Chapter 22
After a quick stop at home to change into more outdoorsy attire, I left the house, hopeful I’d find Logan and get him to talk.
Willow’s pin took me to the Lost Prairie Wilderness, a rugged stretch of land about an hour from Cambria.
It was best known for its high, jagged peaks and oak woodlands, which wound around a conifer forest. If Logan was trying not to be found, it was the perfect place to hide.
I drove until the road narrowed to a single lane, and when pavement gave way to dirt, I parked and continued on foot. Stepping out of the car, I breathed in a mixture of sunbaked sage and damp soil.
As I made my way deeper into the area, the wind worked through the branches above me, rattling them like bones.
After almost an hour of walking, I spotted a tent half hidden behind a cluster of scrub oak, set beside a pickup truck.
The truck matched the one seen in the gas station’s surveillance video.
The tent’s faded blue fabric sagged on one side, as though the pole meant to support it had just about given out.
I approached the tent with caution, listening for any sounds coming from the inside, but there weren’t any.
When I reached the opening, I crouched down and peeled the flap back, peeking inside.
A sleeping bag lay twisted near the back next to a stack of protein bar wrappers.
But what stood out the most was what appeared to be dried blood along the tent flap near the zipper.
It wasn’t much.
But it was something.
If Logan had been staying here, he wasn’t here now.
Hoping he was nearby, I backed away from the tent and turned, shouting, “Logan Lambert? My name is Georgiana Germaine, and I’m a private investigator. If you’re in trouble, I’m here to help.”
My words were met with silence.
I tried again.
“Logan, I know you’re out here. Please, I just want to talk.”
It felt like my words fell into the open air, and then I heard it. The sound of footsteps—someone running.
I glanced around and caught a flash of movement, a young man sprinting through the trees, heading uphill.
“Logan, wait!” I shouted.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to stop, I chased after him, branches slapping at my arms as I navigated the terrain. He was fast, but in his panic to get away, his foot caught on a root, and he stumbled, giving me the chance to catch up.
At first I thought he’d jump back up and take off again, but he didn’t. He turned, looking up at me with sad eyes, as if accepting defeat.
His face was gaunt and smeared with dirt, his T-shirt stiff with sweat and grime. His eyes were red and raw from what I assumed was a lack of sleep, and one finger was wrapped in a bandage.
“Why did you run?” I asked.
The truth was, I knew why he had.
He didn’t know me or the reason why I was there.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“All I ask is that you hear me out and allow me to explain who I am and why I’m here. All right?”
“Guess so.”
“I was hired by Audrey Ashford’s mother to investigate her murder.”
He flinched at her name but said nothing.
“I saw the sketches you made of Anne’s locket,” I continued. “And yesterday, I found the locket in Audrey’s room.”
“You did?”
I nodded. “I’m guessing Audrey found that locket either in the abandoned cabin in the woods near her house, or somewhere nearby. She showed it to you, and the two of you did some research and figured out a girl named Anne went missing twenty-five years ago. Am I right?”
“So far.”
I pointed at his hand. “What happened?”
“I was trying to cut a bag open with my pocketknife and nicked my finger.”
It explained the blood I saw on the tent flap.
“Are you out here because you’re worried the person who murdered Audrey might target you next?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t know anything. At least, I don’t think I do.”
“The killer might not be aware of that.”
“No kidding. Why do you think I’m out here?”
I moved a hand to my hip. “What is your plan, anyway? You can’t stay out here forever.”
“I don’t have one. I just knew I had to get away, somewhere I could think.” He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing more dirt on his skin. “I can’t go back. If they find me—”
“They won’t,” I said. “You may not have a plan, but I do.”
“What is it?”
“Until I solve this case, you can stay with me.”
He blinked at me like he was unsure he’d heard me right. “With you? I don’t even know you.”
“And I don’t know you, but you can trust me. Why don’t we pack up everything, and you can follow me back to my house?”
“I … ahh, my truck won’t start. Before you got here, I was planning to hike my way out of here.”
“All right, new plan. Let’s leave the truck for now. We’ll come back for it later.”
He gave the suggestion some thought. “How do you plan on keeping me safe?”
“My husband and I have private security. Not a home system. An actual guard on our property.”
I left out the part about Giovanni needing security because he came from a world much different than the world he was living in now, with me.
I reached out, and he took my hand, and I helped him up.
“My mom won’t be okay with me staying with you,” he said.
“Oh, I agree. I’ve met her. How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Well then, whether your mother likes the idea or not, it’s not her decision. It’s yours,” I said. “You’re old enough to decide for yourself. So, what do you say?”
He offered me a slight smile, his expression starting to ease.
It was a start.
“Come on,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you out of the wilderness, fed and showered.
He hesitated a second, and then he nodded.
And for me, that was enough.