CHAPTER 1
TORIN
I was ten minutes away from the end of a quiet shift when dispatch came over the radio.
“Unit two, we’ve got a possible break-in at the old Hollister place.”
That got my attention.
I reached for the receiver. “Thompson, here. What’s going on?”
“Mrs. Winters drove by about five minutes ago,” dispatch said. “She saw a car in the driveway and lights flickering inside. Thinks someone might be trying to break in.”
I straightened in the driver’s seat, my gaze shifting toward the stretch of road that led out of town.
The Hollister house had been empty since Lois passed about six months ago. And nobody went near it without someone noticing.
“Copy,” I said. “I’m en route.”
The drive took eight minutes. I killed the headlights before I turned onto the long drive, letting the truck coast to a stop near the side of the house where the lilac bushes grew thick and wild. The front porch light was off, but there was movement. I could make out a shadow against the window frame, low and struggling.
I stepped out of my vehicle, my hand resting on my belt out of habit, and circled toward the noise.
That's when I saw her.
A woman, half in and half out of the narrow side window, had one leg braced against the exterior wall and the other presumably somewhere inside. She wore jeans that curved over her hips and a dark sweater that had ridden up enough to show a strip of pale skin above her waistband. Her hair fell forward, blocking her face, and she was muttering a steady stream of four-letter words that would've made most ranch hands proud.
"Ma'am."
She froze. Then twisted just enough to look back over her shoulder. The ground shifted under my feet.
Claire Hollister.
It had probably been almost a decade since I’d seen her, but I would have recognized that face anywhere. She had the same wide green eyes that used to watch everything and everyone from the edges of the room. Her blonde hair was shorter, and she'd filled out since I'd seen her last, but it was her. No question about it.
"Torin?" Her voice was full of surprise and something else I couldn't name.
"Yeah." I stepped closer, assessing the situation with the part of my brain that still functioned. "Want to tell me why you’re breaking into your own family’s house?”
She turned her attention back to the window. “No, but thanks for asking.”
I couldn’t leave her like that, halfway in and halfway out. Not with the snow starting to come down. “Are you planning on hanging out there, or should I help you the rest of the way through?"
"I don’t need help. I’ve got it all under control."
“Yeah, I can see that.” I bit back a grin as she continued to struggle. There was no way she was getting through that window without some help.
She glared at me, but there was no real anger in it. Her hands gripped the window frame, her knuckles white, and that's when I saw the blood.
My chest tightened. "Hell, you're hurt."
"It's nothing."
"Claire—"
"I cut it on the way in. It's fine."
It wasn't fine. I could see the dark smear across her palm even in the dim light, and the way she was holding herself told me she'd been stuck there longer than she wanted to admit.
