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He should have spoken up when he’d watched her leave the apartment this morning. The terrain on this side of the forest would be soggy after all the rain they’d gotten lately, which could be dangerous for someone who wasn’t familiar with the trail.
Hell, he’d barely been on these trails. He preferred to sit on the porch or stick to the back of the house, fishing in the small pond that nestled close to his home. The steep incline and rocky edges of the cliff face were a challenge he seldom took on.
“Mia!” He called out her name, hoping a snake had slithered across the path or something equally ridiculous had spooked her. He stepped carefully as he climbed over loose stones and wet mud sucked his booted foot to the earth.
“Over here,” her shaky voice called out.
He stopped, craning his neck to the side to search for her. He’d assumed she’d be further up the mountain, but her voice didn’t sound too far away. An arm waved high, the flash of a bright red sleeve drawing his attention. He weaved through the trees, relieved that Mia didn’t appear injured and irritated by her hysterics. Screeching in the woods like a banshee for no good reason wasn’t something he’d tolerate, and he had no trouble telling her that.
Mia lowered her hand then crossed her arms over her stomach, her gaze glued to something on the ground. A paleness had transformed her dark skin, and her teeth clattered against each other.
Chet picked his way to her side, concern clouding over his annoyance. “Mia? What’s wrong?”
Without looking at him, she pointed toward the ground.
He followed the long line of her finger and dread settled into the pit of his stomach. What the hell? What looked like a hand, finger extended back at Mia, poked up from the newly upturned earth.
“I…I fell,” Mia said, her words coming out on spurts of stuttered breath. “My heels dragged through the mud when I tried to stop, and when I stood, I noticed the finger.” She swallowed hard then pressed a fist against her sealed lips.
His mouth went dry. He might have been off the police force for the past three years, but his training kicked in. Not wanting to touch anything, but needing to know what in the world he was looking at, Chet stepped slowly toward the limb. The hand was bloated and stiff, and the hint of decay in the wind told him whoever the hand belonged to hadn’t been dead for too long. Keeping his distance, he crouched low and noticed the unsettled dirt around the forearm, indicating the rest of the body was hidden beneath the ground. He needed to call the police and get officers out here immediately. Standing, he dug his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. A mark on the inside of the wrist made his heart stop. He leaned forward, squinting to make out the shape that marred the smooth skin.
A raised symbol stared back at him, the delicate swoops that turned the light skin red making bile burn his stomach lining. Lifting the sleeve of his flannel shirt, he grazed the pad of his thumb over the same symbol, the angry red long gone, replaced by a bright white scar he would never be rid of.
The scar his wife and daughter’s killer had branded him with before leaving him in a burning house to die.
And now the asshole was back. But this time, Chet would find him, and when he did, he’d make him pay for taking away his entire world—and leaving him alive to deal with the pain.
2
Mia sat hunched over on a wide stump, the fallen tree laid out behind her. Her stomach churned, and she kept her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to bear witness to the chaos around her. Not wanting to see the poor woman who still laid in the ground, the top layer of earth now uncovered to show her broken body. No matter where Mia’s life took her, she’d never erase the image of the blue-tinged lips and waxen skin from her memory.
She should have hurried back to her apartment after she’d given her statement to Officer Lincoln Sawyer, but she hadn’t wanted to return alone. And no amount of insistence from Officer Sawyer could persuade Chet to leave the crime scene.
A gentle hand on her shoulder had Mia opening her eyes and casting her gaze upward. Brooke Mather stood in front of her, concern snapping her brows low. “How are you holding up?”
Mia let out a long breath before pushing to her feet. A chill danced up her arms despite the warm weather. “Not good. I can’t believe I uncovered a dead body. Officer Sawyer doesn’t think she’s been there long. The dirt covering her was so loose—freshly turned over.” Fear and sorrow lodged in her throat and made her voice crack. “Who would kill a woman then bury her in the woods? And so close to my home.”
Brooke hooked an arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here. There’s no reason for you to stand around and watch what has to happen next. Lincoln’s got her now,” she said, nodding toward the corpse that would forever haunt Mia’s dreams.
“What about Chet?” She watched her neighbor, concern coiling her insides. If possible, the big man seemed more upset by the gruesome discovery than her.
“Chet can take care of himself.” A sadness echoed through Brooke’s words as she scooped Mia’s bag from the forest floor and secured it on her back.
Unable to tear her gaze from Chet, Mia twisted her lips. “He looks more troubled than I feel, if that’s possible. Leaving him here doesn’t seem right.”
Brooke gave her a gentle tug, turning her toward the steep hill. “Chet has a lot of demons, and this is bringing some of them back to life. Best to let him deal with them how he sees fit.”
Questions burned Mia’s tongue, but she swallowed them. Digging into other people’s lives wasn’t a habit she wanted to start.
Forcing her attention forward, she climbed back up the incline she’d tumbled down. Dried mud caked her pants and hands. A bead of sweat slid down the side of her face. Brooke kept a steady hand on her arm, which she was grateful for. Her body was heavy, each step difficult. Birds chirped from their spots perched in the trees, combining with Mia’s ragged pants as she found the even terrain of the trail and sighed. The sound of men chattering about death loomed behind her.
“Do you want some water?” Brooke dug inside the pack she’d grabbed from Mia, fishing out a water bottle.
“Thanks.” Mia popped open the top and gulped down the cold water. Her hand shook, causing a river of liquid to run down the corner of her mouth before wiping it away. The commotion at the bottom of the ravine drew her attention like a car crash—she shouldn’t look but couldn’t stop herself. “How long do you think she was buried down there?”
Brooke shrugged. “I didn’t look at the body, and Lincoln didn’t mention details when he called.”
Blinking, Mia focused on Brooke. Sunlight spilled through the interwoven leaves and showcased the copper highlights in her brown hair. “WhydidLincoln call you? Weren’t you at work?” Alarm rang through her, and she cringed. “Oh no! Breakfast. Chet and I were both here. We left you short staffed. I’m so sorry.”
