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SEVEN
With visions of waterfalls, shooters, and Alex Knight dancing in her head, Mackenzie entered the eerily dark and quiet cabin through the garage door. Alex set her broken bike against the wall.
The detectives had driven them to a nearby gas station, of all places, to take their statements. Considering the shooter had escaped, the woods remained dangerous. After Alex and Mackenzie gave their statements, Detectives Tanner and Campbell—Jack and Nathan—dropped Mackenzie off at the Hanson cabin. Alex had refused a ride back to where he was staying and had gotten out at the cabin too. The county vehicle steered away and left him behind, along with the bikes.
“Nice having friends in high places,” she said. “But seriously, Alex, I’m worried about you taking the trail. Plus, I mean ... aren’t you exhausted? How far do you have to go?”
She couldn’t ride a bike anywhere right now. Her legs still shook from the trauma of being targeted by a shooter. Alex seemed to have kept his composure in the face of danger.
“A few miles. I’m staying at a cabin myself. It’s nothing as fancy as this spread, though.”
He gave her that look again, intensity pouring from his gaze as he stared at her as though he could read her mind. “What?” she asked.
“What aren’t you telling the police? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t know why someone shot at us, okay?” She wanted to get into the house and have a few moments of quiet before she talked to Nora. She couldn’t put that off any longer. “Maybe they were shooting at you.”
And that would make more sense—the battle she was expecting was on a different plane. The digital plane.
“Why’d you come to Montana?” He crossed his arms, which somehow made his biceps look bigger and his shoulders broader.
“I don’t know. Why are you here?”
He arched a brow. Touché ... He didn’t say it, but she read his expression all the same.
“I guess we both have our secrets.” A half grin split his cheek.
He got on his bike and rode around in circles on the drive next to the garage. “When you’re ready to talk, Mackenzie, or if you need me for any reason, call me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“I put it in your phone.”
Guess that meant he had hers too. “Stalk people much?” She hoped her grin let him know she was only teasing.
Sort of.
Anyone else, and she wouldn’t welcome the intrusion. But this was Alex—the guy who could warm her insides with a smile. She had never forgotten that roguish grin and those brooding gray eyes.
She watched Alex’s muscled legs as he pedaled away down the long drive. He would catch the trailhead down the road and cut across the foothill to his cabin. She wanted to tell him why she was here, but she had to tell her sister first. Because everything could hinge on her sister’s response. Mackenzie really had nothing much to share in the way of evidence. Nothing the police could use, and they could muddy the waters for her—waters she needed to dive into and waters she needed to be clear when she took that dive.
Still standing in the garage, she stared out at the woods that would be growing dark soon. Nora had texted to ask if she was okay—after all, she’d been gone for hours. Mackenzie responded that she would return within the hour.
And here she was.
She hit the button to close the garage door and headed into the house, entering the mudroom and then the kitchen. The house felt cold and lonely, belying the warm hues of cedar and pine. She grabbed a glass of water at the sink. She had to find a way to talk to Nora. The conversation seemed unimportant in light of Rowan’s death, but then again ... it could be vitally important.
Like a stranger—an intruder, really—she crept through the house that had briefly been her home. It was big, bold, and beautiful—a testament to her father’s business acumen and dream. A dream he couldn’t fully experience now that he was gone, but Rowan—God rest his soul—had taken on that mantle and lifted the company to heights Dad could have only dreamed about. And those goals had been achieved partially because she had done as Rowan demanded. “Get far, far away. If you love Dad, you’ll leave him alone.”
Grief could destroy her if she let it. All the wasted time she’d spent not in Dad’s life. Protecting him from what? Maybe if she’d stayed close to the family, been part of his business, he would somehow still be alive. But Mackenzie was grasping at blades of grass that had withered.
She thought back to when she came into the house. Nora’s vehicle wasn’t in the garage or the drive. Perfect. In Rowan’s office, Mackenzie stared at the empty room.
He’d run her off and seemed to have no mercy to offer. Couldn’t forgive her. He’d hammered her with guilt until she had to escape, so she fled and stayed far away. Dad was a workaholic—which is what had driven her to search for companionship with the wrong people—so it wasn’t like her absence created a great hole in their lives.
The image of Rowan’s lifeless body flashed in her mind like a press photograph.
Rowan had had heart issues at the young age of forty-two, ten full years older than Mackenzie. He’d taken medications and had a pacemaker—and had been super active like Dad. No one would have even known about his condition.
