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Gibson crosses over and places his hands on my arms. “It’s okay to not be okay.”
“I’m okay.” It’s not a complete lie, but it’s also not entirely the truth. “I’m managing,” I add. “Tonight was hard. Everyone is walking on eggshells around me. Treating me gently, as though I’ll break.”
“I take it I’m included in that ‘everyone’?”
“You did just try to keep me from coming into your office.”
He runs a hand through his hair as he steps back from me. “You went through something traumatizing.”
“Yes, but I survived. And while I know I’m struggling, I’m still standing.”
“You are.”
“So stop trying to shield me from it, please.”
He nods. “Deal.”
“Good.” I take a deep breath. “Now, you better eat so I can tell my mom you loved it.”
He laughs and takes a seat behind his desk. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet?”
“Because I know you better than I know myself most days.”
“Same.”
I smile, and the air between us shifts. The weight of what happened to me no longer saturates the space between us. Instead, it’s a burning attraction. A love that’s shifted from friendship into something more. And while we’re both still trying to understand what that means for us, I know that for me, it’s a forever kind of thing.
Gibson Lawson has been my forever since we were kids.
I only hope that my forever is a very long time and not cut short by whoever is behind the mask.
GIBSON
I haven’t workedmany murder scenes.
Living in a tiny town like Pine Creek doesn’t lead to many of those. But I can’t imagine working these types of scenes would ever get any easier. Carla Yates worked at the Pine Creek Hospital for seventeen years. She’d even helped cast my broken arm when I’d been eighteen and fallen off a horse I was saddle-breaking.
Yet here she lays, dead on the side of the road, in the same place I found Lani. Which shouldn’t be possible since that information was never publicized. Another clue. Another piece that doesn’t add up.
What I do know though, is that it’s a message. Whoever did this can’t get to Lani, so they’re letting me know they’re still out there.
Waiting.
I can even feel eyes on me as I stand here in the center of a yellow crime scene border like the focal point of some twisted art painting. Turning, I survey the surrounding area, looking for anyone who shouldn’t be here.
It’s just the woman who was out for a run at dawn and found her, CSI, the coroner, and Deputy Brown.I can feel you watching me.
“You can take her,” I tell the coroner, then take a step back from the body.
“What’s our next move, Sheriff?” Deputy Brown asks.
“We need to go see her husband,” I tell her. “Why don’t you come along with me? I don’t really care to do this on my own.”
She looks sick herself, but nods. “I’m right with you.”
“Bill, tell me you found something,” I say as the head of our crime scene team crosses over toward me.
He shakes his head in frustration, emotion warring all over his expression. He’s friends with Carla’s husband, Taylor. They went to school together. “I’m going to find them. I’m going to find who did this, but I can’t—” He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to head back to the lab. Run what I found. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll lead somewhere.”