Chapter 28
Isobel
It had been eight years since Isobel last saw her father like this, his pallor bleached to a stark bone white, smeared in red-green blood that smelled strangely more like sap.
It was just past dawn. After the cottage had stopped sinking into the ground, Dane had taken Isobel and her father back to his farmhouse, where the three of them now sat at his kitchen table. Isobel still felt shaken, and her father’s hands trembled as he raised a glass of chocolate milk to his lips, a bit of liquid sloshing up the side.
“Please, Dad,” Isobel said when he put down the milk. “Let us take you to the hospital.” It scared her to see him like this, half rotted, more forest than man with every breath he took.
Her father shook his head and took off his glasses, eyes on the box of ashes in the center of the table as he rubbed the lenses clean, then replaced the glasses on his nose. “How long has Eva been gone?”
“About thirty-six hours,” Dane clipped.
Isobel felt the heat of her father’s gaze and looked away, knowing he’d puzzled out that she’d lied to him when she told him Eva and Arthur were safe.
“Do you know where?”
Isobel fought to remember what Lenny had said when he’d shown up at the farmhouse only hours before, but the headache brimming behind her eyes made it hard to focus. She took a sip of water.
“They were last spotted on the north road,” Dane said evenly. “We have reason to believe both Eva and Arthur abandoned their vehicle and pursued a trail up the mountain on foot.”
“How far up the north road?” Dad pressed.
Dane clicked his tongue. “A few miles?”
“I need to see it.” He made as though to rise.
“Dad, stop.” Isobel tugged his arm back down. “What you need to see is Dr. Rosen!”
“And just what is she going to do with all this?” He gestured to the aspen stump in his chest. “A dead man, rotting in his own skin?” His laugh was humorless. “Dr. Rosen has already tried everything.”
“But maybe—”
“She can’t fix this,” he snapped.
Izzy paled. It didn’t feel like they were talking just about his injury. “You don’t know that,” she whispered softly.
The fight seemed to leave her father then, and he slumped back into his chair. “Now you sound like your sister.”
The sting in those words was worse than an outright accusation.
She’d messed up.
“You recognize that location?” Dane asked.
Her father grimaced. “Maybe.” He tried to take another sip of his milk, only to realize the glass was empty. Isobel popped to her feet and dashed to the fridge. Colorful magnets held Esther’s crayon drawings to the steel surface.
She returned with a new, full glass, which Dad drained all in one go. Little scales of bark flaked off his cheek, and his eyes were shot with green veins when he met her gaze. “What did your sister say, exactly, before she left?”
Isobel chewed her lip as she thought back. “You were badly hurt. She was upset that you kept asking her for honey.”
“Honey?” Dad let out a low curse.
Dane looked between them. “What does that mean?”
A feeling of unease stirred in Isobel’s stomach as she watched her father’s face lose a bit more color. “It means we need to hurry.” His chair legs squeaked against the tiles as he pushed back and rose. “Sheriff, you drive.”
“But—”
