Rowan’s jaw tightened.
Her car read another text message as it came in. “You picked a bad time to disappear. This looks really bad for you, Rowan. First Thayer makes an advance toward you. Then he’s found dead with your earring on him? You know what people say: Most crimes happen because of love or money. This one has your name written all over it.”
A chill slid down her spine.
Before she could entirely grasp the situation, another message followed. “Maybe we can come up with a solution together.”
Nausea roiled inside her. No way would she help Vince cover up Thayer’s death.
Never.
The road curved just ahead. Her GPS had stopped working ten minutes ago, and the screen was frozen on a useless map with no signal. She’d bought this car used and had so many problems with it. She was waiting for another paycheck before she treated herself to a nicer vehicle, one that ran as nicely as it looked.
When had keeping up appearances become so important to her? She knew the answer to that question. Her career demanded certain things of her. Compromises.
She wasn’t proud of some of the decisions she’d made.
Sometimes, she wasn’t proud of the person she’d become.
She frowned, glancing between the road and the shape of the curve.
Something didn’t look right.
Had she missed a turn somewhere?
No. She would’ve seen it . . . right? It had been a few years since she’d been here, but she’d been certain she could find her sister’s place.
Rowan hesitated, then flicked on her blinker and turned at the next road. This had to be the correct one.
Her tires crunched over gravel.
The road narrowed almost immediately, and trees closed in on either side. Branches arched overhead in a way that made her feel as if the woods were trying to grab her, to capture her and not let her get away.
Or not.
She’d always had a flair for the dramatic. Everyone had said so. It seemed like a given that she’d capitalize on that quality and become an actress.
“This isn’t right,” she murmured.
She slowed and scanned ahead of her for the Refuge Cove sign.
She only saw more road and trees.
Another curve appeared. Then another.
A knot tightened in her chest.
She should turn around. This wasn’t right. Refuge Cove wasn’t this far off the main road.
Rowan eased off the gas. But before she could turn, a building in the distance came into view.
The house sat low and sprawling, disjointed as if it had been pieced together over time. Sections jutted out at uneven angles, and the roofline shifted from one addition to the next.
The yard was little more than a wide stretch of packed dirt, littered with empty beer cans and crumpled fast-food wrappers that caught in the wind. A few rundown vehicles sat scattered across the property.
Rowan slowed, scanning the house.
Thisdefinitelywasn’t Refuge Cove. She knew that much.
