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She frowned at this reaction. “My Aunt Sarah. She wants me to come. But…” She sighed, releasing a long, pent-up breath.”
“Double shit.”
"What?"
“Sheriff Dawes is going to be there,” she said, reading the latest text. “He’s close with my aunt.”
“Kai too?”
“Oh… I hope not. You in?”
“Sounds awful,” Ethan replied, a bit less excited than he’d sounded before.
“Come on… partners don’t leave partners behind.”
“Why not just skip?” Ethan asked.
Rachel was wondering the same thing. But in the end, she released a long breath and simply said, "She's family."
Ethan didn’t seem to need any further explanation.
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s go have dinner. If Kai’s there, hide the knives.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The night was a blanket, thick and suffocating, as Rachel's eyes traced the outline of Aunt Sarah's log home. It squatted there, a shadow against the forest that encroached upon the edges of the reservation like an old guardian. The porch light, a dim yellow eye, seemed to flicker with silent accusation.
"Looks different at night," Rachel murmured, her voice cutting through the chorus of crickets. Rachel's fingers curled tighter around the car keys, the metal biting into her palm. "Everything does," she added, a beat too late.
"Hey." Ethan's hand found hers. His touch was warm, grounding. "We don't have to do this."
She glanced at him, the familiar lines of his face softened by the moonlight. A detective by trade, Ethan had a way of reading her silences, seeing the stories they held. But tonight, she wished he couldn't.
"Sarah is expecting us," Rachel said, but it sounded more like an apology than a reason.
"Is she?" Ethan's gaze followed hers to the house. "Or is it just that stubborn streak of yours?"
A half-smile tugged at the corner of Rachel's mouth, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe both."
"Rachel," he said, his thumb brushing the back of her hand, and then a second later, he seemed to realize what he was doing, and he jerked his fingers away.
She watched as his face flushed briefly, and he ran a hand through his tussled hair. He had wide, puppy-dog eyes, and his features were somewhere between handsome and disarmingly friendly.
She somehow felt trapped between two uncomfortable choices now.
Her heart thrummed a rapid rhythm, betraying her composure. Aunt Sarah's place, once a haven, now felt like stepping into a foreign land. Every instinct screamed for her to turn back, to flee from whatever truth waited behind those walls.
"Let's go," Rachel finally breathed out, feeling the weight of Ethan's gaze as she took a tentative step forward.
"Right behind you," he promised, and she believed him.
The gravel crunched beneath their feet, each step a deliberate march toward uncertainty. Rachel could feel the tension coiling within her, a serpent ready to strike.
The moon hung low, casting a pale glow over Aunt Sarah's log home. The shadows seemed to reach out from the darkened woods, encircling the clearing with an ominous embrace. Rachel's boots halted on the gravel as her eyes landed on the familiar bulk of Sheriff Dawes' truck. Its presence was like a stone in her stomach, unexpected and heavy.
"Looks like Dawes is here," Ethan murmured, his voice steady but eyes searching hers for a reaction.
"Great," she replied, the word sharp as flint. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms. She didn't need this—not tonight.
