I felt my temper rise. “Don’t patronize me, Karson—I’m not a child. Don’t speak to me like one.” I stood up. “And you didn’t answer the question. What exactly does a little chat with you involve?”
He remained relaxed, an image of composure, but there was a look in his eye that suggested this subject was not to be continued. “I do not mean to treat you like a child, Amelia,” he said slowly, “but there are some things you do not need to know.”
Some things?What the hell did that mean?
I crossed my arms. “What things?”
“Amy, let it go. It’s being sorted, and Matt wants to talk to them.” Ethan thrust a hand through his hair and sat forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, staring at the fireplace for a long beat like it was lit. “They left town awfully quickly.”
“The flights were booked a few weeks ago,” Karson responded.
Ethan sat up straight and said bitterly, “Almost like it was pre-planned.”
“Perhaps,” he answered smoothly. “It’s a little early to jump to conclusions. Rest assured I will find out, one way or another.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” I clipped.
He threw me a hard look. “Amelia, it’s none of your concern.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Actually, it is. I was in the fire, remember?”
His face tightened, and his tone was quietly furious. “I said, leave it be. We will find them, and it will be dealt with.”
He wasn’t used to being challenged, and he didn’t like it. I knew the kind. I’d met plenty of foster fathers who dominated their domain with a brutal hand. But unlike some of the men I’d had to endure, I wasn’t scared of him.
“Fine.” I threw out a hand and raised my voice. “How about instead of making plans to hunt people down like prey, you try saving the ones that might be the next target?”
He held my annoyed glare unapologetically and didn’t bother to correct my words.Why didn’t he?I was tempted to ask again, but I held my tongue. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I’ll leave you boys to your little plans. I’m going out to drink. A lot,” I said, flicking my hair over my shoulders. I swear I saw his lips twitch. I strode—like the child I just insisted I wasn’t—out the door, slamming it behind me.
Chapter 31
Alcohol, My Therapist
Isat at the bar on my own, sipping my second vodka. It was only 4 p.m. but alcohol would be my therapist tonight. The bar was relatively empty. Dahlia had followed me in and was sitting at the other end of the bar on her own, sipping scotch. Dressed in black again, she stared into her drink like a mourner at a funeral. Patty, an older pot-bellied Scottish war veteran—a regular here—was down the other end, bleary-eyed and talking to himself. A couple of men sat at a table eating peanuts and drinking beer. Over by the wall, a man in a collared dress shirt looked annoyed and was having a loud discussion about work.
Everything smashed around in my head.
Two families that would have opposed the development were dead. I didn’t know what Katrina’s views were. She would welcome the jobs and the influx of people, but would she welcome a development?
The last time I saw her she was striding across the room. Striding in tight, sharp movements—the actions of someone annoyed. Perhaps her annoyance was unrelated to the development? Maybe bear man got back in her face? Or Mike?
Why would someone murder over a development? And why choose that specific location? Why not choose another area with less owners to deal with and less missing hikers?
I had to find out more about the location. There wasn’t a town library, and while Bob’s bookstore had history books, if the few I put away were any indication, most of it was fiction.
I needed facts. The council might hold archives—maybe there would be something in there. I was irritated with myself for not looking into it earlier. A whole week had passed, and I’d done nothing. I sighed, took the wedge of lime out, sat it on the bar, and gulped down a few mouthfuls.
“Rough day?” Matt slipped down onto the bar stool beside me. He removed his hat and sat it on the empty stool beside him, running a hand through his flattened hair.
“You could say that.”
“How’s your leg?” He glanced down at my wrapped thigh. I wore a long-sleeved navy shift-style dress the girls had chosen for me. It was a little shorter than I’d normally wear, but it was cute.
“Good. It’s healing fast.” I twirled the glass in my hands, watching the clear liquid rise and fall around the inside of it. Dahlia stared at a point in front of the bar, pretending, I thought, not to listen.
“No doubt the Henderson family helped there.” He maneuvered the position of his body to face mine as Grace slid a beer in front of him.
