“They’ve been searching up here for days,” Lyla said. “Winn came to the coffee shop last night. She told me that the dogs lost his trail. Do you think that’s because he went through the water?”
“Dogs can scent through water. But Cormac is very good at covering his tracks.” He knew how search and rescue dogs were trained. And he knew how to avoid detection.
I walked to the remains of the animal Cormac had hunted. It had to be for food. Meaning there was a chance he’d built himself a shelter around here. Possibly a place he’d intended to stay during the winter.
“Did Winn say anything about search and rescue finding the remains of the elk he killed? You said he’d quartered it, right?” I asked Lyla.
“That’s what it looked like. I think I came across him when he was about done. There were game bags strapped to his pack. And his bow.”
An elk was a large animal. If he’d kept most of the meat, he’d have to dry it. Preserve it. Otherwise he would have gone after smaller game. Rabbits or fish were for a single meal. But an elk? That was long-term sustenance.
“How well do you know this area?” I stood, returning to Lyla. “Are there caves anywhere?”
“I don’t know. My brothers might.”
“I doubt they’ll be as willing to talk to me without the police in the room.”
She barked a dry laugh, wincing at the pain it caused. “Probably not.”
“That’s all right.” I turned in a circle, mentally committing a few landmarks to memory so that when the carcass of that elk was well and truly gone, I’d still have a reference point. “This gives me a place to start. Let’s head back.”
Before the local authorities came out exploring on their own today.
Lyla turned, about to lead the way back into the forest, but paused. She spun her own circle, slowly. Deliberately. “This used to be my favorite hiking trail.”
Used to be. Cormac had stolen it from her. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did he let me go?”
It was the second time she’d asked that question. The second time I couldn’t give her an answer.
One moment, she was staring forward, the next she whirled so quickly that her boot caught on a rock.
My arms shot out, catching her at the waist before she could fall.
Her hands gripped my biceps as she righted her feet. But she didn’t step away once she had her balance.
And I didn’t let her go.
Our eyes clashed, and for a moment, I let myself drown in those sapphire irises. The inner circle was a blue, bright and striated with white. The outer ring was dark, almost navy, like the sky before a thunderstorm.
My God, she had stunning eyes. I leaned in closer, drawn to that blue. Then my gaze shifted to that rosy pink mouth.
Lyla blinked and broke away. Her breath hitched and she ducked her chin, moving past me for the trees.
Fuck. What the hell was I doing? I scrubbed a hand over my face, clearing the fog, then turned away from the river.
Lyla led the way to the Dodge without a backward glance. She climbed inside as soon as I hit the locks.
I rounded the hood, stowing my pack in the rear seat. Then I took a deep breath, ready to apologize the moment I was behind the wheel. But just as I hopped inside, a sniffle filled the cab.
A tear fell down Lyla’s cheek. Without thinking, I reached out and caught it.
Her blue eyes snapped to mine.
Instead of taking my hand away, instead of obeying that invisible boundary across the console that marked her half of the truck from mine, I skimmed her smooth cheek. My fingertips forged the trail that tear would have taken. All while I let myself get sucked in by those cobalt pools once more.
What was it about this woman? What was it about those eyes I found so entirely tempting?
My heart pounded, skipping every other beat. I couldn’t seem to take my hand away from her face. My God, she was beautiful.
Her skin was impossibly smooth. She had a perfect nose, straight and pretty. Her chin came to a soft point. She smelled incredible, like sugar and vanilla and cinnamon.
Her mouth parted. And this time, it was her gaze that shifted first, dropping to my mouth.
I leaned closer, drawn by the magnet that was Lyla Eden, and a hard edge dug into my rib.
The Glock.
I was wearing my gun. Because I’d brought Lyla up here to track a murderer. Her attempted murderer. And for fuck’s sake, I was acting like I’d kiss her. Again.
I dropped my hand, shifting both palms to the steering wheel.
“I, um . . .” I hit the ignition. “I’ll drive you home.”
“The coffee shop. Please.”
“Sure.”
The silence on the drive to town was miserable. Neither of us spoke, about Cormac or the river or whatever the hell had happened between us.
Something. Chemistry maybe? I’d never felt anything like that in my life. Whatever it was, one thing was certain, I didn’t trust myself to stare into her blue eyes. So I kept my gaze fixed on the road, and Lyla studied whatever streaked past her passenger window.
When I parked in front of Eden Coffee, I expected her to fly out the door.
Instead, she twisted to face me. “I won’t tell Winn what you’re doing. Or anyone.”
“I’m not asking you to keep a secret from your family.” I couldn’t ask that.
“We all have secrets.”
Truer words had never been spoken. “Thank you.”
“What will you do?”
“Spend some time scouting the area. Start with maps. Make a grid. Check the boxes, one by one.”
“What makes you think he’s still around?”
“He might not be,” I told her, wanting to set her expectations for failure rather than success.
“But you’ll look anyway?”
I nodded. “I’ll look anyway.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Want some breakfast?”
Breakfast. She was inviting me to breakfast, even after I’d acted like a dipshit. The tension crept from my shoulders. My spine relaxed. “Yeah. I’d like breakfast.”
“Come on in.”
With my backpack over a shoulder, I followed her into the coffee shop. Gone was the quiet, still café from earlier. Customers occupied over half the tables. A line three-deep had formed at the counter.
Lyla headed that direction to help out while I took a chair at the same table I’d eaten at yesterday, the one closest to the window, so I could watch out across Main. Then I dug through my bag, pulling out the area maps I’d bought yesterday at the hardware store.
Twenty minutes later, a plate appeared in front of me. On it was what looked like a cherry turnover. Next to it, a breakfast sandwich. Lyla set down a steaming mug of fresh, black coffee.
We didn’t speak. To anyone else in the room, I was just another patron.
But those blue eyes found mine throughout the morning.
And in them, a flicker of hope.
Hope in me.
It had been a long time since someone had given me blind faith.
My resolve to find Cormac turned to steel. He’d pay for hurting her.
Tomorrow, I’d begin my search.
For Norah. For the girls.
For Lyla.
CHAPTER FIVE
LYLA
Whenever the bell rang at Eden Coffee, I smiled. After so many years, it was automatic.
Jingle. Smile.
I’d trained my ears to listen for that ding. Even from the kitchen, I could hear when someone came into the shop. But the way I’d listened for that bell in the past three days was nothing less than obsessive.
Whenever it rang, my attention whipped, not wandered, to the door. My breath would catch and hold, hoping it was Vance. Each time it wasn’t, I’d hide my disappointment in that automatic smile. And I’d wait, greeting customer after customer, wondering when he’d finally stop by.
Until, like now, that bell chimed for Vance. And the smile I gave him was filled with relief.
The coil of anticipation that had been winding tighter and tighter as the afternoon wore on sprang loose. The stiffness in my spine melted as he strode into the café, tugging off a pair of leather gloves.
Vance’s long legs made short work of the space. The half-smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth made my heart skip. He stopped on his side of the counter, bringing with him the scent of clean soap and earth and wind. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Even with the rasp in my voice, it came out breathy. This man made me nervous, in a good way. “You were out in the mountains.”
He nodded. “I was.”
“Anything?”
“Not yet.”
He’d given me the same answer for the past three days. But I liked that he said not yet instead of no. The subtle difference meant he still had hope.
So I’d keep some for myself too.
“Coffee?” I moved for a mug, expecting him to nod. He did. “Hungry?”
“I am.” He reached for his wallet but I shook my head. Vance pulled out a twenty anyway, setting it on the counter. No matter how many times I offered to give him a meal, he insisted on paying. “Surprise me.”
“All right.” I bit back a smile, filling his mug. When I set it on the counter, he took it and retreated to the table by the window. The same table he sat at each day, in the same chair.
Vance’s chair.
My family members didn’t have a regular table, no area in the café that I considered theirs. But somehow, in less than a week, Vance had claimed that spot as his. Whenever another customer sat there, it irked me.