Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls Book 1)

I leaned back in the Adirondack chair, kicking my feet onto the porch railing. The sun hovered just below the horizon, only a sliver of it still peeking out. It cast an orangey hue on the land around us.

I could give Sparrow Falls that. Her sunsets were beautiful. And the small cabin I rented halfway up one of the area’s many mountains gave me a damn good vantage point.

But it didn’t carry the peace it usually did today. A twitchiness had descended over me, even with a full day of work. Typically, I could count on my new career path to exhaust me so thoroughly that I slept like the dead.

I needed that. And on days when I wasn’t working, I ran. Years ago, I’d logged hours at the gym to stay in shape. Now, I raced through mountain trails in an attempt to escape my demons.

My fingers itched to pull out my phone, text Shep, and make sure Rhodes had locked her damn gate. I didn’t even want to think about her doors.

A muscle in my cheek fluttered, and I forced my hand to grab a glass bottle damp with condensation instead. I lifted it to my mouth, taking a deep pull. It didn’t have the kick I needed, but it would have to do.

My gaze resettled on the book in my lap. The black-and-white squares stared back at me. Half were already filled in, but the puzzle didn’t have the same sort of pull it usually did. And that only made the tic in my cheek intensify.

It was the only sort of word game I could handle these days and the only way I could let my brain have the outlet it needed without ramifications. The letters danced and spun in front of my vision. I could look at the prompt for a clue, but once I got things about halfway filled in, I liked to move without them. It was more of a challenge that way.

My brain flipped through the letters in the alphabet like a running in board in a train station. It came up with possibility after possibility until one hit that actually worked. I scrawled the letters onto the page.

The sound of tires on gravel had me putting the puzzle and pen on the worn side table. I reached underneath to where I stored my Glock, my hand hovering over it until I saw the familiar silver of Shep’s truck.

The vise around my torso eased a fraction, but I didn’t move. Shep pulled to a stop in front of my cabin and climbed out of his rig, holding some sort of dish. “Brought you leftovers.”

I stared at him as he headed up the porch steps. “I do know how to feed myself.”

Shep shoved the plate at me. “You eat one more of those frozen meals, and you’re going to get heart disease and croak on the job.”

He lowered himself into the chair next to me without waiting for an invitation. I needed to use that chair for kindling.

I unwrapped a corner of the plate, and the scents of garlic, tomatoes, sausage, and cheese hit me. I tugged the foil off. Shep’s mom was always thorough. Next to the slice of lasagna and salad was a plastic fork. And beneath the paper plate was a napkin. I didn’t pretend to be uninterested; I simply dug in.

Shep kicked his feet up onto the railing. “If you’d come to dinner, you would’ve gotten garlic bread and brownie sundaes, too.”

I just grunted. Brownie sundaes weren’t worth dealing with the football team that was Shep’s family. I’d take leftovers over people any day.

Shep glanced down at my crossword puzzle and shook his head. “I’ll never understand how you do those damned things in pen.”

I took a pull of ginger beer, swallowing it down. “Pencils are for amateurs.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Sometimes, I forget what a pompous prick you can be.”

Shep wasn’t wrong. But it used to be so much worse. I was so sure I had the answers to everything. And I’d been so fucking wrong—in the worst way. A way that had me losing the person who meant the most to me.

I shoved down the thoughts and memories, burying them under pounds of denial and self-flagellation. “You talk to Rhodes about locking her gate and doors?”

Shep’s brows rose as he turned to face me. “She knows how to take care of herself.”

Annoyance pricked like those tiny stickers that got stuck in my shoes on trail runs. “Clearly, she doesn’t since the last time I saw her, she almost broke her neck doing something stupid.”

His jaw worked back and forth. “She knows it was a mistake.”

“Good.” But that wasn’t enough. Images of her living on that massive piece of property, alone, swirled in my head. “That house is way out, though. She needs to take different precautions than when she lived in town. Those properties can be targets because there aren’t neighbors to hear. And word’ll get around that a single woman is living out there alone.”

Shep was silent for a good long moment, but I felt his gaze boring into me. “You doing okay?”

Fuck.

I did not need this. Not tonight. For whatever reason, my demons were already stirred up. They didn’t need Shep’s help.

“Fine,” I clipped.

“You have to talk about it sometime,” Shep said carefully. “You don’t, and it’ll eat you alive.”

“Shep,” I growled.

“It’s been over two years, and you won’t even say her name.”

The lasagna I’d eaten felt like a brick in my gut. “Now’s not the time.”

“Then when is?” Shep pushed. “Tell me, and I’ll make a goddamn appointment. Because I don’t want to keep watching my best fucking friend fade away.”

I snapped my mouth closed. Hell. An ugly stew of guilt and rage swept through me like vicious waves on a stormy sea. My throat worked as I struggled to swallow. “I can’t go there. It’ll kill me.”

Quiet swirled around us, only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves. Finally, Shep spoke words I knew he’d picked carefully. “I’m scared that if you don’t talk about it, it really will kill you one day.”

I didn’t say anything in response. Because I knew the truth. If I opened the door to that place where I’d locked it all away, it would be the thing to truly end me.

I took a swig of my ginger beer, hoping like hell it’d settle my stomach. “Worked up a plan for the Victorian.”

Shep stared at me for a long moment and then sighed. “Walk me through it.”

The slightest fraction of pressure left my chest. “We start in the library and fan east. We need to stabilize from the bottom up.” Shep already knew this. We’d worked enough fire-restoration projects for him to know more than the basics, but I was desperate to talk about anything but the subject he’d tried to broach.

“Sounds good. We’ll have our full crew tomorrow. What do you want ‘em on?”

My breaths weren’t quite as painful, and it no longer felt like each inhale was wrapped in barbed wire. “Let’s clean out the downstairs. I’ve got fresh N95 masks for everyone. Dumpster’s supposed to get there between noon and one.”

Shep nodded, his gaze locked on the horizon. “I’ll make sure everyone’s there at one.”

“Thanks,” I said. But it was so much more than just gratitude for getting our crew there. It was for all the things I couldn’t say and couldn’t touch. I just hoped like hell he knew it.

Branches slapped my arms and face. The hits stung, tearing at my skin. I felt wetness on my cheek. Blood.

But it didn’t matter. I pushed my body harder, my muscles straining and lungs burning. My feet slapped against the dirt path. The occasional rock or root stabbed my shoes, footwear that wasn’t cut out for trails and meant for an office.

I skidded to a stop as I broke into a clearing. A massive oak tree stood in the center of the space. The trunk was wide and gnarled, and curved branches sprouted from it, moving every which way. But I could barely take any of that in.

My breaths came in quick pants, but I only knew that because I felt the rise and fall of my chest. I couldn’t hear anything over the blood roaring in my ears.

A woman’s body was slumped against the tree. Her head lolled to one side, blond hair covering her face. But I saw the telltale rope peeking out from under that fall of hair.

My stomach roiled, but I forced my feet to move—feet clad in those ridiculously expensive loafers I got for a damn book signing. Each step wound a cord around my throat as if I could feel what the woman had. But it wasn’t even close.

Her feet were bare but not dirt-covered. He’d killed her elsewhere and brought her here. All so he could play his goddamn game with me.

Ragged breaths tore from my throat as I bent. I needed gloves, my team…but I didn’t wait. Couldn’t. I had to know.

I was going to hell for praying it was someone else. Anyone but my sister. And what did that say about me? That I was no better than him. A monster. Because whoever this was, she was someone’s daughter, sister, friend. Maybe even someone’s wife and mother.

I reached down, my hand trembling like a rookie seeing his first stiff. I swept back the pale blond locks.

And my whole world shattered.

I jerked upright, the sheet clinging to my damp chest as my lungs heaved. A breeze picked up through my open window, bringing in cold mountain air. But it didn’t do a damn thing for the fire racing through my veins.

The image was still fresh. Too real. Because it had been.

Greta’s face leached of all color. Her blood spilled all around her.

I shoved the blankets back and stalked out of bed. I needed to breathe. My feet pounded the rough-wood floors of the cabin as I crossed the loft and hit the stairs one by one. Unlocking the front door, I hauled it open.

Normally, I didn’t venture outside without a weapon. It was stupider than shit when there was a serial killer out there who thought messing with my life was fun and games. Someone who’d never been caught.

But tonight, I didn’t give a damn. I almost wished he was out there. Wished he’d take me, too. At least, it would mean the end of this torture spiral.

That was what he wanted. Not to end my life but to see me suffer. But you could never tell when a psychopath would grow tired of waiting and need more. Need to see the life drain from your eyes or the blood spill from your body.

An owl hooted as the cold night air hit me full blast. Even though we were into April, the nights in the mountains could still hit freezing. I welcomed it. Maybe the cold could beat back the memories.

I stared out at the landscape in front of me, the forests dipping into fields and ranch lands. I didn’t feel any of the peace it sometimes gave me.

This was why I didn’t talk about the past. Because when it got a foothold, it could drag me down and swallow me whole.