Page 25

E ve’s purse contained her wallet, a camera, an older model iPhone that she used for backup, and worst of all: her passport.

How could she travel to Thailand without a passport?

Or even her ID, which was still tucked away in her wallet.

There was no more denying it now. Eve was in trouble.

The biggest question though, was who the hell left it on the porch?

Who was the person that’d just run away?

I tucked everything back into the purse and went for my gun again, clipping the holster to my waist before tossing on a cardigan to cover it.

Outside, the rain had finally settled to a light drizzle.

Water dripped from the copious number of leaves, landing in fat drops on my head and shoulders as I walked.

To my left, I spotted groves of trees. Mountains of them going farther than the eye could see.

When I spotted the blue house ahead, I noticed the main door was open with a screen door attached.

Three stairs led to a wraparound porch and if I took about five steps to my left, I could see a partial view of the lake.

Gathering the courage, I walked up the stoop and gave the doorbell a ring.

It’d been a while since I went around knocking on people’s doors asking for things.

My job should’ve allowed the act to come naturally, but ever since the attack, I’d found myself wanting to make less contact with people, seeking them out digitally first.

Footsteps thundered on the other side of the door and the broad-shouldered man who was chopping wood earlier appeared.

He had mahogany skin and coarse, dark hair braided into cornrows that stopped at his collarbone.

He was tall, and being your average five-six woman, I had to incline my chin to keep steady on his eyes.

His gray shirt was sweat stained, brown eyes glaring at me through the screen.

Was this Alex?

“Help you?” he asked on the other side of the door. A dish towel was in his hands, and he used it to dry them.

“Hi—actually, yes. I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Rose Gibson. I’m currently staying at the little cottage a short walk away. Twilight Oaks?”

I expected the man to open the door and step out, be a bit more welcoming. Instead, he glared at me with his lips pinched tight and his brows furrowed.

“Just wondering if you have a moment to talk,” I said.

“ ’Bout what?” he grumbled, eyes swinging left, then right as he looked past me.

“Did you happen to meet or see the last person staying at that cottage? Maybe in passing?”

Right after asking those questions, I noticed the subtle change in his face. The grimace almost melted as a bolt of fear appeared. But just as quickly, he was grimacing again. “I wouldn’t know anything about who stayed there. I don’t handle that stuff. My brother does.”

“Oh. So, you’re not Alex Reed?”

“No.”

“Is he around?”

“I sure am,” a deep voice said behind me.

I twisted around, spotting another man in a white tee that had black stains on it, and faded jeans. His hair was blond and cut short on the sides, tousled at the top like he’d been running his fingers through it all day. He was lean, tall—but not as tall as the guy on the other side of the door.

“Hi,” I greeted as he joined me on the porch. “I’m Rose Gibson. I’m currently staying in Twilight—”

“I know who you are.” I was relieved to see him smile, considering how serious his tone was. He offered me a hand and I took it, giving it a quick shake.

He laughed nervously before looking to my left. The other guy was gone. “That’s Damian,” Alex said, jerking a thumb at the door. “He’s not much of a talker. Likes keeping his head down. Not much of a people person either.”

“But I assume you are?”

Alex smiled in response. “What brings you this way, Ms. Gibson?”

“I was wondering if you stumbled upon the person who stayed here last, or had any kind of encounter with her.”

“I don’t usually share details about my tenants with other tenants, Ms. Gibson,” Alex said, inclining a brow. He gave me a thorough once-over before pointing a knowing finger. “Wait a minute. Someone called a few days ago asking the same thing. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I admitted.

“Well, I’m sorry, Ms. Gibson, but just ’cause you booked the property doesn’t mean I can tell you anything about the previous tenants.”

“I understand that, but this situation is delicate. See, the whole reason I booked your beautiful cottage”— gotta stroke the ego —“is because my friend stayed here. Her name is Eve Castillo.”

Just like Damian, Alex’s eyes held a flicker of panic.

And just like Damian, he recovered quickly.

“Yeah, I can’t say that I really saw her.

” He scratched the back of his head. “We try not to bother the tenants unless they need us for emergencies. Makes people feel like they’re at home and all that. I’m sure you get it.”

“Of course.” I nodded, but what I really wanted to do was grab his shirt, yank him forward, and slap him until he gave me answers.

Alex and Damian were hiding something. That much was clear. Eddie wasn’t wrong about Damian either. He was a bit off-putting. I had the urge to ask about the scream Selma mentioned, but something told me to hold off on that nugget of information for now.

“Well, if you remember anything at all, will you contact me? I can leave you my number.”

“Nah, that’s alright.” Alex raised a hand that was stained with black smudges similar to his shirt. “I can find it on your application.”

“Oh.” I huffed a humorless laugh, walking toward the steps. “Right. Well, thanks for your time.”

“Sure thing.”

I walked away, making sure not to look too suspicious or panicked. When I finally rounded a thick-trunked tree, I released the trapped breath in my lungs. With one last glance at the blue house, I saw Alex storm inside and slam the main door behind him.