Three
Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. Helena’s hand tightened around her coffee mug, the slight tremor in her fingers betraying the calm mask she tried to hold.
She’d hoped and prayed it wouldn’t be Alicia. Helena had always believed that if she at least knew what had happened to Alicia she’d have closure and peace, but that didn’t come hearing the news. If anything, Helena had more questions and fears.
How had Alicia ended up in their crawl space and was Denton Wiley lying all these years? Who killed her best friend?
Trevor’s jaw clenched. “Do you have the manner of death yet?”
“No. Not yet. And we may not know due to time eating away at evidence. Helena, I’m so sorry.
We will do everything in our power to find the perpetrator.
Trevor is on the case and that means it’s in good hands.
If you need anything at all, let me know.
We’ve already collected a fund to help you with expenses. ”
Helena’s stomach pinched. She appreciated the sentiment, but it was unnecessary, and she wasn’t a charity case. “Thank you so much but I really don’t need the money, Chief. Insurance will cover it, and I have plenty of funds.” Really. More than some of the people who likely donated to her fund.
“You don’t turn down help from your family in blue, Helena.
You say thank-you and accept it with gratitude.
I knew Bruce, and you have a lot of him running in your veins.
Never could accept a hand. Don’t be that way, too.
God made a family for a reason, and He told us to take care of each other.
To love one another. Embrace the love, kiddo. ”
Helena’s cheeks warmed at the gentle reprimand. “Thank you.”
Chief ended the call, and Trevor took a sip of his coffee, his gaze lingering on her.
She pushed her omelet around the plate, though it had nothing to do with his cooking.
It was perfectly fluffy, the herbs a subtle, masterful touch.
But Alicia was dead, and that thought alone could ruin even the best breakfast.
“Omelet okay?” he asked.
“It’s good,” she replied, forcing a small smile.
“I just have a lot on my mind. I’d hoped that finding Alicia would bring me closure, but it hasn’t.
How did she end up in our crawl space all these years?
It feels like she was silently screaming for help, and we never heard her.
” She white knuckled her fork, her throat tightening with the effort to keep her composure.
She needed a few hours alone to grieve, to let the tears come without anyone watching, but she had a feeling Trevor wouldn’t be leaving her side anytime soon.
Not that she minded. He was thorough, precise—a man who never let things slip through the cracks. His reputation as an arson investigator and K-9 trainer preceded him, and she admired his methodical approach to even the smallest details. He didn’t just solve cases; he untangled lives.
“I wish I had answers,” he said, setting his mug down. “We’ll go back through the old case files, reinterview everyone—friends, family, Denton. Technology has come a long way. DNA analysis, digital forensics… We might find something that slipped through the cracks back then.”
He was right. They had Alicia’s remains now, and with new resources, there might be a chance for justice.
Still, the thought of facing Alicia’s parents twisted her insides.
She’d visited them every month for years, offering hope when she had none herself.
Would they blame her now? Would they want to see her, knowing Alicia had been just beneath her feet all this time?
Helena took a slow, measured bite of her toast, her mind racing.
The fire that destroyed her house was the work of the same arsonist who had targeted the other girls.
If he wanted her dead, why not do it in his normal MO?
He used the same accelerant but that was the only pattern he followed.
Why not keep to his usual method? Unless…
had he wanted her to find Alicia? Why? It made no sense.
She could have died. Did he want the police to discover Alicia?
If Alicia’s killer had hidden her there, why reveal it now—if her killer was also the arsonist?
She cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. “Do you think whoever set the fire at my house knew about the bones?”
Trevor paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He sighed, setting it down. “I don’t know. Alicia wasn’t burned, and arsonists usually have a ritual. I won’t rule it out, but it seems unlikely.”
“Then who shot at me if not the arsonist?”
Trevor must have caught the flash of fear in her eyes, because he quickly held up his hands. “I don’t know. He could deviate. Be desperate. I don’t know what’s going on yet. But I promise you this—I’m going to work this case with everything I’ve got and keep you safe.”
Helena forced herself to meet his gaze. She wanted to believe him, but the shadows under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders told her he was carrying more than he let on.
He was burdened with his own personal battles, like a man fighting his own past. What weighed on him when he thought no one was watching?
Before she could ask, her phone buzzed. Unknown Caller. She held up a finger and answered. “Helena Rutherford.”
“Helena,” came the strained, gravelly voice. “It’s Uncle Rick.”
She froze, her pulse stuttering. She hadn’t seen him since her father’s funeral. “Oh. Hi.”
“I was in Colorado Springs on business and heard about the fire. I drove straight to Lavender. I stopped by the garage, and they said you were staying with a local officer. I just needed to hear your voice and make sure you’re okay.”
Helena mouthed to Trevor, My uncle. He nodded and quietly left the room, giving her some privacy.
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Shaken up, but fine. Just some smoke inhalation.”
Rick’s voice cracked. “You’re the only family I have left. We haven’t had much of a relationship…for reasons. But I want to change that. I want to be here for you.”
The words caught her off guard. She hadn’t thought about Rick much over the years, their relationship a series of sporadic phone calls and awkward holiday gatherings. He’d been a ghost at the edges of her life, always just out of reach.
A memory surfaced, uninvited and bitter-edged.
She’d been fourteen, sitting on the stairs just out of sight while her parents argued in the kitchen.
Her mother’s voice, sharp and weary, cut through the air.
You have to let it go. He’s your brother, Bruce.
Whatever it is you’re holding on to, let it go before it eats you alive.
Her father’s reply had been a low, unintelligible rumble, but the tension in his voice had blanketed the air in the house for days.
Helena blinked, bringing herself back to the present. She didn’t know what her father had held on to, but whatever it was, it had driven a wedge between the brothers for decades.
“I appreciate that,” she managed to say, surprised by the warmth in her own tone.
“I’ve decided to move back,” he continued. “Be closer. I can help with the insurance, the garage, whatever you need. I just want to be there for you, Helena.”
She hesitated. Could she trust him? Her father had kept his distance for a reason, and that thought alone sparked a flicker of caution. Still, she found herself saying, “Okay. Maybe we can meet for lunch or dinner.”
“I’d like that. Just let me know when and where.” He paused, his voice thick with unspoken regrets. “Your dad…we had our differences, but I loved him. I want you to know that.”
Helena’s throat tightened. “I’ll text you later.”
When she hung up, she found Trevor on the small front porch, the morning light filtering through the leaves overhead. He’d bathed Lark. He glanced up as she stepped outside.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“My uncle’s moving back. Wants to reconnect.”
Trevor’s brow furrowed, the lines deepening between his eyes. “You’re not on good terms with him?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know him well,” she admitted, folding her arms against the morning chill. “My dad never talked about him much. They were estranged, and I never knew why. But he’s all I have left.”
Trevor’s gaze softened. “Family’s complicated. I used to get annoyed when Andrea tagged along behind me anywhere, but after she died, I’d have given anything to hear her yelling at me to slow down on our bikes.”
“I’m so sorry about her.” It was no secret that Trevor’s sister died in a fire. Helena’s chest tightened, the words of regret hitting hard. She had regrets, too. Maybe reconnecting with Rick was a chance to change that.
“I think I’ll give it a shot,” she said, her voice a little stronger.
She watched as he dried his dog with a towel and let her shake the rest of the trapped water from her now-clean coat. Trevor’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s the chief. I’m putting her on speaker. Might be your case.”
Helena gripped the kitchen table, bracing herself for whatever came next. Nothing had gone right so far, and she wasn’t expecting that to change. “Hey, Trevor. We have a new body. Out at Silverpine Lake. Car’s a husk and…we have another girl.”
* * *
Trevor’s boots crunched over the uneven trail, the sound swallowed by the towering red-rock formations that stretched toward the sky like jagged, rust-stained teeth.
Sunlight filtered through the twisted pines, casting long, clawlike shadows across the path.
The air was thin, tinged with the dry, metallic bite of sandstone and the faintest hint of smoke—a shadow of the fire they hadn’t yet seen but knew was near.