I remember him being taller than the other boys, and any time someone got it in their head to be a bully, Warren would be there, making a human wall out of himself.
I remember how he’d play and tussle with Blake and his brother, Holt, and that strange boy we all called Tiger. Usually Deedee and I just watched and laughed and braided flower crowns, Warren’s sister Jenna bouncing around between us and the boys until she was a dirty mess with flowers in her hair and new rips in her jeans.
Now, standing here with all six foot something of his thirty-something self, he’s a memory of my childhood, of boys with dusty knees and crooked smiles and sunshine-freckles and messy thatches of dark hair.
In my head, he’s not the owner of Charming Inn, so it’s just...weird.
It’s jarring to see him here and not Ms. Wilma Ford, his grandma. Instead, he’s with a short, curvy, green-eyed woman who must be his wife. She’s tucked against his side, a little boy with bright-blue eyes and a gurgling laugh bouncing on his hip.
When I look at Warren, I still see that gangly boy with hands and feet too big for his body.
But there’s a bearded man looking back at me, a man who’s clearly been through things judging by the scars and tattoos on his body, and the old shadows haunting clear eyes.
Things I’ve missed, because I ran away from home and all my old friends. It’s just a reminder how much time has passed.
I’ve been staring wide-eyed ever since I stepped into the lobby of the main house of the sprawling Charming Inn. The place is much like I remember, at least, a mix of rental suites surrounding the big plantation-style mansion and cozier private guest cottages.
My floury son hides behind my back, but Warren stares at me with the same stricken look that must be on my face.
Then he smiles—rueful, but warm, with a kind of accepting shrug, as if to say what can you do?
I shrug back, offering the same wistful smile. Not much.
“Hey, Rissa Bell,” he murmurs. “Welcome home.”
The woman—she must be Haley, I spoke with her on the phone on the frantic drive out here, and she confirms it when I recognize the warmth of her voice—brightens. “Oh! Clarissa Bell, right? Are you ready to check in?” She grins, leaning to peer past me at Zach. “And I see somebody needs a shower.”
“Sorry,” I offer sheepishly, glancing at my boy. “Go wait on the porch, baby. You’re getting flour on the carpet.”
“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Haley says, and leans up to kiss Warren’s cheek before peeling away from him and fishing through the ring of keys on her belt. “Here, I’ll take you out to your cabin. It’s one of our new additions in the woods, and I don’t want you getting lost. They haven’t quite finished grading the paths yet, so it’s more of a...” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t even want to call it a trail. It’s a suggestion. But once you get oriented, you won’t get turned around, I promise.”
“Thanks,” I say faintly and let her bustle me and Zach outside.
I can feel Warren watching me curiously. Probably wondering what the hell brought me back to Heart’s Edge.
He wasn’t here that night. I heard he spent years as a stranger to this town himself after Jenna was killed overseas.
But I’m sure he’s heard things about me, too.
All the rumors, the lies, the things that might be true, but I can’t stand to know.
And there are things he can’t know, either.
Things I won’t answer, if he ever decides to have a friendly chitchat with a childhood friend.
Things I can’t answer, when the one person who might be able to fill in those gaps is just a ghost, a shadow haunting this town.
I hear they’re calling him Nine now. The legend in the hills. A monster man who’s become so infamous the tall tales are almost turning supernatural.
To me, he’ll just be Leo.
The cabin Haley shows us to is new. It’s set off from the rest of the others dotting the slope leading down to the half-heart cliff that shapes Heart’s Edge. She said something about privacy suites and new construction when we’d spoken on the phone. I’d mentioned wanting to keep a low profile and stay out of sight.
Which means there’s a screening wall of trees separating the rustic but modern cabin from the rest of the property. I can barely see the white columns of the main house through the fat trunks.
We pick our way up the wooded slope angling deeper into the mountains and the lush green acres of untouched forest. That’s what always makes the air smell like this. Crisp, cool pine, no matter the time of year.
The other cabins are nearly invisible from the wooden deck encircling ours.
Perfect.
We don’t belong here. I don’t belong here. So this will do.
I certainly don’t plan on staying long enough for anyone to start painting me back into this landscape, getting silly ideas in their heads.
As if I could ever be part of Heart’s Edge again.
As if I’d ever spend an extra minute in this town.
Yeah. If only Deanna’s life didn’t depend on it.
It takes an hour to help get Zach clean, when water just turns the flour in his hair into dough.
He wriggles like a puppy while I stroke his head, scrub and rinse, until he’s no longer a human cookie. Just my sweet boy, laughing and squirming. I hug him tight and blow raspberries in his wet hair, then shoo him off to finish washing up proper and change for bed, even though it’s barely time for dinner.
I leave him curled up happily on the couch, half watching TV, half browsing takeout menus. I’m not up for a grocery trip tonight.
Maybe not any night.
Shopping feels too much like settling in.
Like killing time, when all I can do is wait for the detectives from Missoula to try to make sense of the crime scene and pick up Deanna’s trail.
God, I hate waiting.
Knowing the statistics on kidnapping recovery rates doesn’t help a bit.
People only come home with clear motives. When things like ransoms are involved, and the kidnappers want something tangible, when they leave more demands than icy silence.
I swallow something thick in my throat. The best way to silence someone is to make sure they never breathe another word, and after what happened to drive me out of Heart’s Edge...
If she was here, I could smack her. Because if Deanna’s been digging around old graves, maybe our friends at Galentron finally decided having her running around as a loose cannon was too risky.
My eyes sting. I’m trying not to panic.
Excusing myself from the living room, I head into the kitchen before Zach sees me close to a nervous breakdown.
I can’t expose my son to this crap.
He’s too sensitive as it is. He picks up on things far too easily.
I couldn’t leave him behind in Spokane, no, but I’ll be damned if I let the darkness here touch him.
It would only scare him, and scare me. After I failed to protect Deanna...I have to protect my sweet, bright boy, in all his soft, shy innocence.
Sighing, I want to start unpacking to distract myself, but the second I open the suitcase, a little black box comes tumbling out of the inside pocket.
Deep breath. I’m so not breaking down over this stupid thing. Again.
What was I even thinking, bringing it along for the ride? Bringing it here?