Page 11

She looked straight at me, and I did the thing I always do. I let her go.

Doesn’t matter. She’d have found someone to take her to Fairbanks and be long gone. Probably in her expensive hotel by now, in a robe, complaining about Alaska to whoever she came here to get away from.

At the bend in the trail, where I was yesterday, I count my paces to the clearing, until I find the low branch I ducked under, still bent from where I pushed it aside. The flattened patch should be around here. When I’ve gone ten steps too far, I turn back, scanning the ground. It’s been raining for an hour, not enough to wash away a depression completely. Not one that size.

The juniper bush is where it should be. Right area. The leaf litter is undisturbed, but the dark splatters are gone.

So are my own footprints.

Back and forth, I comb the forest floor, and drop to one knee and work through it in a grid, one square at a time, handfuls of wet duff. The way I would’ve done for a survey plot. No compression in the soil underneath, just layers of fallen leaves arranged as they ought to be if they drifted down from the tree limbs above.

The juniper bush I check last because I know what I’m going to find. The stray thread no longer snagged on the prickly needles.

I sit back on my heels and drag air through my nose and hold it. Spruce and rot and cold water, the mineral tang of stone. No blood. Not that other scent either.

Rain does not turn over leaves and put them back. Rain can’t wash away all blood to the point where I can’t even detect a hint. Someone came out here between yesterday afternoon and now, and undid it. Someone careful. Careful in a way that takes resources and a reason.

Or I’m a young vampire, mistaking wolves for monsters in the woods, and Constantin is right.

When I walk into the garage Luca is on a creeper, feet sticking out from under Lucille’s engine. The place smells like cold concrete and old oil, and under it, my brother. Warm. That steady thump going in his chest that mine stopped doing years ago.

“What’s wrong now?” There’s a puddle under her. She’s leaking again. “I thought you fixed this?”

“I did,” he fires back.

“Well, fix her better! We’ve got five booked for tonight.” I lean over the engine, not that I’d know what I’m looking at.

“What crawled up your butt?” He slides out and peers up at me, grease smeared over his shirt.

Mom’s smiling face lights up my phone screen, distracting me from my brother.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I hired someone to help you with the business.”

Behind her, plates and voices. I hear every bit of it whether I want to or not.

I hold in a groan. When Mom gets straight to the point, it’s because she knows she’s in for an argument. I sink down onto the stool by the workbench.

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“You never do. Her name is Ellery. Pick her up outside the cafe at nine.”

“Mom, I don’t have time to train someone new.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and press my fingers to my temple, out of habit more than anything. She meddles too much in our lives instead of focusing on her own.

“Give her a chance.” Her voice drops. “You don’t have to do it all on your own, Nicky.”

She’s seconds away from bringing up our eldest brother. I’m not talking about Sebastian and what he did, or actually, didn’t do. Not today.

“Sorry, Mom, I’ve got to go. Office phone is ringing.” I get to my feet. “I’ll pick the girl up at nine.”

“Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

“A new girl, huh?” Luca drops the hood and wipes his hands on his pants, smirking. “Is she cute?”

“How the hell would I know.” I throw a greasy rag at his head. “You’re as bad as Mom.”