Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)(31)

“It’s just that you look…”

“Like shit? I know. Burnett just told me.”

He smiled this time. “I wasn’t going to say … that. You look beaten.”

“Beaten? Me?” she asked, offended. “I prefer shit.”

His smile widened. “Okay, not beaten, maybe just tired.”

As good as it was to see him smile, she didn’t have it in her to return the gesture. “Yeah, I need to hit the sheets for a while.” Right then she recalled how many times she and Steve had hit the sheets together. They would hold on to each other, take things to a certain point—almost to the breaking point—but they’d never crossed the line.

She’d been scared. Scared it wouldn’t last. She’d been right.

He claimed he couldn’t handle her working with Chase, but the truth was he’d planned all along to go to Paris to a school for shape-shifters.

He glanced away for a second, and she could swear he’d read her thoughts. “Well, I gotta…” She waved. “Later.”

He nodded, and his eyes met hers again. While she couldn’t read his expression, something told her he wasn’t any more comfortable with this conversation than she was. She turned and walked away. Walked. Not ran.

With every step, she felt him watch her go. It hit her that the last time he’d been at Shadow Falls, she’d watched him leave. She didn’t know if it meant anything, but for some freaky reason it felt as if it did.

*

Instead of taking the path to cabin fourteen, Della cut through a patch of woods. The day was gloomy. And secluded in the alcove of the woods, it appeared almost dark. The damp earth scented the air. Some of the rain from earlier fell from the trees above and splattered on her forearms. A drop spattered onto her face and rolled down her cheek like a tear. She ignored it and kept walking.

Soon she realized something else she was trying to ignore. The feeling as if she weren’t alone. Stopping, she turned a full circle, listening, looking, and inviting trouble to come on out if it lurked in the shadows.

Nothing.

Probably her lack of sleep.

Or the dead.

She evaluated the temperature. It was cold, but was that Mother Nature or a ghost?

“Mrs. Chi? Is that you?”

She got nothing again.

“Bao Yu?” she whispered her name.

Only a light breeze and a distant bird answered back. A few more drops of leftover rain hit her face.

Feeling silly, she took off again. The closer she got to cabin fourteen, the quieter she walked—watching her every step, being extra careful her black boots didn’t snap a twig.

Oh, he would hear her and smell her before she arrived, but the thought of giving him less time to try to come up with a story seemed like a good idea.

She spotted his cabin, and took a deep breath to catch his scent. It lingered in the air, but weak. Stronger were spots where Baxter had lifted his leg and left the world a message that he was there.

She was glad she didn’t have to squat and pee to be noticed.

She took a few more steps toward the wooden structure. Was Chase here? The closer she got, the more certain she was that he wasn’t in. As she stepped up onto the porch, she inhaled again, checking to see if her canine friend Baxter waited inside.

When she’d been in the office, she’d heard Chase call the dog as if he’d wanted to see her. And the truth was, she’d like to see Baxter, too. She got a few feet closer.

No Baxter, either.

She almost left, then stopped.

It was wrong. But so was lying, and he’d done plenty of that.

She went to the door and turned the knob. He hadn’t locked it. Practically an invitation.

Pushing the door open, she could swear she heard something. She stopped on the doorstep and listened. The only thing she could hear were nature noises: birds and critters scurrying around. Then she noted an opened window.

She looked around. The cabin’s layout was the same as the one she shared with Miranda and Kylie. A joined living room and kitchen, two small baths, and three bedrooms. The furniture was different and newer. This must be one of the cabins built a few months back when the camp turned boarding school. Della inhaled, and the scent of paint hung heavy.

She continued to survey the home, and stopped when she saw the framed photograph of a family of four. A mom, dad, brother, and sister. Stepping closer, she recognized it as the one he’d kept at his other cabin, his much nicer cabin.

She picked up the picture. Chase had been young, fourteen or so. The photograph had probably been taken right before the plane accident that killed his family. As she brought the picture up, Chase’s scent grew stronger. She let the scent fill her airway—even inhaled a little deeper.

On the glass, she saw a fingerprint smear as if someone had touched the image. She knew it had been him. Could see him doing it in her mind.

Did he still miss his family?

Of course he did.

Her heart ached for him, then she turned to her own family issues. Would the pictures of her family be all she had of them someday?

Putting the frame down, fighting the pain, she saw an opened laptop and some papers on the kitchen table.

Nudging the achiness away, she recalled the reason she was here. To see if Chase Tallman was hiding something about her uncle—to ultimately get her father off of a murder charge.