Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Claire
The road into Val-Du-Lys narrowed just after the turnoff, the highway giving way to trees and quiet stretches of pavement that made it feel like the world was slowly narrowing to my past. To a time when I took the same drive with Sophie and her mom Celine.
An evening where everything was supposed to go as planned.
I’d grown up a good half an hour from here but everyone knew of the infamous crime family in Val-Du-Lys.
The Bellerose’s were a force. There wasn’t much crime that didn’t revolve around them.
I rolled down the window and let the air into my beat up old car.
It smelled like pine and something sweeter underneath the late spring.
The GPS said I’d arrive in twelve minutes.
I’d been watching the time tick down for the last half hour.
I told myself it was nerves about the job.
About the orchard. About showing up somewhere new with dirt under my nails and a notebook in my bag like I belonged.
Val-Du-Lys had come up more than once in my research over the past year.
Not by name but in footnotes. In offhand mentions.
In the kinds of cases that never made it into journals because there wasn’t enough to conclude.
I was working on my master’s degree in criminology and this was my opportunity to research and write my thesis.
Small town. Tight community. Long memory.
I’d written about places like this in abstract terms about how proximity complicated justice, how families learned to live alongside unanswered questions, how silence could calcify into something permanent if no one disturbed it.
I hadn’t planned on living inside this town.
Of using this research for my master’s thesis but it made sense.
The orchard job had been easy enough to secure.
Seasonal work. Room on-site. Cash that would cover rent and tuition without putting me further into debt.
It gave me a reason to be here that didn’t require explanation.
And it gave me time to figure out exactly what I was looking for. I tapped the steering wheel and glanced at the passenger seat, where my phone buzzed softly against a stack of printed articles.
I picked it up and called mom before I could talk myself out of it.
She answered on the second ring. “You almost there?”
“Ten minutes,” I said. “Maybe less.”
“Are you holding up okay? I’m worried about you being there. I don’t want this pushing you back into. . .”
“Mom, I’m strong. I can handle this. I promise,” I assured.
After Sophie disappeared I fell apart and became depressed but grief has a way of gutting you and putting you back together.
Maybe I was stronger now for having gone through that pain.
What I did know was that my best friend deserved justice. She deserved to have peace.
She hesitated. “You’re sure about this place? I read in the paper that the head of the crime ring didn’t die in that shooting. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger.”
“Mom, I’m working in an orchard that belongs to the police director. I’m sure he has security covered.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. I thought back to when I saw the job posting online months ago. Orchard manager seeking seasonal help. Lodging provided. Quiet town.
“The job will allow me to research my thesis properly. And the money helps.”
“I know.” She exhaled. “Call me tonight once you get settled in.”
“I will.”
When I hung up, the silence in the car pressed closer. I didn’t turn the radio on.
I never did when I drove somewhere that mattered. I dialed Jamie next.
He picked up immediately. “You made it?”
“Almost,” I said. “I’m just outside town.”
“Wow,” he said. “It’s been a while since anyone I know voluntarily went there.”
“I’m not moving back home I’m working in Val-Du-Lys,” I said. “Just… temporarily.”
“Still,” he said. “Feels weird.”
“It is weird,” I confirmed.
Jamie had been one of the few people who stayed in touch after high school. We’d bonded over shared history more than proximity mutual memories that didn’t need explaining.
“Did you tell your mom where you’re working?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And she didn’t lose it?” he chuckled.
“She’s acting like she’s holding it together. She knows I need to do this. It’s been six years, I need answers,” I explained.
“I know,” he said solemnly. “But it’s going to be hard.”
I tightened my grip on the wheel. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t push. Jamie never did and I didn’t open up either. Obviously it was hard returning to the town where I last saw my best friend.
“You’ll be working at the orchard, right?” he asked. “The one outside town?”
“That’s the one,” I chimed.
“The Thorne place,” he said.
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
He hesitated. “You know that land belongs to the police director.”
“I know,” I said.
“And you’re still going?” he asked with surprise.
“Yes.” I tried to hide the exasperation from my tone.
Another pause. “That’s… brave. Or reckless.”
“Probably both.”
He sighed. “You think being there will help?”
I thought about Sophie. About six years of unanswered questions. About files that went nowhere because there was nothing solid to chase.
“I think being there will tell me something,” I said.
“About what?”
“About why things stay buried,” I said cryptically.
Jamie didn’t say anything for a moment. “Call me if it gets heavy,” he said finally.
“I will.”
I hung up just as the orchard came into view rows of trees stretching back into the distance, neat and orderly, the land open in a way that felt deliberate.
I slowed, scanning for a sign, a building, anything that said this is where you’re supposed to go.
I’d barely cut the engine when someone stepped out from between the trees.
I slammed on the brakes out of instinct, gravel spraying as the car jerked to a stop. He didn’t move. Just stood there in the middle of the orchard road, hands on his hips, watching my hood stop far too close to his legs.
I rolled down the window. “Are you serious?”
He glanced at my tires, then back at me. Calm. Annoyingly calm.
“You always drive like that on private property?” he asked his voice deep and gravelly.
“I didn’t see you,” I snapped. “There’s a curve. And no sign. And you’re standing in the middle of the road.”
“Looks like a road,” he said. “Walks like a road.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s smart to jump out in front of a car.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Built like someone who spent time thinking about what his body could do. Dirt clung to his boots, sweat darkened the collar of his shirt. He didn’t look impressed.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I pushed the door open and got out before I could stop myself.
“I’m Claire. I’m here for the orchard job.”
“You’re late.” His lips pursed.
“I’m five minutes early,” I countered back as my stomach dipped.
He checked his watch anyway. “Didn’t get a call.”
“I emailed,” I said. “Twice.”
“Didn’t see it,” he repeated like a broken record.
“Then that sounds like a you problem,” I countered. As handsome as this guy was he was getting on my nerves.
Something sharp crossed his face. Irritation. Or maybe something more personal. He stepped closer, and I resisted the urge to step back.
“You don’t start a job by arguing with the person running the place,” he said.
“I don’t start a job by being interrogated in the driveway.” I held my own. I wasn’t going to let this small town jerk with his big ego make me feel bad about nothing in particular.
Silence stretched.
Up close, I noticed his eyes. Dark. Focused. Guarded.
“Claire,” he said. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Asher.”
He didn’t offer his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I said flatly.
“Debatable.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
He exhaled slowly. “People come here with stories all the time. Temporary work. Quiet town. Fresh start. It usually means trouble.”
My chest tightened.
“I didn’t come here to cause trouble,” I assured.
“Everyone says that,” he bit back.
The words hit harder than they should have.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said.
“You’re right,” he said. “But I know this place.”
“And what exactly do you think I’m looking for?”
He hesitated. Just a second too long.
“Running from someone,” he said, “or digging something up?”
Heat rushed behind my eyes.
“I’m here to work,” I said tightly. “If that’s a problem, tell me now.”
He studied me for a long moment.
“No,” he said. “It’s not a problem.”
It wasn’t an apology.
“Good,” I said. “Because I’ve already driven three hours.”
“Park over there,” he said, turning away.
I followed, anger buzzing under my skin.
“So,” I said, “is this how you usually greet people?”
“Depends on the person.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered dryly.
He shot me a look. “You always this hostile?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being polite it’s you who doesn’t have manners.”
We stopped near a small building at the edge of the orchard.
“Rules are simple,” he said. “Show up. Work hard. Keep your head down.”
“I’m a quiet hard worker so that shouldn’t be a problem,” I said quietly.
“Good,” he countered.
“Good,” I repeated.
He showed me around the orchard and then he took me to a cabin. “This’ll be your place. We appreciate it if you keep the place clean and take care of it. Keep parties to a minimum.”
“I’m not the party type,” I muttered.
He gave me a once over and shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Wow, I don’t see how I’m going to be able to work for someone who has your attitude,” I bit back.
He blew out a breath and then ran his fingers through his medium length brown hair. “We got off to a bad start. I don’t take almost getting runned over well.”
“My apology but you did spawn out of nowhere,” I said.
“Fair enough,” I said and forced a smile.
“Okay let’s start over,” he said. “Asher Thorne my family owns Maple Valley. I need someone reliable to help me run the orchard since I have another job in town.”
“Claire Segal and I’m your gal,” I said shaking his hand back then I winced because why the hell did I say that?
It sounded horribly awkward. But I already knew the answer.
I found Asher hot and when I was attracted to someone it tended to make me nervous.
“I mean I plan on working hard and minding my own business.”
“Good,” he said shaking my hand with a quirk of a smile on his lips. It felt more like he was laughing at me than smiling at me. “Get settled. Training starts at four am.”
My jaw dropped but I shut it fast enough. At least I hoped I did. “Four am, right okay.”
Asher walked off and I was left staring at his fine behind in those jeans. I bit into my lower lip. Damn that man was hot. Too bad he was such an ass. It didn’t matter anyway because I had a job to do.