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Me- Good. Tell Gidge I love her.

I hit send before I can change my mind, and drop the phone into my lap.

Across the pasture, Bruce lifts his head from grazing and neighs. The mountains are turning gold in the late afternoon sunlight. Somewhere inside the house I can hear Tripp laughing.

The sound makes me smile. For the first time in days, things feel normal. Then my phone buzzes again. I assume it's Hunter.

It isn't.

The name on the screen instantly wipes the smile from my face. For a second, I genuinely wonder if I'm hallucinating. The message sits there waiting. I should ignore it; instead, curiosity gets the better of me.

Snaildick- Things finally calmed down here. Come back, baby. Miss you.

A laugh escapes me, not because it's funny, because apparently, Peter is still Peter.

I type back before I can stop myself.

Me- Lose my number.

The response comes so quickly, it feels like he had the response typed and ready.

Snaildick- Damn. Still got that attitude.

I roll my eyes.

Me- Seriously. Fuck off.

A few moments pass before another message appears.

Snaildick- Come on, baby. You know you wanna come home and ride on my bike instead of some shit-smelling horse.

I stare at the screen. My first instinct is to be annoyed, next is figuring out the most creative way possible to insult him. But before I type anything, something stops me. My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I read the message again, and the amusement drains away slowly.

Peter knows about the horses.

I sit a little straighter on the porch swing, and my eyes move back to the message.

Peter knows about the horses.

Which means he knows where I am. My stomach tightens. Hunter never told anybody where I was going. The entire point of coming here was secrecy, making sure nobody knew where I disappeared to.

Hunter barely gave me details when he dropped me off. He sure as hell didn't hand them out to Peter.

The porch suddenly feels colder. My gaze drifts across the pasture toward the barn, the chicken coop, and back to the house. All the places from those photographs.

My pulse starts climbing.

Because Peter shouldn't know enough to make that joke. Not unless he knows exactly where I am.

The swing comes to a stop beneath me. For a while, I just sit there staring at my phone while a sick feeling settles deeper and deeper into my stomach.

Then I stand and storm inside, and the screen door bangs shut behind me as I head for the kitchen.

Because suddenly, I'm not thinking about Peter's text anymore. I'm thinking about the fact that Hunter wouldn’t have told anyone where I went.

Which means somebody else did.

"What happened?" Clint asks immediately.