But Manas and Deacon have helped, and they’re the only other ones who have access. What if they can help Lucas?
Stepping toward the mirror, I peek inside the dark hallway, the end of it brightened to a dark gray by the faint light from the windows in the Great Room.
There are no sounds, and the smell remains the same. No one is smoking or cooking inside, that I can tell. If someone was here to hurt me, they could’ve just been waiting in the shop.
I take a step in and walk quietly down the hallway, the place seemingly empty.
My gaze lands on the island and my parents’ love story lays open. My heart skips a beat. The book was definitely not open when I left.
Approaching the counter, I see black writing scrawled on a page.
Maybe you had it the hardest.
To be worth the price that was paid.
I understand you now.
I grab the book and flip through the rest of it, looking for more writing.
But that’s it.
I study it again.…To be worth the price that was paid.
Is this meant for me?
I had it the hardest? Hardest out of whom?
Pulling my phone out of my bag, I snap a picture and text it to Dylan.
She’s read part of this book with me. She’ll recognize it.
Found this written inside, I write.
I look around while I wait for a reply. Nothing else is disturbed from what I can see.
Dylan texts back.We both know that writing.
I stare at it again, remembering Winslet’s diary that I passed on to Hawke.
Could it be her? I wasn’t used to her writing in full sentences, but yes, the strokes are similar.
My skin crawls, feeling like I’m being watched again, but to be honest, I feel like that all the time now. If it’s not Deacon Doran, it’s Lucas or my brothers.
I tap out a reply to her.Stay close to your phone.
I want to know who’s in the Dodge. If they’re a danger, they sure are patient. Could they have been protecting me, maybe?
If it’s one of the brothers—or her—they know Weston and Shelburne Falls. Maybe they’ve seen Drew Reeves too.
Carrying the book with me, I run out of Carnival Tower like someone is chasing me and close the mirror. Farrow has moved to the front of the shop, behind my Jeep, and I race to the kitchen, pulling open a drawer. Bypassing the big butcher knife, I grab a paring knife—small, pointy, efficient.
I double-check the back door is still tied shut, tuck the book under my arm, snatch up my car keys and three Monster cookies, and charge for the front of the shop again, exiting the front door.
Farrow watches me.
“I’ll meet you at home!” I call out.
He peers at me through the open passenger side window. “Lucas said to stay with you!”
