Chapter 26 #2
And bigger. Stronger. His shoulders even broader. How is that possible? Though I’ve been checking in with Annie regularly and she says the same thing—he’s out in the fields, all day, every day. I imagine home-cooked meals make a difference too.
He returns his focus to the players racing past, but I don’t miss how his chest rises with a deep, calming breath.
“My parents were coming, so I tagged along.” The corner of his mouth kicks up. “They even let me drive.”
“Holt and Annie are here?” I was so busy avoiding eye contact with people, I missed them.
“They are. So are Sarah and Thomas. You should go sit with them.”
If that isn’t a dismissal … “This is how it’s gonna be, then?”
His jaw tenses, his attention flittering behind me to the various game bystanders. “I’m trying to protect you,” he says quietly.
“I don’t need you to,” I snap, my anger flaring, quickly followed by hurt. And I don’t need this shit, especially not today. I turn to leave, to find another isolated spot to watch the game from.
“She’s really good.”
His deep voice stalls my exit.
“Isla.” He juts his chin toward the bench, where she waits for her next shift. “She’s fast. Smart. Aggressive on the boards, like you were.”
“I had to be. I was stuck playing with boys like you.” Girls’ hockey opportunities weren’t anything like they are now.
A player on Isla’s new team tries to rub an opposing player along the boards but comes in too hard, knocking her down. The ref’s hand flies into the air.
Logan smirks. “I don’t know. These girls seem to hold their own pretty well.”
The lines change and Isla hops back onto the ice to take the draw for the penalty kill. It’s a scramble, but she gets her stick on the puck, firing it down the ice. Cheers carry from the stands.
“I wasn’t sure how tonight was going to go,” I admit.
I feel Logan’s gaze on me, but I keep my focus on my daughter as she skates hard after it.
“Why?”
I hesitate. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. But now that I’m with him, it’s all I want to do. “Holly’s case has gone cold. The investigators will keep reviewing and looking, but we’ve exhausted every lead.”
Logan curses.
“I had to tell Isla before the game. I was worried she’d hear it from someone else. I imagine Holly’s parents are already talking.” Blaming us for not doing our jobs. “It’s only a matter of time before all of Cold River knows.”
“I’m sorry. I know you’ve been doing everything you can to find her.”
“Obviously not enough.”
We quietly watch as Isla’s team handily kills the penalty against them and has two shots on net before a turnover.
“She blames herself,” he murmurs.
“What?” I’m acutely aware of Logan shifting closer to me, my nose catching the scent of his pine soap.
“For Holly. She blames herself.”
“She had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t even there.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. She thinks that if she had been, Holly wouldn’t be missing.”
“Or Isla would be missing too.” Panic flares just uttering those words. I’ve thought them plenty. “When did she tell you this?”
“This morning in the stables.”
I recall her leaving especially early, Duke at her side. It was still dark out. “I’m surprised you got two words out of her. She doesn’t say much lately.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, she’s not much of a talker in the morning. Neither am I, though.” The humor falls off. “I thought you should know.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes graze mine, and my heart flips as surely as if he’d touched me.
But then his attention snags on someone behind me.
I glance over to see a stalky form stroll past. I’d recognize him from his walk alone. “Swear to God, can’t turn a corner without one of them there,” I mutter.
“Who is that?” Logan’s eyes narrow on him.
“That’s Ian’s oldest son, Axel. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing at a U18 girls’ hockey game.” I scan the faces around the rink, but it’s difficult to make them out. Are there more Murphys here?
Logan watches him find a spot on the glass. “He was at the Bale House that night.”
“Yeah. Most of them were. He left early, though.” The gas station camera caught a glimpse of Axel’s cherry-red tow truck driving off around ten fifteen p.m.
“No, I mean, in the hallway, when Holly cornered me. He passed us on his way into the washroom. He knew who I was. He said something to me.”
“What?”
Logan frowns as he picks through his memories. “Something about me getting myself into trouble again already? I mean, I guess I can’t blame him. It probably didn’t look good.”
“No. It didn’t.” I know what I saw and it could’ve easily been misinterpreted, if you didn’t know Logan. And that explains why all the Murphys are stuck on their story—they’re regurgitating what Axel told them. But another thought strikes me. “Did it seem like Axel knew her?”
He considers it. “Maybe. He shook his head at her. Like disappointment?”
“Huh.” The only connection we’ve ever made to Holly and the Murphys was to Kyle, but what if Holly and Axel had something going on? He’s older and attractive enough.
“Are you sure he was talking to you?” I ask.
“I assumed he was.”
“Was he looking at you when he said it?” I push.
“I can’t remember. I …” Logan’s chest lifts with a heavy sigh. “He said it as he was walking by both of us. I guess it could have been for either.”
What if Axel and Holly had something going on, and seeing Holly flirting with Logan triggered Axel’s jealousy? Would it be enough for him to hurt her?
Kill her?
We’re still not sure if Axel’s following in his late father’s footsteps on the crime front, but I know he has a temper. He was expelled from high school for fighting.
I ponder this as we watch Isla race across the ice to back-check her old teammate, earning a round of claps in the stands on her new team’s side and, I’m sure, several flat faces from the old.
I’ve heard enough backhanded compliments to know some of them look at us as traitors for leaving Cold River.
I shift to the far side of Logan where I have a better view of Axel.
He slaps his hand against the glass as Cold River outmaneuvers our defense and takes a shot.
Thankfully, it lands in the goalie’s glove.
I don’t know the men he’s standing with, which means they’re either from out of town or they’re law-abiding citizens.
Who’s he here for? There aren’t any Murphy girls on either team, so what’s a twenty-six-year-old man doing watching a teenage girls’ hockey game?
I may be reaching, but given we’re at a dead end with Holly’s disappearance, any angle is worth pursuing. I dig out my phone and call Terry.
He answers with, “Miss me already?”
“I might have new information. Well, I do. I just don’t know if it’s useful.” I reiterate what Logan told me.
“So, the Landrys pointed at the Murphys and the Murphys pointed at Logan, and now Logan is pointing at the Murphys again. Who could have foreseen this?”
“Yeah, I get your point, but Logan didn’t know who Axel was until I told him.”
“So the criminal says.”
I grit my teeth at Terry’s snark. “What do you have on Axel?”
“Give me a sec.” Terry’s sigh fills my ear as I wait, my focus divided between the game and the call.
“He left the Bale House at 10:15 p.m. in his tow truck and then came back with it around midnight and left a few minutes later, which is when Hank Murphy left. According to Hank, Axel was giving him a ride home. Story checks out.”
“And after that?”
“He says he went home. He was alone, so no strong alibi, but no sign of his tow truck or him around the Bale House after that.”
“But he could have come back to the parking lot in a different vehicle.”
“A third time?” Terry pauses, and I picture him scratching his chin in thought. “It’s not impossible. There were a lot of pickups pulling in and out. We couldn’t ID all of them. If he drives a white, gray, or black F-150—”
“A black one.”
“Well, there you go. That parking lot was jammed with them. If he came in and parked around back, then … yeah. It’s possible.”
“You need to dig into him. See what you can get on his alibi.”
“Will do—”
“Maybe one of his neighbors saw something or has a security camera.”
“I’ve got it—”
“And go further back in Holly’s phone. See if there’s a connection.”
“I don’t know how I ran an investigation without you,” he mutters but follows it with “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
We end the call.
“He thinks I’m lying,” Logan says.
“He’s giving another viewpoint, is all.” Albeit in his typical dickhead fashion. “The Murphys all said they saw you and Holly in the hallway that night, so they’re parroting what Axel saw, and embellishing it.” Information I shouldn’t be sharing.
“Of course they are.” He shakes his head. “Fucking assholes.”
“It’s a good thing you have a strong alibi, right?” I flash him a cutting look and then lean in to add, “You know, the one I gave you, right before you kicked me out of your family’s home on Thanksgiving?” No, I’m not still bitter.
Logan’s lips purse as he shifts to face me, his shoulder leaning against the glass. “It’s a good thing the detachment commander of Cold River’s OPP knew exactly where I was and what I was doing that night.”
He was doing her.
It’s a blunt reminder of how risky that night was for my career.
And yet all I can focus on right now is how close Logan is standing, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, and how enticing he smells.
Like fragrant men’s bodywash. He would have showered off the workday before he came here—a visual I don’t need in my head until I’m home alone, in bed.
“You still ate, didn’t you?” His eyebrow arches, his tone softer.
“There may have been a package of leftovers at our door that night, yes.” A large white casserole dish tucked inside a cardboard box, sitting on our doormat.
I found it when I returned from collecting Isla from Dillon’s.
It had Annie written all over it, but I suspect she made her son walk it over.
“Isla was thrilled. Donna’s a terrible cook. ”