“Dante, no! Don’t drink out of the toilet. Daddy!”
Jake put his coffee cup down and got up, rubbing his chest in slow circles. It was Sunday, so they’d been able to sleep in. But he was still tired. Daniel had had another nightmare about Lizzie, this one at three AM. By the time he’d brought the little guy into his bed and gotten him settled again, it had been almost four. Daniel had gone back to sleep after that, but Jake had stayed awake longer. Thinking. Remembering.
Jake walked down the hallway, toward the bathroom where Daniel stood. His chubby fists were planted on his hips, his short, blond hair sticking straight up in messy, little spikes. He looked at his son’s profile. Long eyelashes, a button nose that turned up a bit at the end—the spitting image of his mother. Jake’s heart squeezed at the thought.
“He’s drinking out of the toilet again, Daddy. And I can’t pick him up, because he’s fat and he’ll hurt my back.”
Jake resisted the urge to smile. Daniel looked so serious, tried so hard to be grown up these days. He’d obviously been spending too much time with his grandmother, who had a slipped disc and never tired of talking about it.
“Well, I’ll just pick him up then,” Jake said.
He looked down at the black and white tomcat blinking up at him, balanced precariously on the toilet seat, licking water from his whiskers. Daniel was right about one thing—Dante was fat. Jake had been embarrassed at their last vet visit because he’d gotten a stern lecture about obese pets and how the extra weight was hard on their system. He knew better. But for some reason, he couldn’t deny the cat his food. He always seemed so pathetically hungry in the mornings, weaving between their legs with his freakishly small head and a belly that almost dragged the floor.
“No more toilet water for you, mister.” He bent to pick him up, and Dante squeaked in protest.
“Yeah,” Daniel scolded. “No more for you.”
He put down the cat, who immediately began licking a paw. So dainty and proper. The toilet was his only vice. Well, the toilet and twenty-pound bags of Purina.
Kneeling in front of Daniel, Jake ruffled the boy’s hair. “Did you brush your teeth like I told you?”
Daniel leaned in and put his face in Jake’s neck, something he’d done since he was a baby. He smelled like fabric softener and pancakes. “No. Dante was in the toilet.”
The cat rubbed up against Jake’s thigh, purring like a Mack Truck.
“Well, he’s not in the toilet anymore, buddy. So you need to brush your teeth.”
“Daddy, when’s my birthday?”
“January first.”
“How far away?”
“Three weeks. Well, a little over three weeks.”
Daniel pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes were impossibly wide and blue. They were shaped like Lizzie’s, but their color was his. A perfect blend of both parents.
“What did Mommy say about when I was borned?”
“When you were born?”
“Yeah.”
“She said you were so special, you had to be born on a holiday.”
Daniel smiled while processing this. He loved hearing little things about his mother. Jake wondered how much he remembered, and how much he’d remember in the future. They’d lost her not quite a year ago, and Daniel hadn’t even been three yet. He’d only been a baby really. And then the trauma of him getting lost in the woods a few months later… It had been a long, hard go. An awful year, full of heartache and change. They were only now settling into some kind of new routine. However precarious that might be.
He patted Daniel’s bottom and pushed him gently toward the sink. “Get after it, kid. Then maybe we’ll go to the park.”
“Really?”
“Really. The sun’s out. We should enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Is it gonna be Christmas soon?”
“Yup. And you know what that means.”
“Santa!”
He grinned as Daniel dug in the drawer for his toothbrush. Then he felt the smile wilt on his mouth. Their first Christmas without Lizzie.
“What if it snows too much?” Daniel mumbled around the toothbrush, blue foam bubbling from his lips. “Do you think Santa could find us?”
He stood and watched his son scrub his baby teeth, carefully, just like he’d been taught.
“I don’t think anyone’s hidden that well, bud.”
* * * *
Aimee crouched behind a spruce, leaning in and resting her hands against the bark. She gazed down at the cottage below—small, cute, with smoke curling from the brick chimney, which pointed like an arrow to the sky.
She’d been there since dawn. She’d seen a movement in the kitchen window, someone making coffee maybe? Getting ready to build a fire? The house conveyed a happy, cozy energy. Which only made her want to protect those who lived inside it even more. There was a Chinese proverb she’d heard once and had never forgotten. He who saves a life is responsible for it. She supposed it worked the other way around too.
Breathing deep, she closed her eyes. She felt good; almost as good as before she’d gotten sick. But she still tired easily and had to make time to rest during the day, even if just for a few minutes here or there.
The front door of the cottage opened, and Aimee looked up. A little boy in a puffy, red jacket trotted out, and she smiled at the knit hat that kept sliding down over his eyes. He was adorable, probably not much older than three or four. His father walked behind him. Dr. Blackstock. Even from where she sat, she could make out strong features underneath a tattered Giants baseball cap. He wore the same fleece he’d had on that night at the inn. She remembered how he’d smelled when he’d leaned over her, how his hands had felt on her skin, and her stomach tightened.
“Come on, buddy,” he called to his son.
The little boy jumped over a puddle in the driveway and waited patiently while his dad unlocked a black jeep.
She watched, feeling something strange pull at her. Something she hadn’t felt in earnest since the night she’d been bitten. She’d had times of sadness, times of wishing for things that might never be. Even times when she struggled with a secret regret over how she’d chosen to live up until this point.
But she hadn’t felt truly lonely until that very moment.
* * * *
Jake drove down the wide, deserted street that ran right through the middle of Wolfe Creek. The inn sat at the end of it; large, white, and elegant against the backdrop of the distant, purple mountains.
He’d tried to get Aimee Styles out of his head since last week, but he hadn’t had much luck. The mystery surrounding her was almost as captivating as her looks, which he’d had a hard enough time shaking.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at Daniel playing with some Legos in his lap. He hummed a song he’d heard on TV that morning. Something nondescript, but it had stuck with him just the same. Such a sweet kid. Such an old soul. Always had been.
Jake looked back at the road. Aimee Styles. If it had been Daniel missing, he’d be beside himself, desperate to know if his son was safe. When he’d gotten lost in the woods it had almost broken Jake, and that had only been two days. Aimee had been missing for two years. As a parent, he couldn’t help but think of hers. Did they know their daughter was alive? What in God’s name would make someone want to disappear off the face of the earth, knowing what kind of agony it would cause her loved ones?
But he’d made a promise to Jim. He had to trust that there was a good reason for it. A really good reason—Jim believed Aimee’s life could be in danger. But why?
When they reached the inn, Jake pulled over at the curb. He caught a glimpse of Jim chopping wood out back.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, turning to Daniel in the backseat. “You stay here a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Jake got out of the jeep and followed the brick walkway to the back of the house.
Jim looked up, then put the ax down. “Doc. What brings you out today?”
“Hey, Jim,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand. “Just checking in. I wanted to follow up, see how she’s doing.”
The tension that had been etched on Jim’s face the other night had disappeared. In its place was a look of relief and goodwill.
“She’s doing just fine, thanks to you. Left a few days ago.”
Jake frowned. “Where?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say. She’d have to tell you on her own, and I have to be honest, I don’t know that she would.”
Nodding, Jake looked back at the jeep. Daniel peered out the window, his little face wearing a mixture of curiosity and impatience.
“I appreciate what you did,” Jim continued. “I know it was a shock.”
“You’re right about that. I’m not gonna lie, I’m curious as hell. But that’s not the reason I want to know where she is.”
Jim waited, the muscles in his jaw bunching.
“I should see her again. Make sure she’s recovering okay. Relapses aren’t uncommon with this type of flu.”
Jim nodded.
“If you could relay that message, I’d be grateful.”
The morning sun filtered through the pines to dance on the walkway where they stood. Their breath crystallized on the air, reminding Jake of the mountain winter right around the corner. Frigid, fierce, unrelenting. And all he could think about was the beautiful young woman who’d vanished into elements that probably should have killed her by now.
“Will do,” Jim said, studying him with those gray eyes that were so unsettling, even more so in the light of day. They were the color of dry river rock, or the cliffs that jutted from the falls near Pike’s Peak. They were hard, intent. But not without a strange kind of warmth. “Maybe I can even get her to pay you a visit.”