Page 28 of All the Missing Pieces

11

COLT

“Don’t give me that look,”I muttered as Bowser looked up at me from where his head rested on his paws. The mix of lab, cattle dog, and basset hound had given him eyes that were especially good for begging. “Oh all right.” I tossed him a piece of bacon.

Even though Bowser was approaching twelve, he was surprisingly spry when meat of any kind was involved. He caught the piece on the fly, practically swallowing it straight down.

I shoved the final piece into my mouth and chugged the rest of my coffee. I’d need it. Sleep had been fitful at best, Ridley’s pain-streaked eyes haunting my mind in waking and sleep. The deep blue calling out with unspoken accusations and a woundedness that was somehow still beautiful.

The legs of my chair scraped against the floor as I pushed back from the kitchen table. I didn’t need to think about Ridley’s pain. I needed to think about my sister’s, the one who needed protecting in all of this. Not to mention the rest of Shady Cove, who didn’t need the pain of the incident dredged up or the eyes of the world turned on us once again.

It wasn’t a time any of us wanted to revisit. One where people had begun to look at one another with suspicion instead of kindness. It didn’t help that the sheriff’s department and the state police had called in everyone under the sun for questioning. All of Emerson’s teachers, her tennis coach, the support staff at the high school and park where she practiced, the people she worked with after school. It had cast a shadow on all of them.

We didn’t need to return to that. I wouldn’t let it happen.

Grabbing a thermos from my cabinet, I filled it with the rest of the pot of coffee. “You want to hang on the porch today?” I asked Bowser.

He ambled to his feet in answer. Trey and I had made him a doghouse that lived on the back deck, and he had plenty of water out there. He knew not to leave the cabin’s property, not even to jump in the lake.

And it was tempting, since my cabin almost became one with it, the deck hovering over the water. But Bowser knew better than to go there without me present.

I pressed a hand to the biometric lock on my gun locker by the door. It housed my service weapon, a rifle, and a shotgun. We hadn’t had trouble with bears at my place, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Donning my weapon, I headed for my SUV with only one destination in mind.

It hadn’t taken long for me to find her. Not when I had access to all the local databases and her driver’s license number in my phone. Ridley Sawyer Bennett had reserved a campsite out at Lonepine Lake for an entire month. She’d have to eat the cost of that reservation because there was no way she was seeing it through.

I knew the trek to the lake like the back of my hand. As I crested the hill, I slowed, taking in the one other campsite thatwas taken. I couldn’t stop the way my gut twisted. Ridley was so damned exposed up here. Alone except for that damned cat.

I told myself the concern was simply a natural byproduct of my job. I was used to looking out for others. Warning them of things that could compromise their safety.

But I knew I was a goddamned liar.

I shoved that down and parked my SUV by Ridley’s ridiculous teal van. The entire back was covered in stickers. They mostly had to do with places I assumed she’d been. The colors and shapes were vast, but there was one thing they all had in common. An absurd whimsy.

There was a unicorn with a sparkly rainbow overhead. An alien withBeam Me UpandRoswell, NMbeneath it. What looked like Bigfoot withBend, Oregonabove it. A tie-dyedKeep Austin Weird. And countless more.

Together they formed a chaotic beauty that mirrored the woman herself.

I forced myself to think about everything that was at stake here. To think about Emerson and everything she’d been through.

Rounding the van, I took in the pulled curtains. Probably still sleeping. She’d just have to get up.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I waited for a moment, listening for any signs of life. There were none. I knocked again. Still nothing.

A prickle of unease shifted through me. Not even the curtains rustled from the cat hearing me. I stepped back, taking in the campsite with new eyes. Everything was in place. Bike locked up. Picnic table cleared.

What Emerson had shared circled in my mind. Twenty-three other victims Ridley thought were linked to Emerson. Something that felt a lot like dread settled in my gut.

I walked around the van, a memory tickling the back of my brain. Her paddleboard. It was missing.

Relief rushed through me. A relief I didn’t want to look too closely at. Instead, I headed toward the lake below.

As I approached, I caught sight of movement. My steps faltered as I took her in. Blond hair piled high atop her head. Clad in only tiny spandex shorts and one of those workout tops. Her arms flexed as she drove a paddle into the water, golden skin glowing in the early morning light.

Then she simply stopped all movement, letting the board coast through the water. She tipped her face up to the sun, letting the rays soak into her skin. She stayed that way for a long moment.

I wanted to know what was passing through her mind. What thoughts swirled there. And as her board got closer to shore, I saw more. The dark shadows that rimmed her eyes. The way she gripped the paddle for dear life. It was in such opposition to the image I thought I’d seen. A woman at peace on the water. Maybe it was peace that she was searching for, she just hadn’t found it yet.

Fuck.

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