Page 16 of Unwanted

Three hearts entwined in the middle.

It looked exactly like the one Lucas had been wearing.

***

Dusk was already falling by the time Harper pulled herself together, showered, and threw on clothes. She’d skipped the cucumbers and the concealer, more pressing things on her mind than her dark, overtired eyes.

She pulled on her winter gear, including her waterproof snow boots. She might have to hike a bit in the snow, and she wanted to be prepared. Large flakes were falling steadily by the time she pulled off onto the road leading to Isaac Driscoll’s empty cabin. Isaac Driscoll’s empty, blood-stained cabin, Harper reminded herself. A shiver moved through her, and for the first time since she’d spotted the necklace in the photo of her dead mother, she second-guessed her decision to drive out there and confront Lucas.

She glanced at the rifle in the back seat behind her, the weapon she carried when she took hunters out in the wild and what she’d placed in her truck before leaving. Instead of bringing her comfort, it only brought further uncertainty.

This is crazy. Temporary insanity.

She knew how to hunt and was a good shot, but she’d never been especially keen to do it. It always left her feeling kind of…sad. Her heart always ached when she saw the dead animal she’d killed staring unseeing at her with big, startled eyes. She never told anyone that—the quality wasn’t exactly a selling point for people looking for a competent guide to take them on their wilderness expeditions, but…she could admit it to herself.

The land south of Driscoll’s cabin was mostly flat, and she turned her truck in the direction of the three peaked mountains, the four-wheel drive making it easy to roll over the snow-covered ground. She drove around trees, her tires bumping over rocks and small hills that leveled out again.

How far had he said he lived from Driscoll? Ten thousand something steps? She removed her phone from her pocket, but there was no service. Darn. Agent Gallagher had been able to pull up an email though, and Dwayne had mentioned that Driscoll made a 9-1-1 call. Reception was probably spotty as it often was in the wilderness. She was pretty sure there was an old logging road with a dead end somewhere in the direction she was traveling. That open area where the trees had been removed might provide some service. But for now, Google wouldn’t be any help.

She thought she remembered that it took the average person about fifteen minutes to walk a mile. How many steps would you walk in fifteen minutes? About…two thousand? Maybe? If so, that meant…Lucas lived approximately five miles from Driscoll.

If her math was right, which was iffy at best. Also, she was headed from Driscoll’s toward the peaked mountains Lucas had mentioned to Dwayne, but there was no telling if his house was mostly a straight shot or if he’d turned in a different direction at some point. She might drive her truck right into a lake.

I should turn back.

This was totally stupid anyway. Irrational, actually. It was just…it was just that she’d spent so many lonely years looking for her parents. She’d gone out over and over, day after day, from the break of dawn until night fell, and had never come back with a thing. And then that necklace. And she had to know. Right then.

I can’t wait another second.

Her breath hitched when she spotted smoke rising into the deepening night sky, her heart lurching. She pressed her foot to the accelerator, and the truck jerked forward, snow spraying to either side. It’s his cabin, she thought, her nerves zinging. It has to be.

Anticipation trumped her caution, and she pressed on the accelerator, driving through the small copse of trees in front of what she could now see was a log structure, not large but larger than Driscoll’s place. Huh. If Driscoll had two places on his property, why would he choose the smaller of the two?

She stopped in front of it, grabbed her rifle, and hopped out. Before she could talk herself out of it, she climbed the three steps to Lucas’s front door and rapped twice, her breath labored even though she hadn’t exerted herself with the short walk.

The door swung open, and he was standing there, bigger and more imposing than she remembered him, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She stepped back, and he did too. She met his eyes, the shock on his face clear.

Harper cleared her throat, propping the gun on the small porch. His eyes followed it, and then he looked back to her. “Where did you get that locket?” she blurted.

He stared at her for a long moment and then tilted his head, his dark brows dipping.

“Tell me.”

He looked behind her to where her truck was parked and then slowly back to her as if trying to understand the situation. His head turned toward the small grouping of trees, and he muttered something under his breath before stepping forward, directly into her.

Harper sucked in a breath, a small sound of surprised fear rising to her throat as he took her forearms in his hands, moved her aside easily, and walked past her. She whipped around to see him hop down the steps and prowl toward the trees.

What…

She watched him for a moment, immobile with surprise. He crouched down and started moving the snow with his arm, speaking words she was now too far away to hear.

She moved slowly down the steps, walking toward him, uncertain and completely baffled.

As the crunch of her footsteps sounded in the snow, he looked over his shoulder and then back at whatever he was doing, continuing to clear something. She leaned forward and pulled in a startled breath when she saw four sets of eyes peering back at her, shiny in the dim light, but not so dim that she couldn’t see what they were. Foxes. Babies. She took in her own tire tracks right next to the den and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She’d driven her truck right over a den of baby foxes. “I didn’t know they were there.”

He stood, turning toward her. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, and they stood looking at each other for an awkward moment.

“God, I’m so stupid. I bring people out to the wilderness for my job, and I should know better.”

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