Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls Book 1)

The day was never-ending. Part of it was the fact that we had to start over in more than a few areas of the house after the fire. Redoing work we’d already completed felt like Sisyphus and that damn rock.

Another piece was that Owen was in a mood. Back to his petty shit and testing my authority. The rest of the crew was giving him as wide a berth as possible.

And Shep kept looking at me. Not staring, exactly, but every so often he’d glance my way with a furrowed brow. It made me twitchy and feel more than a little guilty.

What the hell was I doing?

Rho was the last person I should’ve been getting involved with in any capacity. I gripped the crowbar tighter as I moved to the next section of drywall. I should tell her it was a mistake, that it couldn’t keep happening.

The thought had me wanting to heave the crowbar into the wall and destroy everything around me. Because the moments I was with Rho, when I heard her laugh, drowned in the feel of her, they were the only times since Greta died when I felt true peace.

I couldn’t give that up. Even if I should. I guessed that made me a greedy bastard. But what else was new?

I moved to the next section of wall but was so distracted I nearly knocked into Silas. Cursing, I moved out of his way. “Sorry,” I muttered.

Concern seeped into his expression as he took me in. “Everything all right?”

He pitched his voice low so no one else on the crew could hear. I should’ve appreciated that and the worry, but I was too pissed at myself to let it land. “Fine,” I clipped.

Silas held up his hands. “Just asking before one of us takes a crowbar to the back of the head or Owen suffocates one of us behind the drywall.”

I sighed. I was an ass. “Sorry. Not the best week.”

Silas nodded, then cracked his neck. “I feel you. Must be something in the atmosphere.”

I studied him closer and saw the shadows rimming his eyes. “You need anything?”

Who the hell was I? Offering help wasn’t exactly my M.O. But spending time with Rho was changing that.

Silas shook his head. “I’m good. Just been helping a friend with a project and not getting enough sleep.”

But as I really took him in, I wondered if it was more. I remembered Shep saying he hadn’t had the best homelife growing up. That kind of thing could have long-term effects, and not all kids were lucky enough to land with the Colsons. Some just had to endure their nightmares the best they could.

“Lunch,” Shep called, breaking into my thoughts. “Got subs delivered.”

There were a few cheers from the crew as everyone stopped what they were doing and made their way toward the front of the house. I let them go first, taking a moment to get my head right.

Finally, I headed outside. The moment I stepped into the sunshine, I ripped off my mask. The pine air rushed through me in a welcome, cleansing breath.

But the relief was short-lived as Shep stepped into my line of vision. He frowned at me. “What’s with you today?”

My jaw worked back and forth. Hell.

“You’re edgy or something. Everything okay?”

I was edgy because I wanted another hit of Rho. I’d gotten a taste and was dying for more, only I had to hide that because I worked with her brother.

“The princess probably didn’t sleep well since he crashed on Rho’s couch,” Owen bit out.

The look I sent him should’ve made Owen shit himself, but he apparently hadn’t grown out of his stupid phase.

Shep’s gaze jerked back to me. “She was still freaked?”

I shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t know how to explain that it was impossible for me to leave her alone in that guest cottage. That wondering if she was okay would’ve been torture and something I couldn’t deal with. “She’s not quite one hundred percent steady.”

It wasn’t a lie. Rho’s easy acquiescence meant she wasn’t ready to stay alone. But I was still throwing her under the bus.

Shep muttered a curse. “Thanks for staying with her. I don’t know why, but it’s easier for her to ask you than one of us. Probably because we’ve been hovering.”

“She doesn’t want you guys worrying about her,” I told him. I knew that was the truth. Rho didn’t want to put her fears on anyone else’s shoulders.

Shep lowered his voice. “Is she okay?”

I nodded. “The fire stirred up a lot for her, but she’s dealing.” I wasn’t going to tell him about the dream. It was too personal. If Rho wanted to share that, she could.

Shep slapped me on the shoulder. “Appreciate you looking out for her.”

Guilt niggled again. I was a crap friend.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Owen groused. “You read us all the riot act about leaving your sisters alone, and then you’re just cool with him sleeping there?”

Shep turned to Owen, his expression taking on a hardness I knew meant he was at the end of his rope. “I told you to treat my sisters with respect. Which Anson is doing.”

I winced. I wasn’t sure if this morning could be classified as respect, but then again, worshiping Rho’s body had some reverence to it for sure.

“This is a bunch of bullshit,” Owen clipped. “You treat that prick like he’s the Second Coming. Then he’s a grade A dick, bossing us around. Wasting time when we could be making real progress.”

Shep’s jaw worked like he’d taken a chaw of tobacco. “That’s enough.”

“What, we can’t speak our minds now?” Owen snapped.

“You could if you were being respectful. But you never are, Owen. You act like a three-year-old throwing a tantrum when you don’t get your way. And I’m done with it.”

Owen stiffened. “You firin’ me?”

Shep stared him down. “I’m giving you one last shot. You get your shit together, don’t cause problems or drama, and do the tasks you’ve been assigned…well. That, or you ship out.”

Owen glared at Shep before finally throwing up his hands. “Fuck this. I can get a job with a crew who knows what the hell they’re doing.”

“Good luck with that,” Silas muttered.

Owen made a dive for him, but Shep caught him by the shirt. “Keep moving to your truck,” Shep said, giving him a shove.

“Get off me,” Owen barked. “I’m going.”

He stalked toward his beat-up pickup, climbing inside and slamming the door behind him. The fact that it took three tries to get the vehicle going diminished a little of the effect. But he gunned the engine to make up for it.

As gravel spat, Carlos shook his head. “Tiny dick disease.”

Shep barked out a laugh, and the rest of the crew joined him. “Let’s get some grub and then get back to work.”

The crew headed for the boxes and coolers of food in the back of Shep’s truck, but I waited for him. “Sorry about the drama.”

He shook his head. “It’s not on you.”

“The guy never liked me.” And I wasn’t sure why. I’d been pretty inobtrusive in terms of additions to the team. And crew members were always coming and going. That was the nature of the work.

But as I watched Owen’s truck fishtail onto the two-lane highway, I knew this was more than simple dislike. Owen was pissed as hell that I’d come out of Rho’s house this morning. And that set me on edge.

Shep sighed. “Should’ve fired him a long time ago. He’s always been a loose cannon. I just hoped he’d get his shit together.”

Shep wanted to help everyone, give them chance after chance—even if they didn’t deserve it. Especially if he had a tie to them. But that sixth sense of mine was starting to prickle. “He grew up here, right?”

Shep nodded. “Went to school with Fallon and Rho.”

Hell. My brain flashed back to the fire at the middle school. Then the ones downtown and the river trailhead. “He spend a lot of time with them?”

Shep’s eyes narrowed on me. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m taking a look at everyone who’s been in Rho’s orbit.” It was the truth. I hadn’t been able to stop myself, even if I knew it was a dangerous road for me to go down. Rho’s douche of an ex was first on my list, but I was adding Owen.

I should’ve taken a second look sooner. Owen had a number of narcissistic traits, including believing that everything was someone else’s fault, never his. But he wasn’t the only one. That was the problem with looking at everyone as a profile. You realized more people than not were capable of doing very bad things.

“You think I should float his name to Trace? Have him take a look?” Shep asked, concern bleeding into his tone.

My jaw worked back and forth as I tried to get the muscles to loosen. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea. Just tell him he’s been combative lately. He knows the layout of the Victorian well. He’d be able to move through the space quickly if he set the fire.”

Shep cracked his knuckles. “Half the town knows the layout of this place, being here for cookouts and holiday parties back in the day.”

My back teeth ground together. You’d think Sparrow Falls being a small town would mean a smaller pool of suspects. But it was the opposite. Everyone seemed to open their homes to the entirety of the town’s population, and everyone was connected. It made pulling a single thread nearly impossible.

“Just have Trace run his alibi. It’s a start.”

Shep jerked his head in a nod. “I’ll text him.” His gaze bored into mine. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you⁠—”

“It’s nothing,” I cut him off. I didn’t want to dwell on the realities of the road I was going down, and I couldn’t handle Shep’s gratitude.

He shook his head, reading the no-go zone. Instead of pressing, he slapped me on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some food before those mongrels eat it all.”

I chuckled, moving to follow him, but my phone buzzed in my back pocket. Frowning, I tugged it out and stared at the screen.

The number flashing there had my blood turning to ice. It was one I hadn’t seen in way over a year.

I swallowed the bile trying to make its way up my throat. “Be right there.”

Shep kept moving, and I turned to face the mountains as I hit accept on the call. “Hunt.”

“Anson, it’s Helena.”

The familiarity of her voice washed over me—that smoker’s rasp she could never kick, just like she’d never been able to kick the cancer sticks themselves. Our job had held too much stress to give her a prayer of breaking free.

“What happened?” My voice didn’t sound like my own. Too detached. Too empty. But I knew she wouldn’t be calling for anything good.

In true Helena fashion, she didn’t beat around the bush. “He’s back.”

The ice spread, moving from my veins to my muscles and then to my organs. Everything froze to the point of agonizing pain.

“Got a note addressed to you. Opened it. Same fuckin’ clues.”

A million images flashed in my mind. The word games he loved to play with me. Box lettering that disguised his handwriting. But no fingerprints. No DNA. The guy was a ghost.

“It’s a copycat. It has to be.” There was no reason The Hangman would be back. Not now. Not when I’d stayed gone. Lived completely under the radar.

“It’s him,” Helena pushed. “There are too many details we never gave the press.”

My gut churned, sickness taking hold. I’d played by his rules. I’d stopped hunting him. I’d hidden away. But now he was back anyway, as if he had some sort of radar that told him I’d found a flicker of happiness. Something that gave me peace. And he couldn’t have that.

“We need you, Anson. You gotta come back,” Helena said, transforming her voice into that gentle tone she used with victims.

“No.” It was the only thing I could say. Nothing in this world could drag me back into the hell that returning to the FBI would be.

“Anson—”

“No,” I clipped.

“He’ll keep killing.”

I knew he would. Now that he’d started again, nothing would stop The Hangman until death found him. And that would just be another scarred mark on my soul. Another thing I’d blame myself for. But what was one more? I was already drowning in guilt anyway.