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“Good thing for you.” She tensed as they fishtailed before he corrected them.
“Good thing for us. You’d have us in a ditch or doing a one-eighty.”
“Just watch the road, Ace.”
He grinned into the rapidly advancing night. Their visibility was for shit, but at least he had something to concentrate on. Instead of wondering what kind of information Bishop had found with DeSalvo.
If anything at all.
Logan knew he was loathe to discuss his own relationship with Aimee, so he couldn’t imagine that a kid from her past would be any different. But in his gut, he knew something was there.
He was the only one, of all the men she’d been involved with, that had disappeared for a length of time. The rest had been taken care of quietly. Probably paid off to look the other way.
He just couldn’t figure out how no one had come forward about the way she got obsessive. Was it just like him? A guy didn’t want to own up to a stalker?
Or did she only go over the edge with certain people?
“Oh, finally.”
The trio of boulders that made up the fork in the road up to their cabin came into view. It was a snowy set of boulders, but he knew that formation as well as the view from their wraparound porch.
Their tires spun a little as he downshifted for traction against the snow. If they stayed up at the cabin any longer, he was going to have to get chains on the tires to get through all the ruts and the snow.
For now, he finally got to the semi-flat gravel driveway at the edge of the cabin. He reached into the backseat for the two of the bags of groceries and Izzy took the other. They trudged up the incline to the front door, six inches of snow already piling up on the porch stairs.
Izzy’s winter hat was covered in white crystals just two minutes out of the truck. The stomped inside and he flipped back the hood of his parka.
“Fiona?” Izzy called out. “That’s weird. She usually comes out as soon as we drive up.”
Logan’s spine tingled. The room was shrouded in shadow. The sun had gone down as they were traversing up the twisty roads to the cabin. A sharp bark had him hold his arm out against Izzy entering the house.
“Wait.”
“What?” She clutched his arm, her voice instantly going tight. “Logan?”
He took a step back and flicked on the light.
Every single surface in the room had a crystal vase with blood red dahlias and white roses bundled with a gold card holder with a photo.
The kitchen counter, the dining room table, the end tables—even the small stand in the entryway. Izzy’s fingers dug through the down of his coat with a bruising force.
“Fiona?”
“Wait.”
She pushed past him and followed the sound of the barking.
“Dammit, Iz.” He chased after her. In the hallway to the bathroom, there were more flowers. Christ, they were everywhere.
He was moving too fast to look at the photographs, but they looked like them. His fingers were locked into fists, his belly cramping. Izzy opened the door and Fiona came racing out, circling her.
She was stressed from being locked up, but didn’t seem to have a mark on her.
Fiona barked like crazy when a stranger even came near the house until Isabella told her they were a friend. How the hell had someone gotten into the house?
Bad enough, they’d gotten in and convinced the dog to follow them.
What in the fuck?
