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“Got some news, and it’s juicy.”

“Okay. What have you uncovered, Fred?”

“Hey. I’m a Velma and you know it. So we have two odd disappearances. A freshman girl. Official story is she went back to Vancouver to be with her boyfriend. That was before the summer. Her friend thinks that’s total crap. Second one is a defenseman from the UAF hockey team. Ryan Kowalski.”

That gets my attention. “What happened to him?”

“Coach said he was offered a spot in some Russian league and left in September, but I can’t find anything to back it up. You might have more luck. I’ll send you their student IDs.”

How he managed to get those, I don’t ask. “Thanks, Luca. Might be best if you stay clear of this now. Marthe will kill me if she finds out I roped you in.”

“I can handle Mom.” He hangs up.

I doubt that very much.

I return to Dominic’s posts from September and download every photo. Opening them up in image software, I zoom in on all the faces. It’s a long shot, but if I can find a connection, it’ll at least prove they crossed paths. For the next hour, I check everyone Dominic has so much as borrowed a stick of gum from, and I’m still no closer to connecting him to the guy who came for me.

“Roslyn.” Nick pokes his head in the door. “Can I have her?”

He’s carrying a picnic basket rather than the brown bag I was promised. I want to know what’s inside.

“I suppose.” She sniffs as I’m packing up my things. “I’ll see you here tomorrow.” It’s not a question, more like an order.

“Sure will. Thanks, Mrs. Thorndale.”

“Roslyn is fine, dear.”

And I feel like I’ve been handed the secret passcode to her inner sanctum.

We head down to the banks of the creek, frozen to the middle now. “Bit frosty for a picnic, isn’t it?”

“Nope.”

We walk to the gazebo, where the boards are covered in a rug and cushions, and the patio heaters tucked into the rafters are warming up. Nick unpacks the basket, laying out croissants and two insulated flasks. He presents me with a paper plate holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off.

“For the lady.”

A laugh bursts out of me. If someone had told me this surly man could be this adorable, I’d have demanded it in writing. Notarized.

“Oh, I’m allergic to nuts.” I make the sorriest face I can muster.

“Oh, shit.” He stutters and tries to remove my sandwich.

I take a bite before he can, and his eyes go wide.

“Elle, no!”

“Kidding.”

I smile like a maniac around the mouthful of gooey sandwich, and he scowls. Gosh, I’ve missed those scowls.

“Don’t.”

“You’d know all about food allergies, though.”

In a single blink, his eyes go from gray to black, and his fangs come down.

I swallow the sandwich with a gulp.