The house looked the same.
White siding. Blue shutters. River trees moving behind it in the breeze.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
Wrong.
My fingers fumbled for my phone.
I backed out of the driveway without taking my eyes off the porch.
The tires crunched over gravel, too loud in the silence.
“Come on,” I whispered as the call connected. “Come on.”
Agent Michael Jones answered on the second ring.
“Felicity?”
My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “There’s a package on my porch.”
Silence.
Then everything in his voice changed.
“Where are you?”
“In my car. I didn’t get out.”
“Good. Leave. Right now.”
My heart slammed once. “Michael?—”
“Do not go inside that house.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Drive back into Eagle River.”
A bitter laugh scraped up my throat. “That’s where I just came from.”
“Listen to me,” he said. “There’s a place called the Last Stand Tavern. Go there.”
My stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no.
“Why?”
“Because I know someone there who can keep you safe until I get there.”
I already knew.
Some horrible part of me knew before he said it.
