Page 89 of Glimmer in the Darkness

“You’re so certain you know how everybody in Coventry will feel. The arrogance of that—”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea how it feels to be the outsider.”

“There you go, playing the victim card. You were always so good at that. Here I thought you’d matured. You wiped off all the stupid makeup, you wear colors other than black”—he waved toward her pale pink tank top—“but you’re still the same scared, walled off girl you were a decade ago.”

“I’m not. I just know what I know. I know how small-town people are.”

“Small town, small minds? Is that what you think? Of me? Of my family?”

“No. Not you. But everybody else—”

“You’ve been gone ten years, Cassidy. We’re not in high school anymore. The people of this town are good and decent and kind. They assumed you were guilty because there was a lot of evidence pointing toward you. And because you took off. If you’d stayed—”

“I know, okay. I know I should’ve stayed. I know I shouldn’t have run, but I did. And now it’s too late to undo it. I can never fix what I did.” No matter what happened with Ella, no matter if they caught the killer, no matter what, she couldn’t fix her mistakes. No amount of apologies would ever bring Addison back. Nothing would ever restore Ella’s innocent faith in her safety, even if they rescued her. Nothing would ever return Hallie safely to her family. A sob rose with the horrible truth, and she dropped her gaze to the ground, tried to pull it back before the tears started. If they started, she wasn’t sure they’d ever end.

Maybe she and James could save Ella and prove Cassidy’s innocence, but she would never be free to come home.

And James would never leave this place.

She could go back to Seattle, tell everybody there the horrible truth, fess up to the lies she’d lived for a decade, and then, hopefully, resume her life.

It had been good enough before. But, now that she’d seen James again, now that she’d felt his arms around her, felt his lips on hers, that old life would never be enough.

“Hey.” He pulled her against his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Though she should push him away, begin the process of separating herself now, she let him comfort her, savoring the feeling of being in his arms.

He leaned back, tipping her chin up. “I don’t want you to go back to Seattle.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“You might be right about the people in Coventry. The last couple of days have shown me that old prejudices die hard, and people who buck against them do so to their peril. But I believe that, when faced with new facts, the people of this town will accept them. I believe the people of Coventry will realize that they were wrong to accuse you. Maybe, if you give them the chance, they’ll accept you and care for you, just like I do.” His lips tipped up at the corners. “Well, maybe not just like.” He closed the space between them and kissed her. Too soon, he ended it. “Either way, you and I aren’t done. I’m not ready to say good-bye to you again, Cassidy. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”

She allowed him to pull her close again, tried to believe his words. Wanted so badly for them to be true.

He pulled back. “We need to—”

“I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He took her hand and squeezed. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Cassidy. You’re here, risking everything to save a little girl whose father thinks you’re a killer. Whatever happens here, you’re a hero, and if we survive this, I’m going to make sure everybody knows it.

A hero. Not even close.

Two more hours they trekked up the mountain. This route was different from the one they’d ascended the other day and the one they’d descended the day before. Hills, boulders, rocks, and trees, trees, and more trees.

As they climbed, their conversation dwindled. The air seemed to thicken with tension, and not from the conversation they’d just had. If James was right, they were closing in on the killer.

James paused, checking his GPS, then found a rock and tugged her down beside him, facing the hillside they’d just climbed. “We need a break.”

She smiled, unwilling to speak and show how winded she was. Winded and sore, and her head was pounding. She dug some Tylenol out of her pack and took them with a swig of water.

“We’re a couple hundred yards out,” he said. “I lost cell service about an hour ago. Down should be faster than up, though. If something happens, run until you get service and call 911.”

“What? No. I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re staying in this spot”—he pointed to the ground at their feet—“right here. Hidden from above, not too far to find service. Not too close to the killer.”

She turned to face him. “Forget it. I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”