Relief flooded through her so quickly that her shoulders slumped. “That’s good news.”
“There’s more.” He paused. “The helicopter ownership trail finally resolved too. Blackthorne Risk Management—the firm Vince used for private security—ran the charter through three shell companies. But it ultimately came back to them.”
So that was how Vince had found her. She’d wondered in the weeks since everything had unraveled exactly how Vince had located her so quickly.
He’d had people looking for her before she’d even crossed the state line. He’d known about her family since she’d often talked about them. In some ways, she’d practically handed him the map herself.
The men Vince had hired had also admitted, after they were arrested, to shooting at them in the woods. They’d mentioned Vince’s name as well—which further solidified the case against Vince.
“What about Travis Henderson?” she asked. “Did he have anything to do with any of this?”
“He’s still under investigation for the arson and the break-in at Hollow House,” Micah said. “Nothing filed yet. But we’re not done.”
Rowan nodded. It wasn’t a clean and tidy resolution. But it was something.
She was just glad that Vince was now behind bars—where he deserved to be.
As food for the celebration was being placed on the tables, a dark-blue truck with “King Construction” on the door rolled through the gate.
Rowan’s pulse quickened.
She abandoned the food and darted across the yard. The truck door swung open, and Luke King unfolded himself from the cab just in time to catch her when she threw her arms around him.
Her oldest brother was solid and broader than she remembered. In so many ways, even though he was only eight years older, he’d been like a father figure to her while growing up.
His arms came around her and held on tight.
“If it isn’t my famous little sister.” His voice was low and warm against the top of her head. “Making time for us peons.”
Though she wasn’t usually at a loss for words, she couldn’t speak for a moment.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this hug until she was in the middle of it.
When she was ready, she pulled back and looked at him. His eyes looked just like their father’s. Rowan had forgotten that. Or not exactly forgotten. She just hadn’t been close enough to remember in a long time.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she murmured.
“Not as glad as I am to see you.”
“Youdoknow I’ve been in town for most of the last three weeks now . . .”
He shrugged. “I know. I’m sorry that work was so busy. In my defense, I did come a couple of times, but those just happened to be when you were back in LA.”
“Likely excuse.” She flashed a grin.
He studied her a moment. “You look okay.”
She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Such high praise.”
The faintest smile. “Don’t push it.”
The truck doors burst open before she could retort.
“Aunt Rowie!” The voice belonged to Cora, age six. The girl covered the distance between the vehicle and Rowan in approximately four seconds.
Rowan barely had time to brace herself before Cora’s arms locked around her waist.
Thankfully, Rowan had been able to keep up with the kids via video calls. She tried to chat with them at least once a month so they didn’t forget her.
