Chapter Fourteen

Maggie sat staring out a window of the Arrowhead Café, the memory of that night thick behind her eyes and her coffee long since cold.

It was October thirtieth. A day that had dawned like any other. Freezing, wet, foggy. But Maggie had risen out of bed with a distinctive weight sitting squarely on her chest. She’d woken crying, which wasn’t unusual. But she’d also woken confused. She’d been dreaming about Aimee. She’d been alive and staying with her at the Inn. They’d been drinking a glass of wine in the parlor, talking about Koda Wolfe.

I like him, Aimee had said. I think he’s good for you. I think he can protect you.

Maggie had leaned forward, but Aimee had begun to swim before her. Maggie narrowed her eyes, struggling to see her friend clearly. What does that mean? Protect me, how?

I like him, Aimee had said again. He’ll protect you.

Maggie had been annoyed. What was she talking about? And then, like the fog itself, Aimee had broken up and disappeared, leaving only emptiness behind.

Aimee? Don’t go. Aimee?

“Aimee?” She’d sat up in bed and looked around. She was alone, of course. But the dream had felt so real that it took a moment for her brain to adjust. And then the familiar ache inside her chest, so painful that she thought she might break from it.

She sat in a small corner of the café, thinking of that night like she had so often before. Thinking of the last moment she’d seen her friend alive.

Rubbing her thumb up and down the chilled mug, she stared out the window in a daze.

One year. One full year. And they were no closer to finding out what happened to Aimee today than they’d been that awful, cold night. How could a person just vanish like that?

The door to the café opened, bringing with it a chilly gust of air. Maggie put her hand over her napkin to keep it from fluttering to the floor, but didn’t look up.

Aimee.

“Is this seat taken?”

Koda stood over her. He wore a gray North Face fleece and leather boots laced only halfway up. Very outdoorsy. Very sexy. Although he probably just rolled out of bed, he also looked like something out of an Eddie Bauer ad. Her heart squeezed at the sight, confusing her. Making her wish she’d met him in a different time and place. Under different circumstances.

She smiled, all too aware of her wild, unwashed curls and bare, freckled face. “Please, sit.”

He did, scooting in close. She caught his scent, which was clean and warm. Maybe a little aftershave from the day before. “You look tired,” he said.

“That’s just a nice way of telling someone they look like crap.”

“No. You’re beautiful. But you do look tired.”

She flushed. Compliments from the opposite sex didn’t come her way very often. She’d never been the pretty one or the vivacious one. That had been Aimee. Maggie had always been comfortable being the bookworm, the one with the dry sense of humor. The one her mother called, “the personality.” But never the pretty one.

If Aimee had been sitting there at that very moment, she would have elbowed Maggie in the ribs and said, See? I told you.

“Thank you.”

Koda motioned for the waitress. “Coffee please, Eileen. Black.”

He glanced around then, nodding to a few men on the other side of the café.

“They’re not missing a thing,” he said. “We’re the talk of the town.”

“God. I never wanted that.”

“I know you didn’t. But the truth is, what’s happened is bigger than just you and me.”

She knew that. But at the same time wondered if her presence here, along with her new attraction to Koda Wolfe, was like blowing on smoking kindling.

The waitress brought his coffee and studied Maggie with renewed interest, before sauntering away again.

“She’s a gossip,” Koda said, taking a sip. “But harmless.”

“Noted.”

They were quiet for a minute and Maggie looked back out the window. There were only a few inches between them. She could have put her hand on his thigh if she’d wanted to.

“I know what day it is,” he finally said. His voice was low, hesitant. The mist had turned to a light rain, temporarily washing clean the pickup trucks in the parking lot. The same trucks Maggie had so bitterly sized up a week ago, but now realized were just sensible mountain transportation.

The weight on her chest was crushing. It was hard to breathe. Trying to keep composed, she folded her hands neatly on the table. Still, she couldn’t look at him.

“I know how tough this is for you,” he said. “I know you don’t know me very well. But you can talk to me. I’m a pretty good listener.”

She winced and struggled to clear her mind of everything. Of Aimee, and the last image she had of her.

I’ll be right back.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. She stared down at her coffee. A year ago it had been wine and girls’ nights. Now, it was just stark reality. All of a sudden, she felt too old for her body. “I think I’m going to go back to my room and lie down for a while. I don’t feel very good.”

He dug a few dollars from his wallet and put them on the table. “I’ll walk you,” he said.

They opened the door of the café and stepped outside with Maggie squinting into the rain. She walked next to Koda, comforted by his presence. Then, surprising herself, and probably surprising him, too, she slipped her arm in his. He looked down, but she stared straight ahead, not trusting herself to meet his gaze. Instead she moved close, letting his body heat jump the boundaries of her winter clothing. And then after a few steps, he covered her chilly hand with his. It was such an uncomplicated gesture, made with no pretense whatsoever, but one that seemed to express everything left unspoken between them. She was safe while she was with him.

When they got back to the Inn, they were greeted by a roaring fire and the scent of bacon coming from the kitchen. Ara served breakfast to her guests on the weekends, and despite Maggie’s gloom, her stomach rumbled.

“Warm up before you go to your room.” Koda said gently. “It might do you some good.”

She followed him into the parlor, their footsteps creaking on the old wood floor. Maggie held her hands in front of the fire, and Koda leaned against the mantel, his short hair dripping onto his jacket, and watched her.

“Aimee was so fun,” she finally said, staring into the licking, popping flames. “You would have liked her.”

“I’m sure I would have.”

The heat warmed Maggie’s face, warmed her chest through the unzipped jacket. Memories, one after another, came rushing back. Riding bikes with Aimee to school, Aimee declaring every Sunday pajama day. Aimee’s voice over the phone, Aimee’s smile, Aimee’s laughter. They were all so vivid, so real, that Maggie had to blink them away.

“It’s the not knowing. If she suffered, or if she could still be alive somewhere.” She turned and looked up at Koda with months of unshed tears finally beginning to spill down her cheeks. “Some days I don’t think I can stand it, I miss her so much.”

“I know,” he said, stepping close. “I know you do.”

Before she realized what was happening, he’d pulled her against his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, feeling his heart thud against her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. He was warm and solid, not an ounce of fat on his lean frame.

He touched her hair, ran his hand down her back, and she shivered in response.

And then he was pulling away, his hands on her shoulders, his breath tickling her face. She looked up. He was beautiful, dark, mysterious. He could have been one of the men in the hotel photographs from long ago. She realized then with a faint jolt of surprise that she trusted him more at that moment, than anyone else.

And just when had that happened? Overnight maybe? Under the spell of Wolfe Creek’s ardent moon? It had certainly been capable of stranger things. At some point Koda Wolfe had stopped being just an acquaintance and had begun to be something else all together.

He bent slightly, his black eyes fixed on hers. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel. She just wanted to fall into this moment and let it carry her away like the rush of a swollen river.

When his lips touched hers, they were warm and wet. Salty. She could feel an urgency there, yet he moved deliberately slow, as if not wanting to scare her. She responded by opening her mouth and touching her tongue to his. Everything inside her coiled. She was no longer full of pain, but of a longing so powerful that it threatened to turn her inside out. And she welcomed it.

His strong hands pressed into her back, bringing her even closer. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples hard and sensitive through her thin cotton bra. A wild pulse beat at the hollow of her throat, making her light-headed.

And then a sound. A footstep behind them that coaxed a moan from the old hardwood floor. Maggie sucked in a breath and Koda broke the kiss.

She turned to see Zane standing in the archway. His eyes glittered, his lips curled into a grin.

“I thought you told me to stay away from her, brother,” he said. “Now I see why.”

Koda sat at his desk, looking at the photographs in Candi’s file for the hundredth time. Bruises, cuts, the broken screen door, the shattered lamp. Candace Tina Brooks, said the tidy label on the side. So formal, so cold.

Exhausted, he leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands.

It was Sunday morning and the substation was so quiet, he could hear a pin drop. He was the only deputy on duty, which wasn’t unusual. But the eerie silence was. Even the phone that usually rang off the hook on the weekends was still. The only sound that was keeping him from going completely nuts was the occasional crackly voice coming through the radio in the corner. But even that was quieter than normal.

Looking at the desk again, he poked at the lighter that had been sitting there for the last few days. It seemed ridiculously out of place next to the files and sticky notes that scattered Koda’s work surface. Its gaudiness reminded him of Zane as a teenager, trying so hard to be tough, and eventually, after a lot of adolescent effort, succeeding.

Koda flicked it until it spun in a blur of gold. He didn’t know why he hadn’t given it back yet. Busy, he guessed. With everything going on, ensuring that his brother’s smoking habit went uninterrupted hadn’t been a priority. Zane must have left it at Candi’s during one of their jaunts. But it was strange that he hadn’t mentioned how it was missing, even in passing. He loved that stupid thing.

Koda’s cell phone rang, making him jump.

“Wolfe,” he barked into the phone, suddenly cranky.

“Koda, it’s McCay.”

Alan McCay was an OSP trooper, who’d also been a buddy since high school. He was one of the lead investigators on the Aimee Styles case, and despite what Maggie thought, had been working himself to the bone for the last twelve months.

Koda sat forward and switched the phone to his other ear. “Hey. I know you’re running ragged. How’s it going?” An avid outdoorsman, it was usually Alan who had the knowledge and expertise to lead the search parties when someone went missing on the mountain. More often than not, he was stretched paper-thin. It was a relentless, exhausting job. When Koda saw him these days, he looked worn around the edges, always of the verge of either snapping, or falling asleep in his chair.

“It’s going,” Alan said. “It’s going like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

He had a mouth like a trucker. It was one of his endearing traits, depending on who you were talking to. He never said Good morning. Instead, it was usually Good fucking morning, with an emphasis on fucking.

“Yeah?” Koda grinned, glad to hear his friend’s voice.

“I’m right around the corner. Wanted to see if you could use a coffee.”

“Always.”

“Copy that. Be there in five.”

When he walked in the door a few minutes later, he carried a steaming cup and shoved it at Koda unceremoniously.

“Thanks.” Koda wiped a few drops from the lid and motioned for him to sit.

“Can’t stay,” Alan said, leaning against Koda’s desk. His short brown hair was a little messy. His face, more tan than usual. He looked fit in his dark navy uniform, like he’d been working out. But all the mountain work probably accounted for that. “I heard about Candi. Saw her last week. Stopped in the café to grab a quick bite. Jesus. Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Koda said, leaning back in his chair. “It could have been worse.”

“Well, yeah. I guess if she was dead, it could have been,” he said. “I asked her out again, you know. Turned me down cold. Guess she’s still into your brother. I gotta tell you, I don’t know what the fuck she sees in him.”

Koda felt a familiar rush of protectiveness for Zane. Because this was Alan, he bit his tongue. But most people who were stupid enough to say anything about his brother in person, would have ended up with a fist in the face.

“How are you?” Alan asked, as if sensing he’d overstepped a bit. “I hear you’re getting hot and heavy with the Sullivan girl. That true?”

Koda scratched his jaw. He’d expected word would spread, but it was still faster than usual. Zane had been furious last night, and even though Koda didn’t believe in all that vengeful mountain-man bullshit, he could understand where his little brother was coming from. He knew without question that it wasn’t a good idea to be fanning the flames with Maggie Sullivan. He’d certainly never intended for this to happen. But the truth was, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. There was something about Maggie. Something that, despite the stubborn tilt to her chin, was incredibly fragile. And that was something he’d always been the worst kind of sucker for.

“I don’t know that hot and heavy is how I’d put it.” Actually, it kind of was, but Alan didn’t need to know that. “She came here looking for some answers and I’ve agreed to help as much as I can. Within reason.”

“Help with or without her panties on?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Alan chuckled. “I can respect that. I can. Just don’t give up any of our sensitive info. The top-secret shit.”

“As far as I know we don’t have any info, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my brother in blue. Er…brown.”

Ignoring the deputy jab, Koda sat forward.

“What’s going on?”

Alan shook his head. “One year. An entire fucking year and not a single goddamn clue. As far as anyone around here can tell, Aimee Styles disappears into thin air. Not a scream, not a witness, not a fucking clue. Am I right?”

“Right.”

“And then all of a sudden, one year to the day, to the goddamn day, we got something. Bam. Out of the blue.”

Koda’s pulse picked up, and all of a sudden the room felt hot.

“What do you have?”

“Yesterday a hunter stumbled across something. Over by the stream that runs down from Pikes Peak. He saw something in the bushes. Something pink.”

“What?”

“A fucking bra. Victoria’s Secret. The fancy kind.”

Victoria’s Secret. The kind Aimee wore. “Holy shit. What size?”

“Thirty-six B.”

“Her size?”

“Her fucking size, man.”

They were quiet for a minute. A year was a long time to go without any clues. Now, they had something. Even if it was something small, it was still something.

“What now?” Koda asked.

“Now we’re bringing in cadaver dogs.”

Koda sighed inwardly. Of course that would be the next step. He knew this, just like he knew the chances of Aimee being found alive were probably less than zero. Still, the knowledge made him a little nauseous. He’d have to tell Maggie. If she didn’t already know.

Alan slapped the desk. “Well, I gotta go, man. Just wanted to keep you in the loop. I realize you guys are the last to hear down there.”

That was the understatement of the century. The top brass at OSP and the FBI had a way of treating the Deep Water County Sheriff’s Department like a bothersome younger sibling.

“I appreciate it, Alan. Thanks.”

“No problem, brother. And let’s grab lunch pretty soon, okay?”

“Yeah. Just let me know when and I’m there.”

“Things are going to be bat-shit crazy around here for the next few days. But after that, definitely.”

“Sure.”

Koda watched him walk out the door and climb into his cruiser.

One year. One year with nothing, and now this. And on the anniversary of her disappearance. Coincidence? Right now it was impossible to tell if the bra was found by sheer luck, or if it was placed there in order to be found.

Again, his stomach turned. Just when he’d thought this case couldn’t get any more bizarre.

Needing some air, he grabbed his jacket and keys. But froze dead in his tracks before he’d even reached the door.

The bastard took my bra, Candi had said.