Page 126 of The Darkest Chase

I frown.

Something’s off.

I reach down to brush back a strand of fiery-red hair that slipped free from her messy knot.

“You’re upset.”

“I dunno.” Talia’s eyes flicker as she glances away. “Upset, that’s a pretty strong word—”

“What happened?”

“I…” She sighs, glancing away. “How about I’ll tell you while we walk?”

That worries me.

I nod, though, whistling for Rolf and reaching for his leash.

“Let me get my stuff and we’ll head out.”

I’ll tell you while we walk turns into I’ll keep changing the subject.

I can’t begrudge her when she’s still the same slice of strawberry shortcake she’s always been. The way she lights up as we make our way through the trees is alluring as hell.

I don’t have the heart to kill her enjoyment.

Not when this seems new for her, an outing she practically revels in, darting between plants, startling squirrels, and sometimes Rolf, too.

By the time they end up falling together in a pile of fallen leaves, Rolf’s tongue hanging out happily, I’ve given up on getting anything out of her until we settle in for the evening.

If we settle in at all.

This is a scouting job.

I’m familiar with the Jacobins’ usual patterns, but now I wonder if they’d do something new to shake off any extra scrutiny after Newcomb’s body was found.

Makes me wonder why they didn’t just dispose of it. Then again, they can’t risk feeding their victims to the pigs anymore. That’s old hat.

Guess they decided it was best to just let it look like a clumsy out-of-towner had a terrible accident on the cliffs.

I lead Talia down a spiraling path through the hills surrounding town. I can’t always explain what I’m looking for when I start trying to sniff the Jacobins out.

It’s not like they leave any markers or trash in the trees when they’re so careful.

It’s just a feeling I get.

A scent.

As we head northeast of the big hill where the Arrendell mansion looms, ice crawls down my spine.

Call it a premonition.

Someone’s been through here recently.

Could’ve been hikers, yeah, but I don’t think so.

They don’t wear farm boots, and farm boots leave a certain imprint when they bend and break the grass.

While Talia skips on ahead to look up at a giant cobweb stretched between several tall trees, I bend down and study the broken grass clumped together.

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