Chapter Four Bree #2
“I love you, baby Sis. I’m glad you’re home.” She kissed my head, then followed Charley upstairs.
I spent the next few hours getting settled away in my cabin, then meandered back over to the main house.
“Nightcap?” Maxine shook the half-full pitcher of happy juice. “I heard it cures embarrassing moments with sexy detectives.” I grinned, and we headed down to the dock. We lasted till eleven o’clock, then we both turned in, knowing tomorrow would come soon enough.
Sleep hadn’t been my friend in years. I could fall asleep no problem, but I usually woke at the same time every night, just after midnight.
It was always the same—no matter what I dreamed about, it had the same ending.
I was running out of a forest, and when I reached a clearing, I turned back to see who was following me, and he was standing there.
His eyes were locked on mine, only in the dream he didn’t fade back into the tree line the way he did in real life.
Instead, he walked toward me. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t; I was frozen in terror.
“Bree.” His eerie voice jolted me awake right as his hands connected with my neck.
“Jesus!” I sat straight up, my heart pounding in my throat so hard my dinner threatened to resurface.
“I’m okay.” I flicked the light on, and it pushed the shadows back.
“Everything’s fine, everything’s fine.” I took in the little cabin.
It had a small kitchenette, a bathroom with a shower tub, and a log fireplace that I was tempted to light.
Instead, I crossed the room, grabbed a stack of files from my bag, and stood in front of the massive whiteboard my dad had bought for me.
Like countless times before, I studied the file I had put together over the years on the Barbed Wire Killer.
I started at the top of the board and taped on the photos of three other women who had gone missing in Sheffield before Brad and I had our encounter at the river.
They were cold cases, but I knew they were connected.
I could feel it. Next I posted the photos of the two women who were killed when we stumbled upon the killer.
In the center I taped a photo of a black square to represent the killer.
Next to it, I put a close-up photo of a piece of barbed wire that had been left for me in my car tire.
I leaned in to look at it. I could just make out the tiny spots of red paint at the ends of the spikes.
I knew he wanted me to know it was him. It was his signature and his warning.
A while later my board was plastered with every little thing that was ever discovered, any witness who came forward to claim they saw something, the aerial view of the river and ball field—nothing was spared.
I had used a Sharpie to draw lines to connect things.
Then I added my top questions: Why were we spared?
Where did he go? Did he stop killing after we almost caught him?
Where was he now? Then I huffed out a grounding breath, and in red marker I added my own encounters I was sure I had with him since.
I put the dates, the times, the locations, and what had happened at the time.
Some might call me obsessed, but no one had gone through what I had, and until they did, they’d never understand the desperation inside.
I continued working until the wee hours, until I was satisfied.
Then, exhausted, I turned the board to face the wall and prepared for another night of restless sleep.
I woke with a stiff neck and decided a warm shower would help.
I fought back the fog of not enough sleep with a couple of cups of Lainey’s coffee.
I appreciated that she made regular morning runs to the cabins with trays of coffee carafes.
I chuckled at the picture of a potbellied pig on my mug as I topped off my cup with a heaping spoonful of sugar and a generous shot of thick cream.
I felt like I was ready to tackle my day.
It was just after eight o’clock when I finished hanging up my clothes in the closet, then hurried outside and looked over at the Stones’ property across the lake.
I took the path toward it. It was well beaten down by the trail rides.
I smiled when I saw that the old sign my brother and I had made years before was still there.
It gave directions at the fork in the path so the trail riders knew which way to go and didn’t end up face-to-face with another rider coming back.
It was before it had become a dude ranch, but the sign still made sense, and it was nice that Lainey had kept it.
A strange sound like a cross between a grunt and heavy breathing caught my attention. I looked over my shoulder, but the path was empty. I scanned the tree line and heard that strange noise again. Fear nipped at me and begged my head to go to all those forbidden places.
“It’s nothing,” I spoke out loud. I often talked myself down from a panic attack.
“Squee!” An ear-piercing shriek came from behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whirled around with a scream to find Kevin the fucking pig. He’d come out of nowhere and stood his ground as he squealed again.
“Kevin!” I yelled. “Don’t ever do that to me again!
” My heart nearly beat out of my chest. “You know what a smoker is?” I threatened him.
All I got was a short curly tail twitch as he stared at me with his little beady eyes.
“God!” I spun on my heel and began to jog until I rounded the bend.
I slowed a little as I neared the edge of the lake and veered off to the right of the trail.
The Stones’ beautiful log cabin sat on the edge of the water, and a little farther down, Bradley’s brother Ronnie had a place.
From here, I could see our dock, where Maxine and I had been the previous night.
We really did have the best place to grow up in.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d still think you were that gorgeous girl heading over to ask where Bradley was.” His father stood near his shed with a pitchfork in his hand. He put it against the wall, then leaned over and gave me an enormous hug. “But I see now it’s a gorgeous woman.”
“Who’s still looking for Brad,” I said, playing along with a warm smile and noted the hay stuck to his hand-knitted sweater. “Hi, Jerry, how are you?” I hugged him like he was my own father.
“I’m well, thanks.” He pointed for me to follow him over to the family cabin. “I was mighty surprised to hear that the SPD picked you up as a consultant. Never thought you’d come back here to work.”
“Not as surprised as I was.” I chuckled. Brad’s mother put her dishcloth down as I came inside. “Hi, Kim.”
“Bree, honey, it’s so nice to see you again.” She stepped back to look at me. “Still such a pretty face.”
I bypassed her comment and moved in to hug her.
“Are you hungry?”
“Always.” I grinned and let my gaze wander over toward Brad and his older brother, who had just come in the door.
“Wow.” His brother, Ronnie, whistled as he came up to me. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Wish I could say the same about you,” I joked, and he swatted my arm as he brushed past me. Ever since he was young, Ronnie had been all about the military, and his body reflected that lifestyle. He looked super fit.
“Morning.” Brad pretended not to check me out, but I’d caught his look while I spoke to his brother. After all, I had just done the same to him.
His mother called us over to the table. “Let’s go sit. Everything’s ready.” Brad pulled out my chair, and just as I sat, something soft brushed by my legs, and I jerked back at the intrusion.
“Oh!” A big golden retriever sat between Brad and me. “Well, hello there.”
Brad reached down and gave the pup a pat. “This is Ginger—she’s five but still thinks she’s a puppy thanks to certain people.” He tilted his head at his father.
“Oh, yeah.” Jerry laughed playfully as he handed me a plate of waffles. “I’m the problem.”
“Well, the first step is recognizing it,” I bantered back, making Kim chuckle. It was so comfortable how we all fell back into our old pattern.
I caught Ronnie’s face when a chime went off in the kitchen.
His smile slipped, and his expression took on a distant look.
He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked at me suddenly and seemed to blink the thoughts away.
Ronnie suffered from PTSD, and I knew that there were times for him that were better than others.
Jerry set the syrup down in front of me. “Your parents must be pleased to have you home.”
“They are.”
“Has much changed?” Ronnie asked through a mouthful.
“Hmm.” I thought as I swallowed a bit of warm pastry. “Aside from the city guests, who all want that real ranch experience”—I finger quoted—“and the fact that my father’s best friend is a hefty pig named Kevin, things are pretty much the same.”
“Ah, yes, that little porker’s pretty funny.” Ronnie smirked at Brad. “Has your brother shared that he hired us to haunt the deep wood trail in October?”
“Seriously?” I laughed.
“The riders love it.” He stuck a fork in my direction. “One year we even did the Barbed Wire Killer.” The moment he said it, my soul dropped from my body.
“Ronnie,” Kim hissed. “Inappropriate.”
“Like I said then”—Brad’s pissed voice broke through my discomfort—“and like I say now, we don’t talk about that.”
“Sorry.” Ronnie smacked his brother’s arm, then looked at me. I looked away. “So, Bree, do you carry a gun?”
Brad choked on his coffee, and I glared at him. “No, and I don’t like to carry one.”
“Yeah, good thing.” Brad spit-laughed into his napkin. “If history has taught me anything, it’s that you have the worst aim.”
“No, I don’t.” My mouth dropped open as the memory came back to me. “You know I hit that squirrel.”
“No, I saw the slingshot veer so far left the squirrel went flying but only because the tree trunk next to it vibrated from your rock.”