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Her blood turned cold.
A circular scar with intricate loops marred the inside of his arm inches below his elbow. The skin was raised, the symbol an eerie white. The same scar she’d seen on the woman in the grave yesterday. Hard knots looped together in her chest, pushing against her organs and making it hard to breathe. Chet’s voice droned on, sounding far away in her ringing ears.
Why did he have a matching mark carved on his arm? What could it mean? Who put it there? Could Chet be the one who branded himself, then used the same disgusting symbol on the women he killed then buried not far from his own home?
Fear strangled her, and she grabbed hold of the door handle. Preparing to launch herself from the moving car if necessary.
“Mia?”
She forced down the saliva pooling in her throat. Her heart pumped wildly, making her head spin.
“Mia! What’s wrong?”
Licking her lips, she tore her gaze from his arm and met his confused stare.
Red slashed across his face, and he tightened his jaw. “Just ask the damn question.”
The gentleness from before was gone from his gruff tone, and she flinched. “Wh—what do you mean?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He dipped his chin toward his arm. “You saw it. Now spill whatever questions are churning in that brain of yours.”
She kept her hand curved around the handle. “Where did you get that mark?”
“My guess is the same man who put it on my arm is the one who killed the girl you found. The same man who killed my family.”
Her mouth went dry, and shame heated her ears. Her mind had pinned him as a killer, a monster, someone to be afraid of. She’d never imagined he was a victim, or that something so horrible could have happened to him. She waited for him to say more, to explain, but the suffocating silence came back.
Chet pulled into the driveway that led to the duplex.
She bit her lip, determined not to ask more questions. If he wanted to tell her more, he would. And something so traumatic wouldn’t be easy for anyone to talk about. Especially Chet.
As Chet parked the truck, a man stood from a wooden rocking chair on the porch. Her insides twisted as he waited and watched. His stare latched onto the truck, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.
Mia steeled her resolve. Chet might not be the monster she’d imaged a few moments before, but she had no clue who this man was. She’d run like hell if she had to, do whatever it took to survive.
* * *
Chet bitback a groan at the unexpected visitor. Eddy Truly was a nice enough guy, but Chet’s patience was running pretty damn low. But he’d grab hold of any excuse to get some distance from Mia. The mix of shock and panic on her face when she’d spotted his scar had set him on edge. Discussing his past was low on his list of fun tasks, but he’d assumed it’d come up with Mia after what happened yesterday.
Now that he’d blurted out a part of his pain, he wanted to get as far away from the pity that swam in her dark eyes as possible.
Without sparing Mia another glance, he dashed out of the truck. The rain pelted him, but the coolness of the water centered him—brought him back to reality. Back to the present moment. Pounding up the steps, he ran a hand through his strands to shake out the moisture. “Hey, Eddy. What’s up?”
Eddy extended a hand, waiting for Chet to place his palm in his before giving it a shake. “Just checking in.”
The sound of a car door slamming echoed through the air. Mia ran through the sheet of rain, landing on the wooden planks of the porch with soaked hair and wide eyes.
“You must be Mia,” Eddy said, aiming a small smile her way. He dipped his chin but kept his hands to his side.
She pinched her smooth brow together and nodded. “I am. And you are?”
The end of her sentence shook with what sounded like fear, and Chet mentally slapped himself for not telling Mia who Eddy was as soon as he spotted him on the porch. After everything she’d been through, a stranger waiting for her to get home must have been alarming.
“This is Bobby’s nephew, Eddy,” Chet said. “He’s run Truly’s Trading Post since Bobby retired.” Truly’s Trading Post was the local general store. Bobby’s grandfather had started the trading post when the town was first settled, providing the citizens with odds and ends they needed on their homesteads. Through the years, the store had turned into more of a modern hardware store, adding a few novelties to compete with the online competitors and big box stores in the larger, surrounding towns.
“Retired’s a bit of a loose term with Uncle Bobby, but at least Aunt Missy got him to take her on that cruise.” Eddy went back to his place against the porch railing. His ginger hair curled just over his ears, falling to the nape of his neck. Black-framed glasses hid prominent eyebrows.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mia said. “I adore your uncle.”
