Chapter 7
As soon as Kori and Wyatt stepped inside Ember & Oak, the smell of something slow-cooked made Kori’s stomach rumble.
Before she could even wipe her boots on the rug near the door, a woman bustled from the back. She was probably in her sixties, with a sturdy build and the kind of face that had seen everything and forgotten nothing. Kori instantly liked her.
The woman’s eyes went straight to Thunder, and she crouched down, both hands going to the dog’s face. “Well, look who’s here. My hero.”
Thunder almost seemed to smile at the woman’s attention—not that dogs could smile. But if they could, that was exactly what Thunder would be doing.
“Martha.” Warmth filled Wyatt’s voice. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” Martha straightened and quickly looked Kori over, not bothering to hide the curiosity in her gaze. “Two for dinner—three including Thunder.”
“You got it.”
“Follow me.” Martha led them to a corner table away from the handful of other diners and pulled out a chair for Kori.
Then she leaned toward Thunder. “I have your favorite meal. Are you hungry, boy?”
The dog wagged his tail.
She straightened. “You two look at the menu. I’ll be right back.”
Wyatt looked at Kori, and he must have seen the curious look on her face. “Martha keeps a special meal for Thunder. She has since he found her mother in the woods two years ago. She was eighty-three years old with dementia, and she decided to take a walk at midnight.”
Her lungs tightened at the image. “Was she—?”
“She was fine. Cold and a little confused but fine.” He shrugged and picked up the menu. “Martha’s been feeding Thunder ever since.”
Kori looked down at the dog as he settled under the table at Wyatt’s feet. Thunder looked back at her with his steady amber eyes.
She rubbed the scar on her arm.
Maybe all dogs weren’t bad. Thunder seemed pretty decent.
But she still didn’t want the canine getting too close.
She looked back at her menu and read the options. She was hungrier than she thought.
The steak sounded extraordinary. Herb crusted, with roasted potatoes and something involving butter that she refused to read the full description of.
She set the menu down and reminded herself to stay strong. She hadn’t eaten a steak in eighteen months—and she hadn’t really been tempted. The stress of this situation was playing with her willpower right now, but she needed to hold to her convictions.
Martha reappeared several minutes later with a bright smile. “Ready to order?”
Wyatt closed the menu. “I am. I’ll have my normal—the ribeye. Medium rare.”
Kori’s stomach grumbled.
Martha wrote his order down and turned to Kori. “And you?”
She cleared her throat before saying, “I’m actually vegan. Do you have anything here I can eat?”
Martha’s pen stopped moving, and she looked at Kori the way a surgeon might look at someone who had just declined anesthesia. “Vegan?”
“That’s correct.”
Another pause stretched, longer this time. Then Martha took a breath, squared her shoulders, and nodded. “I’ll figure out something.”
She disappeared into the kitchen like a woman who’d just accepted a personal challenge.
Wyatt watched the exchange with quiet amusement. “A vegan, huh?”
She picked up her water. “I defended an animal rights activist who was on trial accused of murdering a rancher.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds . . . messy.”
“It was. My client had been investigating several livestock operations for a podcast he was working on—an exposé, really. His files were entered into evidence.”
“I’m assuming there were photos.”
“Photos. Videos. Reports.”
Wyatt leaned back. “But your client was innocent.”
“Completely.”
“And you went vegan?”
“It turns out that spending months reviewing the evidence files changes how you see a steak.”
“I would imagine.” Wyatt studied her a moment before saying, “Martha will find you something to eat. She once fed a table of eight carnivores who showed up without a reservation on a Saturday night—she even found them something they could eat for dessert. She complained about it for a month, but every single one of those people came back.”
Kori smiled despite herself.
Just then, Martha returned with Thunder’s bowl—something that smelled remarkably good—and set it under the table. Thunder gulped the food down without apology.
As he did, Wyatt’s phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at the phone before turning it face down. “My brother. I’ll call him tomorrow. He runs an animal shelter outside of town. Refuge Cove. Him and my sister.”
She looked down at Thunder, then back up. “A love of animals must run in the family.”
“Apparently.” He studied her a moment. “Do you like dogs?”
She hesitated. For a second her fingers brushed the faint scar along her forearm, a pale line she’d carried since childhood. As she shifted, the sleeve of her shirt slid back slightly.
Wyatt’s gaze flicked to the thin white line before returning to her face.
“I didn’t grow up with them,” she said. “A neighbor’s dog bit me when I was eight.”
Wyatt’s brow lifted slightly.
“It wasn’t the dog’s fault. I was the one who ran up to it.”
Wyatt nodded. “Most bites happen that way. Kids move fast, and dogs get startled.”
She looked at Thunder and frowned.
“Most dogs aren’t looking for trouble,” Wyatt said. “They’re wired to protect.”
To protect . . . that made sense. She hadn’t really thought about it like that before.
A few minutes later, Martha arrived with their dinners. She presented Kori with a plate of roasted vegetables, couscous, and a sauce that smelled like lemon and garlic.
She set it down with unmistakable satisfaction in her gaze. “Just for you. No butter. No dairy. No meat.”
“Thank you,” Kori said. “This looks wonderful.”
Martha waved a hand. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to protect. We’ve got a bunch of meat eaters around here. They like hunting, and they like their red meat.”
Kori hid a smile.
Martha looked back at Wyatt again, some of her cheerfulness disappearing. “Listen, since you’re here . . . Pete mentioned something the other night that I wanted to run by you.”
“Martha’s husband runs the general store on Fourth,” Wyatt explained before looking back at Martha. “What’s going on?”
“He’s had some unusual customers lately. Strangers, and they’ve been buying in bulk.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing illegal, but it just seems odd. It’s too much stuff for a camping trip.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Mostly rice, water, beans. That type of thing.”
Wyatt’s eyes narrowed before he finally nodded. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“It might be nothing . . .” Martha shrugged. “Or it might be something.”
As Martha moved on to the next table, Wyatt chewed on Martha’s words. Why would strangers be ordering supplies in bulk?
It was like Martha said . . . it could be nothing. Or it could be something.
If he had to guess? The people ordering sounded like preppers to him. They were becoming more and more common around here, and there was nothing illegal about storing up food in case of a worst-case scenario.
Besides, people from out of town had been buying up farmland in the area. Just because Pete didn’t recognize the people didn’t necessarily mean anything.
“You don’t think it’s nothing, do you?” Kori murmured.
Her voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He didn’t answer right away. “I think Blue Ridge Hollow is a small town. People notice things. It’s our greatest asset and our greatest liability.”
“Makes sense.” She nodded slowly before clearing her throat. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you.”
He lowered his fork. “Go ahead.”
“When I stayed back at Mackenzie’s earlier, I found a laptop she’d hidden under her bed.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And?”
She licked her lips before continuing. “And there wasn’t anything obviously suspicious on it. I think maybe she used it for work.”
He squinted. “Why would she hide her work laptop under her bed?”
“I’m not sure. The only thing I really saw on it was some footage from a trail camera.”
He stilled slightly. “She had trail camera footage on her computer?”
Kori paused. “Is that significant?”
Wyatt hesitated a fraction of a second before answering. “I’ve come across a few trail cameras in the woods lately. Nothing illegal on their own, but . . .” He shook his head. “They didn’t appear to be placed for wildlife.”
A chill worked its way down Kori’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“They were positioned to watch movement. Trails. Access points.” His gaze flicked toward the window, like he could already see the forest from here. “Whoever put them up wasn’t looking for deer.”
Kori’s stomach tightened. “So you think this could be connected?”
“I think it’s not something I’m going to ignore.” He glanced back at her. “Was that all?”
She hesitated again before saying, “And I heard something outside. When I went to check it out, I noticed someone had been on the fire escape. They even left a handprint on the window.”
Alarm straightened his back. “What? You should have mentioned this to me sooner.”
Kori shrugged. “You’re right. I probably should have. I’m just trying to sort all this out.”
“Or maybe you’re thinking too much like a prosecutor—and you don’t want to set your sister up for failure.”
Anger flashed in her gaze before fading into a grimmer look. “You know, I want to be mad, but that is a possibility. But if I did that, it was subconscious.”
He admired her for being honest enough to admit that.
“I want to see that computer,” he told her.
“It’s at Hollow House.”
“When we finish, I’d like to take you back to the house so I can check it out.”
Kori nodded. “Whatever you need that might help you find my sister.”