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Xander narrowed his eyes. “Not yet.”
I shoved a hand through my hair, my limbs shaky. “I don’t know if you’re going to get Owen to talk.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought that’s why I have you as a consultant. You were always the best interrogator on the force, Ramsey. Is all the private investigating you’re doing turning you soft?”
I rolled my eyes. I’d been a PI for a few years now. I’d loved working for the Ember Hollow PD, but it wasn’t always good for me. It was all…so close to everything. Thea’s case, though linked with the Shadow Stalker, was technically unsolved. Justice had not been served, and that killed me inside. I could become obsessive with trying to find the man responsible for taking my sister from me…and catching any other scum who intentionally hurt innocent people.
A few years ago, I went through a rough patch around this time—which happens more often than I liked to admit—and my brothers finally convinced me to come work for Hearthstone, a company they had started that specialized in security and now, private investigation as well.
“Let me know what else I can do to help,” I said, ignoring his jab. “I want to help in any capacity I can.”
He eyed me, a weariness seeping into his expression. “I know. Hopefully, I won’t need much more of your assistance, but I appreciate it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve been doing good?”
The words sounded simple and innocent, but they held the weight of a thousand unasked questions.
I hated the look he gave me, the one that landed somewhere between worry and pity. We’d worked together for years, and he knew that this time of year was hard. He felt it in his bones, too, but either Xander was made of iron, or he knew how to slay his demons better than I did.
“Keeping busy helps.” I nodded. “But I’m good.”
Relief softened his jaw. “I’m here if you need anything.”
The corner of my mouth tipped up. “I know.”
He nodded, and then he stretched out his neck as he fought a yawn and lost. “Damn.” He groaned. “I didn’t sleep a bit last night.”
“Me either.” I got to my feet, and he gave me a questioning look. “I could use some coffee and some fresh air to clear my head.”
Before Xander could say anything else, I turned toward the door. Not only did I need some air, I needed a break. From everything.
3
Lark
I’d forgotten how bitter the cold could be during October in Ohio.
I hunched against the wind, wrapping my cardigan around myself as I hurried down the neat, clean sidewalks. The sun barely peeked out from behind the clouds, but I kept my sunglasses on, my hat pulled low. I wasn’t ready for the whispers or stares that would follow when people realized I’d returned to Ember Hollow.
The town I’d left behind hadn’t changed much at all. Center Street was a bustle of people and local businesses. Pumpkins of all shapes, sizes, and colors decorated every spare inch of space. Hay bales were stacked on the street corners with homemade scarecrows sitting on them. Bundles of yellow and orange mums added even more fall color to the storefronts. Ember Hollow was the epitome of quaint, small-town life nestled along a small river between the rolling hills of southern Ohio. This place used to bring me such peace. Now, I couldn’t get my heart to stop racing with anxiety.
I glanced up from my feet in time to narrowly avoid bumping into Al Humphry as he swept fallen leaves away from the entrance of his bakery.
“Whoa, there.” Al reached for me as I teetered to the side in an effort to avoid him. “Slow down. No point in being in a hurry if you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
My face heated as I steadied.
Al’s frown deepened as he stared at me, his bushy gray eyebrows bunched.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, abruptly pulling away as recognition flared in his expression. I bolted back down the street, hoping he wouldn’t call after me.
I wrapped my arms around myself, taking in calming breaths as I finally came to my destination. The wooden sign of Latte Pages swung slightly in the breeze. I slowed as someone exited the cafe and bookshop. The rich smell of deep, roasted coffee and baked goods made my mouth water.
Catching the door before it closed, I slipped inside.
The wave of relief at arriving vanished as I took in the crowd. I wasn’t sure why I thought the place might be dead at one in the afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t. Latte Pages had the best coffee in a thirty-mile radius and was perpetually busy.
Nothing changed here, apparently.
I thought about leaving, seriously considered turning right around and walking back to my mother’s house. But she didn’t have any coffee, just some herbs and tea, and I really, desperately needed coffee if I was going to be spending the rest of the day—the first of many, it seemed—with her.
