The blood drained from Hannah’s head, and she threw out an arm to steady herself. Jed took a half step forward, and then drew back. Of course, he did.
She licked her lips and tried to swallow against her dry throat. Jed was wrong. Is this what he’d believed all these years? Is this why he’d never reached out to her?
“Th-that’s absurd, Jed. My father was a good cop. He never would’ve—” she waved her arms over her head “—manufactured or falsified evidence against you or anyone else. Maybe he didn’t approve of our relationship, but that was probably more because he thought I was too young to get serious with anyone. It wasn’t you.”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jed kicked at one of the logs that bordered the firepit. “You’re right. Nobody was good enough for his princess—especially me. No-good, alcoholic father, floozy for a mother, cops called out to our place all the time.”
Hannah dug her heels into the dirt. “You are not your parents. You never were. Dad knew that.”
“Did he?” Jed cocked his head, a smile that looked more like a snarl twisting his lips. “He was smart. I’ll give the old sheriff that. Figured if he objected too much, you’d grit your teeth and see me just to spite him. He went for the foolproof plan, saw his opportunity with Zoey’s allegations and took it.”
“I refuse to believe my father set you up for a crime you didn’t commit.” She stamped her foot. “He just wouldn’t do something like that.”
“What about your letters to me? If you really wrote them, I never received them.”
“If I really wrote them?” She wedged a fist on her hip, her blood simmering. “I’m telling you I sent you letters. Are you calling me a liar, too?”
“Think about it, Hannah.” Jed tapped the side of his head. “You wrote me letters and gave them to your mom to mail. She takes them into town, where she visits your dad every day, and what? Drops them in the mailbox where they magically get lost on their way to the Washington State Penitentiary? Or does she leave them in the mail outbox at the station where your father, the sheriff, conveniently snatches them from the pile and destroys them?”
Hannah swallowed the scream building in her chest. She wanted to refute Jed’s claim. She wanted to defend her father. But she couldn’t—not entirely. Not after what she’d discovered about her father after his death—what she’d always known about him when he was alive.
“How’s it going out here?” Astrid approached the firepit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She stumbled to a stop, glancing between Hannah’s and Jed’s faces. “You let the fire die down.”
“In a way.” Hannah brushed off her jeans. “I’m ready to head out. Do you need help with anything, Astrid?”
“We have everything under control. Doesn’t look like it, but Tate is pretty good around the house. Must be all those years as a bachelor.” Astrid gave them an awkward smile and waved a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll get Tate out here.”
Hannah didn’t want to be left alone outside with Jed. She had too many thoughts to sort out and didn’t need him confusing her. She made a move to follow Astrid back into the house, but Tate saved them the trouble.
After a quick glance at Jed’s stony face, Tate said, “Are you leaving so soon, Hannah?”
If Tate thought he was going to play matchmaker for her and Jed, he didn’t know the depths of Jed’s hatred for her family. Had Jed told anyone else about his suspicions?
Hannah cleared her throat. “It’s really kind of late, Tate, and I have some work to do at home.”
“Okay, then. Bring it in.” Tate opened his arms, and Hannah walked into them, pressing her tingling nose against his chest. Why couldn’t Jed be more like Tate? Tate wanted to please everyone, and Jed couldn’t care less. Had prison made him hard? He’d always been a rebel, but he’d had a sweetness about him that attracted all the girls—including her best friend at the time, Zoey Grady.
She sniffled. “You need to put out that fire once and for all. It’s just a smoke pit now.”
“I’ll take care of it, Tate.” Jed stirred the dying embers with a metal rod, sending a shower of sparks skyward.
Tate gave her another squeeze. “Good to see you, Hannah.”
When he released her, Hannah gave Astrid a quick side hug. “Thanks for having me.”
“Are you driving home alone?” Jed jabbed a finger toward the old truck she used to spare her car some of the rougher terrain through the forest and for times like this when her car was in the shop for service.
“I drove here alone. How else am I supposed to get back?” She turned her back on him and trudged toward the truck, her sneakers crunching dried twigs and leaves into the ground.
“Now that we all know I didn’t do it, there’s a killer loose in Dead Falls, and the cops don’t have a clue. It’s not safe out there at night—alone.”
Hannah tripped over an exposed root and flattened her hand on the hood of the truck to save herself from an embarrassing fall. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure Zoey’s murder had something to do with the drug trade here on the island.”
When she opened her door, she turned to wave at Astrid and Tate. Jed kept her pinned in his gaze as she hopped into the truck. His pumped-up physique and tattoo snaking down his arm gave him a menacing appearance. Yeah, prison had changed him—but it wasn’t her father’s fault.
She turned the key, and the truck growled at her but the engine didn’t turn over. She took her foot off the gas, gave it a few seconds and tried again. The growl turned into a scream.
A thump on her hood made her jump. She peered at Jed and Tate through her windshield. She popped the release, and the hood squealed as they opened it.
They tinkered for several minutes and had her start up again, to no avail. She clambered from the truck and poked her head around the open hood.
“What’s the verdict?”
Jed slammed the hood and the truck shuddered. “Verdict is, you’re not driving this truck tonight. Even if we could get it started, you’re not driving this heap home with a murderer on the loose.”
Hannah cast a hopeful look at Tate, but he was already thumping Jed on the back. “Can you give her a ride home, buddy? I have some reports to do.”
“Yeah.” Jed fished his keys from his front pocket and swung them around his finger. “Hop in. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, anyway, for someone to see you home safely.”
At least he didn’t totally hate her. He didn’t want to see her dead. “I can always try to call up a car.”
Astrid snorted. “Here? That’ll take some time.”
Jed had already moved to his black truck and swung open the passenger door. “C’mon, Hannah.”
Did she have a choice? Did she want a choice?
She lifted her hand at Astrid and Tate. “Thanks again. My turn next time.”
Brushing past Jed to climb into the truck, she caught a whiff of stark masculinity—a woodsy smell combined with the smoky undertones of the fire.
He got behind the wheel, and the engine turned over smoothly in the brand-new truck. Had he bought it with his settlement money?
As he turned onto the road that led away from the Mitchells’ place, Hannah smoothed her hands along the leather seat. “Nice ride.”
She was determined to steer this conversation toward generic small talk. She didn’t want to argue with Jed, didn’t want to get into a defense of her father.
“Yeah, I bought it a year ago, along with a condo in San Luis Obispo.” He brushed his black hair from his face. “My attorney got a nice cut from my lawsuit against the state. My cut was even bigger.”
Hannah swallowed. So much for generic small talk. “I know it can’t compensate for what you went through, but I’m glad you got something out of it.”
She pressed her lips together. That sounded so stupid. That’s not what she meant to say. Massaging her right temple, she said, “I...”
“Never mind. I know what you meant.” He slid a glance at her. “Headache?”
Trying to talk to him was giving her a headache. She’d felt awkward talking to him before, but now that she knew he suspected her father of setting him up, she had no idea how to navigate a conversation with him.
She rubbed her eyes. “Probably that smoke. When did Astrid move back? I’d heard her marriage didn’t work out.”
“You could say that.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, the bird tattoo he had between his thumb and forefinger flapping its wings. “She moved in with Tate a few months ago. The living situation works for Tate when he gets sent to other locations to battle fires.”
“And you’ll be joining him soon?”
“I’m in the process. Just one more exam to take before I start the academy.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’ve been doing a little PI work in the meantime. Got my license and have been doing a few jobs.”
“That must be interesting.” She let out a breath, happy to be talking about something other than Zoey, prison or her father.
“Some divorce cases, insurance fraud—that kind of thing.” He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Nothing too exciting.”
“I would think you’d be done with excitement.” She bit her bottom lip. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone?
Jed’s jaw tightened and took the last turn to her house so tightly, the tires squealed in protest. “Here we are. Why’d you drive the old truck? Is that all you have on the island?”
She scanned her empty driveway. “My other car is in the shop. I figured I’d have the truck as backup. I can probably get Jimmy at the shop to tow the truck in for me and trade me one car for the other.”
“Bad luck.” He pulled into the driveway, and she suspected he scrambled from the car so fast so that he wouldn’t have to listen to her tell him he didn’t need to see her to the front door.
He’d always seen her to the front door—not quite the uncouth barbarian her father would have her believe. If she were being honest with herself, she had to admit that when the relationship between her and Jed had turned romantic, her father seemed to find all kinds of excuses for sending her off the island.
She shoved open the passenger door before he had time to come around and open it for her. Two could play this game.
She joined him as he gazed up at the peaked roof and long windows of the house. She’d always been slightly embarrassed by her family home. Its size and elegance had seemed at odds with the island, but her mother’s family had money and her father had embraced that money with gusto. Her mom had been only too happy to hand over the house to Hannah when her dad died and escape to warmer climes.
“Looks the same.” Jed shook his head. “Of course, your father wouldn’t let me inside at the end, so I could only imagine how the interior had changed from when we were children.”
“It’s not that...” She stopped when Jed turned his dark gaze on her and waved her hand at the house. “Do you want to have a look now? Mom did a little work, and I did a little more.”
Those deep brown eyes glittered before he dropped his lashes. “Maybe another time. Good night, Hannah.”
She watched him get into his gleaming truck and then, realizing he wouldn’t leave until she went into the house, she spun around and shoved the key into the lock. Only when she had made it inside and had the door closed behind her, did she hear Jed’s engine start.
Pressing her back against the door, she let out a long sigh. Jed’s presence on Dead Falls was about to complicate her life.
Her cat, Siggy, wound his body around her ankles, and she bent over to scratch under his chin. “I fed you before I left. That’s it for you, Sigmund.”
She checked all the doors in the big house, her gaze flitting toward the square in the ceiling that led to the attic. She hadn’t been up there since her mom moved out, but she’d noticed boxes of her father’s old papers up there. Would he have something about Jed’s case?
Giving in to temptation, she dragged a step stool from the garage to beneath the attic door and stepped on the bottom rung to reach the hanging string. She gave it a yank. The door sprang open, revealing the folding ladder, already starting its descent.
She grabbed the ladder with one hand and shoved the step stool to the side with her foot. Once she’d fully extended and secured the ladder, she began to climb it, Siggy right behind her.
When she pulled herself into the crawl space, she shook a finger at Siggy. “You’d better hope I don’t trap you up here when I leave.”
She couldn’t quite straighten to her full height and settled for walking a bit hunched over, like a Cro-Magnon, as she scanned the space with her cell phone light. She should’ve brought a proper flashlight with her.
To read the writing on the sides of the boxes, her father’s dark scrawl, Hannah dropped to her knees and squinted at the letters.
Siggy purred beside her with excitement, and Hannah stroked his gray stripes. “I’m counting on you to keep the mice and spiders at bay up here.”
Her heart thumped when she spotted a few boxes indicating case numbers and names, all dated. It’s not like her father would’ve been able to take the case files home with him when he retired, but she knew he kept his own notes about cases—notes that never made it into the official files.
She squinted at a few old, frayed boxes with the name Keldorf written on them and some ancient date. Her father really had done this for quite some time.
Glancing to the right of the old boxes, she felt her heart jump when that August date from eight years ago that changed her life and Jed’s jumped out at her. She crouched on her haunches to shove the boxes on top of the August box out of the way. The flurry of dust she dislodged made her nose twitch.
As she reached for the box, her cell phone rang beside her. When she looked at the phone and saw Maggie Jacobson’s name, she sucked in a sharp breath, choking on the dust. Had Sheldon opened up to Maggie already?
She wiped a grimy hand against the thigh of her jeans and answered the phone. “What’s up, Maggie?”
Ignoring the pleasantries, the social worker jumped right in. “God, I hate to admit this, but Sheldon Grady is gone.”
“Gone?” Hannah’s sharp tone caused Siggy to flatten his ears and flick his tail in disgust. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he snuck out of my house. I’ve searched everywhere and can’t find him.”
Hannah was already walking on her knees toward the open square, pushing the August box in front of her, leaving the others behind. “Have you called the sheriff’s department?”
“Done. They have a patrol car scouring the area now.”
“Maggie, maybe the killer snatched him.” Hannah sneezed.
Maggie made a humming sound. “I thought about that, but I don’t think so. Everything was too silent for someone to break into my house and take Sheldon.”
“I hope you’re right—not that Sheldon escaping on his own is a good thing. I’m going to head out now and join the search. I knew his mother, and I talked to him.” Hannah backed out of the attic, tipping the box into her arms. Leaning the front of her body against the ladder, she steadied herself. She waved one arm at Siggy, shooing him from the crawl space, and then descended the rest of the way.
Fur flying, Siggy jumped past her, and Hannah planted her feet on the floor, still talking to Maggie. “Maybe he went back home, Maggie. As awful as it was the last time he was there, it’s all he knows.”
“You might be right.” Maggie’s voice faded out and then came back. “You have that address?”
“Not on me. Look in your files. I just know how to get to the mobile home park from my house, so I’m heading there now. How long has he been missing?”
“Half an hour, maybe. Do you think he knows the way?”
“I’m sure he does. Most kids on the island know their way around, and Zoey’s place isn’t that far from yours.” Hannah left the attic open and pounced on her purse. “I’ll meet you over there...and tell the police.”
Hannah ended the call and stuffed her phone in her purse. She eyed the box on the floor as Siggy rubbed against it. She didn’t need her cat getting into those files before she had a chance to peek at them.
She slung her purse over her shoulder and hoisted the box in her arms. She carried it to the pantry off the kitchen, dropped it inside with a thump and closed the door. As she crossed the room, she tripped to a stop. She didn’t have any transportation.
Before she had time to think, she reached for the phone and put in Jed’s number, which she’d committed to memory. Would he pick up without knowing the caller?
After two rings, she heard an accusatory, rough voice. “Who is this?”
“It’s Hannah.” She held her breath.
“How’d you get my number?” Suspicion still edged his voice.
“Long story. Hey, Zoey’s son, Sheldon, slipped away from the social worker. I think he might be at his home. Do you think you can give me a ride over there? The social worker’s on her way and so are the police, so you don’t need to stay there. Just drop me off.” She paused into the silence. “Do you think you can do that?”
“I’ll be right there. I’m not that far.” He cleared his throat. “I made a stop on the way back to Tate’s cabin.”
“Thanks, Jed. I’ll be waiting out front.” Had he made a stop at that lookout over the falls where they used to meet? She dismissed the thought as soon as it surfaced. She was the only one who seemed to want to relive old memories.
Hannah barreled out the front door and raced to the edge of her driveway. Ten minutes later, Jed’s truck roared up the street. The lookout was about ten minutes away, so maybe he had taken a detour to the falls.
She waved him down, as if he weren’t here for her. Before the truck even stopped, she grabbed the handle of the passenger door. She dove inside and slammed the door. “Thanks so much. He’s just a boy.”
“You don’t have to sell it to me, Hannah.” He peeled away from the entrance to her driveway. “I would help any child—regardless of his parents.”
“I know you would.” She brushed the hair from her face and peered at him. “Do you think it’s a good guess that he went home?”
“Probably. Where else would he go?” The muscles on his bare forearms tensed. “No matter how wretched your home life is, as a kid, it’s all you know.”
She blinked. She knew all too well about Jed’s home life—drunken father, warring parents, his mother always threatening to go back to the res. When Jed was arrested, his parents disowned him and his mother’s people shunned him.
Hannah opened her mouth to give Jed the next direction, but the truck followed the way to Zoey’s rundown trailer as if under its own agency. Of course, Jed knew the way to this place that had lodged itself in his history. Like many residents of Dead Falls Island, Zoey had inhabited her family home.
His headlights lit up the yellow tape still ringing the property. The police believed Zoey was attacked in her home and then dragged outside of her house and finished off in the back. They’d labeled that entire area as the crime scene.
Jed’s truck jostled through the mobile home park and pulled in front of Zoey’s trailer. He cut his engine, leaving on his headlights. Hannah slid from the truck and cupped her hand around her mouth. “Sheldon? Sheldon are you here? It’s Dr. Maddox—Hannah. Do you remember me?”
Jed nudged her and pointed to the dilapidated swing set on one side of the trailer, one chain swaying in the breezeless night.
Hannah crept toward the play area. “Sheldon? I can push you on the swings, if you want.”
A slight scuffle came from the brush beyond the swing set but stopped when a patrol car, lights flashing, came careening down the road. Hannah froze and glared over her shoulder. Did the cops believe that was any way to approach a missing, traumatized child?
A smaller car followed, and Maggie emerged, shielding her eyes with one hand. She whispered, “Anything?”
“Maybe in those bushes past the swing set.” Hannah turned back toward the noise she’d heard earlier. “Sheldon? We’re all here to help you.”
The bushes parted, and Sheldon’s pale face appeared between the branches.
Hannah eked out a breath. “That’s right, sweetheart. Come on out.”
Sheldon scrambled from the bushes and tiptoed toward her. Hannah couldn’t help herself and closed the gap between them, enfolding Sheldon’s thin frame in her arms. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
The boy remained still and listless in her hug and then his little body stiffened, and Hannah feared she’d made a mistake by showing him physical affection. She dropped her arms and scooted away from him.
“Are you all right, Sheldon?”
His eyes grew round, and he lifted a skinny arm, his finger pointing. “That’s him.”
Hannah whirled around, as Sheldon focused like a laser on Jed, lounging against his truck. Her heart sank. “That’s who, sweetheart?”
And then Sheldon howled loud enough for the entire island to hear him. “That’s the bad man.”