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“Are you serious?” Brooke placed a reassuring palm on Mia’s forearm. “What you’re experiencing is so traumatic. The last thing you need to worry about is if the breakfast was served on time at the retreat, which by the way, it was.” Brooke offered a sweet smile, but concern still clouded her brown eyes. “Lincoln called because he was worried about you and figured you’d want someone with you.”
Needing a minute to collect herself, Mia leaned against the hard bark of a towering maple and sank to the ground. “I just keep seeing it. Her hand pointed up at me. Like she was reaching for someone to help her. To save her.”
Brooke settled on the ground beside her, legs bent and arms hooked over her knees. “You weren’t able to save her, but you found her. Probably long before she would have been found otherwise. Which gives Lincoln and the rest of the police department a better chance of finding the person who did this.”
Mia inhaled a deep breath, pulling in the scents of wildflowers and still-damp grass. But the toxic smell of death refused to go away. “Whoever’s responsible is out there. Maybe hurting someone else.” Fear grabbed hold of her throat as a thought fought its way through the lingering shock and fog. “What if he saw me?”
Straightening, Brooke studied her with a faint hint of panic edging out the soft planes of her petite face. “Did you see anything unusual? Anyone walking on the trail?”
Mia shook her head. “No. I told Lincoln as much when I gave him my statement.” A chill swept through her, and she rubbed her palms over her arms, but it did nothing to stop the sensation that someone was watching her—that she stumbled upon something much bigger than all the bullshit she’d walked away from when Aaron took off and left her with nothing.
At least she had her life. Her health. A plan for the future. Unlike the poor soul left behind to rot alone in the forest. “But what if I missed something? What if someone saw me even if I didn’t see them?” The thought had her studying the dense woods. A killer who’d bury a dead body in a shallow grave in a ravine would know how to stay under the radar. Keep hidden and out of sight.
And if she’d walked right into that sightline, she might have just put a big red target on the middle of her back.
* * *
The scarson Chet’s wrists itched. He circled his palm around one wrist to ease the maddening sensation. Not like it helped. Nothing ever helped.
“You really should head back home.” Lincoln rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. Dirt and sweat mixed on his face, the flecks of mud sticking to his beard. “It’s been a long ass morning. You should get some rest.”
The body of the dead woman was long gone, taken to the morgue by the coroner, but he kept his gaze on the broken earth where she’d rested. She hadn’t been there long, possibly mere hours or even minutes before Mia uncovered her resting place. Who had put her there? So many questions built inside him, he just might explode. “It’s gotta be him, man. The same sonofabitch who killed my family.”
Dropping his hand, Lincoln shrugged. “Could be. Could be something completely unrelated.”
Lincoln’s casual tone turned Chet’s blood to fire. Lincoln was new to Pine Valley, not quite a year spent on the local police force after moving to town from Nashville. He hadn’t been around when Chet’s life had been destroyed. Hadn’t seen the symbol that marred his wife and child’s skin, just as it scarred his own.
“No chance in hell that whoever burned that symbol into the poor woman’s arm isn’t the same person who did this.” He shoved up the red and black flannel sleeve and jammed a finger against the marred skin on the inside of his forearm.
Lincoln’s face remained passive, but a vein ticked at his temple. “I’m not saying it’s not. I’m saying I need to look at the whole picture. I can’t jump to conclusions.”
Chet took a step forward, pushing into Lincoln’s personal space. “You and I both know coincidences are bullshit. The same person who put this woman in the ground took everything from me.”
“What if he’s not the one who killed her?” Lincoln asked, standing his ground. “What if he burned her but she survived like you? What if someone else finished her off and left her in the cold ground? I know you want to find who took your family from you. Hell, I hardly know you, but I want to find that sonofabitch, too. But I have to do my job. Have to follow all the pieces I find and jam them together until I figure out what happened.”
Frustration mounted in Chet’s chest, pressure building until it nearly choked him. The sound of a handful of officers scouring the surrounding woods buzzed in his ears. A dull thud pounded against the center of his forehead. Sweat tickled the back of his neck. He rubbed his sternum, moving his palm back and forth—back and forth—but nothing stopped the sense of impending suffocation gripping him.
Lincoln clapped a hand between his shoulder blades, gently pushing him forward until he bent at the waist and rested his forearms on his knees.
“Deep breaths in through the nose,” Lincoln said. “Nice and steady.”
Chet squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on filling his lungs with air.
A loud, rumbling bark broke through the fog smothering Chet’s brain, and he straightened. Otto, his best friend’s retired police dog, bounded down the hill. His mouth open, tongue flopping in the breeze. Tucker strode down behind him, a grim set to his wide mouth and a hard glint in his blue eyes.
Otto skidded to a stop in front of Chet, kicking up fallen leaves and dirt. He pushed his nose into the palm of Chet’s hand and sat.
Lincoln patted his back then took a step back. “Hey, Tucker.”
Tucker dipped his chin in greeting. “Don’t mean to be a bother. Just thought Otto could be of assistance.”
Chet ran a hand over the dog’s furry black head. Otto may be officially retired as a police dog, but he could still do the job. His nose worked just fine. Even if an injury to his right leg made his gait a little unsteady.
“I’ll take all the help I can get,” Lincoln said.
Appreciation chipped away at the hardened edges of panic still fisted around Chet’s psyche. “Thanks, man. Cruz is on his way. The body’s at the morgue. Some uniforms are scouring the area, looking for anything that can help.”
“And Mia?” Tucker asked.
