Page 97 of Last Seen

“Oh. Obviously not on me. But on my phone? No, not really. Mom died when I was six, well before we had all our pictures in our pockets. There’s one family portrait, but I think my dad destroyed pretty much anything else that reminded him of Nashville.”

The portrait, on the mantel, covered in a spray of blood.

He sets his phone on the table. “So you haven’t been back?”

“To Nashville? No.”

“Run, Halley Bear. Run.”

“Stay down. Don’t move. Make him think you’re dead.”

Two voices. Not one.

Two voices.

Blackness.

“Where did you go just now?”

She startles and is back in the cabin again. She gets up and pours a glass of water. Drinks it down. Stares out into the charming garden. This place feels so gentle, so warm. She has brought death to their door. If she could just remember. There is something in the memories that will break this case wide open; she can feel it.

She sits again. Despite the sunlight streaming into the room now, the tiny dust motes dancing in its light, darkness is tugging at her. “My memories of my mother’s death are jumbled up. Nothing is clear. I keep getting little flashes, but nothing concrete. Like I’m pulled back in time and can’t escape, but I can’t see clearly now, either. It’s frustrating.”

“Being there might change that. We’re only four hours away.”

He’s not wrong. She could try Nashville. Talk to the police there again, see if any others who worked the case are alive and willing to talk.

“It’s a good idea, but I can’t make it four hours right now.” She drops her face into her hands. “I am exhausted. This week, these past few days, it’s too much. I haven’t slept. I have to sleep. Can you stay?”

“Of course. Go lie down. I’ll be here.”

“The restaurant?”

“Will be fine without me for a while.” He pulls her to her feet. “Seriously. Go on. I will stand guard, happily, until you send me away.”

She stares into his eyes. He is so different from Theo. Gentler. Kinder. She reaches a hand to his cheek, and he inhales, shocked, but doesn’t move away. His skin is soft. Impulsively, she rises on her toes and touches her lips to his.

“Thank you.”

She turns for the bedroom, but he catches her hand. “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Kiss me.” There is something rising between them, she can feel it, and she tries to push it away by pulling her hand from his. The connection is maintained. They don’t need to be touching to have this magnetic pull toward one another. She felt it from their first meeting. And by the reaction he’s having right now, he did, too.

“I’m tired. I’m scared. I—”

“Come here.” His arms go around her; his face bends to hers. His breath is warm. She has not been touched, been desired, in so long. A completely different kind of wave moves through her. One of desertion and fear. Of desperate longing.

His lips claim hers, and the wave crashes over her head.

What are you doing, Halley? What the hell are you doing?

Her hands go to Noah’s broad chest. He deepens the kiss. She pulls away, putting some space between them.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. This is ... too much. Too soon.”

Noah is breathing heavily. He hesitates—a fraction of a moment when Halley wonders if he’s going to stop. Does she really want him to? What if he refuses? What if ... Then he steps backward. She retreats a few feet away.