“We need cups,” Grae instructed.
I grabbed glasses from the kitchen. “Wren, do you want anything nonalcoholic to drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m good. If I drink anything, I’ll have to pee every two seconds, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
Nerves bubbled up as I grabbed three glasses. I returned to the living room, placing them on the coffee table.
Grae immediately popped the cork with a wine opener she’d brought and started pouring, but she conveniently skipped herself.
I lowered myself to the couch next to Maddie. “You don’t want wine, G?”
Her eyes shifted to the side.
Wren jerked upright. “Grae Hartley.”
She winced. “I might be knocked up.”
“Might be?” Maddie squeaked.
A smile of sheer joy spread across her face. “Okay, I’m most definitely preggers.”
Wren burst into tears. “We’re going to have babies together. They’ll be in the same grade just like we were.”
Grae’s eyes shimmered. “It’s going to be the best,” she whispered.
Wren stood and wrapped Grae in a hug. “I’m so happy.”
“Me, too.”
Pressure built behind my eyes as Wren released Grae. “This is the best news. I needed this today.”
Grae shot me a grin. “We can thank Caden’s super sperm for that one.”
Maddie snorted. “I don’t need those kinds of details.”
Grae just shrugged and turned to me. “How are you? Really?”
Maddie squeezed my thigh. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”
“The H-E-double-hockey-sticks she doesn’t,” Grae argued. “I need to make sure she’s safe.”
“I am,” I told her. “At least as much as that’s possible.”
Wren rubbed a hand over her belly. “I’m so sorry about your sister.”
My throat burned. “She was amazing. The best mom ever.”
Tears filled Wren’s eyes again. “I know she’s watching over you and Cady, so grateful for what an amazing mom you are to her girl.”
“Thank you,” I croaked.
Grae fanned a hand in front of her face. “It’s too early for tears.” She turned to me. “Are you really okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Most of the time, yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just—it felt easier this way. Safer. If I didn’t tell a soul, then no one would ever know.”
“Except someone found out,” Maddie said softly.
“I don’t know how. I got a threatening letter from John, and then the podcasters showed up.”
Grae jerked upright. “What threatening letter?”
I winced and recounted the anonymous threat.
“I think you and Cady should move in with Caden and me,” Grae said the moment I finished.
“Caden already offered, and I appreciate it. I really do. But I don’t want to uproot her. Routine is so important at this age. And Roan’s staying here—”
“Wait, what?” Wren asked, shock filling her voice. “Roan is staying at your house?”
I nodded slowly, heat rising to my cheeks. “He has been since the podcasters showed up.”
“Roan doesn’t even stay at his parents’ on Christmas Eve when everyone else does,” Maddie said. “Says he can’t handle not having his own space.”
“I didn’t know,” I mumbled, the heat flaring in my face.
Grae’s eyes narrowed on me and then flew wide. “Holy cannoli, you’re banging my brother.”
31
ROAN
Gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled into the parking lot. It was already crowded with vehicles: evidence techs, police cruisers, even the coroner’s van. I scanned the surrounding forest. The dark branches and sweeping quiet were in such opposition to what currently teemed inside.
Lawson and I climbed out of our vehicles at the same time. His face looked just as grim as I was sure mine did.
“This trailhead is farther out than the other two,” I told him—something he already knew. But my true question was hidden in the words. Why?
Lawson scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m guessing the unsub is a little less brave when they have a human victim.”
My gut churned. Hadn’t our town seen enough death and darkness?
“Another hiker called it in?” I asked.
Lawson shook his head. “Forest Service. They’ve had an increased presence just like Fish and Wildlife.”
It was then that I saw the guy sitting on a log, a cop I recognized giving him a bottle of water. He wore the Forest Service uniform but couldn’t be more than twenty. Twenty-one tops. A kid. His hand shook as he took the water bottle, taking a small sip.
Lawson led us in that direction.
The kid looked up and swallowed hard. “Chief Hartley.”
“Brian. You doing okay?”
Brian’s cheeks colored. “Lost my lunch.”
Lawson lowered himself to a boulder so he was at eye level with the kid. “Did the same thing the first time I worked a case with a body. It’s completely normal.”
Brian jerked his head up and down in a staccato nod.
“Think you could walk me through it?” Lawson asked.
He was so good at this—the people stuff. Letting others know he cared. That he was with them. It was a gift I’d never have.
Brian’s throat worked as he swallowed. “My boss is having us all work different trailheads right now. We’re supposed to walk a mile and a half in and then back out, then go to the next one.”
It was smart. All the bodies had been found within a mile of the trailheads.
Brian stared down at the water bottle, his hand tightening around it. “I’d already done four others today. Nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Were there any other vehicles in the parking lot when you pulled in?” Lawson asked.
Brian shook his head.
“Did you see signs of anyone else on the trail?”
“No,” he answered. “Nothing until I saw her.”
My gut soured. I hadn’t known anything about the victim until right then. But it was a she. It made it more real then, knowing that.
A muscle in Brian’s jaw ticked. “It was so bad. Never seen anything like it. Just…awful.”
Lawson squeezed the kid’s shoulder. “Need you to think really hard. When you were walking back out, did you see anything?”
“I-I don’t know. I was kind of in a daze. Had to step off the trail to puke. Made the call on my sat phone. And then I just…waited. I almost thought maybe I’d imagined it. Like I got dosed with something and was hallucinating.”
I’m sure he wished that was the case. Poor kid would have nightmares for the rest of his life. He’d signed up to work in the wilderness, not discover dead bodies.
Lawson gave him another squeeze. “We’ve got mental health services. Want you to take advantage of that.”
Brian looked up. “I don’t need—”
“Do it,” my brother urged. “You don’t want something like this getting a hold. Don’t want to start looking to booze—or worse—to dull the memories. Face it. Get help. Get healthy.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”