Chapter 15
Fifteen
“WAS THAT THE SIDE DOOR?” Izzy asked at the muffled bang. She leapt to her feet and cracked open the bathroom door.
“Iz, be careful,” Cassie said as her bestie opened the door and peered out. He was one of them. He could be any of them. Her mind tracked through each guy in the group—a close-knit group originally made up of smaller cohorts. Her work crew, Iz’s friends, Talbot’s sports buddies, and their families.
She grappled to her feet, splashing ice-cold water on her face. Frigid temps aside, she needed the smack of clarity it brought.
“It’s Joel and Jayce,” Iz said, relief in her voice.
“What’s going on?”
“Brady,” Iz murmured.
“They found him. Oh good.”
Izzy shook her head. “It’s definitely not good.”
Cass wedged in the door crack beside her bestie—her friend who’d stuck by her through thick and thin, even without knowing why she’d left her brother at the altar. Just trusted she had a good reason and one day she’d explain as promised.
Joel carried Brady over his shoulder toward the first room down the hall. It wasn’t until he turned to enter the room that she understood Izzy’s comment.
Brady’s throat was rimmed with blood. She swallowed back the nausea swishing in her gut. “What happened?”
“Let’s go find out.”
Cassie limped behind Izzy down the hall to the first guest room in the row.
“What’s going on?” Penelope asked, popping her head out of the second-to-last room they passed.
“Just going to talk with Joel,” Izzy said.
“All right,” Penelope said, stifling a yawn, slumber in her eyes. “I’m going to lay back down.” She shut her door.
Cassie followed Izzy into the room.
Joel laid Brady on the bed.
“Shut the door,” Jayce told Iz in a flurry as he paced the room.
Okay. So not as calm and collected as Cassie assumed, but there was a man with his throat slit mere feet away. Not just a man but a friend. Tears welled in her eyes.
He’d done this. Whoever he was.
How could he? They were all friends. Or so she’d thought. Her skin crawled. How many times had she been near him? Eaten with him? Gone on one of Iz and Talbot’s outdoor adventures with him?
What if it was one of Joel’s own family members? Scott? Lyle? Could one of them have done this to their friend?
“Cassie,” Joel said, striding over and bracing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay.”
“How can you say that?” She pointed at Brady’s lifeless body.
“We’ll get through this.”
And a stalker bent on killing him? How would they get through that? “You need to get a weapon and fast.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Weapons. On it,” Iz said, moving for the door. “Jayce, come help me.”
Jayce’s blond brows shot up. “Huh?”
“Come with me. Cassie needs to talk with Joel.”
“We can be here while they talk about Brady.”
“Now.” Iz tugged Jayce out by his ear, then popped her head back in. Tell him, she mouthed.
Joel furrowed his brows, not letting go of her shoulders. “Tell me what?”
“I . . .” Should she risk his life?
She closed her eyes. It seemed too late for that. Would he forgive her for not telling him? Not giving him a chance to fight with her?
“Cassie,” he said. His voice hummed barely above a whisper. “Tell me what?”
Izzy and Jayce were back in the parlor, so where were Joel and Cassie? My veins burned through my limbs, causing my left hand to twitch—that old “tell” I loathed, but no one seemed to notice. Except her, and she wouldn’t tell anybody. She never did.
I pumped my hands in and out of fists.
They. Were. Going. To. Pay.
I wouldn’t hurt Cassie. Well, not to that extent. She was mine, but there’s a lot of pain up to the point of death, and if she couldn’t listen—wouldn’t listen—she’d need to be punished too. Brought in line. They both were going to pay.
I fought the urge to barge right in there.
Take Cassie, kill Joel, but I had to be calm.
Focused. Patient. I knew what I was doing.
I just had to remove emotion, but that was never hard.
Just separate from my feelings and work the plan that’d been in motion since I found our exit strategy.
Our. Soon it’d be me and Cassie like it always should have been.
Tears ran down Cassie’s sweet face. So much pain.
“Shh,” Joel murmured, not anticipating this reaction to Brady’s death.
It was upsetting. Downright heartbreaking.
And he’d shed a few tears on the way back, the moisture freezing the second it left his eye.
But she was visibly shaking. Not that she shouldn’t care, but she was an autopsy assistant.
She lived with dead bodies. At least, in a way.
But . . . this was no body. This was their friend.
He pinched his nose, trying to stall his tears.
Now was not the time for sorrow, as heartbreaking as it was.
Now was the time for action, and when they were safe, then he’d deal with the grief.
Cassie swallowed back a sob. “I need . . . I need to tell you something,” she started again.
“All right.” He wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb.
“He’s here.” Her voice shook.
Joel frowned. “Who’s here?” It took a moment of studying the horror on her face for it to hit home. “Your stalker? You’re saying he’s back?”
She nodded, tears flowing again.
“How do you know?”
“I dozed off, and he left a letter—actually two letters—in the room with me.”
He straightened, his body growing rigid. “He’s here? As in the lodge? He did this?” He turned and pointed to poor Brady.
The sicko was back to torment the woman he still loved. After the terrorizing year the stalker haunted her, Cassie leaving him at the altar, and the subsequent year apart . . . Through it all and in spite of it all, he loved her still. Her and only her.
“He must have killed Brady.” She handed him the letters, her hand shaking. “He said he did it to teach me a lesson.”
He gripped hold of the letters. “A lesson?” Flipping the letters open, he read them in succession. He finished and frowned. “What is the cardinal rule?”
“The one I’m breaking now.”
“I don’t understand.” He slipped the letters in his pocket for evidence.
She released a whoosh of air, a fresh wave of tears springing to her eyes. “Telling you.”
“Telling me what? That he’s back?”
She bit her bottom lip, her gaze drifting down.
He nudged her chin up with the crook of his hand. “Cassie? I know that avoidance glance. What’s up?”
“He sent me a picture.” She sniffed. “It was a laser scope with the red dot you put on the bullseye, you know? It was centered on you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The night before we were to get married, he sent me the picture and a message. If I married you, he’d kill you. If I told you, he’d kill you. If I . . .” She heaved on a sob.
“Shhhh,” Joel whispered, caressing her cheeck in smooth strokes, aiming to calm her, at least enough to explain. “What are you saying?”
She hiccupped on a sob. “I had to call the wedding off, or he’d kill you.”
“You called our wedding off because of him?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I called it off to save you.”
He stepped back, glancing at the door open to the adjacent guest room. He walked into it and sat on the double bed as Iz and Jayce tumbled back into the twin room where Brady lay—their lack of silence always deafening.
Cassie followed him into the double room and shut the connecting door behind them. “I’m so sorry,” she said, moving to stand over him. Her arms wrapped around her waist, she swayed side to side in a rhythmic movement.
He looked up at her, not even bothering to hide the hot tears—a mix of frustration and deep, deep love. “You let him rip us apart?”
“I was protecting you.”
“By letting me think you didn’t love me?” It was anguish—a pain he’d never known, and he’d been shot on the job, for goodness’ sake.
Tears rolled down her face. “It was the hardest decision I ever had to make, but I couldn’t let him rip you from my life.”
“But you did.”
“Don’t you see?” She shook her head. “You could find someone new, fall in love, live a long, happy life. Be safe as long as you’re away from me.”
He looked up at her and blinked. “You did it to give me a new life?”
“Yes!”
He exhaled, reached for her hand, and tugged her down on his lap.
Surprise lit her eyes.
He reached up and rubbed her jaw. “Don’t you know the only person I want a life with is you?”
“Me?” Her voice came out like on helium. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Want? As in still want?”
“As in always want.” He lowered his lips to hers, forgetting how soft and tender her kisses were.
She molded into him as she always had, and suddenly a year of horrific pain evaporated into just a stellar, magnificent, emotion-filled kiss.
It was like it’d never happened, but then he opened his eyes.
They were still here. Trapped with Cassie’s stalker—a killer—and the most crushing moment in Joel’s life had happened at his hands. The sicko.
She studied his eyes, his face. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Let me help.”
“All right. We can catch him together like we should have in the first place.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“I know. If it was the reverse and I thought I had a chance to save your life, I’d take it every time, but this”—he gestured between them—“is going to take some time to wrap our heads around and work out.”
“Agreed.”
“That is, if you even want to . . .”
“My kiss didn’t convince you? If we weren’t in the middle of a nightmare, I’d kiss you again.”
“Save them up, because after we catch this madman and are finally free of him, we’re talking a vacation somewhere—just the two of us to sort this all out.”
“Sounds perfect. Just one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go someplace tropical.”
A hint of a smile curled on his lips. “Agreed.”
“Now . . . for the sucky part.” He tapped her back, and she got up, taking her warmth with her.
He followed her back into the room with Brady’s body and his siblings.
Someone among them had killed Brady. Joel shook out his hands. One of their friends, or worse yet, one of their family members was a killer.
He tried to sort it all. This guy knew no limits. Assuming it was a guy, but it had to be, right? Especially with slitting Brady’s neck. That took some strength. Some utter commitment to apply the right amount of pressure. Poor Brady. Had he fought?
Joel hadn’t seen any signs of a struggle on him. Had he not seen it coming?
Or had he assumed a friend would never hurt him? Whoever the killer was, he wasn’t a friend. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a murderer masquerading as one of the group. All this time, he’d been right there waiting to strike. When would he strike again?