Page 11 of Long Road Home

She had been robbed of a childhood. Had her sanity shredded. And she’d still managed to escape far enough Kenna could find her and help her.

Maizie was nothing short of amazing.

So who cared if Christmas made no sense to her because she’d never experienced anything like it.

Jax continued, “Who knows what Kenna’s childhood Christmases with her dad were like, on the road in your trailer.” They had all been careful to reinforce the fact it washerspace now. She was the one in control of it. “And she was kidnapped by that serial killer. With Bradley. I don’t know what that was like for her. I can’t even imagine what she went through, but she keeps moving forward and it’s miraculous. And it’s beautiful to watch. She stands up for the people she loves.”

“Like not backing down and finding me,” she added, heartbreak in her voice.

Jax nodded. “Now it’s your turn to do the same. Figure out what you like, and what you want your life to be. Find happiness. Drive a car—or a motorcycle. Go on a cruise. Slap somebody in the face. Argue with someone you love, and end it in tears, hugging and laughing about it. Get a stomachache because you ate too much cake.”

She gave a gentle chuckle.

He smiled. “You’ll bleed a little, but it’ll heal. You’ll meet a boy we all dislike and get your heart broken. You’ll love. You’ll lose people, make friends, maybe get married. Have a baby—or a houseful of them. You’ll know what joy is, and how to find peace in your soul. All those empty places inside you will fill, and the memories will fade a little every day. Until one day you wake up and realize you haven’t thought about him in years.”

Jax heard a sniff.

The line went dead.

Chapter Four

Saturday, 8:15 a.m.

Door County, Wisconsin

To Kenna, the morning air smelled like snow, though no fresh powder had fallen overnight, which was pretty disappointing. Her nose had turned numb after mile two, and thankfully she’d remembered to bring a tissue on her run today.

Bare branches reached over power lines into the road. From behind her sunglasses she spotted a red painted barn before the next corner. One of those geometric quilt patterns on the siding above the doors identified the family—like a crest.

Through the open phone line in her earbuds, under the hem of the beanie keeping her head warm, she heard Jax say, “Sure?”

Kenna slowed enough to turn in a circle and jog goingbackward for a few seconds, before turning forward again. “Yes, I’m sure. There’s no one following me. I’ve seen some farmers out breaking ice for their cows. One car. No weirdos.”

It was kind of cute that he was worried. But not so cute as towhy, given she’d come here to find a different killer.

“I should get a motorcycle with rearview mirrors,” she added. “Then I’d be able to see if there’s someone behind me.”

Why would she want to run in a place where she might encounter other people? Forrest might have brought up the idea of partners, but Kenna really did operate better alone—even if she was alone and also on the phone with Jax.

Jax chuckled. “Kind of defeats the purpose of exercise if you’re sitting on a bike.”

“But I would look good.”

“So much it’s a little terrifying.”

Kenna laughed, inhaling a mouthful of frigid air. “Geez, it’s cold.”

“I’m in shorts and a T-shirt.”

Mmm. Speaking of looking good. She’d jump at the opportunity to be his partner—if all the connotations of that didn’t land her morals in hot water given enough time. Thank goodness she was nowhere near California.

“It’s seventy-five degrees already,” he added.

“Yeesh, no thanks.” Kenna smiled to herself. “I prefer this high of twenty-eight and clear skies, thanks.” Plus insulated tights, handwarmers in her gloves, and two pairs of socks in her sneakers, as well a base layer, T-shirt, and sweater under an insulated running jacket.

“Your face is numb.”

“But I’m not sweaty.” Kenna raced around the corner into Forrest’s neighborhood. “So what else did Clarke say?”

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