CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kol
WHO WAS IN CHARGE OF SNACKS THIS WEEK? BECAUSE this seriously sucks,” Mav muttered as he took in the offerings of sodas, chips, and a hummus-and-veggie platter.
I scowled at my youngest brother as he pawed through the mini–chip bags. “Stop getting your germy paws all over everything. Did you even wash your hands when you got back from riding?”
“He certainly doesn’t smell like he took a shower, that’s for sure,” Wylder said as he pulled back a chair at the massive conference table we had set up in one of the workshops on Twisted Oak Ranch.
Waylon had given us use of the space, allowing us to empty it of what had turned out to be a mix of old, rusting ranch equipment, clock parts, and a Bigfoot replica that would give me nightmares for the next year.
Before now, we hadn’t really had an official meeting spot for the Hourglass Network. We usually met at Uncle Waylon’s kitchen table or mine, sometimes even after hours at the Boot. But now that Dex was back in Starlight Grove, we needed this.
The Hourglass Network had started after the FBI arrested our second youngest brother for hacking into their files while trying to help a classmate look into their missing brother’s case.
Dex had taken working for the FBI in their cyber department over jail time, but he’d also realized just how many cases went without the proper support and resources.
We all knew better than most how easy it was for missing people to stay that way and for families to be haunted by the lack of answers.
We wanted to help those who lived with the same. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew this was some sort of atonement for crimes we weren’t responsible for. But it helped all the same.
Only this one was a little more personal.
Maverick threw a Dorito at Wylder like a throwing star. “I smell like sunshine and wildflowers.”
“If sunshine and wildflowers had BO,” Wylder shot back.
“And ass sweat,” Orion signed.
“All right, already,” Dex cut in as he beamed whatever was on his computer to a projection screen at one end of the table. “Let’s focus. I’m taking Brae and Owen to the diner for dinner in an hour.”
“And Waylon’s probably convincing Skylar that aliens are already among us. If she tells her teacher another abduction story, I’m pretty sure I’m getting a visit from the county,” I muttered.
“Hey, they could be here,” Mav said as he lowered himself into a chair.
I shook my head. “I need to limit her time with you, too.”
“Rude,” he clipped.
“Okay,” Dex cut in again. “Kol, this is your show.”
I opened the file in front of me. Dex might be high-tech, but I needed a pen and paper. I needed to be able to lay things out and move them around like pieces on a chessboard.
Flipping to a list, I looked up, signing as I spoke. “I found two more cases that might be Travis. While his victim profile varied, it’s clear he had a favorite type.”
“Women in their twenties with dark hair,” Wylder supplied.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Wylder pulled out his phone—his preferred note-taking device. “I want to dig more into that. Who had a similar look in his life? His mother? An ex-girlfriend? A woman his father had an affair with?”
Maverick popped a chip into his mouth, speaking around bites. “He was with Cora forever. Did he even have a girlfriend before her?”
“Nothing serious,” Dex supplied. “Not that I remember.”
I leaned back in my chair. “We might want to talk to Cora—”
“No.” Wylder spoke the single word with finality. “She’s been through enough.”
I studied my older brother for a moment.
Wylder never lost his cool. Nothing made him panic.
But when something tripped his trigger—usually something having to do with injustice or a wrong being perpetrated against someone he cared about—he went cold.
Like now. Wylder’s voice had dropped several degrees, icicles practically dripping from each syllable.
“Wy,” I began.
“No. Not happening. If she tells me something useful, I’ll share. But otherwise, it’s a no-go zone.”
“All right, then,” Dex went on. “Kol, give us the two cases.”
“Amber MacIntosh from Bainbridge Island, Washington. She was backpacking up the Pacific Crest Trail when she failed to check in at her expected point.”
Mav frowned. “What makes you think it’s Travis?”
“Her next checkpoint was Spruce Canyon. And a couple hiking in the opposite direction saw her about six miles south of Starlight Grove,” I informed them.
Orion stood, rolling out a map I knew was his handiwork. Grabbing a pencil, he drew a circle, then signed, “In Travis’s hunting ground.”
It was a relief to see my brother speak, in his way. While he’d gone stonily silent for the majority of his life, he was still an active participant during these meetings. Maybe because the focus wasn’t on him in any way.
“Exactly,” I agree. “Second victim. Kimmy Oliver. A regular at the Well in Clover Creek. Never made it back to her apartment after walking home from the bar.”
“Higher risk vic?” Dex asked.
I nodded. “Been known to abuse drugs. And a heavy drinker.”
“Two very different types,” Wylder surmised.
“But both with dark-brown or black hair. And both within Juniper County, which would give Travis access to their cases and their loved ones,” I argued.
“They go on the list until we prove otherwise,” Dex said. “I’ll dig into their online histories. Mav and Orion, you handle the location profiles. Wy, you’ve got the psych bit.” His gaze flicked to me. “Updates on the official end?”
I grimaced at the memory of my conversation with Sherri. “Pete is now working the case with me.”
Maverick groaned. “That douchebag? Why?”
“Sherri thinks the caseload is too large,” I grumbled.
“I mean, she’s not wrong,” Wylder said, concern flickering over his expression. “But let me guess, you assigned him work you’ve basically already done.”
I grinned. “Gave him the five cases we already cleared.”
Wylder just shook his head. “You said he’s a good investigator.”
“He is. But I don’t trust anyone but us.” And that was the honest truth.
We talked over a few more points, Dex assigning us all various tasks as different things arose, but it wasn’t long before he was shutting his laptop and pushing back his chair. “I gotta go pick up Brae and Owen. Next week, same time.”
Wylder shoved back next. “I gotta get to the bar.”
Orion didn’t say a word as he rose and headed for the door. That magical time when he communicated was over.
Wylder watched him go before glancing my way. “I’m worried about him.”
My jaw worked back and forth. “Me, too. But I’m not sure anyone can reach him. We’ve all tried.”
“Ever,” Wylder said quietly.
Ever Devereux had been Orion’s first love.
His only love, given that he didn’t interact with anyone but us now.
Her parents had worked for our father, and they lived on the property while we were growing up.
Their relationship was one of those you thought would stand the test of time, even with them being so young.
After Orion killed our father, though, he cut off all contact with Ever. He refused calls and letters, blocked her emails and social media accounts. And when she’d shown up here, he refused to see her.
But that didn’t stop her. She still made trips out to Starlight Grove on the regular. And every time she got a break from serving communities in need of medical care with Medicine for Humanity, she came to the ranch and would simply stand outside Orion’s house and wait, hoping he might see her.
He never did.
But she didn’t stop coming.
I shook my head. “He’s got to be willing to open the door. And I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen.”
Maverick crumpled his empty chip bag and tossed it in the trash. “We could hog-tie him and force him to listen to her.”
Wylder sent Mav a quelling look. “That is definitely not the answer.”
“We just keep thinking,” I said.
Wylder nodded. “We do. All right, I’m out. See you guys later.”
I gave him a salute as I gathered up my files. But Maverick lingered. Not moving closer but not heading for the door either. I lifted my gaze, trying to discern what might be on his mind. He looked … nervous.
“Why are you hovering?” I asked.
Mav’s face twisted. “I don’t hover. You make it sound like I’m a clingy boyfriend or something.”
Which would be the ultimate insult for Mav. He never let himself care that much.
“There’s something you don’t want to tell me but know you need to say.” My older-brother radar was pinging as I narrowed my eyes on him. “Did you get caught riding your dirt bike on national forest land again? I’m not fixing your ticket.”
“I’m not trying to get you to fix a ticket,” he grumbled as he lifted his backpack onto the conference table and pulled out an evidence bag.
I frowned as I caught glimpses of newspaper clippings through the plastic.
“Someone left this on Brae’s SUV while Nova had it,” Maverick went on. “She thinks it was that asshole reporter, but—”
I snatched the bag out of his hand. “Where.” The single word wasn’t a question; it was a demand.
“At the mountain biking trails off Spruce Canyon.”
My gaze flicked to him. “And she called you?”
The sharp sting of that took me by surprise. I’d gotten used to being the one Nova turned to during the rare times she looked to others for support. And the idea of her reaching out to Mav for help instead of me had my stomach roiling.
Mav shook his head quickly. “I ran into her out there. She was about to get in way over her head on some trails, so I gave her a lesson instead.”
That sick feeling eased, only to be replaced by a worry that rode me hard. The trails out at Spruce Canyon were like a maze of death-defying jumps and steep drop-offs. It would be really easy to get lost or hurt out there. Or worse.
My back molars ground together. “She shouldn’t be out there alone.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Mav clipped. “That’s why I stayed with her.”
I jerked my head in a nod as I studied the bag. I couldn’t see all the articles the way they’d been shoved inside, but I saw enough. Articles about Nova. About other missing persons. I flipped it over, trying to see more, and my blood went cold.
The boxy, black lettering looked angry. NEVER FORGET.
What the hell did that mean?
At this moment, it didn’t fucking matter. What mattered was that someone was clearly watching Nova. Following her. Taunting her.
I slammed the bag onto the table. “Help Waylon watch Sky. I’ve got dinner in the slow cooker at my house.”
“I’m not your manny, you know,” Mav yelled.
But I was already at the door and moving through it. Some phantom force buzzed in my ears, and memories battled to break through the bars I’d contained them behind.
Endless cop cars. Ambulances. A medical examiner van. All of them crowded around the driveway of the house, leading toward Dad’s workshop.
A sick feeling spread through me as I slammed the brakes on the Range Rover. I shut off the engine and jumped out, only to come face-to-face with a police officer barely a handful of years older than me.
He put out a hand. “I’m sorry. You can’t be here.”
“I live here,” I argued. “Where are my brothers?”
Something passed over the young officer’s face. Pity. “The youngest is on the way to the hospital with Wylder and Dexter.”
“Orion,” I croaked. “Where’s Orion?”
A muscle fluttered in the officer’s cheek. “He’s in custody.”
All the blood drained from my body. “For what?”
“Murdering your father.”
I shoved the memory down, putting it back into that box I never took out and never examined.
Back into a place that held all the memories that came after: Maverick clinging to life in the hospital, Dex traumatized with nightmares, Wylder stealing whiskey from Dad’s collection.
Orion coming out of the police station and never speaking again.
I hadn’t been there. Not when they needed me most. And I wasn’t about to let that happen again.
My truck hit the turn onto Briarwood Lane so fast my tires spat gravel. Tenants’ cars sat in front of cabins one and three. That was good. More people around meant less likelihood for someone to make a move on Nova.
Brae’s SUV sat in front of cabin two, but I remembered that Dex was picking her and Owen up for dinner. Which meant Nova might be here alone. My gut twisted as I slammed on the brakes.
I was out of my truck and up the walkway in a matter of seconds. My knuckles rapped on the door, and it took everything I had not to bang my fist against the wood.
No answer.
Anxiety clawed at me, and I knocked a little harder.
“I’m coming. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Nova grumbled from the other side of the door.
Relief swept through me at the sound of her voice and the cranky annoyance in it. The hint of fire.
The door swung open, and surprise lit Nova’s features as she took me in. “Kol. What are you doing here?”
“I’m helping you pack.”