A shaky laugh escaped. Seeing ghosts, Pete would say.
Charlie found the house key tucked inside the light fixture near the front door. Pete kept it there although he rarely locked his doors.
She tried the knob and realized someone had secured the entrance. Charlie slipped the key into the lock. The door squealed open with more difficulty than she remembered.
The scent of stale ash from the last fire her uncle had lit assaulted her senses. Charlie flipped on the lights.
She froze just inside the door at the sight that unfolded in front of her.
The place had been ransacked. Drawers had been tossed onto the floor. Cushions removed from the sofas and chairs. Pete’s collection of books strewn across the living room like soldiers killed in battle.
Someone had been here other than Ryan.
Charlie’s heart stuttered. She immediately stepped back. Slamming into the wall, she bit back a scream and reached for her cell phone while her frightened gaze latched onto the fireplace above the mantle.
Four words had been carved into the wooden wall above the fireplace.
Leave the past buried.
She sucked in a breath. This was more than just someone vandalizing the place. It was a threat, and it was personal.
Directed at her.
The front door stood open as she’d left it. Over her panicked heartbeat she heard something far more disturbing. Footsteps crunching along the same path she’d traversed. Someone else was here. With the door open, there was no time to hide. Her feet felt glued in place even as she thought about fleeing.
With her heart in her throat, Charlie retrieved the handgun her uncle Pete had given her when she moved away. She aimed it at the figure stepping up on the porch.
“Whoa, there, Charlie it’s just me.”
She’d recognize that voice anywhere and it was the last person she wanted to see right now. Yet he was the one person who could help.
Another one of her past ghosts watched her with unreadable eyes.
Ryan McCabe. Tall and handsome as all get out stood at the edge of the porch. His Stetson was covered in snow. His deputy badge visible beneath the navy-blue, winter-weight patrol jacket.
Charlie put away her handgun, but her pulse didn’t return to normal at the sight of him. Just the opposite. She could have sworn Ryan would be able to hear it from where he stood.
“You scared me.” Her hand drifted to cover her chaotic heart.
“Sorry. I was driving by and saw the lights on.” At six-two, Ryan had towered over her five-foot-five frame for years. Dark brown hair cut short but messy from the wind. Stormy-gray eyes bored into hers, seeing more than she wished. The stubbly beard and mustache suited him.
She remembered the state of the house and the warning engraved on the wall and her gaze drifted past Ryan’s shoulder to the trees behind him. “Did you see anyone?”
His quizzical expression darkened while his brow furrowed in a familiar look. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Someone’s broken into the place. It’s been ransacked.”
“You’re kidding?” His shock was evident as his muscles tensed. “I keep an eye on the place. I stopped by yesterday and everything was locked up.”
She turned back to the disheveled living space. “Someone’s been here and they left a message.”
“Was anything missing?”
Charlie froze. She hadn’t thought about looking. She’d been too terrified. “I don’t know.”
“Wait here.” Ryan’s jaw tightened as he stepped past her with his hand on his holster.
All sorts of awful thoughts raced through her mind as she waited for him to return.
