I was vaguely aware of the door opening, more people pouring into the brewery. But something pricked the back of my neck. It was as if I sensed her. Without thinking, I looked over.
And there she was.
Skye Adler, with a large bag slung over her shoulder. Her steps were slow as she scanned the room like she was looking for someone. She tucked a lock of her dark, short hair behind her ear.
I waited for the anger I’d clung to all week to flare up. But it didn’t.
My stare bore into her, assessing. There was something off about her.
Her shoulders were too stiff. There was something hollow in her expression. Something raw. Something…wrong.
It took everything in me to stayin my seat.
“Oh my God,” Lakelyn whispered, pulling my attention briefly. “Is that Skye Adler?”
I clenched my teeth and didn’t say anything. Skye’s gaze moved around the room and for a second, I thought we might make eye contact—but she stopped on a table in the corner. A man stood up, smiling as she approached.
My brow furrowed.
The man’s smile was too wide. Too pleased. Something sharp lit in my chest. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years.
Jealousy.
“Isn’t that a detective?” Lakelyn whisper-shouted, craning her neck to watch.
I nodded stiffly as Skye sat down with Detective Brandon Whize.
My skin crawled, my will to stay in my seat being challenged as Skye leaned forward across the table. Whize looked too damn happy to see her.
“Do you think they’re on a date?” Lakelyn leaned toward me across the small pub table.
I clenched my beer glass too tightly, afraid it might shatter in my hand. I shouldn’t care about what Skye was doing with Whize. It shouldn’t bother me that she was here to see him. Whatever Skye chose to do shouldn’t bother me at all anymore.
Besides, Iwashere on a date. I forced myself to look back at Lakelyn. She leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, resting her elbows on the table and offering a not-so-subtle view of her cleavage.
I focused pointedly on her face.
“Have you heard that she’s making a documentary about the Shadow Stalker?” shewhispered.
“I’ve heard,” I muttered.
“Has she contacted you? Or your brothers? I heard she’s looking to interview people.”
Hastily, I lifted my glass, drinking the rest of my beer before flagging down the waitress for another. “I haven’t spoken to her.”
She glanced between me and Skye, until she settled on me. Her brows rose. “I’ve heard that she’s staying in the Millers’ cabin outside of town.”
My spine straightened. That cabin was out in the middle of the woods. Secluded.
“You seem to hear about a lot of things around town,” I mused.
She laughed, a high-pitched, almost brittle sound that grated on my nerves. “It’s a small town.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to hear things.”
I had a feeling it was more than that. She struck me as the kind of person who liked sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
I glanced back toward Skye on instinct.
She was leaning closer to Whize. The detective watched her intently, their heads bowed in what looked like a serious conversation.
