He nodded and carefully removed the first few stones until there was room to see inside. “This is probably nothing to do with me,” he said, his hand hovering over the opening. “It feels intrusive.” It was growing warmer as the sun rose a little higher.
She put a hand over his. “We can put it right back. But we have to be sure.”
He looked up and into her blue, blue eyes. They were sparkling. She was excited, certain this was going to be a clue. She was in her element just then, he thought. Lit up, dang near beaming. He looked at her with her peaches-and-cream skin and pink cheeks, from their walk and the warm sun.
And that was when he knew it. He was done. She wasitfor him.
Not knowing Wolf’s world had just titled on its axis, Camellia pressed his hand.
He reined in his focus and reached into the little stone volcano to gather up what was there—a small pouch and an envelope. The pouch was brown with a drawstring, and it held some herbs and some stones. He peered inside, then drew it closed again, and turned it over. On the underside, the letters “JWB” had been stitched in blue thread. He traced the letters with his thumb, then he put the pouch back, and opened the envelope carefully. It wasn’t sealed. It contained a photograph of a beautiful Native woman in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby.
Beside him, Camellia gasped, and when he looked at her, she met his eyes and whispered, “Wolf, the bracelet.”
He looked at the photo again, at the baby’s tiny arm and the brown band tied around his impossibly small wrist. His eyes shot to the woman’s face again. She was gazing at the baby with more love than he’d ever seen.
“Wolf, this is your mother,” his beautiful companion said.
His eyes welling, he looked at Camellia. She pressed a hand to his cheek. Her eyes were brimming too.
“You did this,” he told her. “You’re incredible, Camellia, and I?—”
Her gaze shifted away from his eyes and a look of stark terror took her face just before something smashed into the back of Wolf’s head.
He slammed face-first into the ground, clinging to consciousness.
“No!” Camellia shrieked. “Let go of me! Dammit, Earl, let me go!”
Pushing himself up, Wolf got to his feet and tried to see around the large black spots in his vision. A big man with beach boy looks had Camellia by one arm.
Wolf lunged after them as Earl tried to pull her away with him, toward a canoe beached nearby. There was blood running down Wolf’s neck. He felt it as he reached up and grabbed the guy by one shoulder, spun him around, and drove a fist into his chin, then another into his belly.
The guy barely flinched, then he came at Wolf roaring like a bull.
Suddenly, Camellia had a gun in her hand. Wolf saw it, stunned, but Earl didn’t—his back was toward her as he hit Wolf so hard his he left ground before smashing down again.
A gunshot rang out. Camellia had fired into the air.
Wolf picked himself up again as Earl surged toward her. He ran after Earl and dove onto the big guy’s back, clubbing his ears, but Earl ignored him, focused entirely on Camellia. It was like he couldn’t even feel Wolf hitting him.
Camellia was pointing her gun at Earl, while Wolf rode on his back, pummeling him. In a second, Earl grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, twisting and squeezing.
The gun went off.
Wolf felt like a post-maul hit him. The impact launched him off Earl’s back. He hit the ground and he couldn’t inhale.
Camellia’s screams sounded far away. He looked up as Earl punched her in the head and she dropped to the ground like her bones had dissolved, out cold. He tried to get up, but his body wasn’t moving. Only his head, his eyes. He tried to open and close his hands but couldn’t tell if they were moving. The sun climbed higher, clearing the rocks and beaming down full force.
Earl threw Camellia over his shoulder and strode away along the riverban, going downstream toward that canoe.
Wolf pushed himself up onto his side as Earl lowered Camellia into the boat, then got in himself and pushed them off from shore.
“Camellia!” Wolf pressed a palm to the ground to push himself upright. But his hand slipped in warm blood and then everything went dark.
Willow
Willow had wandered outside with her first cup of coffee, drained it dry and was wishing for a refill. Nothing had come to her overnight. She’d been hoping she’d have a dream or something.
Ethan had found a cell signal a mile away last night, so he was able to reassure himself and get some sleep. He’d driven back to that spot this morning, even before the killer breakfast Orrin and Trevor had cooked up for everyone. He reported back that Lily was still doing fine in his absence.
