“What did you do, Gage?” It seems so ridiculous, but I know he can hear me. “I love her and I know you do too. Why won’t you let us have her?” Unable to stare at my own reflection, knowing my body had been given to another woman, my lips pressed to a stranger’s, makes me sick. “Let her love us, please. We don’t deserve it, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t accept it.”
I sigh and turn to my room to grab a clean pair of sweatpants and start picking up the aftermath of what Gage left behind. Some of the beer cans are rimmed with bright pink lipstick, increasing my shame. By the time I’m finished, my shoulders feel like they’re carrying a load of two-by-fours as the need to confess to Shyann smothers me. I take the reeking garbage bag out to dump it and find Buddy standing in the drive, alert and fixated on the dense forest.
I drop the bag into the Dumpster and step toward him, expecting him to run back to his shelter under the porch, but he stays still, his eyes trained on nothing.
“What is it, Buddy?” Maybe an elk or a deer nearby?
His head jerks to the long dirt road and he growls low.
I follow his gaze and hear it before I see it. A vehicle of some kind. My heart leaps in my chest that it could be Shyann. It’s probably close to nine o’clock at night, not too late for her to still be awake.
Headlights come into view and Buddy’s body is unmoving, a fierce growl rumbling in his throat. I approach him cautiously, risking a touch, but he’s never let me this close before. I squat and pet his head, hoping to calm him down. He spares me a quick glance and turns back to the oncoming headlights that are too low to the ground to be a pickup truck.
Disappointment settles in my chest as a sedan pulls up and parks. I stand, wishing I’d put a shirt on, as a man folds out of the driver’s side. Buddy repositions so that he’s standing at my left, his dirty fur pressed against my knee, and I scratch behind his ears.
The man walks toward me and lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Hey, there, sorry to bother you.”
“You lost?”
He steps closer and Buddy leans into me, for support or out of fear, I’m not sure.
“No, not lost, but I was hoping you could help me.” He offers his hand and it’s then I notice this guy doesn’t look like he belongs in Payson. He’s driving a city car, wearing city clothes—shirt with a collar and shorts with pleats; he’s even wearing some kind of slip-on shoe that looks like it belongs in an office, not out here in the dirt.
I shake his hand and his eyes fall on Buddy. “He friendly?”
“Don’t know. He’s never met an outsider before.” It’s not a lie, and the slight flare of fear I see in the man’s expression brings me a tiny bit of satisfaction.
He narrows his eyes, studying me. “Lucas, right?”
A burst of adrenaline speeds my pulse. How does this guy know me?
“You are . . .?”
He chuckles. “Sorry, how rude. I show up at your house and don’t even introduce myself. I’m a friend of Shyann’s. We went to college together.”
The heat of possession floods my veins at hearing her name from a man I don’t know. “Got a name?”
“Trevor Peterson.”
Trevor . . . her ex-coworker kinda ex-boyfriend.
“If you’re looking for Shy, she’s not here.”
He turns to look up the road toward Nash’s house and nods. “Yeah, I know. Spent some time with her and Nash earlier.”
My pulse races and I ball my fists.
“I was hoping you’d give me a chance to talk to you about Shyann.”
I shake my head, my body answering before my mouth can form the words. “Don’t have anything to say to you about Shy. I don’t even know you.”
“Huh . . .” He rubs his chin. “Funny, ’cause she swore you’d be happy to help us out with a little research.”
Us?
“What kind of research?”
He nods toward the house. “Mind if we go inside and talk?”
“No one’s going to hear you out here, Mr. Peterson. We’re miles from the nearest house.”
Irritation colors his expression, but I ignore it. I can’t figure out why but this guy gives me the creeps.
He swings his arm to the porch. “Mind if we have a seat?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer but shuffles through the dust and pine needles to the steps, where he drops to sit. I lean against the railing and Buddy goes back to staring blindly back into the trees.
“Here’s the thing, Lucas . . . there’s a woman in the hospital right now fighting for her life after being brutally beaten.”
Sam. My pulse pounds a little faster and I’m grateful this guy can’t see my unease.
“I know about the attack. The entire town does.”
He frowns. “Of course. Did you also know there’s a man on the loose who’s been beating women? Eight women to be exact.”
Shy had mentioned that, so I nod.
He flashes a patronizing smile. “Shyann and I are covering the story here in Payson.”
“You and Shy are . . . working together?” She never mentioned that to me, and whenever the guy’s name came up, she never spoke about him fondly. All she said was he still thought he could tell her what to do.
“We are. She’s a driven woman and she wants this job in Los Angeles—”