Cross Her Heart (Bree Taggert #1)(9)

He grabbed his bag of clothes and the jacket he’d worn and went outside. The yard was empty, and the cold night air already smelled of smoke. In living rooms nearby, people sat in front of fireplaces and enjoyed the warmth of cozy fires.

His fire would be less cozy and more of a pyre.

He dumped his clothes in a barrel used to burn leaves and other natural debris. He added paper and set the pile on fire. The fabrics were mostly cotton blends and burned well.

The flames consumed their fuel and died down. He added some dried wood and let the fire burn until embers turned to ash. As the orange glow died out, the anger in his heart cooled.

It was over.

Nothing stood in his way. Now he could have what was his by right. The life he’d worked hard for. The life he deserved.

No one else had better get in his way.





CHAPTER FIVE

Bree exited the interstate. A few minutes later, she passed the sign welcoming her to Grey’s Hollow and fished a roll of antacids from the console.

As usual, being in her hometown felt surreal and slightly nauseating.

After her sister’s call, Bree had finished her reports so she would have the next two days off. She’d arranged for a neighbor to feed her cat, packed a bag, and headed north at two in the morning. She’d driven on autopilot for five hours. As she neared Grey’s Hollow, the familiar scenery dragged her back to the childhood she’d worked so hard to forget.

She’d tried her sister’s number several times. Every time, Erin’s number switched to voice mail, and the knot in Bree’s belly tightened. On the bright side, anxiety kept her from falling asleep.

She sipped her cold coffee. Her sister lived on ten acres in upstate New York. Erin had wanted her kids to have room to run and raise animals if they wanted, all the things she’d perceived as stolen from her own life after their parents’ deaths.

Perception was everything. Bree had lost all those things as well, but she wanted nothing that reminded her of her childhood. But then, she was older and had clearer memories than her sister or brother. Erin could recall only snatches of their life before, and she denied remembering anything about the horrible night that had destroyed their family. Adam had been an infant. He had no memories of their parents at all.

Bree followed the GPS directions. She’d visited her sister’s place only a couple of times. She spotted the mailbox, which looked like a black-and-white cow, and turned into the driveway. A layer of snow and ice covered the rutted dirt and gravel. Behind the house sat a small red barn. Barbed wire enclosed the pasture. The last time she’d been here, it had been summer. Everything had been green. Flowers and horses had dotted the grass. It had been peaceful and lovely. Now the icy scene was bleak and lonely.

And there were two sheriff’s department vehicles parked in the driveway.

Bree stared, the coffee in her mouth turning sour. Disbelief flooded her. She didn’t want to think about the possible reasons.

She pressed the gas pedal. Her Honda bounced and slid all the way up to the house. Bree got out of the car and walked up the wooden steps onto the porch. The front door was closed, and she shielded her eyes to stare through the glass panes in the door. There was no one in sight.

She hadn’t buttoned her coat, but fear numbed her to the temperature. The sheriff would not be searching Erin’s house unless a major crime had been committed. Her gaze was drawn to the porch swing her sister had installed herself. Snow covered the wooden seat, and ice-coated chains suspended it from the ceiling. The chains squeaked as it swayed in the wind, the pitch of the metallic sound grating on Bree’s nerves.

She heard movement inside the house. Bree tried the knob, and the door opened. Erin’s place was small for a farmhouse. But Erin had fallen in love with the wraparound front porch and the picturesque barn. She used words like cozy and homey.

“Hello?” Bree called out from the doorway, not wanting to surprise the deputies or intrude on the scene. But she scanned everything she could see. The front door opened into a large wood-floored living room. On one side, a set of french doors led into an office. The stairwell ran up the far wall, and a hallway led to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Boots stomped on the stairs, and a uniformed deputy descended. Stepping out onto the porch, he motioned Bree to move backward.

He touched his hat. “Ma’am, can I help you?”

Bree showed her badge. “This is my sister’s house. Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said in a measured voice. “You’ll have to ask the chief deputy.”

“Is he here?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Where are my sister and her children?” Bree asked.

The deputy repeated, “You’ll have to ask the chief deputy.”

“Has Erin been arrested?”

The deputy deadpanned.

“I know. I’ll have to ask the chief deputy. Where can I find him?”

“At the sheriff’s station.”

Bree turned and scanned the property, her nerves gnawing a hole in her gut.

Why are two deputies searching Erin’s house?

The thought of her sister committing a crime was ludicrous. Erin was as Goody Two-shoes as a person could be. But something had happened.

Bree followed the porch around to the back door. Cupping her hands around her eyes, she looked through the windows. The entire back of the house was kitchen. At seven thirty in the morning, Erin should be drinking coffee and getting the kids ready for school, but the kitchen was empty. A hallway led to the front of the house. At the end of the hall, Bree could see lights and a deputy moving around in the living room. Other than the intrusion of the deputies, the house looked normal, with nothing to indicate a physical altercation had occurred.