Page 71 of One Last Chance

“We did a lot of fishing. And hunting, and I taught her how to make beef jerky and dried fish, and we had a garden, and . . . we played a lot of Scrabble. And Aggravation on my grandfather’s old wooden marble board.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I loved Kennedy. Still do.”

“What happened, Sully?” Axel said, glancing over at Flynn.

She saw it but turned her gaze back to Sully, trying to decide if he was the kind of guy to keep a woman captive for a month, or even a year.

Probably not.

And by the kiss, yeah, he’d loved her.

“I don’t know. It was fishing season again, and I started getting groups in. I’d have to go to Copper Mountain to get them, and she’d stay behind and make dinner or, you know, work on her jewelry, and then one day, I showed up with a crew and . . . she wasn’t there. There was food on the stove, and her jewelry stuff was on the table in her room, and most of her stuff was there too . . . but she wasn’t. She just . . . vanished. And never returned.”

He ran a hand across his cheek. Shook his head, looked out at the river. “I looked for her. Everywhere. Even sent Uncle Wilson and Hud and Mal out—it was a big Bowie family trip. But nothing. We searched the river, and all the trails . . .”

“And you never thought to tell the sheriff?”

“Uncle Wilson went back into town with my statement . . . I never heard anything from Deke about it. And in the back of my mind, I thought . . . well, maybe she wanted to stay lost, you know? Like, if I tried to find her, maybe it would only cause trouble.”

His mouth tightened. “I . . . well, the fact is, I thought maybe she was angry with me about something. She’d been acting restless.” He shook his head and looked back at Flynn. “But yeah. It haunts me. I can’t go out into the woods without the fear that I’ll find her body. Or return without the hope that she’ll just . . . be there at the lodge.”

She knew exactly how that felt.

Behind him, the wind ripped through the evergreens, the river rushing, the sun glistening on it, shadows casting from the massive cliff behind them.

“What about the missing girl who had her necklace?”

Sully shook his head. “I don’t know anything about—wait, are you talking about the Midnight Sun victim? You think maybe she was killed by the Midnight Sun Killer?” His eyes widened.

“It’s a theory.”

Sully stared at the river, a hand to his mouth. “I should have?—”

“Yes, you should have.” She met his gaze, accusations roiling inside her. But his story sounded exactly like Kennedy—selfishly independent. And she’d done the same thing to Sully that she’d done to Flynn.

“If Kennedy is still alive, she clearly doesn’t want to be found,” Flynn said quietly.

He swallowed. “I’d like to hope that she is, but . . .”

“But if she loved you, she would have come back to you?”

“That makes me sound like a Hallmark movie.”

“You sound like a guy who loved my sister.” She gave him a tight smile, reaching inside for compassion.

He answered with the same.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Can I get her stuff? I’d like to look at it, see if I can find anything.”

“Absolutely. I’ll get it and bring it into Copper Mountain when the fishing trip is over tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She stood up. “For the record, I think that Kennedy and you would have been perfect for each other. I’m sorry I’m not her.”

“I’m not,” Axel growled, low and under his breath.

She looked at him, but he just shook his head and held out his hand.

Sully followed them back to the chopper.

---