Avery, it’s Jay. It’s been a while, and I was wondering if you had any updates?”

Been a while? Jay, she wanted to scream. It’s been a few days. “Investigations can take time.” Avery leaned back in her seat. “We are in the process of following a few leads, but nothing that I’m at liberty to give out at this time.”

Another disgruntled sigh came from his end, and Avery wanted to strangle him. He wasn’t the one that hired her, after all; he was just hounding her for updates. And now that she knew he had lied about being there the day Jenny had died, she found herself even less willing to talk to him. “Okay. Are you even getting anywhere with this case? I mean, it seems like it’s the same thing every day, and your ‘leads’ aren’t leading to any arrests or anything.”

Avery felt her skin bristle at his words and straightened herself in her chair. “I am going to have to ask you to stop calling unless you have any useful information for me, Jay. I’ll be in touch with you if I have any updates concerning the case, but as of right now, the only updates I have are that we have some leads and we are still pursuing them. Remember, Jenny isn’t my only case.”

A dead silence sounded between them with the effect of a gong. Finally, a defeated sigh came through the phone. “All right. I’m just worried about her is all.”

“Thank you, Jay. The more time I have to work on the case, the faster it will be solved.” In other words, the less time I spend on the phone with you is more time I can dedicate toward the case.

“I get it. Sorry to bother you.”

Avery put her phone down, watching the screen switch from active to white, and that was that. Some people could just be so annoying.

But what about Jay though? Avery glanced back at the draft on her work computer before swinging her laptop lid open. With a few clicks and some lightning-fast typing of her fingers, she had Jay Appleton’s name typed into the database that told her everything she needed to know…which wasn’t much. In fact, what she did find was rather frustrating. The guy had no record—nothing for her to go off of—which was annoying because, well, she couldn’t get a few things out of her head: the fact that he had stalker-type behavior toward Jenny; the fact that he had a key to her place; and the fact that he kept calling every single day for updates! That reeked of paranoia. He knew something. He had shown her that much when he had lied to her about not being there on the day of her death.

She needed answers. She couldn’t let it go anymore.

Avery pushed some pleasantries into her voice, along with the authoritative tone of a teacher, and called Jay back. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jay, Avery. Listen. I am going to be completely honest with you.” She leaned her weight onto her elbows and let her chin sink into her hands. “But in my honesty, I need you to be completely honest with me. Do we have a deal?”

More silence, as if he was pondering. “Yeah. Fine. But I already told you everything I know!”

“Not quite.” Avery’s warning tone sent him into defeated silence again. Oh, how she wished she could have this conversation with him in person, to read his body language, to keep him from ending the call, but this was the best she could do. “Jay, if you really want to help Jenny, you’re going have to be completely honest with me. That’s the only way you can help her, okay? I know for a fact that you were there the day she died.”

She could almost taste the panic in his silence… see his eyebrows raise in defense and fear.

She went on, not giving him a chance to explain. “You were there for a full seventeen minutes. That’s more than enough time to commit murder. Do you realize how this looks? If you want to exonerate yourself and help Jenny, you had better tell me the truth.”

A long, heavy sigh was his first response. “Okay, look, I was there. I didn’t have anything to deliver, but I was in her neighborhood, and she was outside, hanging out, drinking coffee, whatever. So, I went to go say hi. It wasn’t supposed to be seventeen minutes, but you know how when you get to talking to someone you like, five minutes can turn into forty-five, and you don’t even realize it?”

That she could get behind. She’d had many of those moments with Lance before. “I understand that.” She added some empathy to her tone, letting him know that for moment, she was on his side.

“Got yelled at by my boss when I got back. I didn’t realize that it was twenty minutes or whatever. But when I left, she was alive! I didn’t kill Jenny; I was into her!”

“So, if you didn’t kill her,” Avery gestured with her hand even though he couldn’t see anything, “what happened? Did she look like she was on drugs?”

“No! She wasn’t on drugs. She was as clear-headed as they come. In fact, it was one of the smartest conversations I’d had with her. It gave me hope that maybe it could go somewhere, you know?”

What did that mean? What did any of it mean? Avery pushed her fingers through her hair, listening. “So, she was lucid?”

“What’s that mean?”

Of course he didn’t know. Avery tried again. “She was making sense, crystal clear, not sick?”

“Yeah, that.”

“No jerky behavior?”

“Nope.”

It didn’t make sense. Avery chewed on her lower lip, frustrated with herself for being so lost on this one. There was heroin in her system and lots of it. So, how could she go from lucid to overdosing in that amount of time? Maybe her neighbors saw something. She could try questioning them. In the meantime, she had more questions for Jay.

“Why did she give you a key?” Avery dropped the bomb on him and let it sizzle. “I’m not saying that a guy like you shouldn’t have one. But you’re a delivery boy, Jay. People don’t give delivery boys a key and then not pursue some kind of relationship. Did you steal it?”

Another few heartbeats. Avery held her breath. When she was sure he was going to hang up, his voice dropped a few tones and reeked of defeat.

“I was hoping that it was for that reason, but she never seemed into me. It was a couple days before she died. When I delivered her package, she pulled me aside and told me that she didn’t feel safe. She comes out of her house and says, ‘I want to give you something.’ Then she hands me the key. I go, ‘What’s this?’ and she goes, ‘Just in case something ever happens to me, I want you to have this. You’d be the one to find me if something were to ever go wrong. I’m not in daily touch with my family, but I see you almost every day.’”

Avery latched onto this with both hands and gripped so hard her knuckles could turn white. “So, you got the feeling she didn’t feel safe?”

“Yeah. She kept, like, looking around and stuff like she was nervous or something. When I go to ask her more, she just goes inside her house and says goodbye, but doesn’t bring it up again.”

How convenient that he was the one to find her. It was like she knew. “Why didn’t you bring this to our attention before?”

“I knew you guys would blame me. But it looks like you’re still blaming me.” She could picture him shrugging. “So, it’s whatever now.”

“Did she say who? Was anyone around her enough to give you a hint of who might have been making her uncomfortable?”

“Look, I’ve told you all I know. Listen, I gotta get back to work. This was my lunch break. Just... just know that I didn’t do it, okay?”

Avery’s words flew out of her mouth. “We’ll find who did this. Thanks for coming forward with this information.”

“Sure. I guess I’m doomed now. You’re gonna call the cops?”

“I will have to keep in touch with the PD, but if they call you in for a statement, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Just tell them what you told me, okay?”

“Like it’s ever that easy.” And a click on his end told her that this was probably the last he’d ever be calling her.

Avery sizzled with information. Maybe it was Jay, or maybe he was telling the truth. If he was telling the truth, then Jenny might have known she was in danger!

She remembered that Carrie was heading over to talk to Regina Pitre, who had sent threatening messages to Veronica. What if... what if Regina was the one behind this after all? She hadn’t been supportive of Jenny’s post about being clean. What if she was some sort of drug dealer? Could she really live on being a fitness model who went to competitions? In New York, maybe, but Juniper Springs? Maybe she had been upset with Jenny for quitting the heroin. Was that enough motive to kill her? And maybe Veronica too?

Avery reached for her phone to call Chief Simmons. She was going to need the police department’s help. It was all getting to be too much for one person to sort out by herself.

When Carrie’s eyes fluttered open, she was instantly greeted with the aroma that introduced feelings of happiness in most every red-blooded American she knew.

Is that bacon?

The faint sizzling from the stove downstairs confirmed it. Carrie rolled onto her back and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, letting it smooth out the creases in her frown. How on earth did the bacon get there? And then a host of memories came flooding back with joy.

She’d had a guest last night. A guest that had shared with her the most meaningful kiss of her life. And now it sounded like he was cooking breakfast.

Carrie slid her legs over the side of the bed and padded toward the closet. She didn’t want to go down there in her robe and pajamas, so she spent a little time running a brush through her hair and changing into something a little less dressy than she had been wearing, but professional nonetheless. She followed her nose to the kitchen where the scent of bacon and eggs sent a jolt of energy through her. She came around the corner and stopped, leaning against the wall as she watched him. Ryan, with his back to her, was adding some spices to the eggs on the stove and hummed a little song to himself as he worked. Dressed and ready to go, of course. How long had he been awake? Carrie had gotten up on time, but what was on time in Ryan’s eyes? She took in his masculine frame as she watched him and admired the way that he poured so much attention to detail in everything he did. Even something so small as making breakfast.

He seemed to sense her presence and turned, expectancy dancing in his eyes. He seemed lighter, happier today. “Good morning, Carrie.”

Her smile came easily. “Good morning.”

He matched her expression and gestured to the breakfast. “Hope you didn’t mind me raiding your refrigerator. I know what it’s like to be on a case. You sometimes forget to eat. I’m here to make sure you keep up your strength.”

That’s not all he was there for. Her admiration for him doubled. Once again, this showed that he was thinking about her. She was sure her emotion was burning strong in her eyes, and she couldn’t help herself but crack another smile. “Thank you. I haven’t had a good breakfast in a long time.”

“I hope you like scrambled eggs.” He returned to the stove, grabbing a plate as he did. “I didn’t want to wake you to ask.”

Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t want to risk scaring her, in case she had forgotten he was there, and he went barging into her room. Always so considerate. “Scrambled is perfect, thank you.”

She slid into the chair at the table as Ryan approached, balancing two plates in his hands. The scent of coffee drifted over to her, and she inhaled, deeply enjoying the homey smell she hadn’t experienced in years. She had always been one to grab a fruit salad or a muffin on her way to work instead of taking the time to cook a good breakfast. “Coffee’s ready.” Ryan settled her plate in front of her and retreated to the counter. “Do you take it black, with cream, or sugar?”

“I can get it, Ryan.” Carrie didn’t want him to feel like he had to wait on her, so she stood to her feet, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head.

“I’m already here. It’s no trouble.”

Carrie sank back into her chair. Well, if he was offering… “I like cream and sugar. Thank you.”

As Ryan set to fixing her coffee, Carrie set her chin on her hand and watched him. There really was no sense in denying it. She still felt the same toward him today that she had as she drifted to sleep last night. There was no doubt. She was falling for him. His consideration, his way of putting her first, his loving manner in which he acted toward her. How could she not fall for him?

Ryan set a cup of coffee down in front of her, settling for a plain black cup of coffee for himself. Of course. Ultimate caffeine. She could see that about him.

“How did you sleep?” His warm gaze invited her to conversation as he went for his bacon first.

Carrie released a sigh that told him exactly how good it had been. “Better than I have in days.”

She reached across, taking his wrist in her hand. She hoped it wasn’t too forward of a move for her, but after last night’s kiss, she was sure that it wasn’t any more inappropriate now. “Thank you for staying with me. And for breakfast.” She looked down at the simple spread he had made for her. “This is really amazing.”

“It’s been my pleasure.” He took his fork into his hand, then tilted his head to look up at her in a boyishly adorable fashion; she couldn’t help but let the warmth spread through her chest.

What was he thinking?

I’d do anything for you.

He wanted to blurt out the words, but he wasn’t sure if now was the best time. Sure, they had shared a meaningful kiss the night before, but she hadn’t given him much commentary about it. Did she like it? Was she regretting ever giving in to that moment? Had he somehow been too pushy with her? She had high standards, so what if he had pushed her too far? Or, maybe, could she have enjoyed it just as much as he did?

He had to know. He couldn’t just walk into work and not know how she felt about it. He cleared his throat, daring to venture out into those churning waters and navigate whatever her answer was. “Listen, Carrie, about last night…”

His voice trailed off, brutally interrupted by his ringing cell phone. He sighed. “I’m sorry, hold that thought please?”

Carrie nodded, her eyes little buttons of eagerness. He pulled his phone out and glanced at the number. Why was Lance’s girlfriend calling him? “Huh.” He answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ryan, hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all.” Ryan glanced over. “Carrie and I are just sharing a little breakfast before we start the day.”

Her grateful smile told him that she was glad he didn’t say where they were sharing it.

“Oh, she’s there? Great. Can you put me on speaker?”

“Sure.” Ryan punched the speaker button. “Say hi to Avery, Carrie.”

Carrie waved, even though she couldn’t see Avery. “Hi!”

“Hey, girl. Listen. You did really good at tracking down Regina Pitre. Chief Simmons is sending someone to pick her up for some questioning. She was harassing Veronica, so that’s enough to raise a red flag. I got some interesting information first thing this morning. Jay Appleton, you know the delivery guy? He said that Jenny had given him the key because she didn’t feel safe. We’re also sending someone out to question him. We have reason to believe that there is a killer on the loose. Possibly a stalker. We believe that Jenny knew she was being stalked and that’s what sparked the heroin dosage. Oh, and Veronica also had traces of heroin in her system.”

“Veronica was on heroin?!” Carrie’s eyes became the size of little olives, and she stared at the phone. “I would have never known that about her!”

“We believe that the stalker is driving his victims into their bad habits. So, that’s why I’m calling you, Ryan. We are wondering if you’ll put an emergency ad in the newspaper to let the girls of Juniper Springs know to watch out. There may be a stalker or a killer on the loose, and if they’ve had any signs of stalking to get in touch with the police department ASAP.”

Carrie’s gaze locked on his at exactly the same time. As Ryan stared at her, he mumbled robotically, “Sure, Avery, I’ll get on that myself at the office today.”

“Carrie, stay safe out there.”

Carrie’s breathless nod came, and she couldn’t even force herself to blink. “I will. Thank you.”

“I have to go. There’s been some new developments, but I’m sure that this stalker, killer, whoever he is, is going to show himself soon. Please be on guard for when he does.”

“Later, Avery, and please keep us posted!” Ryan pleaded, more for Carrie’s sake than the newspaper’s.

“Always.”

Ryan hung up and snapped around to face Carrie. “Okay. Today, you need to tell the police about yesterday.”

Carrie moved her head up and down slower than he’d ever seen her do before. “I-I will.”

His heart raced with the adrenaline. He wanted to find this stalker himself. Maybe Avery or he didn’t say it out loud for fear of frightening Carrie, but they both knew what this business meant. Someone was stalking Carrie, possibly with the intent to kill her. The overdose for the girls made sense. Carrie was strung out, at the end of her rope. The only reason she hadn’t snapped yet was because he had been there for her. But Veronica and Jenny were both recluses; they didn’t have anyone. Jenny had her family there in town, but they weren’t around her all the time. If they were being stalked and scared into silence, then no wonder they had turned to a substance to dull that fear, to cope with that stress.

“Hey.” Ryan’s voice became the anchor that drove them both to the center of this moment. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to work with me today, so he can’t get you when you’re with me. We’ll talk to the police today and come up with a plan.” He pressed his lips together, determined to keep her safe. “Maybe we can set up some kind of protective custody for you or something. We’ll find a way to keep you safe.”

The fear reflecting in her eyes was enough to drive him to finding her stalker himself and beating him senseless. How dare he cause someone as precious as Carrie to be afraid for her life? “Thanks, Ryan.” What else could she say?

Carrie knew that she was going to be about as worthless at her job today as a toddler working fast food. The conversation with Avery a few hours ago filled her mind, causing her focus to stumble and fall. She fumbled with her notebook that she’d grabbed on her way out the door today and kicked herself when she realized that she had taken her scrapbook instead of her work notebook. Great. She picked up her sticky note and reread the note to call her aunt today. Should she? Maybe it would help her by giving her something else to focus on.

She picked up her phone, dialing her aunt’s number by memory. Hoping she had the same number, she pressed the phone to her ear. Lizzie sat at her desk, carrying on an all-day conversation with her fiancé, so no one would mind if Carrie made a personal call. She wasn’t surprised when the only greeting she received was her aunt’s voice on her voicemail. “Hello, you’ve reached Ashley Connors. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take your call…” Was she? Was she really sorry? “But if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! Ciao!”

Ciao, huh? Like anyone really said that anymore.

Beep.

Carrie cleared the fear away from her throat. “Hey, Aunt Ashley, um, this is Carrie.” She pushed her hand through her hair. What was she doing? “Listen... I know we’re not talking much right now, but I want to talk to you again. I miss you. Can we talk about this little tiff between us? Maybe we can reconnect again… I don’t know, but I miss you. Call me soon. Bye.”

Carrie left her number and hung up. A sigh escaped from the depths of her soul. So many burdens. How did adults deal with burdens that just kept falling and falling onto their shoulders?

By working, she reminded herself. Which is what she was here to do. As she stared at her computer, she thought about all the facts she had collected for Veronica’s story, but she couldn’t quite figure out which piece she was missing. She knew she was missing something, but what?

She moved her mouse over and pulled up Veronica’s social media page once more. As she did, her ringing phone interrupted her thoughts. Ooh, a phone call for her at the office? Didn’t she feel official?

Carrie leaned back in her chair and held the phone to her ear. “Juniper Springs Times, this is Carrie Sweet, how can I help you?”

“Morning, Carrie.” The voice was drawn out, pronouncing each word as if the smooth talker wanted to get somewhere. “I have a tip for you, concerning the story you’re writing about Veronica King.”

Carrie’s blood froze in her veins, and she paused, pen hovered over the paper, ready to take down whatever tip this was. “Okay?”

“I can’t say it over the phone. Meet me in twenty minutes at the cafe across the street from the paper’s office.”

As she was about to protest, the line went dead, static filling in for the lack of conversation. Carrie frowned, setting her phone back down onto the receiver, and glanced around the office. No one knew about the inner turmoil inside her. Ryan had the phone plastered to his ear in his office, and Lizzie was still carrying on that conversation with her fiancé. Should she tell someone where she was going? Should she even go? What if it was her stalker out to get her, and this was his final move?

Carrie stood up, crossed the floor, and peered out the window. Her eyes scanned up and down the street, but there was no sign of the red Taurus that had followed her before. Besides, the cafe was right across the street from the paper’s office. She would simply let Lizzie know where she was going, and if something went wrong, she could always run back to the paper’s office.

Carrie sat in her chair, clicking through some things on Veronica’s profile, her ears buzzing to get the information that was hanging in front of her. When twenty minutes finally passed, she grabbed her notebook and a pen and pranced over to Lizzie’s desk. How could someone spend this much time on a call that had nothing to do with business?

“Hey, Lizzie?”

“Hold on a second.” Lizzie put her phone down, then turned to look at Carrie. Her eyes showed no signs of concern or knowledge about Carrie’s predicament. “Whatcha got?”

“I’m going to hop across the street for a few minutes. Someone is going to give me a tip about the story.”

“Okay, girl.” Lizzie waved her off, dismissing all her concerns. So, this probably happened all the time. “See you when you get back.”

Carrie watched as Lizzie picked up her phone again, picking up the conversation where she had left off. Carrie took a single glance in the direction of Ryan’s office. His phone conversation seemed pretty intense with all his attention focused on it. He didn’t even look her way.

She was going to be fine. She was. She walked out the door and glanced both ways on the street. Still no red Taurus. She was going to be fine.

The crowded cafe gave her a sense of security that she wouldn’t have otherwise had. If the anonymous caller had asked her to go to the park or somewhere farther away, she never would have agreed to it. But clearly, he meant her no harm. He wouldn’t have asked her to a crowded cafe in full view of her place of employment if he intended to harm her.

Carrie stepped into the cafe and glanced around. The sound of silverware clinking on ceramic dishes, coffee pouring, and lively conversation surrounded her. She glanced at all the faces, but no one looked back at her. No one sat at a table by themselves. Carrie checked her watch. Yeah, he said twenty minutes, and here she was. Maybe he was right behind her.

“May I help you?” The waitress strutted over to her, two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Yes, I’m waiting for someone,” Carrie explained.

The waitress nodded to a table by the window. “That table over there is free. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Oh, just some water please.” Carrie smiled at the waitress and made her way to the table.

It was hard to concentrate in such a busy cafe, but Carrie’s water arrived within a few minutes. Now it was twenty-five minutes since she had gotten the call, she noted. As she sipped her water, she studied her notes, the gears turning in her head, to come up with some answers. In the hurry and scurry of yesterday, she had forgotten that the construction company had given her some useful information—information that told her that Veronica’s body had been dumped in the dumpster the same day that pickup was. Was it coincidence, or did someone know?

Carrie checked her watch again and sighed. Maybe she should call Ryan and let him know what was going on. Would he be mad at her for venturing out by herself? She felt very small as she waited, watching every face that came through the door. Finally, after about ten minutes had passed, her annoyance set in… along with something else too.

Carrie couldn’t help but notice how the room seemed to be rippling, the walls caving in. She pushed a hand through her hair and went back for more of her water. Why was she feeling so dizzy? The cafe became the floor of a ship during a storm, unstable and rocking from side to side. Why wasn’t the water waking her up? Maybe she should leave. Maybe Ryan would let her take a nap. She hadn’t been sleeping well until last night anyway. Maybe she had slept too well and that was the explanation for her sudden woozy feeling…

The waitress adjusted her name tag which had nearly gotten ripped off for the third time today. The handwritten Bella that she’d written herself had one too many smudges on it, and now it looked like one big smear.

She glanced at the pretty girl from the paper’s office, sitting at the table. She had nearly finished her water, but she wasn’t looking so good. She held her head tilted to one side as it rested on her hand, her eyes scanning the diner as if she were looking for something. Or someone. And the annoyance that furrowed her eyebrows was obvious.

Bella stepped toward her, ready to offer her a refill on her water, but as she did, a young man came up to the table. Bella had seen the young man before, but she wasn’t sure where. He came in every so often, but today, his eyes were wide with concern. He sped up to Carrie’s table and knelt beside it, his voice coming in rapid bursts. “Carrie! You’re in danger! You have to come with me—now!”

She looked up, and recognition dawned on her face, which was almost instantly replaced by confusion.

The young man went on. “The guy who called you here is lying to you! Come with me now!”

The lady, Carrie probably, nodded as she started to slide out the table. She slammed her hand on the table surface as if trying to get her balance. The young man took her hands in his and helped her up. Holding her hand in his, he rushed to the back door, the one no one took because it led to the back portion of the restaurant where, yes, there was parking, but it’s also where they dumped the oil. No one liked to get a whiff of nasty as they entered into the place that would feed them good food. Carrie stumbled behind him, tripping over her feet, her body held at an odd angle as she reached forward to get her balance. Her legs looked like rubber as she struggled to stay upright, but the guy wasn’t letting up.

Out the back door they went, and a resounding slam of the door told Bella that they were out. She glanced back at the table with a sigh. She examined the surface, but of course, the girl was too good to leave a tip. And the water was even free! A tip would be nice.

Bella grumbled to herself as she lifted the water glass. The ice crackled together in the bottom as she turned and walked away, glass held in her hand.

It had been three hours.

Come on, Carrie, where are you?

Ryan paced the floor of the office as the static silence descended upon them. Lizzie had the look of a puppy dog that had gotten into the trash again.

“Where did you say she said she was going?”

“Across the street.” Lizzie gulped. “She said someone was giving her a tip about the story.”

“And you didn’t think to ask where she was going, exactly?” Ryan’s voice, heavy with aggravation, demanded answers. “Or maybe think to go with her? You were supposed to be in on this together, Lizzie. Not Carrie doing all the work while you use the company time to talk to your fiancé for hours and hours!”

“It was only an hour and twenty, give or take!” Lizzie begged. “I really didn’t think she’d be gone this long!”

“She wasn’t supposed to be!” Ryan strode over to Carrie’s desk, reaching underneath her desk and withdrawing her purse. “She left her purse behind. That means she didn’t intend to be gone this long.”

Lizzie’s entire body became a tremor as she walked across the floor on shaking legs. “M-maybe call her again?”

Sure, like she would ignore his other four calls and pick up this one. Ryan rolled his eyes as he huffed a sigh and whipped out his cell phone. After having saved Carrie’s number, he had assigned it to a speed dial for situations like this. Lizzie, such a sweet girl, but how could she drop the ball like this? Didn’t she realize that it was Carrie’s life she was playing with?

Ryan pressed the phone to his ear and listened, counting the trills as it rang, only to dump him into voicemail again. “Carrie, it’s Ryan. Where are you? Call me as soon as you get this message.” He beeped his phone to end the call and turned to Lizzie. “We’ll talk about this after we find Carrie. Right now, I need all hands on deck.”

The defeat brimmed in Lizzie’s eyes. She nodded as a salty trail made its way down her cheek. “Of course.” She returned to her desk.

Ryan paced his way over to Carrie’s desk. Come on, Carrie, give me a clue. You should know better than to run off like this. You’re smarter than this!

Smart. Carrie. She was too smart and too scared to go gallivanting around with a known killer on the loose. She had probably cued Avery in. Those two had been two peas in a pod since they had started working the case together. She would know.

Ryan dialed Avery’s number and held the phone to his ear. His hopes soared when he heard an answer, but he had to remind himself that it wasn’t Carrie he was calling.

“Avery Hart, Private Investigator.”

“Avery, hey, it’s Ryan. Listen, have you heard from Carrie?”

The silence was deafening and heavy. “No, I haven’t. I’m here at my office getting some things together. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Carrie’s missing,” Ryan blurted out. “While no one was looking or paying attention.” He aimed a scowl in Lizzie’s direction. He knew he shouldn’t take this out on poor Lizzie, but he couldn’t help it. If she would have been doing her job, none of this would have happened. “She slipped out, and she’s been gone for three hours. She’s not answering my calls.”

The dread that seeped through the phone line was so tangible. The poison he never wanted to taste. “Ryan, I’ll be right over.”

He wanted to tell her not to bother. He knew she was a busy woman with barely any time for extra activities, but he also admitted that he needed her. If anyone could help him figure out where she was, it was Avery. “Are you sure? I don’t want to pull you away from…”

“Ryan, this is serious. I’m on my way now.” Yes, he heard her car door slam and her engine start. “Everything else can wait. It doesn’t make sense that she’d just leave like that. Ryan... I think Carrie might be a third victim.”

Carrie’s eyes cracked open. The mere action of her eyelids trying to open into tiny slits for her to see through sent a ricochet of pain stabbing into her head. She could practically hear the gears grinding as she attempted to open them, but the pain in her head forced her to close them.

Where am I?

Carrie forced herself to think past the blinding pain. The last thing she remembered was being at work. She had gotten a phone call, right? She remembered walking somewhere... she tried to reach past the dense fog that clouded her mind, but her memory hit an invisible wall. Try as she might, she couldn’t push past it. It was like her life had stopped whenever she was walking somewhere. A cafe, maybe? Why would she be going to the cafe?

It was like her life had stopped. Like maybe she had been dreaming only to wake up in this unfamiliar location. Her body was calm; she could barely move, but the panic rolled in her mind like waves.

She wanted to reach a hand up to try and smooth out the ice pick digging through her head, but when she moved her hand forward, it didn’t move. Something restrained both of her hands behind her back. She tugged again and concluded that a thin piece of plastic somehow bound her hands together behind her back.

What is happening right now?

Her cognition began to dawn, just barely letting her think a little bit. She went to call out for help, but the cloth that wound itself around her mouth and into her mouth told her that she wouldn’t be doing any talking. She lay on her side, somewhere, a draft rolling over her, so she was probably on a floor. Okay, so her hands were bound, her mouth was gagged, and she couldn’t remember anything from the last few seconds of her being awake! When did she even fall asleep?

Carrie groaned and forced her eyes open. Everything blurred, she could see nothing. The darkness in the room forced her to rely on her other senses. Her sense of taste and feel reminded her that she was tied up. Her sense of smell didn’t help her out with where she might be, but it did smell a little musty. A basement, maybe? She was lying on her side, and she was pressed up against something that felt flat and cold. Even though she couldn’t remember anything, one thing became obvious.

She’d been kidnapped.

Carrie grunted against the gag, trying to scream, but only a muffled yell escaped through the fabric. She twisted her wrists and slithered her body, but her hands remained bound. What had happened? Had someone done something to her? Would she ever be found? Did they even know she was gone? Was she still in Juniper Springs?

Her heart slammed against her rib cage, but she stopped her struggling when her ears picked up the sound of scraping. Somewhere nearby. Footsteps. A thin light emitted from underneath a door, but a shadow crossed over it, eclipsing what little light was left. A door handle clanked, metal on metal.

Someone’s coming.

Ryan felt the adrenaline pounding through his ears just as his feet pounded the pavement that stretched between the Juniper Springs Times newspaper office and the cafe across the street. His eye had spotted Carrie’s car the moment he stepped outside to talk to the police who had assembled to find her; he hoped that it would be as simple as this to locate her. Could she really be across the street in the cafe?

“Carrie?” He followed the police into the diner, sweeping the seats in seconds. His hopes crashed to the floor. He had so wanted to see her beautiful eyes gazing at him, her smile lighting up the room and assuring him that she was okay. He’d hoped she had just decided to take a three-hour lunch break. But her absence in the cafe removed whatever hope he’d kindled and stomped it out on the sidewalk.

“She’s not here.” Ryan shook his head. “Her car is here in the parking lot, but she’s not here.”

Chief Simmons glanced around, worry crowding his eyes even though he tried to mask it with that hardened face of just doing my job. “Do you have a recent picture of her? I’ll have my guys show it around and see if anyone has seen her.”

A picture. Of course. He had a picture of her, albeit she was a bit younger. “I do. Let me go grab it; it’s in my office.”

The office looked like someone had kicked an anthill. The police department swarmed the office, asking questions that Ryan wished he knew the answers to. The last time he had seen her, he’d glanced out his office window and saw her working away at her computer. Then suddenly, she was gone. And stayed gone. How could a girl vanish into thin air like that?

Ryan felt sweat beading on his brow. The heat from the summer sun absorbed into the sidewalk, rising around him… clinging to him. After handing out that sacred picture of her, he stood outside with Chief Simmons, his eyes glancing at the cafe’s parking lot every so often. Where had she gone, and why hadn’t she thought to tell him? Why had she parked at the cafe only to disappear from the same place?

Lance’s car pulled into the parking lot, and the door swung open a few milliseconds after he had killed his engine. Out jumped his cousin, still adorned in his white coat; he hustled over to where Ryan stood, surrounded by people dedicated to finding Carrie. “Ryan!”

Ryan waved him over. He hated staying here like this when he could be all over driving, looking for Carrie. Lance’s eyes reflected half of the worry in Ryan’s. “Carrie’s missing?”

Ryan nodded. “Disappeared about three hours ago. Thanks for coming, man.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Lance let his genuine concern leak into his voice as he glanced around.

“I’ve been telling the police everything I know.” Ryan’s frustration at himself mounted. He had promised to take care of Carrie; he’d promised that nothing was going to happen to her. And yet, right under his nose, she had vanished into thin air. So, his promise to protect her was basically null and void. Sure, he couldn’t watch her every second of every day, but he could have protected her better! And surely, she knew better than to go off alone! But as much as he wanted to spend time beating himself up, he knew he couldn’t waste any more time focusing on how he and his staff had messed up. The most important thing right now was finding Carrie, and he would bend over backward if that would bring her back. His vision began to tunnel in on just that.

Avery pranced over to them, her hands sliding into her back pockets and worry streaking her face. “Okay, so her purse is still here. Where does that leave us?”

Breathless. Hopeless. They would never find her just standing around like this. Ryan was seconds away from hopping into his car and driving all over, looking for her, calling her. But what good would that do if she had been... Ryan shook his head as if dismissing a mass of mosquitoes. He wasn’t going to say that word. Kidnapped.

“What about our people of interest, slash suspects?” Avery pinned Chief Simmons with her question. “Jay Appleton, Regina Pitre?”

Chief Simmons shook his head. “We have both in custody for questioning this very moment. If Carrie has been taken, it couldn’t be by one of them. Oh, and Regina has a pretty good alibi for where she was when the girls were killed.”

Why were they talking about alibis for the other two? Ryan’s skin prickled. Alibis for them wasn’t going to help the situation now.

“When Jenny and Veronica were killed, Regina was in Connecticut for a fitness competition. We’ve confirmed it with the countless witnesses who were there that same day.”

Avery groaned. “And Jay?”

“Spinning in circles with his story, but even if he was involved with Jenny, we can’t pin him to either of the murders.”

“So, maybe this means that we’ve been tracking the wrong guys all along.” Lance pointed out the obvious. It was now that Ryan knew why they were discussing alibis. They were eliminating people who could have taken Carrie. But that was even more frustrating. If not Jay or Regina, then who? Someone Regina was working with? She may not have liked Carrie pushing her nose around her business.

Avery groaned in frustration. “So, now we’re back to having absolutely no idea who our killer is.”

“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt Carrie?” Chief Simmons aimed his question at Ryan.

“Carrie is a sweet girl who is loved by everyone. She hasn’t been with the paper long enough to make any enemies unless it’s with Regina, who might not have liked her asking all those questions. If she’s working with someone, we haven’t figured that out yet.” Come on, Ryan, think! Surely there’s someone else. “She does have an ex who lives in Oregon who was a piece of work. Jason, that’s all I know of his name.” He hadn’t wanted to learn his last name. “Lowlife” was good enough for him.

One of the officers, Ryan didn’t bother reading his badge, approached the group. Ryan could read the defeat in his eyes and knew that showing Carrie’s picture around had been useless.

“No one has seen her.” The officer’s voice sank right along with Ryan’s heart.

“A cafe full of people, and not a single person saw her?”

“It was three hours ago.” Ryan pushed his hand through his hair. “All of the guests have long finished their food by then, and for all we know, there was a shift change.

“Shift change had just occurred,” the officer agreed.

“So, what is our next move?” Avery took control of the situation with her question. “Do we issue an Amber Alert?”

“That’s for children. Considering that the young woman has been stalked and just up and vanished from a public place,” Chief Simmons replied, “we have reason to believe that she has been abducted. We’ll issue the CLEAR alert for missing adults.”

As the chief went on, promising to get in touch with the right people to issue the alert, Ryan fought hopelessness and conquered it with determination. If they were done questioning him, he was going to go play detective himself and go out looking for Carrie. Forget the newspaper office for a day. There was only one important thing that his entire world revolved around. Today, finding Carrie was his axis.

He turned on his heel and scanned the parking lot as Avery and Simmons discussed a few options. Everywhere he looked was crawling with officers—searching Carrie’s car, questioning the staff. He saw the cafe door open, and a young lady stepped out, looking around in confusion. She approached one of the officers searching Carrie’s car and said something to him. Ryan rolled his eyes. Thoughtless teenagers. The less time the officers had to answer questions, the more time they could spend discovering why Carrie had vanished into thin air. Determination turned him around. “Do you need me for anything else?” He needed to get on the highway.

Simmons shook his head. “If we do, we’ll be in touch. Or if you find something, don’t try to be a hero. Let us know.”

Ryan nodded with zero intention of obeying Simmons’ orders. “You got it.”

“Chief, do you still have that picture of Carrie Sweet?”

How had the officer gotten across the highway so quickly? He approached with the young teenager in tow who had been talking to him. Ryan halted his steps. Did she know something?

Chief Simmons pulled the picture out. “You have some news?”

“This young lady was in the office counting her till when we showed Carrie’s picture around. She may have seen something unusual around three hours ago.”

Ryan felt his blood pressure spike. He anchored himself in place, eyes set on the teenager.

Simmons showed her the picture. “Do you recognize this girl?”

Oh, sweet, blessed recognition dawned in her eyes! She knew her! Her pupils dilated in a flash. She nodded slightly—she knew! “Yeah, that was her! She didn’t tip me, so I remember her.”

“What’s your name?” An officer began writing.

“Bella Dereks.”

“Did you see what happened?” Simmons asked.

Ryan joined the direct gazes of the police, his cousin, and Avery as they absorbed every word. Judging by the way Bella held her body rigid, and her face was probably the happiest one present, she enjoyed her thirty seconds of fame. She was probably into those crime shows that Ryan avoided at all costs. Too close to home, especially now. “She ordered a water. She sat there drinking it for about ten or fifteen minutes, and then this guy came up to her. He kept saying something like, ‘You need to come with me right now,’ and ‘The guy who called you is lying to you,’ or something like that. Carrie went with him pretty fast. She seemed to know him.”

“She knew him?” Avery parroted. “Did she seem unhappy to see him?”

“No.” Bella thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, more like surprised really, but not like an unpleasant surprise.”

“Can you describe the guy?”

Bella shook her head. “I didn’t get a great look at his face, but I feel like I could describe it if I saw it.”

“Can you at least tell us what he was wearing?” Simmons asked. Ryan clenched his jaw. How could you not notice one thing about him? Weight, height, hair color, clothes?

“A gray hoodie, I think?” Bella seemed unsure, but that was all Ryan needed. Whoever it was, Carrie knew him. She’d left with him willingly. But Carrie wasn’t a very trusting person, so if it wasn’t a member of staff or himself, who else would she leave with?

“She was acting like a drunk.” Bella pointed out. “She was, like, stumbling all over herself and couldn’t stay upright.”

Lance exchanged a wary look between himself and Avery. She was probably thinking the same thing he was: Carrie had been drugged. And the situation just became a whole lot more dangerous for her.

Ryan fought the growing hopelessness with everything inside of him.

He didn’t care about the heat that shrouded them, causing sweat to run down his temple. He sat on the steps of the newspaper office as the police dispersed. Both of his hands clung to a notebook, a beautiful one he’d found for Carrie with a purple-stained cover and butterflies scattered all over the surface. Beautiful. Just like her. Sparkling with a love for life. Like her eyes. It wasn’t very big, just small enough to fit inside his jeans pocket, but it was something he thought she’d like.

He stroked the embossed butterflies, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Lance strode over to him, inviting himself to sit on the hot stairs next to Ryan. “You okay, man?”

Of course. In all this, Lance was worried about Ryan’s well-being… especially after their last conversation. Ryan gave a single shake of his head. “No, not really, man.”

Lance clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Listen. We are going to find her. She couldn’t have gotten very far.”

Sure, she couldn’t have. It had been nearly four hours at this point. She could be in another state or close to it by now. And since no one had seen anything but the guy she supposedly knew, it was anyone’s guess what kind of car she was in or if she was even in a car. She could be in the neighbor’s house for all they knew. Four hours was a long time for something bad to happen. As much as Ryan refused to think that something bad was happening or had happened to her, he had to face reality and let that drive him to figure out where she was.

Lance’s eyes fell upon the notebook. He was probably confused why Ryan was holding something so obviously feminine, but if Ryan knew his cousin, Lance had likely figured out exactly why he was holding it. “Whatcha got there?”

Ryan held it up. “This was a little gift I got for Carrie. It was supposed to be a welcome gift for working at the paper, but I also got it for... something else.”

Lance took the notebook into his hands and gently opened the front cover. As something tried to flutter out, he tipped it up to catch it, his hand flashing to catch the items that resided under the front cover. He studied the first page for a moment. I should have given it to her sooner, Ryan thought. Then she would know…

“She will love it.” Lance flipped it closed and handed it back to Ryan, keeping it flat. “And I say she will because we are all going to help you find her.”

As Ryan met Lance’s concerned gaze with determination, his words were even more hammered. “I’m not giving up. I will do what it takes to bring her back. I just need to know where to start.”

Lance nodded his understanding. He couldn’t say much. The woman he loved had been missing at one point last year. And because of Lance’s efforts, she had also been found.

Avery smoothed her steps over to them, sitting on the other side of Ryan. “I’ve called Dad at work. Ryan, as far as I’m concerned, this is my only case today… and for however long you need it to be. I’m going to get Carrie back.”

Lance fished his phone out of his pocket. “Let me make a phone call really quick.” He dialed, waiting for the phone to ring. “Hey, Sue, it’s Dr. Blair. I need to speak with Randy. Thanks.” After a long silence that added minutes to their search, Lance spoke again. “Randy, I had a family emergency come up. I’m going to need you to be in charge and run the clinic for me today.” A knowing expression teased his face, but he refused to give right of way to a smile. “Yeah, I know. Call me if you need anything. Thanks, man.” He hung up his phone, and from that moment on, all of his attention was on the present.

Ryan clutched Carrie’s notebook, not caring if he wrinkled the pages. “I don’t even know where to start! Do I drive around, looking for her? She’s not going to be out walking around.”

Avery shook her head. “No. Especially if she was drugged.”

Drugged. Who would dare to drug that beautiful human being? Ryan wanted to tear their limbs off, whoever it was.

“We need to start by retracing Carrie’s steps,” Avery stated. The weightiness of her voice masked what she was probably thinking. In her years as a PI, she had probably seen her share of kidnapping cases, and most of them didn’t turn out the way anyone wanted. No one had contacted the paper office, so this wasn’t a ransom. At least, not yet. So why else would the kidnapper abduct her if it wasn’t for ill intent? She thought it but refused to say it, and for that, Ryan was grateful. The thought of something happening to his beautiful Carrie was enough to send him into a crazy state of mind. He needed all his senses; he needed to be sharp. “What was the last thing she was known to do before she came up missing? Any notes on her desk? Phone calls?”

“She had a phone call,” Ryan offered. “Lizzie said that Carrie said something about someone giving her a tip about the story?”

“Sounds like bait to me.” Lance poked, his voice as dark as Ryan felt.

Ryan shot to his feet. “I’m going to go take a look at Carrie’s desk. Maybe she left behind some clue as to who called her or where she might have been going.” Maybe it was someone she knew and he had taken her for a drive somewhere. It was wishful thinking, he knew, but he refused to allow the waves of despair to knock him over or sweep him off his feet.

Avery got to her feet faster than Lance did. “That sounds like a great plan.”

Carrie didn’t care about being quiet anymore. Her captor obviously knew she was here, so why try to be quiet? The panic that settled in was more than she could take. It was the panic of seeing the tail of a tornado drop out of the clouds above your house... or the panic of being thrown overboard into the darkened, raging ocean where sharks were known to swim. The unknown of the situation teased her, tortured her, prodding her into action. She wanted to find out who took her and why, but more than anything, she wanted to get free.

Her body writhed on the floor, and she jerked her wrists about, but the bonds were too strong and too plasticky to break from a simple jerk of her wrists. She raised her knees to her chest, wondering if she could slip her hands over her feet and bring them around front. She could cut them on something and be free, but all of that would take time—time she didn’t have! The footsteps approached. The springs in the doorknob cringed; she writhed one more time but then froze.

Light spilled through the cracks around the door, reaching their fingers through to tease her and let her know that she wasn’t going to be alone much longer. And who knew what her captor had in mind? Her eyes rounded, widening with the fear that pulsed through her veins; she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the figure that came through the door. The light stabbed a thousand knives into her head, and she cringed, trying to block out the light, but she needed to see who she was dealing with. She needed to look into the eyes of the second person who had ruined her life, and maybe for good this time.

A long stride took him closer. Carrie’s chest began to heave with sobs she didn’t want or need. Another step closer. Carrie tried to slither away, but he quickened his steps. The long figure reached down, placed a hand on her shoulder, and froze her in place. Carrie’s body tensed under the touch, reeling to get away, but her brain would not tell a single muscle to move. Like he would go away if she didn’t move.

A hand with long, bony fingers reached down to her. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment. Carrie waited as he reached forward, yanking the gag out of her mouth.

But she couldn’t scream. Instead, her mouth hung open in shock. Her unblinking gaze locked with that of her captor’s, her tears dried, and the knowing kicked her in the gut.

You? I should have known it was you all this time!

“There is nothing here.” Avery flipped through Carrie’s notes, slapping them down onto her desk. “Nothing in her purse, nothing on her desk that indicates why she had to go to the cafe.”

“Can you trace the phone call she got?” Lance pawed through her drawers in her desk.

“We can, but it’s probably from the phone at the cafe if that’s where the guy called her from.” Avery sat back onto her haunches and huffed a frustrated sigh. “Carrie, what would possess you to go across the street without a chaperone? Do you think she knew the guy who called her and that’s why she went? The waitress said she knew the guy.”

“They’re down at the station, getting a sketch of the guy from her,” Ryan mumbled what he had overheard Simmons say. He plopped himself into Carrie’s chair and wiggled the mouse. The last thing Carrie searched filled the screen. “So, if I know him, if he’s from here, I’ll be able to identify him.” He rolled her mouse, scrolling. She was back on Veronica’s social media page, was she? “Come on, Carrie, what were you trying to research?”

“Do you think that something she saw triggered her to go to the cafe?” Avery leaned on the desk, spreading herself out next to Ryan as her eyes swept over the screen. “If Lizzie was on the phone, maybe she misheard Carrie about the tip?”

“Who knows?” Ryan gave a dismissive shake of his head. Veronica King’s post filled the screen, and he read over the words. Where have all the good guys gone? I could answer that. He clicked on the comments section. Carrie had been getting a lot of leads from the comments section, so maybe the answer was there. He scrolled, noting Regina’s trolling words and bristling. A little further down in the comments, he noticed one. One of the only comments that contained actual words instead of emojis.

What happened?

For whatever reason, he clicked on it, thinking that maybe Carrie had done the same. He had a drug problem… was Veronica’s only reply.

Drug.

The word became a loud ding, like you hear on game shows when you get something right. Ryan tilted his head. According to the waitress, Carrie looked like she’d been drugged. Veronica was tied up with someone with a drug problem. And Jenny…

“Avery, didn’t you say that Jenny died of a suspected heroin overdose?”

Avery narrowed her gaze on the comment. “Yes.”

“And Veronica too?”

“Veronica had traces of heroin in her system, but her cause of death was strangulation.”

“But both girls had drugs in their systems?” Ryan pondered the information. There had to be a connection… there had to be! So, if the girls were killed by the same guy who had access to heroin, where on earth would Carrie have run into someone like that? They were local girls, so the guy was probably local. But how did Carrie know him?

Where could Carrie have met a heroin drug user, and then gotten on his last nerve? Why would he want her dead?

As if on cue to Ryan’s thoughts, Avery’s cell phone startled everyone with its chipper ring. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Avery yanked it out of her purse. “It’s the chief.” She swiped to answer it.

“Hello?”

Hopefully, he was calling with good news. Ryan dared not breathe. He was afraid to, as if it could somehow change the outcome of the call.

Avery’s face was set as she nodded. “Please, do.” She hung up. “They were able to get a sketch off of Bella’s description. It’s a rough sketch, but he’s emailing it to me now.”

The static of anticipation mounted in the air, leaving Ryan waiting on the edge of his seat for that sketch. Every second turned into an eternity… every time Avery refreshed her email feed, a lifetime.

Finally, she tapped her screen and switched her phone around to show Ryan. “Do you recognize this guy?”

Boom. A thunderclap. One of those that wakes you up in the middle of the night, rattles the windows, then rumbles off into the distance, leaving a gaping, heart-pounding fear in its wake. No sooner had the shock set in did Ryan’s eyes narrow, anger brewing in his chest and determination darkening his voice.

“Yeah, I know him.”

“You do know him?” Lance’s voice betrayed the surprise. He had probably been expecting what they all had been expecting: that the creep’s face would remain a mystery. But unfortunately, as relieved as Ryan was to finally know who the kidnapper was, he didn’t feel relieved that it turned out to be him either.

“Are you sure?” Lance prodded.

“Who is it?” Avery’s voice was breathless. She had finally caught a break. Could it really be this easy?

Anger tightened a choke hold on Ryan’s throat, and he could barely get out the name.

“The creep’s name is Jeremy Carr.”

Carrie wanted to give in to fear, but she could hardly believe her eyes. The last time she had seen Jeremy was when he had stopped by the office to flirt with her. Sure, he’d been upset when he left, but this upset? Really?

The guy was clearly mentally unstable, and panicking was going to do nothing to help the situation. Carrie needed to be smart about this. Thinking sent her head into agony. It throbbed with every heartbeat. She felt like someone had put a lead bowling ball into her head and let it roll around as it pleased. The pain made it hard to think, but she forced herself to be smart.

Jeremy had crossed the room but was returning to her. A reflected light from the door ran its way down the side of the long knife he carried as if it were a cruel presentation of her impending fate. But she would not give in to the panic that clawed its way up her throat. She swallowed. “What do you want with me?” The typical question of every captive in every storybook or movie, but it was honestly a very good question because she had no idea. Was he the one who had been stalking her? Why? Why was she important enough to him to stalk her and kidnap her?

Jeremy’s eyes remained cold. His head shook from side to side, flinging his black hair into his eyes, then back out again. “It’s too late for that now. You’ve already turned me down once.”

What was he talking about? When she turned him down for the date? Is that what this entire thing was about? The whole time she’d been fearing for her life because she had rejected a date? She’d even taken his number! And… never called it, but that was a different story!

“About the date you mean?”

His jaw set as he continued to stalk toward her, knife gleaming. She shuddered to think what he planned to do with it.

Carrie stiffened. If he was this crazy to go after her about that stupid date, then she could get out of this. It wouldn’t be hard. She could talk him down, get him to let down his guard, and then run. The door was open a crack behind him. She had no idea where she was, but she’d find out! She didn’t know how long she had been out, but one thing she did know for certain… Ryan. He probably had hound dogs and helicopters tracking her down even as she lay here. Someone knew she was missing, and they would be out looking for her. She could smart her way out of this.

But she had to bide her time—keep him talking—engage him in conversation. Or else he’d use that knife. “Was it you who killed Jenny?”

A simple statement poked a hole in the balloon of his ego. He threw his arms into the air, and his upper body bent toward her as if he were lunging for her. His eyes flashed with wild rage, and Carrie wondered if she were talking to an animal or a human. “We were happy together!” he shrieked.

Carrie shied away, keeping her wide eyes on him.

“Then she had to go and break up with me!”

So, it was about breaking up. Was he really that unstable? Carrie forced herself to lean toward him, compassion leaking into her eyes. Forced compassion, but compassion nonetheless. “What happened, Jeremy?”

“We had a fight.” He lowered the knife to his side. A large sniff from him, and he raked his hand through his hair. The distress in his behavior made his movements rigid. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I didn’t mean to. I went back to her, and we fought. It got out of control. I pushed her. She lost her balance, and she hit her head on the corner of the table. Then, she didn’t move. I didn’t want them to know it was me who killed her, so I injected her with the very thing we were fighting over.”

The thing they were fighting over. Heroin. Jeremy got her hooked on heroin. That’s why she broke up with him! Five years clean! And suddenly, his statements became the sunlight that chased away the fog, making everything clear. Clearly, he didn’t take rejection well at all. When Jenny had broken up with him, he went nuts. Had he killed Veronica too? He had to have! She had traces in her system too. And Jeremy knew which day the trash pickup was at the construction site! So, he knew when he could take Veronica’s body and dump it… and it would be on its way to the landfill before anyone could trace it to him. So, in some ways, he was terrifyingly smart.

In other ways, his brain was messed up.

“That way they would only look at the drugs and not at anything else.”

If Carrie wasn’t careful, she was going to be his next victim. Would Avery or the police find her lying somewhere, injected with heroin in her system? She hadn’t gone near the stuff in her entire twenty-three years of existence. Was she to die by it? Or by that shiny knife in his hand?

No. She wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“Jeremy,” she said soothingly with her voice as if calming a rabid dog. “We can talk about this. I’m sure it’s not your fault, and we can talk about when I turned you down for that date. I’ve just been too busy to call you, but we can work this out!”

The problem with rabid dogs? They were wild and unpredictable. Jeremy shook his head violently from side to side and shouted. “No! Shut up, you! Shut. Up!”

Carrie leaned back, tipping to her side, unable to balance with her hands bound. Jeremy roared and lunged for Carrie.

“I remember what Ms. Edwards said about Jeremy.” Avery’s voice had a wondering tone. “She said he was a problem child. He was dating Jenny Ingress. And Jenny was found with heroin in her system, as well as Veronica. So, is Jeremy our connection then?”

“He’s got to be.” Lance waved his hand out into the open. “Look at the waitress’s description of Carrie when she left. Drugged. Jeremy must have access to drugs somehow.”

Ryan boiled in his thoughts as he listened. Of course. That creep had probably drugged Carrie and taken her somewhere. The question is, what did he intend to do with her?

Ryan wasn’t going to wait around and find out.

“I’ll call Simmons.” Avery had her phone already to her ear. “If Jeremy is our suspect, it could be as simple as him holding Carrie at his house. We need to get a team over there.”

Don’t try to be a hero. Yeah, right. This wasn’t about being a hero. This was about getting Carrie as far away from the clutches of this psycho killer as he could. Carrie was so precious… too precious for him to leave to the wolves. He stormed toward his office door, thundering through the door frame. Swiping his keys from the desktop, he stormed back out to the main office, a wake of determination in his path. He didn’t even bother to withdraw her notebook from his back jeans pocket as he stormed out of the office.

Lance sat back, eyeing him with that look that he would get when he was about to forbid someone to do something. “Just where are you going?”

“I’m not staying here, that’s for sure.” Ryan didn’t even bother to stop at Carrie’s desk. Avery laid her phone down, swiping her hair out of her face.

“You are not going out there!” Lance rumbled to his feet, his voice a thunderclap of authority.

“Who’s going to stop me?”

“I am!” Avery waltzed her slender body in front of him, providing a barrier between him and the door. “Ryan, this is out of my hands now too. I’m not an enforcer, so I can’t just go around banging on doors. I know you want to find Carrie, but if she’s there, the police are going to find her. There’s nothing we can legally do.”

“I’m not worried about legal.” Ryan’s cool statement was pointed, a bullet fired at Avery.

She blinked her eyes closed, held her breath for a moment. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Ryan. I have no business being there and neither do you.”

“Carrie is so sweet, so innocent—who knows what that scumbag will do to her if we don’t get there quickly! I would rather go to jail myself than see her dead in a dumpster when I could have done something! I’ve stayed here long enough!”

Ryan jolted his body to the side to weave around Avery, but Lance cuffed a hand to his shoulder, gathering a crumple of clothing into his fist. “Listen to yourself, buddy! This kind of behavior isn’t going to help Carrie; it’ll only hinder the investigation.”

Ryan wasn’t mad. Not at Lance or Avery. But their feeble protests fell on deaf ears. The only words he chose to hear were Carrie’s… and his own promise that nothing would happen to her while he was around. He pivoted around on his heel, his eyes slamming into a locked gaze with his cousin. “You’d do it for Avery!”

Lance blinked. The silence that descended was the type that remained as the wind blew through a nuclear testing ground seconds after a blast. His eyes slowly turned to where Avery stood, eyes wide and secured on the two cousins. Ryan knew that Lance couldn’t deny it. He had thrown all caution and legality to the wind and jumped into a burning building to rescue Avery—without a thought for himself. And he had been the one to save her life, not the fire department. They would have found her too late, if at all. It hadn’t been the police, as they’d had no idea what was going on at the time.

Finally, Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line. He swung his head around, snatching his keys from off of Carrie’s desk. Avery’s jaw dropped as she watched him. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Ryan’s in no condition to drive.” Lance nodded to the door. “We’ll take my car. We’ll figure out logistics later. Let’s go.”

“Wait! Wait!” Avery blinked her surprise and shook it away from her head. With steps tripped up by confusion, she started after them. “Okay, I guess I have to come with you now!”

Carrie let out a cry through gritted teeth and kicked at Jeremy with both of her ankles together. She managed to get him good in the shin, but it only served to anger him more. He roared like a bear, reached forward, and slammed his hand against her shoulder, yanking her to her feet. Carrie refused to stand. She bent her legs like a child, hesitating to go where the parents wanted to lead, and let herself be dead weight in his hands. “Get up!” Jeremy hollered in her ear.

Carrie pulled and tugged the rest of her body weight away from where he had a grip on her arm. Her joints stretched painfully, but she used her leg muscles to dig into the floor, inevitably sliding her body toward him. Still holding the knife in one hand, Jeremy released her arm long enough to wrap around her ribs, hauling her up like she was nothing. These were times that Carrie wished that she had dedicated her life to bodybuilding as Regina had. “No! No!”

“Yes!” he hissed. “You’re coming with me!”

“We can talk about this!” Carrie kicked her legs like frog legs. Her feet collided with a random end table, tipping it over and sending a terrifying crash into the air. A lamp shattered as the lampshade went skittering across the floor. She thrashed her torso about, like a fish flopping on the bank, desperate to get free. Her legs collided with something else, and another crash resounded. She felt Jeremy’s grip begin to loosen on her and forced all of her energy into writhing in his grip like a snake. Her head brushed against some pictures on a wall, sweeping them off their hooks and shattering the frames onto the floor. All of the movement made her head want to explode under the pain. Each crash was an ice pick being jammed into her skull, but she kept her mind on the most important thing: Survival. No matter what!

“Stop doing that!” Jeremy swooped her body around like a dancer in a dance of death. He cupped his hand and reared it back, slamming it into the side of her face. Carrie swore she saw stars dancing around as the blow sent her into a haze that both ignited her headache into unbearable pain and left her dizzy, struggling to stay up on two legs. The entire room became a merry-go-round, playing some shrill tune from a horror flick. It wasn’t long before she felt the cold, steel, sharp edge of his knife slide up under her throat, and pin-prick her flesh, drawing a small droplet of blood. “We can do this here, or we can take you out to somewhere more... private.”

The thought chilled her to her bones, and Carrie hiccupped her sobs, but she nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

“Then come on!” Jeremy screamed as he dragged her toward what looked like a wall and flipped a curtain back. Blinding white light stabbed her vision, and she recoiled. Jeremy threw open a door, and suddenly Carrie knew where he’d had her. A residential house! Maybe he had neighbors! She let out a scream. She had been kept in some sort of walk-out basement that had curtains that light couldn’t penetrate.

“I said, shut up!” Jeremy forced her to her knees. In her dizzy state, she was aware of him shoving the gag back into her mouth. The moisture from where she’d had it before pressed against her cheek. With a twist, he tightened it, tangling some of her hair into the knot, making her headache unbearable. He jerked her to her feet and shoved her forward.

What killed her the most was that the door was unlocked. Had she known, she could have gotten out. Instead, she had no choice but to stumble slightly in front of Jeremy as he dragged her out. Into the woods.

Lance pushed the speed limit as much as he could without raising a red flag, but time still moved too slow for Ryan’s taste. He leaned his head against the window, watching the houses fly by until Lance parallel parked his car across the street of a house swarmed by police. Avery had reluctantly rattled the address off, but other than that, her mouth had remained closed. She unclicked her seat belt as Ryan and Lance swung their doors open at the same time. Jeremy’s house crawled with police, sirens flashing, doors wide open. Had they gotten here in time? Was Carrie even here?

The trio marched up to the house just as Chief Simmons emerged from the front door. Ryan took note of the surroundings. The house had the appearance of a regular modular home, only maybe slightly bigger. Surrounded by pine trees that shielded it from the sweltering summer heat, the house sported a driveway that wound up to the side. There! In that same driveway sat a red Ford Taurus. So, Jeremy had been stalking Carrie all along! He had to still be here!

“Let me do the talking.” Avery spoke out of the side of her mouth to the guys before she approached Chief Simmons. Ryan didn’t like the look on his face at all. Eyes swimming with disappointment, discouragement.

“Were we correct in our assumption?” Avery didn’t even bother to explain Ryan and Lance’s presence.

Simmons sighed. “No Carrie or Jeremy in the house. But there were signs of a struggle in the basement.”

Signs of a struggle. They were too late.

No, he refused to think like that.

Ryan clamped his jaw and examined the surrounding area. This was the definition of a house in the country but still with neighbors scattered a few acres away. The house was surrounded by some sort of upturned soil in the back like someone had plowed a wheat field. It was the only thing separating the house from the woods in the back.

The woods.

Of course.

Simmons spoke directly to his thoughts. “We’ve got a team assembled to go out into the woods. You can have a look at the basement if you like.”

Ryan knew that offer didn’t include him, but there was no need for him to look where Carrie wasn’t. He tapped Lance’s shoulder, motioning his head to the woods, then twisted around and jogged off. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t even care if someone tried to stop him. He knew that Jeremy probably dragged Carrie deep into the heart of the forest or he’d risk her screams being heard by the neighbors.

That is if she was still alert enough to scream.

The walk-out basement was trashed.

Avery weaved her way among the officers as she took in the scene. Several end tables tipped over, their contents smashed onto the floor. A throw rug lay near the door that led out of the walk-out basement. Avery’s sharp eyes scanned the ground, wishing for something, any piece of evidence to call out to her. She examined the scene, letting what may have happened play out in her mind. The table had been overturned. Kicked, maybe? There were no other signs of drugs around, but that didn’t mean that Jeremy hadn’t used any. Some pictures were swooped off of the wall, and the carnage led her to the walk-out basement door. As she moved, her eye caught a button-sized drop on the floor. She crouched, examining it. A crimson droplet.

Fresh.

Very fresh. Not dried out like most of the scenes she had seen, but fresh.

Avery straightened, looking over the basement again. The door to the basement was cracked. Meaning…

If the blood was fresh, they had minutes, if not seconds to act.

Avery tore up the staircase, calling out as she did. “We have to go out back! Carrie is still alive!”

Ryan’s legs pumped adrenaline through his body as he tore through the woods. “Carrie!” His voice slit the air. “Carrie, answer me, girl! Where are you?”

He jumped over a fallen log as if he had springs in his heels. The muscles in his ankle flexed as he dodged a pile of debris. The twigs of the branches laced together, creating a web of difficulty to press through, but Ryan didn’t even slow to react to the swipes they made across his face. The summertime heat baked the ground, drying it out from any possible moisture remaining and swelled up around him in waves of heat that caused him to break out in a fierce sweat. The temperature pressed in around him, giving him a sense of oppression as he pushed through the thick woods. His feet landed on the dry ground beneath him, snapping twigs, crackling leaves into small pieces and thumping on dry soil. His heart pounded from the exertion, and he felt the heat beating him up twice as much.

He didn’t care.

There! A flash of color that wasn’t green, brown, or any colors of the woods! Down a small hill that led deeper into the woods! The same red color that Carrie had adorned herself with that morning!

Ryan altered his direction, aiming the tips of his toes to guide him down the small little slope. His core muscles engaged and tightened to keep him upright as he rushed down the hill, scattering leaves as he went. “Carrie!”

He broke around the grove of bushes that concealed her from view and burst into a small clearing. The sight before him could have caused him to implode. There stood Jeremy with his greasy black hair hanging in his eyes. One arm looped around Carrie’s collarbone, pinning her arms to her side, the other holding a large knife against her throat. A red welt formed on the side of her face, and a trickle of blood ran down her neck. A red bandanna sealed her mouth, and he watched in terror as her arms reached up and grabbed at Jeremy’s arm. A zip-tie lay in the grass near her feet. Her hands must have been bound by the look of the red marks that dug into both of her wrists. Ryan wanted to tear that jerk apart for ever touching her, but he forced himself to keep his cool. The guy was clearly unstable, and with a knife to his beloved Carrie’s throat, he wasn’t willing to risk anything. Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto him, and her breathing came in shuddering pulses.

Ryan crouched in his posture, smoothing his hands out in front of him like he was pushing some invisible barrier away. “Jeremy. My man. Why are you doing this? Carrie hasn’t done anything to you!”

Jeremy waved the knife in the air before returning it to Carrie’s throat. “You should know why! You were there! You encouraged her to do it!”

“To do what?” Ryan’s voice remained even, steady.

Jeremy’s knuckles whitened. “When I asked her out on a date, she said no!”

Seriously? He was about to slit her throat just because she said no? His voice rose, only a notch, but the authority that leaked into it kept him strong. “Is that why you killed the other two girls?” He couldn’t fight him. Not with him holding a knife to Carrie’s throat. He would have to wait for the police to catch up, which could be any minute now. Simmons had said that they were on their way down. He could talk him down, smooth talk him into waiting to kill her for a few minutes. Carrie began sobbing, heaving breaths in through her nose. He couldn’t look at her. If he did, he’d break. He locked Jeremy into a gaze-off and stayed the course. “Veronica and Jenny, they turned you down, didn’t they?”

Jeremy’s gaze fell for a fraction of a second, and Ryan could see the conflict, the hurt in his eyes. “I dated them…” His voice sounded like the giggle sticks from childhood, growing louder, then softer at random times. He seemed to be holding back tears. “Both of them. But they both ditched me.”

Ryan didn’t stop there. “You got them hooked on heroin, and they wanted a better life for themselves, so they broke up with you. You killed Jenny and Veronica, then took Veronica’s body to the dumpster at the construction site the night before it was set to be taken out.”

Jeremy stiffened. He had let his arm go slack but straightened it right back up to Carrie’s throat. Ryan shot forward a single pace, stretching out his hand. He tore his eyes away from Jeremy and looked at Carrie. Her eyes broadened by fear, she didn’t even blink as she stared back at him. And then he remembered something. The way Jeremy was holding her. Ryan had held her like that once, not too long ago. But did she remember? He tackled her with a stare.

“But Carrie…” He looked up at Jeremy to make sure he wasn’t going to randomly slice that knife through her beautiful skin. “She didn’t turn you down because you couldn’t give her a good life.” He slowly rose, but kept his back slightly bent. He lowered his hands, talking with Jeremy like he was a friend… someone he was trying to keep in line. “She turned you down because she needed time for her heart to recover. She even told you she had gotten out of a bad relationship and she couldn’t give her full devotion to you until she healed. But Jeremy, listen to me. If you just give her time, she’ll give you a chance! Right, Carrie?”

“Right, Carrie,” were two bullets fired directly at her. He looked at her one more time and bent his knees. Oh, please, please know what that means! If possible, her eyes widened a little bit more, but not with fear.

With understanding. A minuscule nod.

Ryan gestured to her. “See, Jeremy?”

The kid shook his head, flinging his hair into his eyes. His voice rose several pitches. “No! No! It’s too late! It’s too late!” Jeremy tightened his grip on Carrie’s shoulders. The knife rose to her temple as he was about to plunge it through.

This was it! Now or never! “Carrie, do it now!” Ryan screamed.

Ryan watched the scene in slow motion. Carrie reached both of her hands up, tucking her fingers into the crook of Jeremy’s arm. She spread her legs. Her body dropped a notch in a blink. Her hips lowered just under Jeremy’s, and she pushed them back into him. Jeremy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he grunted. “What the…”

Carrie leaned forward, and Jeremy followed her. A blink. A flash of proverbial lightning—and suddenly—Jeremy was toppling forward, his ankles sailing through the air, his body arcing as his rear end sailed over Carrie’s head and toward the ground. Carrie stumbled to the side, landing on her knees, but Jeremy landed on his back with a loud, satisfying thud!

Carrie wasted no time. She thrust her body to the side opposite Jeremy and started to paw the ground. Her knees, legs, and arms flailed frantically in a commando crawl… taking her further away from where Jeremy lay stunned on the ground. It was a wonder that he didn’t land on the blade, which had landed a few feet away from his head.

Ryan rushed forward, seeing Carrie crawling to safety. Jeremy breathed heavily on the ground, but upon hearing the thud of Ryan’s footsteps, he scrambled to his belly. Ryan lunged forward. With a swoosh of his foot through the dirt, he kicked the knife away, then grabbed him by the shoulders, intent to pin him to the ground. Jeremy reached up, wrapping his bony little fingers around Ryan’s elbows and pulled him forward. Balance gone, lost to the wind, Ryan toppled to the side, landing in the dirt next to Jeremy. His face pulsed a hot, bright red with the effort and the heat, but he had no time to think about how sweltering it was. He needed that knife.

He rolled over to sit, aiming a kick at Jeremy’s side, causing him to fall back onto his side. He let out a cry of pain, and Ryan’s hands shot out, grabbing him, and rolling him over onto his back. Ryan wrestled his way on top of him, reared back a fist, and sent a punch careening toward Jeremy’s jaw. He felt the impact vibrating through his knuckles, but he reared back again. His knee pinned Jeremy to the ground. His ears caught the sound of running, footsteps, voices. Carrie muttered against the gag in her mouth, struggling to untie it. Help was almost there.

Blood dripped from the bottom of Jeremy’s nose and his lip where Ryan’s fist had collided with it, but Ryan resisted any further blows. He pressed his shoulders into the ground, knees digging into Jeremy’s thin body, restraining him from getting back up again.

Jeremy’s head rolled to the side, his eyes drifting over to the spot where the knife lay. The fingers of his left hand grappled in the dry grass and leaves. No! He will not get that knife back! Ryan reached up to restrain his arm—but too late. Jeremy’s body moved, throwing him off balance. As Ryan struggled to keep the upper hand, Jeremy’s fingers closed around the handle of the knife and brought it up. A fire blazing in his eyes, one jerk of his hand, and the knife jarred.

The world went hazy for a second, and Ryan withdrew a gaping breath, long, hard. A heavy pressure built up around the right side of his upper chest, as if Jeremy had landed one good punch on his rib bones... followed by the sharp, slaying pain of the knife. The rescue breath he drew in intensified the pressure, and his arms went weak as he toppled to his side and off of Jeremy.

The world melted into slow motion. He heard Carrie’s shriek of noooo ringing out as if she were very far away. Jeremy scrambled to his feet to scurry away. Voices getting closer. Louder. Footsteps.

He raised his eyes, vision tunneling so he could only see the clear blue sky through the trees that curled around his view of the surroundings. He tried to breathe, but the oxygen felt like acid in his lungs, burning pain into them. His eyelids dropped over his eyes, shielding everything from view. All he could focus on now was the burning in his chest.

In one terrifying moment, Carrie’s world ended.

Seconds after she yanked the gag from her mouth and found her voice again, she saw Jeremy plunge the knife into Ryan’s chest, and disbelief set in. No, no, that hadn’t happened! That wasn’t Ryan there—it wasn’t!

But then she saw Jeremy withdraw the knife, stained crimson as if withdrawing Ryan’s very life from him. He scrambled to his feet, head jerking in the direction of the authoritative voices of the cops, and sprang to his feet, running. Carrie let out a shriek that encapsulated everything she felt.

“Noooo!”

Ryan groaned, rolled over onto his back, and pressed his hand against his chest, his hand coated in blood. The police broke through the trees, scattering in different directions. Some went after Jeremy, a few toward her, and still others toward Ryan. Anger set in. They had been so close! If they had shown up a mere five seconds earlier, Ryan wouldn’t have been the victim of the blade that was intended for her.

Avery and Lance broke through the trees. Relief washed over Avery’s face as she rushed toward Carrie. Lance sprang to Ryan’s side in an instant, kneeling by him. Worried eyes locked with Avery as he barked out orders.

“Avery! My medical kit! Now!”

Avery took off at a full run back up the hill to fetch Lance’s medical kit, but Lance had already begun to tend to his cousin’s wound. Carrie felt completely helpless as she stood there, absorbing everything in the scene. She was surrounded, voices talking to her, but she felt like they were on another planet.

Jeremy didn’t even make it past the clearing before his foot landed on the uneven ground. His ankle creased sideways, and his body dumped out onto the ground, the knife escaping his hands once more. The moment he was down, he was swarmed by the police. As the scene unfolded, disbelief overtook Carrie’s mind: she had survived. She had almost died but had somehow managed to cheat death, and now, just like that, her stalker was arrested and she could finally live in peace.

But she couldn’t care less. The only thing that held her focus was Ryan as his life drained in scarlet streams, soaking into his clothes.

Nightfall settled over the world. But how could that be? It was the middle of the day.

Ryan’s world went dark, but he could see no stars. The only thing that felt alive to him was the throbbing burn in his chest. The feeling of thick, warm water spreading across his chest. Only it wasn’t water. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what it was. A thousand needles from a thousand sewing machines were stabbing into his legs at different times… stab, lift, stab, lift, again and again. Perhaps little ants crawling on his legs with sharp feet. His body began to tingle.

“Ryan? Ryan, can you hear me?”

It sounded like Lance’s voice, but Lance had to be above water somewhere. And Ryan had to be underneath the water. There was something in his ears that muffled the voice calling out to him, telling him to stay. “Stay with me, buddy, stay with me.” Hard to stay when the voice was so far away. The distance wasn’t as bad as the echo. The single sentence ached again and again in his ears, but he couldn’t even understand what it was. And he still couldn’t see.

Pain. Heavy pain. A pressure settled against his chest, drawing him out of his delusion only a little bit. Someone shouting orders, but somehow, it felt like they were firing a high-powered rifle into his ear canal. His ear cringed with every word. And the pain... oh, the pain. Every breath was sipping through a straw, the oxygen laced with razors of pain that shredded his lungs.

He wanted to close his eyes… stop breathing to stop the pain… give in to the arms of sleep that wanted to smother him, extinguish his life.

But.

Her voice.

Somehow, he recognized her voice in the echo of pain. He couldn’t see her clearly, make out her features as clear as he would like to, but he could make out her form in the shadows that curled around his vision. His Carrie. Perhaps he would never see her again. This was it. He wanted to stay alive, to hang on for her, to taste those lips one final time... but he could only do one thing.

Groaning with the effort, he lifted his waist into the air, gritting his teeth as the needles of pain stabbed into his chest. But he had to do this.

Lance’s hand pressed down on his arm. “No, no, don’t try to move.”

Ryan shook his head, gasping for breath. His hand closed around the notebook that he had for Carrie and pulled it out of his back pocket. It took as much effort as it would have to climb Mount Everest with no oxygen, but he managed to pull the notebook around to his front. He handed it off toward the figure of Carrie, the only light in the darkness that closed in around him. He felt the notebook press into her hand... then darkness overtook him.

Carrie couldn’t understand why the notebook was so important for her to have, but she held onto it. Lance tended to him, saying that he had a pulse, but it wasn’t until the gurney rolled away with Ryan on its surface that she could bring herself to open the notebook. She flipped the cover open, and an object flittered out. She hurried to catch it, realizing how fragile it was. Like tissue paper, only dry.

“Pansies…” Her voice trailed off. Somehow, Ryan had found some pansies of different yellow and purple colors and pressed them to preserve them for many days to come. But that wasn’t all. She picked up a picture sitting on the top page, and a host of memories washed over her. She didn’t know this, but Ryan had apparently taken a candid of her during her high school days. The youthful innocence beamed from her smiling face as she leaned her head against the locker, talking to one of her friends. He had cropped it to get a close-up of her face. School photographer indeed. She noticed his handwriting scribbling a message underneath the flower petals, and her eyes scanned it, soaking in every word.

Carrie,

I always thought you were beautiful, but you’re more than just beautiful. You’re perfect even when you’re a mess.

Carrie squeezed her eyes shut as warm tears leaked down her cheeks. As she hugged the notebook to her chest, her body heaved with quiet sobs. Ryan, please… please be okay. Oh, how he really did care about her. She had just been too scared to accept it. But now, now that she was faced with the possibility of losing him, she couldn’t bear it. She needed him to make it so she could tell him how much she cared about him too.

Avery came up beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Are you ready to go get checked out?”

Carrie could form no words. Simply a nod.

Avery walked with her back up through the woods, helping her dodge branches that wanted to tear at her face. When they crested the hill, the busy lights of the ambulance and police cars further added to her throbbing headache. But as she neared an ambulance, a civilian car pulled up.

Carrie didn’t give much thought to it until the door opened. A woman emerged and found Carrie quickly through the crowd. Carrie couldn’t take much more shock today, but she let it stop her in her tracks once more. Aunt Ashley?

Ashley’s eyes settled upon her, and painful relief flooded her face. She came around the side of her vehicle and jogged over to Carrie, stopping just a few feet from her. She looked her over with motherly affection and concern. “I heard about you on TV.” Carrie gulped. Really? These were the words that she first spoke to her niece after many months of silence?

Carrie nodded, not wanting to think about it. “Yeah…”

“Carrie,” Ashley breathed out, stepping once more toward her. “I can’t go without saying this. I’m so, so sorry.” In a swoop, she came up to Carrie, and her arms twined around her, pulling her close. Carrie couldn’t be strong anymore. She let her tears flow free, sobbing against her aunt’s chest. “Oh, Carrie, I should have never treated you the way that I did! I was just... so angry.” She pulled away, holding Carrie’s shoulders at arm’s length, and gazing into the wells of her eyes. “I couldn’t deal with the sadness. I lost my mom, but also my brother, your dad. And then when I found out that Mom had willed the cottage to you…” Her lips pursed together, and her apology leaked in the form of tears from her own eyes. “I couldn’t handle it. That was all I had left of Mom. You were just a reminder of the most pain that I’ve ever felt in my life. But now, as I see the strong lady that you’ve become, I can see that Mom was right to will the cottage to you.”

Was this really it? The apology that Carrie had been waiting for? The dam of her emotions exploded, and she fell into Ashley’s arms, sobbing her feelings into her shoulder. Ashley did the same, only quieter than Carrie. It was understandable. Aunt Ashley hadn’t nearly died twice in one day.

When Carrie could finally breathe again, she turned her beet-red face up to her aunt and smiled. “I forgive you. Can we... can we start again?”

Ashley nodded her agreement. “Please.”

Avery had stepped back a little bit, but once Aunt Ashley had cleared away the emotion, she took a step forward, setting a hand on Carrie’s shoulder. The love that surrounded her in that moment was beyond anything Carrie could express.

“Come on, Carrie. We need to get you to the clinic to get checked out,” Avery urged gently.

Aunt Ashley nodded to her car. “Let me drive her there. We can talk on the way.”

Carrie breathed in and glanced at Avery, who nodded to her that it was all right. “That sounds great. After all, we could use the time to catch up.”

“Can you believe this?”

Avery kept her strides even with Lance as they walked side by side through the sterile walls of the hospital. In only four days, the grimmest of situations had dawned a bit of light that promised that something good could manifest. “It’s almost like he knew. Now that Jenny and Veronica’s killer has been caught, suddenly, Mr. Hillard is awake!”

“His students are going to love this.” Lance glanced behind him, looking for the stampede of kids who would surely arrive to see their favorite teacher. “I’m glad we’re the first ones here.”

Avery found Mr. Hillard’s room, matching the number in her head to the number they had been given and gave a knock at the door. “Come in.” Mr. Hillard’s weak but steady voice muffled through the door.

Avery gave the door a little push, and a rush of joy hit her at the sight. Mr. Hillard sat propped up against some pillows. He had enough tubes hanging off him to go scuba diving twice, but his eyes were open, and he was breathing on his own.

“Hey, buddy!” Lance crossed the floor, standing at the foot of his bed. “How about that scare you gave us all, huh? Let’s not do that again!”

Mr. Hillard’s laugh succumbed to a cough in his chest, but at least he laughed. His eyes didn’t dance quite like before, but he did have a lot to be sad about. “Yeah, let’s not.”

Avery desperately wanted to know if he had any idea about the girls in his class who were murdered, but she also didn’t want to appear ungrateful for his wellness. “You look like you’re on the mend!”

“That helps,” Mr. Hillard nodded to the hospital table across the room. Every square inch of it bore some kind of get-well wish. Flowers, slightly wilted but still hanging on, cards, even a few teddy bears. Avery wondered what a grown man was going to do with those. She hid a smile and turned back to Mr. Hillard who went on. “To know that you’re so very loved. I guess I have to stick around a little bit longer for these people.”

“And for us.” Avery assured him, slipping an arm around Lance’s shoulders. He returned with a hand around her waist.

Sadness filtered through Hillard’s eyes. “You’re a private investigator now, ain’t you?”

Avery nodded. “Yes?”

“So, you know about what happened.” Hillard sighed. “About my girls turning up dead before I did?”

“Jennifer and Veronica?” Lance took his arm back, then folded both arms over his chest. “So, you knew?”

“That’s the last thing I remember, other than the pain of a broomstick being shoved through my sternum,” he answered with a little chuckle to splice the awkwardness together. “I got the news that both of the girls had died. Jenny, then Veronica. It hit me so hard that it gave me a shock. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I know who did it.”

Avery’s curiosity took over. Could he have been so smart to figure it out when she didn’t even have a clue?

“I remember this kid, Jeremy something… dated Jenny for many years. I had heard that he was dating Veronica too. She had messaged me for some help on a short story she was writing, and when I asked about her life, she mentioned she was dating Jeremy. I told her he wasn’t good for her. It wasn’t that he was a terrible student with terrible grades, though he was. When he and Jenny got together, she changed. Got on drugs, I suspected. Jeremy isn’t a nice guy.” Mr. Hillard shook his head. “I blame myself.”

“Now why on earth would you do that?” Avery countered. “Absolutely none of this was your fault.”

“I always pushed Jeremy to do better. He didn’t have such a good home life, and I wanted him to succeed. But he took it the wrong way, I think. I guess he figured I thought he’d never amount to anything. He probably thought I was looking down on him. I hope I didn’t push him to do these terrible things. Kill those two girls, if he is the one who did it…”

Lance’s strength took over in that moment, and he spoke with a voice rooted in truth and conviction. “Mr. Hillard, yes, it was Jeremy. But you’ve got to remember that what he did was ultimately his decision. The police have been talking to him, and we believe what happened is he accidentally killed Jenny which caused him to snap and kill Veronica too. Like a shark getting a taste of blood, he just kept going back for more.” Lance’s jaw clenched, no doubt thinking of both Ryan and Carrie who had crossed paths with this monster. “He didn’t murder because of anything anyone did to him; he just snapped. He’s in custody now. As for you? You just need to focus on getting better. Dwelling on the past isn’t going to help your heart heal any.”

Mr. Hillard nodded, trying to take Lance’s words to heart. It would take a while for him to recover from that, Avery knew. “Thank you both for showing up.” He lifted his gaze to them both.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.” Avery reached forward touching the foot of his bed with gentleness. “Everyone has been talking about how much they miss you. We wanted to get here before everyone else and wish you well.”

Avery and Lance’s steps slowed as they headed out through the hospital lobby to their car. Avery’s voice held a heavy solemnness that bore the weight of her thinking. “Hillard blames himself. He’s alive, and two of his students are dead. Almost a third, but I didn’t tell him about Carrie.”

“Or Ryan.” Lance glanced at his watch. “I think I’m going to stop in and see Ryan for a minute. They say he’s going to pull through.”

Avery set her hand on his back and nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

They turned, aiming their steps toward the ICU, where Ryan was recovering. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that we caught Jeremy before he could do any more harm.” Avery let a long sigh escape, packing emotion into it. “I’m heartbroken for Jenny and Veronica. Their deaths were so senseless. But Jeremy is safe behind bars, and Juniper Springs girls can breathe again.”

Lance slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Hey. Come here.”

Avery allowed him to draw her into his embrace and tenderly rub his hands up and down her back. He knew how the weight of these things could get to her… that she’d always wonder if there was something that could have prevented the needless deaths. “You have such a tender heart.”

“Oh, don’t say that. You know I don’t like that.” Avery laughed.

“Okay, okay, a caring heart.” Lance spoke the soothing words through her hair into her ear. “If more people were like you, the world would be a better place.”

Avery hesitated before drawing her face up to meet his. He gazed down at her with a new fondness since Ryan’s incident. The reality of calamity occurring at any time caused both of them to cherish every moment they had with each other. And Avery loved this new, tender affection he showered on her. “Well, I say the same about you,” she said with a smile. “And don’t you disagree with me!”

Lance tucked her close. “That’s a talk for another time.”

They shared a smile, an exclusive moment of love between the two of them before Lance stepped by her side again and began guiding her down the halls. “Come on. People might think we’re in love.”

“Oh, Lance!” Avery slapped his arm gently, laughing. “In case you’ve forgotten, we are!”

The Juniper Springs Times office had been filled with a busy hum every working moment during the last three weeks, but that Saturday afternoon had been the busiest. Carrie, Lizzie, and a few other workers had spent their time hanging decorations, setting up a craft table, and preparing for the party that celebrated something that went deeper than just a welcome-back party. Carrie fastened the banner with one final pin, leaning back on the step stool to reread the words which had been the most vibrant and wonderful words that she’d ever heard. Welcome back, Ryan!

“Are we all set? The man of the hour is going to be showing up any minute now.” Lizzie stated the obvious.

Carrie took her time stepping down off the stool and onto the floor again. “It looks great to me! Ryan’s going to love it.”

Since Carrie’s abduction, Lizzie had been different around her. Carrie knew that it was the guilt that clawed at her for not paying enough attention and letting Carrie go. Carrie had tried to tell her time and time again that it wasn’t something that could be avoided; it was bound to happen anyway, but her friend didn’t seem to take it to heart. That would take some work. If it wasn’t one friendship, it was another, Carrie thought, beaming with the memory of her aunt and cousin reconciling with her. Finally, she wasn’t so alone anymore.

And Ryan.

The news that he was going to make it thrilled her far more than anything else had. It had helped her deal with the lingering trauma of what Jeremy had put her through. She would never fully forget the feeling of having a knife to her throat, head throbbing from the ketamine he had somehow slipped into her water when the waitress wasn’t looking, him yelling at her. But at least she had Ryan to help her through; even if his “helping” was just the knowledge that he was going to survive!

Considering the circumstances, they had decided against a surprise party, so Carrie scurried to the middle of the floor to join the group that would welcome Ryan back. Her heart hammered with anticipation, but not from seeing him again. She had made a decision that gave her goosebumps and heart palpitations at the same time. She was certain she knew the outcome, but still, Ryan could surprise her with something different. She would only find out after today.

Lance’s truck pulled into the parking lot, and his lights flickered off. Carrie held her breath, unable to breathe any deeper as Ryan stepped out of the truck. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it. He was alive! Thank God Lance had been there to treat the wound on the spot, or else…

Carrie shook her head. She was absolutely not going to let her thoughts rule her. He was okay. And she was overwhelmed with gratefulness.

As Ryan stepped through the door with Lance and Avery as his companions, an unblended group of voices cried out, “Welcome back, Ryan!” with someone forgetting the words and saying “home” instead of “back.” Carrie laughed. Oh, how typical.

Ryan’s smile brightened the room as he went around to each staff member. He carefully hugged a few members, gingerly shaking the hands of the others. She was sure the right side of his chest still hurt and would for a while. Carrie set herself on the outside of the crowd, but when he passed her, his eyes locked with hers, and an entire history of emotion danced between them before he reached to hug her. The electricity that shot through her body was hard to ignore. “Hello, Carrie.”

He held on to her a little bit longer than he did anyone else, so she was almost sure she knew the answer he would give her.

Ryan quite enjoyed being the “man of the hour” as Lizzie insisted on calling him. He sat in the most comfortable chair, a gift from Lance of course, and enjoyed refreshments and little snacks for most of the night. He was surrounded by waves of laughter and stories, but he felt detached from the laughter. Near-death experiences had a way of doing that to you, Lance had told him, having been in quite a few himself. It would take a while to feel like Ryan again.

Clearly, he wasn’t the only one.

His sharp eyes had caught Carrie’s disappearance from the party early on, and when she hadn’t returned in about ten minutes, his worry started to grow. Not that she would go and get herself kidnapped again, but where was she?

“I need to get a little bit of air,” he murmured to Lance before heading toward the front door. Sure enough, there she stood, leaning against the pillar that held up the awning. Alone, staring at the stars.

Ryan cracked the door, slipping out, then sealed the noise of the party behind the closed door. “Carrie? Are you okay?”

“The stars are beautiful.” Her answer, random as always, didn’t surprise him. “Have you ever taken the time to just stop and see how beautiful the life is around us?”

He stepped up beside her and chose the other pillar to lean against. “I have, now that I’ve come close to not being able to experience it.”

Her eyelids fluttered over her eyes, and a sigh lifted her chest. “I know.” She reopened her eyes and looked toward him.

Ryan shifted positions, getting the pressure off of the stitches that marred his chest. He was going to have one heck of a scar, and he was none too happy about it. Jerk. “I never got a chance to ask you if you are okay?”

“I’m more than fine.” Carrie’s beautiful lips lifted in a smile. “I’m just glad that you’re all right. My world was shaken when I saw you lying there.”

“Yeah.” He breathed a laugh. “Mine was too.”

She giggled, despite the circumstances. “I hope you’re not in too much pain?”

“The pain meds make it easier to handle,” Ryan answered. “What about you? Did that jerk lay a hand on you?”

“No... thanks to you the only wound I came out with was a slap across the face.”

He slapped her? The coward! But that only meant one thing—one thing he’d been chomping at the bit to tell her. “Carrie,” his voice settled like quiet snowfall, “I wanted to tell you how amazing I think you are. This guy was a killer, and you survived. You fought back—you remembered the move I taught you—you were amazing! I don’t know a lot of girls who could have come away from that situation like you did. You have such strength, and you don’t even know it. I’m so proud of you.”

She turned her head to let the starlight reflect in the pools of tears. “Do you know why I survived?”

“Hmm?”

“Because of you. You gave me the courage to go on. You put survival into my head. He would have killed me if you hadn’t taught me how to flip someone.” Her face swelled with red again. No doubt she was remembering how awkward it had been for her. “So, thank you… for saving my life. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ryan insisted. He stared at her, everything aching in his body to tell her. His heart throbbed, fluttered like a moth trying to get free from someone’s hand. He couldn’t hold himself back. “I love you, Carrie. I always have.” Did she read the note? If not, this was going to come out of the blue for her. “And I would do anything for you.”

Her eyes danced. Her smile curled. Knowing reflected in her eyes, and at once, he knew she’d read the note. But... no commentary?

“Well…” A teasing glow appeared on her face as she pushed herself off from the post and headed toward him. “I guess chivalry isn’t dead, after all.”

She wasn’t ready. His hopes crashed, retreating back into the ocean of his dreams with a hiss. He nodded. “Right.”

“By the way…” Before she went inside, she turned her head to look at him. In her hands was the notebook, probably pulled from her pocket. “I’m working on a new story.” She reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed his knuckles, and a warmth of longing spread through him. She slipped her notebook into his hand, and a teasing frolicked in her eyes. “My notes are inside.” She winked at him... and slipped back through the door into the party.

What in the world? Now was the time she picked to tell him about a new story? Maybe she would never be ready. Maybe she would prefer to marry her career than date him. He flipped the cover of the notebook open, reading the note he’d written to her. So, she’d kept it, and it looked pretty worn already. He turned a new page, drinking in her handwriting like water.

Ryan,

I never have the courage to say how I feel out loud, so I will do it in writing. The truth is, you saved my life in more ways than one. You made me feel worth it. You make me look forward to waking up each day, as long as I get to see you. You help me to believe in myself when I can’t even bring myself to do that. If you are willing, and if what you said in the note was true, I would love to see where this goes.

P.S. I think I might love you. And I want to be yours if you’ll let me. She drew a winking face after the last part.

Ryan’s heart swelled. I think I might love you? So, she was ready! Ryan pivoted around, following her with his eyes. She stood there, looking back at him, her eyes burning with invitation. So, she did want to be his? She wanted to love him and let him love her?

Ryan flipped the notebook closed, the first smile in weeks spreading across his face. He was more than willing to grant her request.

Dear Reader,

If you're reading this, it means you’ve made your way back to Juniper Springs, and I couldn't be more excited to welcome you home! This time, we’re seeing the town through Carrie Sweet’s eyes. She came looking for a fresh start and maybe even a little peace, but instead found herself caught in something much more dangerous than she bargained for. While the faces might be new, the secrets, suspense, and that unmistakable Juniper Springs charm are still very much alive. And if you spotted a familiar name or two (yes, Avery’s still doing what she does best), then you know by now this town has a way of tying everyone's stories together.

If you’re like me and already itching to know what happens next, don’t worry, The Search will be coming soon! This time, the mystery centers around a true crime podcaster who vanishes after her latest broadcast, leaving behind an ominous message for her listeners and a single, desperate text. When her brother, Jacob, returns to Juniper Springs determined to find her, he reconnects with someone from his past—Allison, his sister’s best friend. What begins as a tense search soon stirs up old feelings neither of them were expecting. With Avery on the case and more secrets surfacing by the day, this next chapter is full of twists, emotion, and the kind of sparks that make Juniper Springs a town worth returning to.

And if this story stuck with you; if you found yourself holding your breath, cheering Carrie on, or maybe just needing one more chapter before bed—I’d love to hear about it. Leaving a quick review or sharing the book with a fellow bookworm goes a long way in helping Juniper Springs reach more readers. I always say stories are best when they’re shared… kind of like a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. Still warm, a little messy, and better when passed around.

You can also drop by my reader group, Coffee and Cases with A.J. Rivers, to chat more about the series, share your favorite theories, or just cozy up with fellow book lovers. I’ll save you a seat!

Yours,

A.J. Rivers

P.S. If for some reason you didn’t like this book or found typos or other errors, please let me know personally. I do my best to read and respond to every email at mailto:aj@riversthrillers.com

P.P.S. If you would like to stay up-to-date with me and my latest releases I invite you to visit my Linktree page at www.linktr.ee/a.j.rivers to subscribe to my newsletter and receive a free copy of my book, Edge of the Woods. You can also follow me on my social media accounts for behind-the-scenes glimpses and sneak peeks of my upcoming projects, or even sign up for text notifications. I can't wait to connect with you!

Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries

Season One

Book One—The Girl in Cabin 13*

Book Two—The Girl Who Vanished*

Book Three—The Girl in the Manor*

Book Four—The Girl Next Door*

Book Five—The Girl and the Deadly Express*

Book Six—The Girl and the Hunt*

Book Seven—The Girl and the Deadly End*

Season Two

Book Eight—The Girl in Dangerous Waters*

Book Nine—The Girl and Secret Society*

Book Ten—The Girl and the Field of Bones*

Book Eleven—The Girl and the Black Christmas*

Book Twelve—The Girl and the Cursed Lake*

Book Thirteen—The Girl and The Unlucky 13*

Book Fourteen—The Girl and the Dragon’s Island*

Season Three

Book Fifteen—The Girl in the Woods*

Book Sixteen —The Girl and the Midnight Murder*

Book Seventeen— The Girl and the Silent Night*

Book Eighteen — The Girl and the Last Sleepover*

Book Nineteen — The Girl and the 7 Deadly Sins*

Book Twenty — The Girl in Apartment 9*

Book Twenty-One — The Girl and the Twisted End*

Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries Retro - Limited Series

(Read as standalone or before Emma Griffin book 22)

Book One—The Girl in the Mist*

Book Two—The Girl on Hallow's Eve*

Book Three—The Girl and the Christmas Past*

Book Four— The Girl and the Winter Bones*

Book Five—The Girl on the Retreat*

Season Four

Book Twenty-Two — The Girl and the Deadly Secrets*

Book Twenty-Three — The Girl on the Road*

Book Twenty-Four — The Girl and the Unexpected Gifts*

Book Twenty-Five — The Girl and the Secret Passage*

Book Twenty-Six — The Girl and the Bride*

Book Twenty-Seven — The Girl in Her Cabin*

Book Twenty-Eight — The Girl Who Remembers*

Season Five

Book Twenty-Nine — The Girl in the Dark*

Book Thirty — The Girl and the Lies*

Book Thirty-One — The Girl and the Inmate*

Book Thirty-Two — The Girl and the Garden of Bones*

Book Thirty-Three — The Girl on the Run

Book Thirty-Four — The Girl and the Last Scene

Ava James FBI Mysteries

Book One—The Woman at the Masked Gala*

Book Two—Ava James and the Forgotten Bones*

Book Three —The Couple Next Door*

Book Four — The Cabin on Willow Lake*

Book Five — The Lake House*

Book Six — The Ghost of Christmas*

Book Seven — The Rescue*

Book Eight — Murder in the Moonlight*

Book Nine — Behind the Mask*

Book Ten — The Invitation*

Book Eleven — The Girl in Hawaii*

Book Twelve — The Woman in the Window*

Book Thirteen — The Good Doctor*

Book Fourteen — The Housewife Killer*

Book Fifteen — The Librarian*

Book Sixteen — The Art of Murder*

Book Seventeen — Secrets in the Acadia

Book Eighteen — The Forgotten Girls

Dean Steele FBI Mysteries

Book One— The Woman in the Woods*

Book Two —The Last Survivors

Book Three — No Escape

Book Four — The Garden of Secrets

Book Five — The Killer Among Us

Book Six — The Convict

Book Seven — The Last Promise

Book Eight — Death at Midnight

Book Nine — The Woman in the Attic

Book Ten — Playing with Fire

Book Eleven — Murder in Twilight Cove

Book Twelve — Under the Mask

Book Thirteen — Hidden Intentions

Book Fourteen — The Great Betrayal

A Detective Riley Quinn Pine Brooke Mystery

Book One —The Girls in Pine Brooke

Book Two — Murder in the Pines

Book Three — Strangers in the Pines

Book Four — Shadows in the Pines

Book Five — Letters in the Pines

A Juniper Springs Mystery

Book One —The Girl in Juniper Springs

Book Two —The New Girl

Book Two —The Search

Bella Walker FBI Mystery Series

Book One— The Girl in Paradise*

Book Two— Murder on the Sea*

Book Three— The Last Aloha*

Other Standalone Novels

Gone Woman

* Also available in audio