When Shiloh returned to the house, she was bothered to find her little sister parked on the couch in front of some reality show. In the days since they’d stumbled on that corpse out on the range, Morgan had barely budged from the house.
Leaving the mail on the kitchen counter, she stepped into the living room. “You’re not dressed, and it’s hotter than the bowels of hell in here. How can you stand it?”
Morgan scraped her wild red hair back into a high ponytail. She moved slow and cool like a cat, but the sheen of sweat on her face was a dead giveaway. “I’m watching my show.”
Hands on her hips, Shiloh stared at the girl freaking out on the TV screen. “That one is a spoiled brat.”
“She’s upset because Brandy is trying to steal her boyfriend.”
“Yeah? Well, any boy that can be stolen isn’t yours in the first place,” Shiloh said, surprised at the words of wisdom slipping from her mouth. This responsibility thing was really getting into her psyche. “Come on, let’s move. Turn this thing off and take the horses out.” Without waiting for a response, she snapped off the TV and put the remote on a high shelf. “Get dressed, and don’t forget sunscreen and a hat. You don’t want to get burned.”
“I don’t know why we’re going out when it’s even hotter out there,” Morgan muttered.
“The breeze sure beats this hot box.”
Half an hour later, they left the ranch atop two horses that seemed just as eager as Shiloh to get away. Morgan didn’t seem relieved at all by the change in venue, but at least she hadn’t fought it.
“I’m not going near those hills again,” Morgan said, lifting her chin toward the direction where they’d discovered the body.
“Fine by me. There’s plenty of land to roam out here. And here’s the thing about riding. You never go out without either Beau or me, you hear me? Never. And don’t let any strangers in the house, either.”
“You know I won’t.”
“Good.”
“Do you think the person who did that to Courtney is going to kill Addie too?”
The raw fear in Morgan’s voice made Shiloh’s jaw clench. Fear was a terrible thing for a kid; she knew that firsthand. “I sure hope not. Maybe Addie went off on her own.”
“Everyone is saying there’s a kidnapper out there.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“All my friends have been texting me.”
“Look, it’s good to be cautious in the world. We need to live smart. Watch over each other and be responsible. That’s all.”
They rode in silence for a while, and Shiloh felt herself lulled into the clear communication between woman and horse, a bond as solid as the tumbling prairie that stretched from here to the purple rock and black shale of the Wind River Mountains. It was her bliss, to be in step with these big animals. Horses had gotten her through terrible times; they were always there to carry her away from the pain, and she wanted a chance to show her sister just what a magical relief that could be, even if just for a short time.
Suddenly, Morgan broke the silence. “I can’t get that disgusting thing out of my head.”
Shiloh grimaced. “It’s awful all around. I’m sorry you went through that. My fault. One of us should have stayed back at the house with you.”
“Why do you and Beau keep saying that? I’m not a baby.”
“It’s our job to take care of you now.”
“Yeah. That means making dinner. But it doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”
Shiloh felt a chuckle at the back of her throat. It was good to have the old Morgan back again. “Beau and I are gonna steer you right, and that might involve a lot of bossing around. And as for dinner?” She held a hand up against the amber sun, low in the sky. “You’re going to have to help.”
“That’s so unfair. Who do I get to boss around?”
“I’m sure Rambo would let you teach him a few new tricks.”
As they headed back to the house, Morgan’s snort of annoyance was somehow reassuring. Maybe Shiloh and Beau had a shot at doing this right. She hoped so. With their little sister’s future in their hands, they couldn’t afford another screwup. That meant keeping her safe from whatever bastard was out there torturing women like Courtney Pearson and making young girls like Addie Donovan disappear.
Back at the barn, they tended to the horses and decided on hamburger hash for dinner. Shiloh set Morgan up at the kitchen counter, chopping onions and tomatoes as she sat down to sort through the mail. A farrier’s bill for two hundred and ten dollars for shoeing two horses and a gas bill for eighty dollars. Not too bad.
A slim golden envelope caught her attention, mostly because it had no address or postmark on it, though her name was printed on it in block letters. It must have been hand-delivered.
She opened the flap and found a single sheet inside—a black-and-white photo of...
Three naked girls.
What the hell? Biting back a curse, she snatched up the photo and strode into the next room before Morgan noticed.
It had been taken at night, eerily lit by an old-fashioned flash camera. There she stood in all her sixteen-year-old glory, breasts perky, arms lifted as if trying to capture the balmy night air. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion, and for a moment she tasted that same fear that had rippled up her spine that night.
The photographer had caught her alongside Ruth and Kat, standing on the dock that hot summer night fifteen years ago.
The night Ruth had been raped.
And now—fifteen years later—the monster had hand-delivered this photo to her mailbox? A shudder ran through her at the knowledge of nearby danger. Like the adrenaline that shot through you when you realized you’d escaped death by a mere fraction of an inch.
The bastard was out there, watching, and he wanted something from her. Fifteen years she’d been away—fifteen!—and he was still trying to get a piece of her? The man was a pure psycho.
Shoving the photo back into the envelope, Shiloh grabbed her cell phone from her back pocket to call the sheriff and then paused. Crap. Anything she told them would give up Ruth’s secret.
She was stuck—a walking target. And he was out there, a predator waiting to pounce. Setting her teeth, she marched out to the porch and shoved the photo under a stack of her clothes. Nothing she could do about it right now but stay safe and keep an eye on Morgan.
Kat, she thought. She could give the photo to Kat . . . may-be . . . but later . . .
But for now she would watch out for her little sister like a mother bear. And if this psycho came anywhere near them, her claws would emerge. She would rip his head off.
*
The air-conditioner in the window of Ruth’s office made a churning noise as it struggled to cool off the room. The bright blue Wyoming sky and hundred-degree temperatures outside did nothing to brighten the sad conversation taking place within. Debra explained that her husband, a stoic, refused to come along because he didn’t go in for counseling. “He’s one of those who thinks you suck it up and handle your own problems.”