Page 7 of Knox

“Check what out?”

“Your car. Make sure no one tampered with it.” I climbed out before she could argue.

The Audi looked clean and well maintained. No flat tires. No broken windows. I circled the vehicle slowly, checking beneath the chassis, looking for anything out of place. Everything seemed fine, but something about this whole situation had my instincts firing.

A woman was followed on a trail like one where another woman disappeared three weeks prior. She mentioned a VW bus that matched the description of a vehicle seen near the site of a previous disappearance. And she just happened to end up at my mother’s shop, where my mother had been investigating these exact disappearances.

That was a lot of coincidences.

I returned to the Jeep. Sloane was staring at her car like it might bite her.

“Are you okay to get home?” I asked. “You want me to follow you?”

She deliberated, then shook her head. “No, I’m okay now. Thank you.”

“Stay safe. Don’t go anywhere alone.” I pulled out my phone. “Give me your number. If anything else happens, if you see that VW bus again, if you feel like someone’s watching you—call me immediately.”

She recited her number without question, and I added it to my contacts. Then I sent her a text so she’d have mine.

“Thank you again.”

I dipped my chin.

Sloane climbed out of my Jeep and moved to her Audi. I waited until she was inside with the doors locked before I started my engine. Then, I followed her back toward town, keeping her car in sight, watching for any vehicles that might be tailing her.

Picking up where Mom left off with her research on the missing hikers was a nice way to honor her, and it might mean protecting Sloane Mercer from whoever had been following her on that trail. Both outcomes felt like a win. I might’ve found something real and actionable I could do to make a difference in a town my mom had loved.

She’d like that.

I’d been too late to say goodbye, but maybe I could still make it up to her.

Chapter 4

Knox

The next afternoon, I’d made little progress on packing the house, but I’d managed to shave, and that felt monumental. The sound of an approaching vehicle pulled my attention from the box I’d been staring into for the past twenty minutes, still unable to move Mom’s things into storage or give them away. I glanced through the window and smiled broadly at the sight of the dark blue pickup truck rolling into my driveway.

Archer and Colton were here.

I set down the box I’d been holding and headed for the front door, thankful for the break and the company. By the time I stepped onto the porch, Archer Stone was climbing out of the driver’s seat, rolling his shoulders and working out the kinks from the drive. At his size, no vehicle could be comfortable for long.

“You made good time,” I called.

Archer’s grin was immediate. “Colton navigated. I sped. Worked out pretty well.”

The passenger door opened and Colton O’Connor unfolded himself from the seat with considerably less grace than Archer. His pale skin was already turning pink in the late afternoon sun, and his sandy hair stuck up in about six different directions.

“Your definition of ‘worked out pretty well’ is different from mine,” Colton said. “He drives like he’s auditioning for The Fast and the Furious franchise. I think I was safer in Afghanistan.”

“Shut up.”

Colton grabbed a duffel bag from the truck bed and squinted up at the house. “This is nice.” He dragged the final word, clearly impressed. “Very beachy.”

I came down the steps and pulled Archer into a brief, hard hug. When I released him, I did the same with Colton. “It’s good to see you both. You have no idea how much.”

“You too, brother.” Archer’s expression turned serious as he studied my face. “How are you holding up?”

The question I’d been dodging for two weeks. From anyone else, I might’ve deflected. I owed these two honesty.