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Chapter 1
The cemetery where his brother rested was a desolate place in late November. It sat upon a drab green hill surrounded by a forest of pine and birch. In the distance, Crystal Lake shimmered through skeletal tree limbs like wisps of blue silk as a cold wind drew whitecaps on the water.
Jake Edwards pulled his Jeep over to the shoulder, cut the engine, and slowly exhaled. His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly they cramped, and though he stretched them out and tried to relax, it was no use. He was wound tighter than a junkie in rehab, and he drummed a methodical beat along the dashboard as he gazed out the window.
This particular cemetery was the oldest in town, and many of Crystal Lake’s founding families were buried within its borders. Grand mausoleums and tombstones rose against the dull gray sky, painted dark like a macabre city skyline. He stared at them for several long moments, eyes hard, mouth tight, as a light rain began to fall. It was nothing more than a drizzle, really, and created a mist that hung over the cemetery, though he only had eyes for the row just beyond the large oak tree.
Row number thirty-six. Jesse’s row.
The darkness in him stirred, leaving the taste of bitterness on his tongue. He let it settle. He let it burn. Hell, these days it was the only thing that told him he was still alive—even if he did feel half-dead most of the time.
A crow flew lazily in the sky, slicing through the haze until it swooped low and settled on top of a large stone angel not far from him. It cocked its head, then turned and stared at Jake—its small beady eyes steady as it slowly blinked.
Jake held its gaze for several more seconds and then jerked his chin up as if to say Fuck you. The crow cawed, rotated its head, and flew off once more, out over the lake.
Abruptly, he turned the key and put his Jeep in gear. He continued down Lakeshore Road because he sure as hell wasn’t ready to deal with the cemetery yet.
His parents were expecting him, but first he had one more stop—a certain someone he needed to see. A certain someone he was damn sure had no desire to see him, and he didn’t blame her one bit. Not after the way he’d left things.
Jake had screwed up, and now it was time to set things right.
Five minutes later he stepped out of his Jeep and slung a worn leather bag over his shoulder as he glanced up at a small cottage set back a few hundred feet from the road. At one time it had been a carriage house and was a solid structure built entirely of large blocks of gray, weathered limestone. A simple white-spindled porch ran the length of it, with empty baskets hung at each corner, their usual treasure of deep-red geraniums long dead.
An old, rickety rocking chair moved gently on its own there, the legs squeaking as it moved back and forth, pushed either by the crisp breeze that rolled in off the lake or the ghost of Josiah Edwards, an ancestor said to haunt the woods.
Jake pulled the collar of his leather jacket up to his chin and shuddered as a strong gust of wind whipped across the still-green lawn, carrying with it the remains of dead, rotted leaves and anything else it managed to shake free.
He took a step forward, eyes narrowed, as his gaze took in an expensive Mercedes parked near the house next to a rusting and faded yellow Volkswagen. He wasn’t sure who owned the Mercedes, but the rust bucket he knew well. The ancient Beetle had been a broken-down mess when she had first bought it.
The car belonged to his sister-in-law, Raine, and in a world gone to shit, at least the car hadn’t changed.
Jake slowly perused the property. He spied a weather-beaten bench near the tree line and knew that if he took the path that led through the woods to his right, he’d end up at his parents’ home—eventually. It was still a hike, several miles to be exact, but this parcel of land, boasting an acre and a half of prime waterfront along with the stone cottage, had been severed years ago from his parents’ property. It had been a wedding present to his brother Jesse and his then-new bride, Raine.
A familiar ache crept across his chest, and for a moment he faltered, his eyes squeezed shut. He pictured the three of them, Jake, Jesse, and Raine, decked out in their wedding finery. It had rained that day, a good omen, according to some, and Raine’s dress was tattered along the hem from dancing outdoors in the mud, while his brother’s tuxedo had remained crisp and clean. Jake’s tux, however, was as ruined as the bride’s dress. They’d posed for a picture, the three of them, there by the bench beneath the ancient oak.
Jake sighed and opened his eyes, resting them once more on the empty bench. It needed a fresh coat of paint. He shook the melancholy from his mind and strode toward the house.
It had been a year and a half since he left Crystal Lake. And even though he was pretty sure Raine Edwards wanted nothing to do with him, he was going to try his best to make amends. It was the least he could do. For Raine. For Jesse.
And maybe, for himself.
He stepped up onto the porch, his eyes settling on the newly painted white trim that encased the door—a door that was no longer the green he remembered, but a deep, dark red. He heard voices inside and his gut rolled nervously. She had company. Maybe now wasn’t a good time.
His dark eyes drifted toward his Jeep. Ten seconds and he could be out of here before anyone knew better. He took a step backward, weighing his options, his jaw clenched tightly as the all-too-familiar wave of guilt, anger, and loathing washed through him. Coward.
Jake ran his fingers
through the thick mess of hair atop his head and tried to ease the tension that settled along his shoulders. He hadn’t seen Raine since the Fourth of July, well over a year ago, and they hadn’t parted on good terms. They’d both said some things…hurtful things…but he’d made everything worse by taking off for what he meant to be only a few weeks to clear his head. The few weeks had turned into months, and those months had bled into nearly a year and a half.
It had been much too long, and he still wasn’t sure he was ready to face the ghosts of his past. Yet here he stood.
Jake blew out a hot breath and reached for the door, when it was suddenly wrenched open and a bundle of gold streaked past his feet and barked madly as it did so. It was a ball of fur that ran crazily down the steps, with a chubby frame that was barely able to manage them. He stepped back, and then the puppy was forgotten as he stared down into the face that had haunted him his entire life, it seemed.
Huge round eyes the color of Crystal Lake on a stormy day widened, while the small bow mouth fell open in shock. Her skin was pale, the kiss of summer long faded, and the angles of her face were sharper, more defined. She looked fragile. And beautiful. And delicate. And…
“You cut your hair,” was all he managed to say—barely.
Her fingers twisted in the uneven, ebony ends that fell a few inches past her jaw but didn’t quite touch her shoulders. It was a reflex action, and damn if it didn’t tug on the cold strings still attached to his heart. She pulled on a long, curling piece, tucked it behind her ear, and settled her hand, tightened into a fist, against her chest.
She wore a pink T-shirt, Salem’s Lot etched across her breasts in a bold, black font. The old, worn jeans that hugged her hips looked tattered and done for, the ends rolled up past delicate ankles, leaving her feet bare, her toenails painted in chipped blue polish.
For a moment there was nothing but silence, and then she moistened her lips and exhaled slowly. “Your hair is longer than it’s ever been.”
The sound of her voice was like a returning memory, one that filled the emptiness inside and stretched thin over his heart.
He nodded, not quite knowing what to say. He’d officially left the military six months ago, and hair had been the last thing on his mind. The closely cropped style he’d sported his entire adult life was no more. Now it curled past his ears.
“It’s been…a long time.” Her words were halting, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak.
He held her gaze for a moment and then glanced away. The old wicker chair still rocked gently in the breeze, and the golden bundle of fur that had shot out of Raine’s house was sniffing the ground near his Jeep.
“Yeah,” was all Jake managed, and even that was hard.
“Nice that you made time for your father.” A touch of frost was in her voice now, and he glanced back sharply.
Awkward silence fell between the two of them as he stared down into eyes that were hard. Had he expected anything less?
