“I’m not sure,” she whispered.
“Christ, I’m sorry.” His features tightened with regret. “The last thing you probably want is to be reminded of that night.”
She waved away his apology. “I don’t usually spend time dwelling on the murder,” she admitted. “But I do try to keep her in my thoughts. I was so young when she died, I don’t have many memories. That’s why I’m here. This is the anniversary of her death.” She glanced back at the grave next to her feet. “And since I heard about your father, I wanted to take the opportunity to say good-bye to the sheriff.”
“I’ll let you think about it,” he murmured. “I’ll be at my dad’s house all day attempting to repair a roof that decided to start leaking in the middle of the night. It’s a two-storied house with green shutters a few blocks north of here. Just drive up Olson Street and make a left on Fourth. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
She stood as still as a statue as Kir walked away, her stomach rolling with a strange unease.
This was always a difficult day, but it wasn’t usually complicated.
Now it felt as if she was standing on the edge of the precipice. Did she get in her truck and return to the comfort of her familiar routine? Or make the leap into the unknown?
Chapter 2
Wynter was sound asleep when the sound of something pounding outside the door of her motel jerked her out of her restless dreams. She forced open her eyes, wondering if there was some sort of construction going on. It sounded like a jackhammer.
Shifting on the lumpy mattress, she pulled the covers over her head, but the pounding continued. In fact, it got louder.
Along with someone calling her name.
What the hell?
Rolling out of bed she stumbled the short distance to pull back the edge of the curtain. She blinked twice, clearing the blur from her eyes, and peered out.
It was late enough that the sun had risen over the horizon, spreading pale sunshine over the graveled parking lot. Wynter swiveled her head to glance at the dark form standing in front of her door.
Noah Heller.
The sight of him punched into her with stunning force. Not only because he was the last person she expected to see beating on the door of her motel room, but because he was the sort of man who commanded a punch-in-the-gut reaction from women.
It wasn’t just his six-foot frame that was packed hard with muscles gained from his physical labor as a conservation officer. Or the tanned face with features that had been chiseled to stark perfection. Or the dark eyes that held an authority far beyond his thirty-one years of age.
It was in the power of his presence. As if he carried around his own personal force field that captivated and held attention. Not the shallow charisma of a movie star. Or slick charm of a salesman. It was a deep, resonating magnetism that was utterly natural, and utterly irresistible.
Shoving her tangled hair out of her face, Wynter hurriedly pulled on her slacks and sweater. She hadn’t packed a bag, which meant she was forced to wear the same clothes from yesterday.
Once she was presentable, she yanked open the door to regard her friend with puzzled confusion.
“Noah?” She glanced over his shoulder, seeing his green Jeep parked next to her truck. “What happened?”
He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his thick muscles rippling beneath the insulated flannel shirt. It had to be subzero for Noah to wear a sensible coat.
“Everything’s fine. At least things are fine back home,” he assured her, his dark gaze sweeping from her tangled hair down to her bare toes. “I’m more concerned what’s happening here.”
She released a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. Part of her was always braced for disaster. Her therapist had told her it was a reaction to being traumatized when she was such a young child. Personally Wynter thought it was simply being sensible.
Hope for the best and prepare for the worst, right?
“Why would you be concerned?”
“I stopped by your apartment and you weren’t there, so I called your dad. He said you were staying in Pike.”
Wynter grimaced. She’d completely forgotten that Noah would be stopping by with a bottle of her favorite wine. Along with Tonya, he was one of the few people who knew that she made an annual trip to Pike to visit her mother’s grave. When her customers asked why she always shut down the restaurant the second week of April, she told them it was to make repairs and upgrade equipment. She didn’t want anyone intruding into her private grief.
Noah was different.
He was not only a friend, but he’d endured his own tragedy when his parents had been killed by a drunk driver when he was just fourteen years old. They shared a loss that others couldn’t truly understand.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re pounding on my door at . . .” She lifted her arm to glance at her watch. Her eyes widened in shock. “Crap, it’s ten o’clock?”
“You’ve been coming here since you were sixteen years old, but you never stay,” he said. “I was worried.”
Wynter struggled to concentrate on his words. Her brain was still fuzzy from the long hours she’d spent tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress.
“How did you find me?”
A wry smile touched his lips. “There are precisely two motels and one B&B in Pike. It didn’t take a genius to track you down.”
It was the sound of tires crunching on gravel that snapped Wynter out of her sleep-deprived haze. Noah had driven three hours to check that she was okay. Which showed a hell of a lot more concern than her own father. When she’d called to say that she would be staying in Pike, he’d mumbled something vague and quickly ended the connection. He hadn’t even remembered it was the anniversary of his wife’s death.
The truth was, Dr. Edgar Moore wasn’t interested in anything beyond teaching literature at the local college in Larkin and collecting old manuscripts.
She stepped back. “Come in.”
Noah quickly entered the room, his brows lifting at the cramped space with its cheap furniture. There was a narrow bed and one dresser with a portable TV bolted to the top. The ceiling was studded with beams that looked like they’d been made out of Styrofoam, and there was psychedelic wallpaper peeling from the walls.
“Yow.” He shuddered as he turned a full circle. “It clearly wasn’t the fine accommodations of the Pike Inn that lured you to linger.”
Wynter breathed in Noah’s warm scent of pine. She didn’t think it was a cologne, just the fresh scent that clung to him from spending so much time outdoors.
“I don’t know, it has a kind of Brady Bunch vibe,” she teased, nodding toward the orange and purple and lime-green comforter she’d thrown on the floor. “Or maybe it’s more a melted crayon box style.”
He returned her smile. There’d always been an easy companionship between them. Ever since they’d met in grief counseling when she was fourteen and he was sixteen. That was one of the reasons they’d never dated. Lovers were easy to find. And even easier to lose. A good friend was more difficult. And far more precious.
“It looks like my grandmother’s house,” he murmured.
“Yeah, mine, too. Pike must have had a sale on avocado shag carpeting in the seventies.”