Page 173 of Snowbound Threat

Lauren’s typically hard expression softens slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t know you lost him.”

“Thanks.”

“Your mom?”

“Moved to Hope Springs, Maine shortly after he died. She needed a fresh start.”

We walk in silence for a few moments, with Shawn in the front and Lauren and me staggered right behind him. The heavyscent of pine fills my lungs, and I breathe deeply, feeling slightly at peace despite where we’re headed.

“My grandmother died last year. We didn’t have a great relationship, but she was the only family I had. Both my parents were only children, so there are no aunts, uncles, or cousins. Just me.”

And me,I want to say. She may not be my child, but we were technically family, right? Even though I knew nothing about her. “Well, I know I’m not blood, but I hope you know that I’m here.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll be fine.” Those walls go right back up, so I drop it.

“Are you doing okay?” I ask Shawn as I try to catch up to him.

“I really hope I’m wrong.”

He’d told me his suspicions before we left the house, and I’d seen the pain on his face when he spoke of it. It’s something I understand, though in my profession, most lawyers make a living from covering things up.

As a cop, he should be able to trust the facts recorded in a report.

“Maybe you are,” I offer as I reach down and gently brush his hand with mine. The contact is meant to be reassuring, but it ignites a need in my blood I can’t ignore.

He keeps staring straight ahead, though he clenches his jaw in response. I glance down and note the way he flexes his fingers before tightening them into a fist.

I hate that he’s right—that jumping into it might end horribly. Because, man, what I wouldn’t give to have those strong hands take mine again.

Distance. We need distance.

I let my steps slow just enough to fall a step behind him as we continue down the trail. All around us, tall trees tower, casting a shadow over us as we walk along the slightly muddy path. Itrained last night, not much but enough that our steps are not quite stable as we move.

The mud sticks to the bottom of my boots, making them heavier the more we walk, and the silence definitely has the minutes crawling by.

“We’re nearly there,” Shawn says as he checks the handheld GPS he brought with him. “That way.” After pointing toward the left, he veers off the path. I follow, and I glance back at Lauren.

Her eyes are wider than they were, and the frustration that seems to be etched on her face most of the time has faded, revealing the nerves I know she must be feeling.

I certainly have my fair share.

Seeing the place where Paul died is not something Ieverwanted to do. But if it will get us answers? Then I’ll do whatever it takes.

We follow Shawn through the thick trees until we push out into a clearing. All around us, trees have been snapped in half or ripped out by the roots. Dead, aside from the vines growing on them and the vegetation around them, I have no doubt that this is the place Paul died.

Where his plane went down.

A boulder off to the right has black scorch marks on the front, and all the trees in the center of the clearing have been broken down to their trunks.

“This is it?” Lauren whispers.

“Yes,” Shawn says, his jaw clenched as he studies the clearing.

“What is it?”

He withdraws his cell phone and taps on the screen a few times before holding it in front of his face. “This is wrong.”

My stomach twists.