Chapter 3
He moved soundlessly around the kitchen as he fixed his brew.
His stomach grumbled. The last thing he’d eaten was something akin to meat at one of the truck stops outside Denver.
The least he could do was make breakfast for Josie as a thank-you for letting him crash, but he couldn’t stick around long enough to wait for her to wake up.
The memory of her tears on the front of his shirt made him ball his hands into fists.
Those tears had been because of him. She’d shed thousands over Liam, but it wasn’t fucking right that he’d made her cry too.
Leaving Whistlemore had been a dick move.
A cop-out he couldn’t take back. But he’d been trapped.
If whoever had killed Liam had set a bar on fire to frame him, there was no telling what other lengths they’d go to get rid of him.
Getting out of Dodge and away from Josie and anyone else who could potentially get hurt was the best thing he could’ve done.
He turned, rinsed his coffee mug, and placed it in the dishwasher.
Why did leaving while Josie was asleep feel like another dick move?
He’d see her again. Had to. But he also had someone else to see.
Someone he hadn’t talked to since the day he left and who sure as hell wouldn’t be happy to see him.
He went to the kitchen drawer and found a pen and paper.
He scribbled a note to Josie, grabbed his flannel jacket, and slipped out the front door.
The sun hadn’t yet risen above the mountains, but the morning light had pushed away the dark sky, creating a purply-pink hue beyond the clouds.
He inhaled a deep breath and stared at Josie’s modest piece of land.
The twelve-acre property was looking a little unkempt, now that Liam wasn’t around to bear some of the responsibility of caring for it.
He noticed last night that the back deck needed new boards, and the front porch’s wood peeled through the five-year-old stain.
Flower boxes waiting for plants hung crooked off the railing, and the concrete walkway had heaved, leaving a big crack slashed across the middle.
Fallen branches, likely the result of a windstorm, had been shoved to the side of the yard near the gravel driveway.
He sighed and walked down the steps toward his car.
He jangled his keys in his hand and clicked the unlock button on the fob.
The crisp mountain air filled his lungs, reminding him of why he’d chosen to live in Whistlemore.
The vast mountains surrounded him like armor.
Living in bear country was a double-edged sword, though.
On one hand, he was mesmerized by the forest and mountains, on the other, always on guard for what could be lurking in the shadows.
A chill rose up his spine, and he swiveled his gaze around as he approached his car. He should take a page from Josie’s book and have bear spray on him. He’d grab some later today.
After he faced his past.
And his business partner.
* * *
He was gone.
Why was that surprising? Josie stared at the folded-up blanket and pillow stacked on the pullout sofa. The fact that he’d stacked the bedding shouldn’t have annoyed her but it did. It was like saying, “Thanks for the hospitality. I won’t be back.”
Pain twisted her chest.
Beep, beep
She turned her head at the sound of the coffee maker. Strange. She hadn’t set it the previous night because she’d been so stunned by Quin’s arrival. She walked into the kitchen and saw a white slip of paper next to the machine.
Got up early and need to do something.
Didn’t want to wake you.
I owe you a meal—lunch?
Q
The pain in her chest eased a fraction. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled her cup. Need to do something? If he was roaming around Whistlemore he wouldn’t make it back for lunch. He’d either get into an altercation with a pissed-off townsperson or the sheriff would haul his ass to jail.
She couldn’t spend her day worrying about Quin, though. He was a big boy, and if he wanted to flounce around town as a wanted man, he was on his own. She turned from the counter, coffee in hand. From the corner of her eye, a shadow moved.
She snapped her head to the kitchen window. A pearl of unease rolled down her spine. The sensation of being watched never went away. She’d first noticed it a month after Liam’s passing. She should have been comforted. Surely it was Liam stopping by to see her. He of all people knew she’d sense him.
Only it wasn’t his energy that her body picked up on.
She scanned the backyard. The large pine and birch trees that circled her property swayed gently in the breeze. A few clouds wiped out the brilliant sun that normally warmed the late March days and reminded her that winter was behind them for a couple more seasons.
Just a shadow. Maybe an eagle had passed by, or even a deer.
It made sense that Liam’s death had put her on edge.
She couldn’t help searching for his soul and waiting for the moment he’d bound up the back steps, swoop her into his arms, and tell her it had all been one big mistake—that he’d somehow survived.
The well of darkness opened up around her. She brought her fingers to the citrine crystal around her neck and rubbed the earthy stone. She mumbled a few affirmations: She could do this. One day at a time. One foot in front of the other.
She opened her eyes and blinked back the tears. One day she’d stop living as if each minute were as exhausting as a marathon. One day, the pain would ease.
Just not today.
* * *
Quin crumpled up the oily wrapper holding the remnants of his breakfast sandwich and stuffed it in the paper bag next to him.
The dirt road leading to Whistlemore Lumber had sparked an onslaught of memories.
He’d spent every day, practically every waking fucking moment, at this place.
The large main building looked more like a house, which held the homey air of a log cabin that they’d wanted to inspire builders with.
There’d even been a time when they’d considered getting into building log cabins, but that had been more Liam’s idea.
He, Cody, and Liam had built the main building from the ground up after Quin inherited half a million dollars from his dad.
Money that was still his and still tied up in the business.
He got out of the car and took a deep, steadying breath of mountain air.
The sound of the babbling brook that ran behind the property reached his ears, sucking him back to simpler times, when working with his buddies had been the center of his life.
The early morning hour made it less likely someone would spot him.
While operations started early, business wasn’t open to customers for another hour.
Everything had changed when Liam died. Hell, who was he kidding?
Everything had changed the day he asked Cody to buy him out, just a month before Liam’s death.
As much as he’d loved his business, he’d also seen that there was a time to sell.
Unlike Liam and Cody, he hadn’t planned on growing old in a teeny mountain town and breaking his back when he was sixty years old.
Quin flexed his fingers. Cody had every right to be livid with him.
He’d bailed on the business, leaving everything in Cody’s lap eight months after Liam’s death, all because of the sonofabitch who’d framed him for burning down the bar.
By the looks of it, though, Cody had kept the place running smoothly.
“Holy fucking shitballs,” a voice boomed from the front porch. Cody ran a hand over his close-cropped brown hair, his mouth slowly morphing into a grin. “Holy fucking—”
“Heard ya the first time,” Quin said with a chuckle. Not detecting an ounce of resentment in Cody’s voice, Quin let the muscles in his neck relax.
Cody descended the stairs. The wood boards shook under his weight. His old friend hadn’t changed. His smile was still as chipper as ever. Cody pulled him into a burly hug. “Man, what the hell happened?” He pulled away. Concern laced his brow.
Quin rocked his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet. “I don’t know where to start. Everyone thinks—”
“You know I believe you, dude.”
Quin nodded. Knowing that Cody hadn’t forsaken him kept him going.
He was a lifeline. After fleeing town, he’d called Cody and told him about the fire he’d been framed for starting.
By that point, his friend had already heard the worst stories, which spread faster than the flames that had eaten up the town’s most bustling business.
“That means a lot.” Quin looked up at the log building, and nostalgia pulled at his chest. “I’m not going to lie—it was hard to come back.”
“Isn’t the sheriff still out to get you? Or did you find a way to prove you didn’t start the fire?”
“I don’t think Hank ever sleeps. And nah. But I will.”
Cody’s brows lowered over his olive-toned eyes. “Something else on your mind?”
Quin snorted. Hell, if Cody only knew he was staying at Liam’s girlfriend’s house, that Josie had his head spinning in circles—no, scratch that. It wasn’t Josie who’d fucked with his head. That was his own damn fault.
Guilt. Of course it was guilt for abandoning his pal’s widow. Who wouldn’t be eaten up over that? Yet, something else hung around the edges of that guilt. Another gut-wrenching emotion. And acknowledging that would only make him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.
“Yeah,” he said. “Liam.”
Cody’s eyes softened. “Come in for coffee. I was just about to take a break.”
Quin followed him inside. The large front entrance opened up to a seating nook and coffee bar. He took one of the black leather chairs at the front window overlooking the porch and front lawn.
Cody went to the coffee machine, poured two cups, and took the seat across from Quin. “It’s nice to have you back. It’s been hard running the place alone.”
A pang of remorse chewed at Quin.
Quin warmed his hands on the mug. “I appreciate you running things. I know it probably hasn’t been easy. I’ll be sure to compensate you for the added work and stress while I’ve been gone—”
Cody sighed impatiently and waved his hand. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. It’s my business too, and I would have done whatever necessary to keep it going. I get why you had to leave.”
Quin gave one nod.
“So what’s Liam got to do with anything?” Cody took a sip of his coffee, his eyes watchful over the rim.
Quin stretched out his legs. “None of it makes sense. I inspected the harness that morning. It was in perfect shape.”
“And?”
“After he fell it seemed old, and part of the nylon fall protection lanyard was frayed . . . like it’d been cut.”
Cody drew his head back. “You think someone murdered Liam?” He shook his head. “The police ruled his death as accidental. A workplace injury.”
Quin rolled his lips together. “Did you see the harness?”
Cody shook his head slowly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He found the file of the images he’d taken last year and flicked to the clearest photo of the lanyard.
Just seeing the neat line of cut material made his gut clench.
“It looks as if someone cut the harness halfway. Just enough to weaken it in the event of a fall.”
Cody whistled through his teeth. “Fuck, man.” He stood and paced the room. “We need to find out who was working that day. I’ll have to dig and—”
“There’s more.”
Cody whirled around. His skin had turned a sickish-gray hue. “More?”
“Liam called Josie the morning he died. He left a voicemail saying something wasn’t right at work and that he needed to talk to her.”
Cody dragged his hand through his hair. “Well, did she tell the police?”
“She didn’t think of it until now. She’d thought his death was accidental until I told her my suspicions.”
“We should call Hank.”
Quin made a face. The sheriff was fair and just, but until Quin could clear his name about the fire, he had to keep his ass away from a jail cell.
Cody lifted a shoulder. “Right. I guess that’s not a good idea yet.”
“Do you have any idea what could have happened that morning? Why would he say something wasn’t right?”
Cody propped his hands on his hips. “Man, I feel like a bomb went off in my head. I can’t think straight. Give me some time and I’ll look back at my calendar and schedule for that day. Anything I can find, all right?”
Quin took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “That’d be great.”
“Where are you staying?”
Quin lowered his gaze. Well, shit. He’d already implicated Josie, but he could trust Cody. It wasn’t as if he’d run to Hank. “Josie’s.”
Cody’s eyebrows hiked up a notch. Normally a sharp-tongued comment would have followed, but Cody must have caught himself. “I’ll get in touch.” He snapped his fingers. “You know what? I do remember something from that day.”
Quin set his mug on the small table in front of the window and leaned forward. “What?”
“Frasier Donohue came by. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but you know he’s always had beef with Liam. ’Course I can’t remember what about.”
Quin flexed his hand on his knee. He remembered Frasier. And he’d find out if he’d had anything to do with Liam’s accident.