Even though I knew pity and a twisted sense of obligation drove him to be here and to do everything he’d been doing, I wanted to ignore all the many reasons behind it and I wanted him here. The spreading warmth in my chest told me I was glad he was here. “Thank you,” I said, lowering my gaze. “For taking care of my mom’s truck and for running off the reporter.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” His hands folded around my arms and he gently uncrossed them, drawing my gaze to his. He held on to my arms, and a rapid flutter started deep in my chest. “I know that reporter showing up here had to have bothered you.”
There was no point in denying that. “He’s looked into me, Cole. He knew . . .” I cleared my throat. “He knew that the . . . Groom was trying to kill me when I escaped.”
A muscle spasmed along his jaw. “Shit.”
“How did he know that?” I whispered. “Are there records of what happened that people have access to?”
“Not easily.” He slid his hands to my upper arms and then down to my elbows in a soothing slide he repeated. “But he’s a journalist, babe. They make friends with cops and detectives. Favors get called in. Rub my back, I’ll rub yours kind of thing.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. I knew there was a mammoth-sized file on me. I’d had to talk to the police and the federal agents, and I had to tell them everything. I wasn’t even sure how much Cole knew, but I imagined it was enough, since he’d been a deputy back then, but this was different. Knowing that someone, a complete stranger who had no business reading any of that, could get access to the file sickened me.
His hands slid down again, rubbing my arms. “I wish there was something I could say that would change that.”
A weak smile formed on my lips. “This was bound to happen. It’ll probably happen again. I should get used to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
My gaze lifted to his and I inhaled softly. His eyes searched mine as his hands continued to move over my arms. It would be so easy to just stand there and forget about everything for a few blissful seconds, but there was something I remembered that I needed to talk to him about.
I bit on my lip and glanced at the stairwell. Mom would be busy for a little bit. “Can you . . . stay for a couple of minutes?”
His eyes warmed. “Of course.”
The next breath I took was shaky, and I stepped away, slipping out of his grasp to lead him to the sitting room. I sat near the fireplace and he took a seat next to me. I kept my voice low as I talked, just in case my mother or the Mattersons roamed into the room.
“You asked me to think of anyone who might be upset about me returning home, and I’ve been trying to think of someone, but I’ve been coming up empty-handed,” I told him, and he shifted toward me, one arm resting on the arm of the chair. “But it was something the reporter—Striker—said that made me think of someone.”
“Okay.” His body was on alert. “That’s good. At least that asshole was useful for something.”
Despite the topic of conversation, I grinned. “Mayor Hughes.”
Cole’s brows flew up. “Come again?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but this whole thing is crazy. Every part of it.” I slid my hands over my knees. “Miranda and I went out to dinner Monday night with Jason. Mayor Hughes was there, and he came up to me. He wasn’t exactly rude, but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled with me being back here. He made some kind of comment about me talking to the press and basically was worried I was going to drag back up everything that had happened.”
“Did he say anything else to you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing except he did know I was coming home. Mom apparently mentioned it at a chamber of commerce meeting.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “That also means anyone at that meeting could’ve overheard your mom telling the mayor you were coming home.”
“True.” My hands stilled. “Or it could mean we’re reading way too much into this, and both things were freaky occurrences.”
Cole dropped his hand. “Do you really believe that, Sasha?”
God, I wanted to, so very badly, but instinct was telling me a different story. “I—”
Cole suddenly held up his hand and then twisted in his seat, toward the front of the inn. I followed his gaze, and a second later, Cole proved he had supersonic hearing.
A young man walked in, his hands twisting the bill of a baseball cap. The flannel he wore was wrinkled and his brown hair disheveled, appearing as if he spent hours shoving his fingers through it. “Excuse me,” he said, his brown eyes darting around the room. “I’m looking for Mrs. Keeton.”
“She’s busy right now.” I rose, realizing Cole had already done the same. “I’m her daughter. Can I help you?”
His fingers stilled, knuckles bleached as white as his complexion. “My name is Ethan—Ethan Reed. My girlfriend works here.”
The name was familiar. “Angela?”
He nodded. “Is she here today?”
I shook my head. “No, she didn’t show up for work. We thought maybe she was sick.”
Ethan’s fingers started moving again, twisting the stiff material of the cap. “She’s not sick. At least I don’t think she is, but she didn’t come home from class last night,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “She hasn’t been home at all. Angela’s missing.”
Chapter 12
She’s missing.
Those two words were haunting, the worst kind of thing for someone to hear. You immediately wanted to spring into action, start scouring the whole entire state, checking every back road and busting down every door, but the enormity of the situation was a punch in the gut, leaving you feeling utterly helpless.
It was the first time I’d heard the words spoken about someone I knew personally, but I knew what it was like to be on the other side.
The one who was missing.
Seeing the turmoil on Ethan’s face, watching him pace, his fingers continually twisting around the bill of his cap, I knew it wasn’t easy not knowing what had happened to your loved one.
All I had to do was talk to my mother or Cole to confirm that.
“She’s never not come home or missed work.” Ethan flinched as he spoke the words. “I’ve called her and called her, about two dozen times. She’d never not answer.”
Cole immediately took charge of the situation, asking Ethan, “Have you contacted the police?”
He shook his head. “She hasn’t been gone twenty-four hours and—”
“There’s no waiting period when someone is missing and you have reasonable belief that they are, in fact, missing. You can thank poorly researched movies for that shitty misconception,” Cole answered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “I’m going to call it in. The local police are going to ask a lot of questions, so be prepared for that. It’ll help if you have a picture of her available.”