Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(24)

Amaliya.

Ever since Easter weekend the Vezoraks had all been acting oddly. At first he thought it was because Amaliya had died and her body had not been recovered. But as his dreams continued to gain coherency, he started to wonder.

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, he exhaled sharply. “What the hell am I doing?”

Maybe he was being a fool, but he was seriously beginning to wonder if Amaliya was still alive. Maybe Ethan Logan knew more than he was letting on. Pete had mourned her with the rest of her family, but if there was a chance she was out there in hiding, he wanted to find her. Maybe she needed him.

So many maybes.

“Pete, you’re a damn fool,” he uttered, shoving his car door open and climbing out. Pocketing the card, he kicked the door shut and sauntered toward the camper.

Ethan Logan must have been watching him, because the side door of the trailer opened and the tall man stepped out. The cowboy hat and duster was gone, but the man was still imposing. He had strong features and broad shoulders that made Pete believe that Ethan could deliver a crippling punch in a fight.

There was an old grill, a folding table, and a cooler set out on the patio. The coals in the grill were bright red. Ethan’s shirt sleeves were rolled up and his hands appeared damp and freshly washed, so Pete guessed he had arrived at dinner time.

“You found me,” Ethan said in a somber voice.

“Only camping ground around here. I figured you’d be here or parked at Wal-Mart. You weren’t at Wal-Mart, so...”

The corner of the investigator’s mouth quirked up in one corner. “Not bad detective work.”

“Is that what you are? Truly?” Pete asked stepping onto the cement slab the trailer was parked next to.

“Sure am,” Ethan said, slightly shrugging.

“That a Georgia accent?”

Ethan gave him an even bigger smile. “Who’s investigating who?”

“Plates are Georgia,” Pete confessed.

Ethan glanced briefly at the license plates on his truck, folding his arms over his chest. “So they are.”

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two men. Pete fidgeted as he listened to the sound of the insects buzzing in the trees. Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, he said, “Do you really think Amaliya is alive?”

“Do you?”

The man’s keen brown eyes had a way of Pete feeling like he was somehow guilty of something. They were piercing and intense.

“Uh, not sure.”

“But you think she might be. That’s why you’re here, right?” Ethan reached inside the camper and dragged out two folding camping chairs.

Pete shifted on his feet, his gaze darting around the nearly empty campsite. He was vastly uncomfortable, yet he couldn’t say why. “Yeah. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have a seat.” Ethan patted the back of one of the chairs he had set up and vanished back into the camper.

Slumping into one of the blue cloth chairs, Pete leaned forward, rubbing his hands together anxiously. His dreams felt closer than ever, more vivid, now that he was actually entertaining the thought that maybe they were somehow grounded in reality.

Ethan reappeared with a plate loaded with slices of onion, a few hotdogs and two hamburger patties. “You hungry?”

Pete shook his head.

“Well, there will be enough if you want some. I’ve had a full day. I’m starving.” Ethan flashed a disarming smile at Pete before placing the food on the grill.

“Why do you think she’s alive?” Pete asked.

Ethan rolled one shoulder. “No corpse.”

“That’s it?”

“Do I need more?”

“So you think she didn’t die?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ethan answered.

“That don’t make no sense if you think she’s alive.”

“There are all types of being alive, Pete.”

“You know my name?”

“Yep. I did a little research on you.”

Pete frowned, uncomfortable with the thought of being part of any investigation. He watched Ethan finish laying the food over the hot coals. The smell of cooking meat and the grilling onions filled the air. The investigator flipped open the lid of a cooler set next to the grill and tossed Pete a beer before claiming one for himself.

“I don’t get it. Why would you care about me?”

Ethan settled into the chair next to Pete, popped the can, and took a long drink of the ice cold beer. “I educated myself on everyone out here before I set out. I like to know who I’m dealing with. You’re good ol’ Pete, the guy who had a bad crush on my missing girl.”

“Who told you that?” Pete asked a bit defensively.

“Everyone in town.” Ethan flashed his teeth as he flung out his arms. “And I do mean everyone. The general consensus is that you were lovesick.”

“It’s true that I loved her,” Pete conceded, his brief moment of anger fading. He pried the beer open and took a swig. “I loved her most of my life.”

“Did she return it?”

An image from his dream flitted through his mind. It was of Amaliya leaning over him, her eyes hooded with desire.

Ethan’s brow slightly furrowed as he waited for an answer.