Page 55 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
“Yes.” I don’t mean to snap at her, but it comes out harsh all the same. “Because we don’t know what the fuck happened to her, or if any of those people were involved in it.”
Raven gives me an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”
I grunt and give her my back as I stalk into the kitchen, tug open the cabinet above the stove, and pull out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. If she weren’t standing right there, judging me already, I’d chug it straight out of the bottle, but I don’t need to give this woman any other ammunition against me.
Ignoring her glare, I pour myself a shot and down the entire thing, slamming the glass harder than I should onto the butcher block counter.
“Did you guys find something else?”
The waver in Raven’s voice from behind me is what finally gets me to turn around and face her. She’s one of the most stubborn, pig-headed, relentless women I’ve ever known, and she has never, ever, sounded so scared.
It causes a twinge in my chest that I hate to have when she’s been such a pain in my ass.
She loves Willow.
She’s worried about her.
“No.” I shake my head. “The dogs were only able to track her for a few more miles in the woods beyond where we got previously, and then they lost her scent. The storms over the last couple of days wiped away everything.”
Raven winces. “Shit.”
I lean against the counter, running my hand through my hair, and I drop my head back to stare at the ceiling—the parallel logs running nearly perfectly straight. Still supporting all the weight effortlessly, even though they’ve been here for so many years. All that hard work standing the test of time. For some reason, seeing it makes me angrier about the situation.
They built this without the help of any modern tools or equipment. They settled this area without roads or cars. The McBrides logged this mountain without the advanced equipment we have today. They made it work, and with everything at my disposal—men with boots on the ground, technology, time—I can’t even figure out what the fuck happened to Willow.
“She didn’t come back and go up there on her own.” I drop my head to meet her gaze again. “We all know that, right?”
Raven nods. “I showed her all the stuff she sent me. She confirmed it’s her handwriting. The notes had to have come from her.”
Fuck.
I tighten my grip on the edge of the counter, hating what I’m about to say. “That doesn’t mean she wrote them willingly.”
“What?”
“I’m starting to think…fuck.” I scrub my hands over my face, then turn around and pour myself another drink, unable to look at Raven as I say the words that have been batting around my head the entire trek down the mountain. “What if someone forced her to write those notes? What if someone sent those gifts to you to ensure you wouldn’t look for her?”
“Jesus Christ. You don’t think that’s possible…”
I shrug, down the drink, and glance over my shoulder at her. “I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to think of all the possibilities. And it’s very weird that she never called you or insisted you come visit her. To not speak with her or physically see her for an entire year?”
Raven shakes her head. “No, it’s not. You know how close we were. In one of the notes, she said that if she heard my voice, she’d want to come back. That definitely sounds like her.”
“Maybe. But she also never contacted me.”
Her brows fly up. “You really wonder about that? After what you did?”
I slam my palms against the counter, my earlier annoyance with this woman now switching to full-blown anger. “You don’t know what I said or what I did, so stay out of it.”
“I can’t.” She crosses her arms again defiantly. “She’s my best friend.”
And she’s my fiancée.
The words almost come out of my mouth before I can stop them.
We aren’t together anymore. Not like that. Maybe we won’t be ever again. But last night, it sure felt like she was still going to marry me, that we were still on our way to spending the rest of our lives together as we had planned.
I clear my throat, forcing away what I want to say. “Well, I’ve got her now, so you can go.”
