Saturday, 1:18 p.m.
Someone pounded at the door. There was an urgency behind it—or was it anger?—and she pictured the visitor outside wielding a side fist like a hammer. Leyna’s first thought was Dominic, her second the fire. She hesitated, anxious about an update on either of those topics.
Her mom yanked open the door, stance wide, as if ready for a fight. On the porch, Rocky met her mother’s scowl with an even deeper one before his eyes found Leyna’s.
Yeah, definitely anger there.
“You broke my window,” he said. Clearly, their visitor wasn’t looking for confirmation.
“I did.” She offered no apology, plucked a photo from the counter. It was the one of Rocky with Grace and their mom.
He crossed to her, and she waited for him to snatch the photo from her hands. Instead, his arms remained pinned to his sides as he squinted at the Polaroid. “Yeah. So?”
Rocky took a step into her personal space, his body radiating heat, and she was reminded of the foot or so he had on her. In height and width.
“What were you doing in my house?” It wasn’t quite a growl, but the threat was clear.
Leyna tilted her chin to better see his face but kept her feet planted. She wouldn’t be the one to retreat. She raised the photo to keep it in his line of sight. “Finding this.” She gestured toward the counter. “And those.”
This set him back a step. Eyes narrowing, he spent several seconds assessing her. Then he went to the counter and stood over the photos. He didn’t touch these either. After a moment, he turned back to Leyna. “What are these?”
“Obviously, they’re photos. From your cottage.”
“I can see they’re photos, but they’re not mine.” He pointed a meaty finger toward the picture she held. “I’ve never seen any of these.”
“They were in an envelope—”
He interrupted. “Envelope?”
“These were in an envelope taped to the bottom of a dresser drawer.”
“What’re you playing at here?” His face darkened, and she felt abruptly more afraid of him than she had at any time during their walk in the forest. “You’re not going to make me the villain in this story like you tried to do with Adam.”
Her mom surprised her by coming to her side. “She found these in your cottage. You must’ve known they were there, considering your place is only slightly larger than my downstairs bath.”
Leyna shot her a look. “You’ve been to his place?”
“Jesus, Leyna, you act like I just admitted we’re sleeping together.” She rolled her eyes. “I told you I did a commission for him. He invited me in for a beer.”
“You drink beer?”
Rocky stepped back from the island, as if disavowing ownership. “Not mine,” Rocky said again, more emphatically.
“Your cottage,” her mom repeated.
“When’s the last time you checked underneath your dresser drawers?”
“Why would I? There’s nothing there.”
“Five minutes ago, I would’ve said the same.” He turned to Leyna, scowling. “You owe me a window. Hopefully it won’t cost more than a hundred and fifty-two dollars.”
Leyna gathered the three Polaroids, returned them to her pocket, and threw a sideways glance at Rocky, who seemed to be the only one who wasn’t looking for answers about what had happened to Grace.
Maybe because he already knew.
“You got the fourth one?” Leyna asked. “Because it’s still missing.”
“I didn’t even have those.”
Leyna closed the small gap he’d created between them. “She wasn’t going to meet Adam that night,” she said. “She was headed to your place. Did she get there?”
Rocky’s silence was answer enough.
“That’s how you knew she’d changed her shirt.”
Rocky’s eyes narrowed in warning. Drop it. “Someone probably mentioned it.”
“No one else knew.” She turned to her mom. “Did you know?”
“No. I didn’t.”
Leyna locked eyes with Rocky again. “See. Only me and, apparently, you. She wanted a ride, didn’t she?” It was a guess—if Grace had run away, she would’ve needed a lift into town—but Rocky’s deepening scowl confirmed she was right.
“Did you give her one?”
This time, he shook his head and directed his response to her mom. “I told her to go home, and if she still needed a ride in the morning, I would give her one.”
His expression hardened as it had back in the forest when she’d mentioned her mother. Leyna studied his face for any sign that he’d lied, that there was something he was afraid to say. He didn’t look like he was lying or afraid. Still, she suspected he held something back. And the way he stared at her mom made her think her mom knew whatever it was he kept from her. “Why did she want a ride?”
“She didn’t say.”
There. A twitch at his right eye. A lie. Leyna pushed. “She must’ve said something.”
“I told her to go home,” he repeated.
Leyna thought she saw a flash of regret, but he buried it quickly. If he was telling the truth, she understood. For sixteen years, she’d lived with her own guilt after watching Grace walk away.
But again—if he was telling the truth.
“A girl comes to you in distress asking for a ride and says nothing about why she needs it.” Leyna made her sarcasm as thick as she was able. Which was pretty damn thick. She’d learned from the best of them.
Rocky turned to her mom again, as if she were the one Leyna had addressed and they were both awaiting her response. She felt her mother stiffen beside her, but neither she nor Rocky spoke. In the silence, his breathing grew heavier. Her mom’s too.
Rocky looked at Leyna. “We’ll settle up on the window later. I’ll mail you an invoice.”
He started to leave, then paused in the doorway. “I’m sorry for your loss, Leyna, but if you come near my house again, I might have to shoot you.”