Did he? Or had she stolen a spare like the creepy stalker that she was?
“Well, you can give it back and leave. Why are you even here?”
“I left my fabric shears behind. Do you know how hard it is to find good, sharp fabric shears?”
Until that moment, I’d merely been irritated. Pissed off that Marielle couldn’t take the hint and get out of my life and Nolan’s. But now unease stirred in my belly. There was a note of insanity in her tone that sent a shiver through me.
That was when I realised that if Marielle had come through the back door, she would have passed the refrigerator to get to the hallway, and I hadn’t picked up the notepad. The notepad where I’d jotted three names. Those names wouldn’t mean much, not unless Marielle was guilty of something.
Something that had happened in New York.
My brain was still sludgy, but four little words repeated in my head.
What happened to Rayna?
What happened to Rayna?
Marielle had sabotaged a winery belonging to the man she was infatuated with, and she’d kicked a dog lying in her way without a second thought. What kind of revenge would she take on a woman who stole her fiancé?
But…André’s friend of a friend thought the photo of Marielle was Rayna.
Maybe I’d been asking the wrong question.
Maybe I should have been asking, What happened to Marielle?
The woman before me smiled, and her eyes glittered with madness.
The scissors in her hand gleamed in the lamplight.
Chase was in Japan.
Nolan was in Sacramento.
My gun was in the bedroom.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 31
NOLAN
“No more needles for another year, I promise.”
Despite bribing Juno with a pup cup on the way home, she was still sulking in the back seat of the truck. Visiting the veterinarian was her least favourite activity. After Nolan found her, she’d spent months being treated for her broken leg, and she still bore a grudge toward anyone wearing scrubs or a stethoscope.
The driveway at the vineyard had turned dusty after the recent storm, the land once more desperate for rain, and Nolan slowed down as he headed for the house. Most of last night’s dinner had gone in the trash, so he’d stopped at a deli in Sacramento to pick up lunch for Alexa on the way home. A Reuben sandwich and half a dozen cookies. She needed to eat, and he sure hoped she’d taken a nap after last night’s antics. Next time, he’d tell the Priest guy that Alexa had more important things to do in the early hours than his dirty work, whatever that work involved. She’d glossed over the details, but she’d been cursing the US government in general and politicians in particular over breakfast.
Juno leapt out of the truck the instant Nolan opened the door and hightailed it into the house. He picked up a bag of food in each hand and followed, and it was only when he neared the back door that he wondered why it was open. Alexa wouldn’t have left it that way. She was obsessive about security, always had been. Even when she went to the mailbox, she locked up behind herself, that was if she couldn’t convince someone else to make the trip to the end of the driveway for her.
He glanced across at the chicken run, just in case she’d gone to feed them. Since the summer, she’d gone from being a confirmed animal-phobe to being reasonably tolerant of Juno, and Nolan had a sneaking suspicion she was even starting to like the dog. The chickens were growing on her too, although she still preferred them fricasseed.
She wasn’t at the chicken run.
Then he heard the barking.
Not excited, please-give-me-a-treat yips, but something far more urgent and ugly.
Nolan ran inside, following the sound, not just the barking but a scream too. A woman’s scream. Alexa. His pulse raced, the sound of blood turbulent in his ears, loud, but not loud enough to drown out Juno’s yelp. Where was Alexa’s gun? The bedroom? He didn’t have time to get it or his own revolver.
