I don’t answer her. How can I tell a total stranger that the reason I turned in my badge was the trauma of losing my partner and best friend in a shootout? How could anyone understand the scars left after watching the life in your partner’s eyes fade away, the fear and pain before they go dark?Empty.
But life moves on, doesn’t it? There is a grand funeral, there are tears from his widow and children and his colleagues. There are constant looks, questions left unvoiced.
How did you escape the shootout uninjured?
Why did the guy with a family have to die?
Why did you break protocol and split up?
I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t walk every day into work and see my partner’s empty desk, soon to be occupied by someone else. Couldn’t drive through the city without hearing his voice whining about traffic and missing breakfast. Couldn’t entertain the thought of another taking his place, starting all over again.
Couldn’t trust myself to keep people safe either.
So, I quit.
“Mr. Donovan?”
I turn to the agent, surprised to realize we’re already standing next to her car. I carefully force my face blank as I extend my hand to hers. “Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Carter.”
“Um, of course.” There are questions in her eyes as she shakes my hand, and I curse myself for letting even the slightest of emotion show. To her credit, she swallows back whatever it is she was going to say as she turns to the house. “It’s a big place for one guy.” I don’t respond. “Don’t you think you’ll be lonely out here by yourself, without any neighbors for miles?”
“I prefer it that way.”
Her eyes move to my car and the nerves return. “I suppose you won’t be alone after all.”
“No, I won’t.”
With one last wary look at my car, she slips into hers and, with a wave, drives off. I watch her car disappear before walking to mine and opening the back passenger door to let out the only family I have left. The only company I need.
My eyes drift back to the banner with its bold colors and massive letters, and for a moment, I consider what this new beginning will bring.
“Welcome home,” I mutter. It doesn’t feel like home, not the kind of place that comes with warmth and laughter. I doubt it ever will.
Chapter One
Rosalie
The cracked asphalt stretches beneath my worn sneakers as I step out of the Uber and stare at the quiet street. The neighborhood looks ordinary enough at first glance—small houses, trimmed yards, a few cars parked along the curb—but something about it still makes my stomach tighten. Maybe it’s the heat pressing down on me, or the way Kristin’s car sits abandoned in front of the pale blue house across the street. The curtains are drawn, the porch is empty, and everything is still.
Too still.
My knuckles are white where I grip the strap of my bag, pulling it tight against my chest like a shield. Nothing about the street screams danger, and maybe that makes it worse. It looks like the kind of place someone could convince herself was safe enough in broad daylight. It could be a postcard for the average American home.
But Kristin is nowhere to be seen, and no one has heard from her. That isn’t like her.
I hate this. I freaking hate this so much. It reminds me too much of being young and scared and knowing something was wrong but not knowing how to fix it. I shouldn’t be here. In fact, I should turn back around and head straight to the cops and…
“And what?”a voice at the back of my head mocks. “What are the cops going to do?”
Nothing.
The fact is, the cops aren’t going to help me find my friend. Heck, they’re probably going to laugh me out of the station. Atwenty-one-year-old girl staying out for one night isn’t exactly going to have them up in arms, racing to find her. They probably wouldn’t even consider her missing. Not really. Not when she’s twenty-one and there’s no proof she didn’t leave on her own.
Hence the reason I’m standing outside the last place Kristin’s phone pinged on the location tracking app we share.
I shiver despite the desert heat, clutching my bag closer to my chest as I question the wisdom of coming here alone. But who else was I going to call? Kristin is the only friend I have. The only family we both have left.
I nearly jump when I hear the distant rumble of a truck, its engine fading as it passes the end of the street. My heart thumps frantically against my ribs, each beat a drumroll of anxiety.
