Chapter 16
LAWSON
Footsteps sounded behind me as sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. I glanced up to find a skeptical-looking Drew standing there.
“You’re making…breakfast?”
I sent my son a droll look. “I can make eggs and bacon.”
“Bruh, the last time you made a hot breakfast was when you told us that Great-grandma died.” Drew was suddenly alert. “Is someone dead?”
I winced. Apparently, my lack of devotion to my culinary skills had scarred my children. “No one’s dead. I just woke up early so I could make my family breakfast while Holt draws up plans for the day.”
Woke up early because I tossed and turned all night long. My hand tightened around the skillet handle. I could still feel Hallie’s fingers in mine, her skin like silk. The pressure. The heat.
A simple, innocent touch had turned my blood to fire.
“Isn’t Hallie making breakfast now?” Drew asked hopefully, cutting off the thoughts sure to send me straight to hell.
I stirred the eggs and added some cheddar cheese, peppers, and onions. “She doesn’t have to make something every day.”
“But she could, and then I wouldn’t have to risk missing practice or seeing my babes because I have food poisoning. Bruh, having the shits is not sexy.”
My focus flicked to my teenager. “Help yourself to the cereal, then. And watch your language.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“I’ll get it,” Luke’s voice boomed as he strode down the hallway from his bedroom.
Drew and I shared a look. When was the last time Luke had offered to do anything?
There were muffled voices, and then he and Hallie appeared. I couldn’t help but stare, taking in her cheeks rosy from the cold, bright berry lips, and shining gray eyes.
“Morning,” she greeted with a hesitant smile.
“Thank God,” Drew called. “Dad’s trying to kill us.”
Hallie’s brows flew up. “Kill you?”
“He’s making breakfast. Food that requires heat and ingredients that spoil.”
“Drew…” I warned.
Luke covered a laugh with a cough.
Hallie fought a smile. “That’s nice of your dad.”
“It’s not nice if he kills us,” Drew whined.
Hallie’s teeth bit down on the lip I wanted to tug and taste. “What if I supervise? Would that help?”
Drew stared at her as he debated. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”
Hallie laughed as she headed in my direction, the movement accentuating her long legs in another pair of those damned leggings. She might as well have worn nothing under that sweater. The thought had me hardening against my zipper.
Fuck.
I tried to think of something—anything—else as she approached. Baseball. Nope. Paperwork. Not even close. Drew’s rank-as-hell lacrosse pads? That did it.
“Drew, go make sure Charlie’s getting ready while I add a little extra poison to your food.”
“Not cool, bruh,” he called as he headed out of the kitchen.
Luke just snorted.
Hallie sent me a nervous smile. “Can I help with anything?”
“Want to handle toast and drinks?” Anything to put some distance between us so her orange-blossom scent wasn’t teasing my nose.
“You got it.” Hallie turned and smiled widely at Luke. “Can you grab me some juice glasses?”
Luke opened his mouth as if to argue but simply nodded instead.
Was I in the Twilight Zone?
I gave the eggs one more stir, then put them on the platter with the bacon. My phone buzzed in my back pocket as thundering footsteps sounded from the hallway.
Roan’s name flashed across the screen, and I frowned as I answered it. “Everything okay?”
“Why do you always answer the phone like that?” he groused.
“Because when people call, there’s usually a problem.”
Roan was silent for a moment.
Hell. “What happened?”
“One of our guys found a body.”
The cold sliced into me as I walked up the trail, a silent warning of what was to come. A bird called overhead, and the wind rustled the pine branches. It should’ve been peaceful, calming. It was anything but.
I rounded a curve, and the first hint of voices sounded from up ahead. My team had beaten me here, but they were already on duty. I’d had to explain to Hallie that I had a call and say goodbye to the kids.
I’d seen the silent question in her eyes. The way her face had paled. But I hadn’t been able to give her any reassurance. Not when the worst was likely to come.
Roan’s large form came into view. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, and he looked pissed as all hell. His chin lifted in greeting.
“It her?” I asked. Kimber Anderson. Twenty-four years old. Here on damned vacation.
A muscle in Roan’s jaw ticked. “Looks like it. Luisa won’t say officially until there’s a DNA match, but—”
“It looks like her,” I finished for him.
I’d seen the woman’s photo; we’d sent it far and wide, hoping to find her. Her red hair and freckles were fairly unique.
I moved closer to the scene.
Roan shifted slightly, blocking my path. “It’s a bad one.”
I didn’t take offense at the warning. Roan didn’t say it because he thought I couldn’t handle it. We’d both seen things that would be burned into our memories forever. He’d said it so I could steel myself. Prepare the best way I knew how.
By locking everything down. Turning off all emotion. Going blank.
I took a deep breath and let the pine air fill me. I’d hold that scent in my lungs the best I could to fight the smell of death.
Moving toward the group of crime scene techs, I nodded at Luisa. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
She glanced up at me with amber eyes, her dark brown hair pulled back in a bun. “I was already in town. Getting a scone and some coffee at The Brew. This really put a damper on my morning treat.”
I turned my gaze to the body and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from showing my reaction. Pain helped. It kept you from cursing or puking or whatever other reaction surged to the surface.
Kimber Anderson lay sprawled across the trail as if she were nothing but a piece of trash a hiker had carelessly left behind. She was missing her jacket and her pack. Her shirt was torn, and so many stab wounds covered her torso I lost count.
An angry, dark blue mark across her neck said she’d been choked or strangled. As my eyes narrowed, I could see the impression of a rope, the tiny lines branded onto her skin.
My gaze flicked to Luisa. “What killed her?”
Luisa’s expression went hard. “The petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes suggests it was strangulation, but I need to confirm back at my office. It looks like some of the stab wounds were inflicted perimortem, others post.”
“Rage,” Roan said from my left.
Rage was an understatement. This kind of fury wasn’t easily quenched.
I glanced at Roan. “This feels personal. But she’s a tourist.”
“Someone could’ve followed her from home,” he suggested.
“True. I’ll get in touch with the PD in her hometown and talk to the friend. Maybe there’s a partner or ex in the picture.”
Luisa leaned forward on her knees. “There’s something else you should see.”
With a gloved hand, she lifted Kimber’s shirt a fraction, exposing her hip bone. There was a wound there. I squinted but couldn’t quite make it out.
Leaning over the body, the injury came into focus. A series of tiny cuts that formed a pattern. One that was familiar. The same design I’d seen in crime scene photos from a case five years ago. Only then, they weren’t cuts. It was a brand.
Something I knew had been burned into Hallie—that gemstone shape with its intricate design.
And now it was here. On this woman’s body.