Till Death(79)

Jason’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s about Angela—well, a little bit of the article is about her. The rest is about the . . . the Groom, and how we might have another serial killer on our hands.”

“Yeah.” I tipped my head back. “I’m not surprised to hear it.”

“Miranda called me this morning about it. She wanted to go get every newspaper and burn them all.”

My lips curved up. “I could see her organizing that.”

His fingers tapped along the steering wheel. “How’s your mom hanging in there?”

“Okay, but I know it’s getting to her. I think . . . well, I know she’s really worried and she’s scared.” I stretched out my legs, sighing. “I just hate that she’s having to go through this again.”

“And you,” he pointed out. “You’re having to go through it again.”

Biting down on my lip, I didn’t say anything. It was easier focusing on my mom and everyone else than myself, because when I did allow myself to really think about it, it scared the living hell out of me.

“You’re lucky to still have your mom around,” Jason said as he turned left. “I miss mine every day.”

I thought about how he’d lost his mother and stepfather. A horrible, tragic accident. “Are you still looking for your father?”

His fingers stilled as he said, “Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

Slowing down as we reached the body shop, he pulled into the parking lot. Gravel crunched under the tires. “It is what it is. Had to make peace with it.”

Sometimes you didn’t have any other option than to do that.

It took about fifteen minutes for me to get the keys to my car, and when I walked back out, Jason was there, standing outside of his car with his hands shoved into the pockets of his wool coat.

“What are you still doing here?” I walked up to him.

He tilted his head to the side. “Just wanted to make sure you got your car and everything starts.”

“In other words, you’re playing bodyguard.”

Jason grinned. “Pretty much.”

“That’s sweet.” Stretching up, I kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to follow me back to the inn.”

“Are you going straight back there?” he asked.

I nodded. “Thank you again.” I started to turn as he headed for his driver’s door. I stopped. “Have you talked to your wife recently?”

Jason blinked. “Random question.”

My cheeks heated as I twisted the ring of keys in my hands. “I know, but I realized I haven’t really asked about you and her. I didn’t even know about it, and I’m trying to not be such a crappy—”

“It’s okay.” Jason laughed. “I talked to her a couple of days ago. She might come home for a visit.”

“That’s good news, right?”

“Yeah.” His nose scrunched. “I think so.”

“That’s good.” I glanced down at my keys. “I better get back.”

He nodded with a grin. “Call me if you need anything. Serious.”

“I have been, haven’t I?”

Laughing, Jason climbed into his sedan, and I turned, walking toward my poor car. Happy to see it with windows again, I unlocked the door and climbed in. The coldness of the seats seeped through my jeans, and the air had a certain chemical smell to it, something that vaguely reminded me of a new car.

The trip back to the inn was uneventful and it felt amazing to be behind the wheel of my own vehicle again.

And I was so not parking it outside.

When I got back to the inn, I saw a UPS truck parked out front. Letting the car idle outside the carriage house, I jumped out and went around to the front, unlocking the large barnlike doors. They opened, inch by painful inch.

Making a mental note to get a quote on replacing these things with an automatic garage-door opener, knowing it would probably get turned down by the historic society, I climbed back into my car and eased it in beside Mom’s truck.

Once parked, I turned off the car and patted the steering wheel before grabbing my purse and climbing back out. I closed the car door, hitting the lock button on my fob as I turned and looked. Sucking in a quick breath, I saw someone standing at the entrance of the carriage house, the bright sun blocking out their features and turning them into a tall, broad shadow.

Hairs along the back of my neck rose as I jerked back a step, surprise flashing through my system and quickly giving way to fear that felt like slush in my veins.

I clenched the keys, my mouth and throat drying. “Hello?”

The form—a man—stepped forward, out from the brightness of the cold January sun and into the dimly lit garage. The unease multiplied and spread, gluing my feet to where I stood when I saw who it was.

Coach Currie stood before me. “I need to talk to you.”





Chapter 24




Instinct sprung alive. My heart jumped in my chest as I quickly realized several things at once. If Coach Currie was here, then he might know what I’d told the investigators, and that couldn’t be good. I also realized in that moment that we were alone, very much so, in a carriage house, and no matter what his intentions were or how deeply he was involved, I could not be in here with him.