Chapter 9
Wyatt and Thunder left, leaving the laptop with Kori so she could continue examining it—for now. Before they’d done so, Wyatt had given Kori his cell number, just in case.
Then Kori went into her room and lay on top of the quilt still fully dressed—other than her shoes—and she stared at the ceiling.
The room was warm. The bed was comfortable. Outside the window the snow came down without any signs of stopping.
But she couldn’t sleep.
She thought about the message on Mackenzie’s laptop.
Come alone and come now.
What did that mean? Who had sent it? It didn’t sound like anything someone from Mackenzie’s work would send.
Had her sister gotten herself into some kind of trouble? After their parents’ deaths, Mackenzie had struggled for a while. She’d become quieter and more withdrawn, and she’d pulled back from doing the things she usually enjoyed.
But then something had shifted. She’d started trying new things, meeting new people, saying yes to things she would have once avoided.
At the time, Kori had told herself it was good. That her sister was finally moving forward.
But now she wasn’t so sure.
Because some of those choices hadn’t felt like Mackenzie at all.
Then Kori thought about Flint.
She hadn’t expected to run into him on the street with a woman at his side. She’d handled it. She always handled things. That ability was what made her a good attorney.
But handling something and being unaffected by it was totally different. Lying alone in a strange room left little space to pretend otherwise.
Flint had chosen this town. Mackenzie had chosen this town. And somehow Kori had ended up here, forced to deal with two people she hadn’t ever wanted to see again.
She sat up, already tired of her thoughts, and glanced at the time. Nine thirty-six.
The last thing she wanted to do was to stay here in her room and do nothing, especially when time was of the essence.
Her mind replayed the search of Mackenzie’s apartment earlier. The desk. The kitchen. The bedroom.
The laptop.
Kori frowned.
The moment she’d found that second laptop under the bed, she’d stopped looking for anything else. Everything after that had revolved around the trail footage.
But Mackenzie had always been an avid journaler. Since middle school she’d written things down—thoughts, plans, reminders, the names of people she worked with.
Kori hadn’t seen any journals in the apartment earlier.
Which meant she’d missed something.
Her pulse quickened.
She needed to check Mackenzie’s apartment again.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled on her boots and jacket and picked up Flo’s key from the nightstand. The woman hadn’t asked for it back, so Kori had kept it—just in case she needed to get back into her sister’s apartment.
A few minutes later, she pushed through the front door onto the porch and stopped.
Footprints stretched across the lawn, their edges still sharp. They came from the sidewalk.
Out of curiosity, she followed them around the corner.
She paused when she saw where they stopped.
Directly beneath her window.
Someone had been trying to look inside, to watch what she was doing. Thankfully, her blinds had been down.
Her heart pounded harder as fear tried to creep in.
What was going on?
She pulled out her phone and stared at Wyatt’s number.
She stared at it and considered her words.
Then she put the phone back in her pocket.
The footprints probably belonged to Maggie or someone Maggie had hired to check the faucets or put down salt.
Kori Hutchins had never been a damsel in distress. She wasn’t about to start now.
She stepped off the porch and headed down Main Street toward Mackenzie’s apartment. She would walk. It was only a few blocks away, and she still needed to break in these new shoes. Besides, she needed the exercise.
And going back to her sister’s apartment—being proactive—was better than sitting around and worrying.
Kori’s boots were the only sound she heard as she walked down the sidewalk.
Main Street was now empty, the storefronts dark, and the lamplight had turned the falling snow a pale amber.
As she walked, she thought about Flint again. She couldn’t seem to stop doing that.
She didn’t hate him. Hating him would have been easier.
What she felt was more complicated and less useful.
He and Mackenzie. They’d been together.
While Kori and Flint were still dating.
How did someone get over that? She didn’t have the answer—if she did, the case would already be closed.
She just had to let it go. At least, for now.
She needed to concentrate on finding Mackenzie.
Finally, she reached her sister’s apartment. She let herself in through the front door and quietly took the stairs, not wanting to wake Flo.
Outside Mackenzie’s door, she paused and drew in a deep breath. She hoped she would find those journals here. Maybe they’d provide some answers.
Slowly, she unlocked the door and eased it open.
Immediately, something felt wrong.
She couldn’t say what exactly. But the feeling kept her frozen in the doorway.
You’re being ridiculous. You’re not usually this on edge. Get a grip!
Drawing in another breath, Kori flipped on the lights and scanned the apartment.
The space looked the same—the bunched throw blanket, the stack of books, the half-finished mug on the counter. There was nothing specific she could point to.
Her hand found the edge of the bookshelf near the door. Her fingers closed around the neck of a heavy glass vase sitting on the top shelf.
She lifted it carefully, testing the weight.
It would work.
Slowly, she moved across the room.
That was when she noticed the door to Mackenzie’s bedroom was slightly open.
She’d left it closed earlier. She was certain of it.
She stopped and listened.
Was that . . . the shift of weight on a floorboard?
Was someone in Mackenzie’s bedroom?
Her hand tightened on the vase.
Then the bedroom door swung open, and a figure darted toward her. He wore a dark jacket, hood up, head down.
Kori threw herself sideways, trying to get out of his way.
The figure caught her shoulder, shoving her into the wall on his way out.
The vase left her hands and hit the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.
Then the intruder was out the door and gone.