The Last Sister (Columbia River)(61)

“Emily will be fine here. She can watch TV,” her mother suggested.

“No, she needs to get out of the house. She’s been stuck here all week while you’ve been sick.”

“That isn’t a meeting for children.”

“She’ll be quiet and read her book. I’m not concerned.”

He won, so Emily accompanied her father on the long drive to Portland, ecstatic over the one-on-one time with him. He stopped for ice cream and told stupid jokes. They played the game where one of them told a story for thirty seconds and then the other person picked up the thread and continued for another thirty seconds. Emily timed the segments with his pocket watch, proud to hold the heirloom. Both ridiculously twisted the story, giving the other person the most bizarre lead-ins possible.

The meeting was dull. Twenty men sat in a room and listened to a speaker drone on and on. Emily sat at the back and ignored them, her head buried in her book about a boy at a school for wizards. After it was over, her father spoke earnestly with a few other men.

Hoping he was ready to leave, Emily approached and tucked herself under his arm. He held her against his side but kept talking. The men listened. Some frowning, some nodding. Some looked like soldiers because their hair was so short she saw skin. Several crossed their arms as they listened, and she studied their tattoos, fascinated by the colors and shapes. Bored, she dug out his pocket watch and played with the little hinged door, loving the feel of the smooth glass.

She had felt the same smoothness that morning at the Fitches’.

She shook the memory away and turned on the car’s music, seeking more diversions. The ocean appeared on Ava’s side of the car, its gray water blending seamlessly with the misty gray of the sky. On a blue summer day, it would take her breath away. Today it was bleak and dismal, but she let it hold her attention, still needing a distraction, any distraction.

“Who runs in this rain?” she muttered out loud, spotting a jogger ahead on the shoulder of the road. There wasn’t enough chocolate in Oregon to tempt her to do that.

She listened to Ava’s phone conversation with her husband-to-be. Their dog had brought a squirrel into the house, and it had promptly disappeared. Ava’s choking laughter only added to his frustration, judging by the curses coming out of the phone.

Emily stole quick glances to her right, absorbed by the glimpse into the agent’s real life.

As they started to pass, Emily saw the jogger stop and raise his arm toward her car.

Does he want a ride?

A flash. A deafening crack. Ava’s window shattered and she shrieked.

Bits of glass and warm blood hit Emily as she wrenched the steering wheel to the left and stomped on the brake. The car spun across the wet road, and Emily’s side of the vehicle slammed into two huge firs.

Her head hit the door as white filled her vision.

And then black.





25

“Mason?” Zander answered his cell, wondering why Ava’s fiancé would call him.

“Where is Ava?” Mason yelled in his ear.

“She left a few minutes ago. What hap—”

“Call 911! Tell them she’s been in a car accident. I was on the phone with her when it happened, but I don’t know where she is! She’s not answering me, and I can’t pinpoint her phone’s location!”

“Hang on.” Zander gestured at Sheriff Greer, who’d joined him a minute ago. “Call 911. There’s been a car accident somewhere between here and Bartonville. Emily just left five minutes ago. They can’t have driven far.”

“I heard gunfire and then a crash!” Mason panted as if he were running.

“Gunfire?” Zander repeated. Adrenaline raced through his veins as he looked at Greer, who was already on the phone. The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up, and he spoke rapidly into his phone. Zander darted out the door and jogged down the hallway.

Someone shot at their car? Are they injured?

“What is going on out there?” Mason hollered at him.

A car door slammed in the background of the call. “We’re on a case—”

“I fucking know that! Who would shoot at Ava?”

Zander shoved open the department’s doors, running as he spoke. “I think—”

“I’m headed your way.” An engine started on Mason’s end. “Go find her! Call me back.”

The call ended with a beep in his ear.

“I’m on it.” Zander yanked open his SUV door.



It was twenty minutes before Zander found the wreck, and he’d pushed his temper to its limits during the wasted time. He’d followed what he believed was the most direct route, but Emily had taken a back road used primarily by locals. A call to Sheriff Greer got him on the right road. The only thing the sheriff knew about the accident from the first responders was that two people were severely injured. No deaths. Yet.

Please be all right.

Zander caught his breath when he finally spotted the flashing lights of two fire trucks, an ambulance, and three county patrol cars clustered together.

It’s bad.

Mason had called two more times, demanding details, and furious that Zander had been on the wrong road. Zander relayed the sheriff’s update, and told Mason he’d call him when he saw Ava.

With his heart in his throat, he pulled onto the shoulder and jumped out into the rain. Emily’s Honda had gone down the embankment on the wrong side of the road and stopped against two firs. A deputy recognized Zander and waved him down to the accident.