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Each morning, I took note of the small details: a broken fence post that needed fixing, flowers at the newest burial in the graveyard, a stray dog that seemed to have made a new home near an abandoned barn, and the sheriff’s SUV sometimes parked at odd angles near various houses. Little things, but important—signs of life and movement, and I made it my business to stay aware.
Today, as I reached my usual vantage point overlooking Whisper Ridge, I paused to catch my breath. The view never got old, and today, the streets were shrouded in the early morning mist. From here, I could see everything—the quiet streets, the fields stretching out to the mountain, and the occasional figure moving about, starting their day.
I spotted the sheriff’s SUV heading south at speed, and I wondered what criminal was causing mischief enough to get Neil’s normally sensible driving style to switch. I watched it until it was out of view, my thoughts drifting to the man himself. He was a complex, intriguing man who somehow, with me, had a quick temper and sharp tongue that drove me fucking mad. Yes, there was mutual respect between us, an unspoken understanding, but even after the hottest sex of my entire freaking life, he was a closed book, revealing only enough to keep me guessing. It wasn’t as if we’d hooked up again in the week since the landslip, but that was just as much on me.
He had a way of knowing things without saying much. His eyes always seemed to be two steps ahead of his words. Neil was a puzzle to me. He was intriguing, definitely. It made him interesting, and that scared me.
The SUV vanished around a bend, and I turned back toward my apartment, my mind still churning with thoughts of the gun that might or might not have been buried under the landslip when the walls collapsed. It could stay there forever if the bones and the cases returned as nothing, but if there was a dig? If someone wanted to search the area in more detail?
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
The run back was a blur, my body moving on autopilot while my brain sifted through the fragments of information I’d collected. The gun that had killed the cult leader, Callum Prince. The shooter, Rachel Lennox, and then her brother Micah, the man who was willing to take the fall to protect his family.
I’ll fix this. Whatever happens.
Once home, I peeled off my damp clothes and headed for the shower. The hot water was a welcome relief, washing away the chill of the morning and the hint of tension that had settled in my muscles despite the run. Afterward, with a towel wrapped around my waist, I went to the spare room.
This space was where I kept all my research on the cult that had taken my cousin, everything I had on the Lennox Ranch and family, and most importantly, the security I had around Quinn. I sat down at the desk and powered up my laptop. The encrypted files glared back at me. I entered the passcode and watched the file open, revealing a labyrinth of documents, photos, and notes.
Each piece of information was a thread, and I thought everything was quiet now. The cult was no more. Rachel was safe, married to Scott, and back home with her brother. Quinn was married to his Levi, and happy since falling in love and having the pressure released from him when he stepped away from the city and gave away most of his money.
This gun thing, though? That put a kink in matters. The cult, the gun, and Micah/Rachel were my focus right now, and I had feelers out for what kind of autopsies had been done on any of the bodies found after the fire at thecompound. I knew most of the evidence had been dealt with superficially—one of the young men at the compound had been a senator’s son, and a ton of things had been buried. Still … what was on file? What could I find out? I sifted through new data, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I cross-referenced details and updated timelines.
As I delved deeper, I couldn’t shake the feeling this might raise red flags. Maybe I should go directly to the senator and tell him what had happened—it was always good to have a politician in my pocket—but then that would expose me and make someone aware of my every move, which could shine a spotlight on Whisper Ridge. It was a paranoid thought but not unfounded, given the nature of the cult and the way things had been covered up. I had to be more careful now. The missing gun was a reminder the stakes were high, and one wrong move could open a can of worms that needed to stay shut.
An hour passed in a blur, but I still didn’t have autopsy information, and that meant questions remained unanswered.
I leaned back in my chair and glanced at the clock. I needed coffee and breakfast, and then maybe I’d visit my friendly neighborhood sheriff and mess with him a little. Poor Neil wouldn’t know what hit him, particularly when I held him against a wall and kissed him into tomorrow.
I’d let him stay away far too long. Seven days too long.
I would track him down as soon as he returned to town from wherever he’d been so early.
But first, as my belly reminded me, I needed breakfast.Plus, coffee for the win, and I headed to my usual corner booth at the diner.
“Morning,” Noah said with a wave, already turning to get me coffee. “The usual?”
“Please.”
He passed me a mug. “Go sit.”
Nursing my coffee, I watched as the drizzle became more. It wasn’t quite as bad as the storm we’d had, but it was heavy and so damn wet for late September, turning Whisper Ridge into a small sea of mud and puddles.
Noah placed a plate of bagels with everything in front of me, and I fell on it like a lion on a fresh kill. The man was a genius with bacon and eggs.
“Top up?” he asked, and I nodded, chewing on a mouthful of bacon and watching the black stuff fill my empty mug. “What the hell?” Noah asked with exasperation, and I glanced up, but he wasn’t talking to me. He was commenting on the two boys loitering outside, huddled together under the awning, and staring in at us. He gestured for them to come in, but they shook their heads.
Even through the blur of raindrops, I recognized them: Laurie and Archie, their body language all too familiar. Heads bent together, they were talking, and they glanced at the diner every so often. I took another sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving them. They were up to something, and it wasn’t just a casual chat in the rain.
Whatever they were planning, Archie was the ringleader, no doubt about it. Always the first to come up with some harebrained scheme, with Laurie taggingalong, hesitant but loyal. They had an uncanny knack for finding trouble, and this morning seemed no exception.
I took another sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving them. The boys’ coats were shiny wet, and they shivered in the chilly wind.
On their third glance towards the diner, Noah decided enough was enough, demanding they come inside. Laurie and Archie’s faces lit up with relief, and they bolted for the door, tumbling in like enthusiastic puppies. They brought the storm with them, rainwater dripping from their clothes and a gust of wind following them in, causing the chimes to jangle.
“Hey, boys,” Noah greeted. “Who wants to tell me what’s going on?”
They looked at each other, then at Noah, then back at me, their faces flushed from the cold and the excitement of their dash inside. Laurie spoke first, his voice a mix of guilt and determination. “We were just … talking.”
