Page 140 of Stormswept Colorado

“Landry?” River said through my phone, but I’d dropped it from my ear and held it at my side.

I couldn’t breathe.

I followed Susan down the hall to Finn’s bedroom, where I’d been a few minutes before to check for signs of him. The place was neat as a pin. Bed made, nothing out of place.

But then Susan opened Finn’s closet door, and I got a better look at the photos decorating the inner surface of the wood.

So many photos.

Still images from Ayla Maxwell music videos. Paparazzi shots of Ayla from LA and other locales. Even from Silver Ridge. There were news articles about her. Tabloid pieces.

A photo of a teenaged Ayla, smiling at the camera. That hadto be the image she’d told me about. The one of her outside her father’s house on the Army base.

But below them, I spotted photos of the sites that had been vandalized all around Hart County. The spray-painted red flowers. The broken windows.

“This is not normal,” Susan said. “But I don’t get it. What’s it all about?”

The truth slammed into me.

“Finn is the vandal. And he knew Ayla when she was younger. He has some connection to Ayla’s stalker.”

“What?”

But I didn’t see how it all fit together. It didn’t make sense. “Secure the scene here and at Seth’s place. We have to assume Finn could be a suspect in Seth’s murder.”

Susan gasped. “How on earth do you figure that? This looks bad, but?—”

I strode toward the back door, lifting my phone again. “River? You there?”

“Yeah. I heard snippets. Enough. What do you need?”

I needed Ayla safe. I needed her in my arms right fucking now or I just might lose my mind.

“I’m heading to my house. Could you get to Silver Ridge? Bring anyone from Last Refuge that you can. Maybe you could call Sheriff Douglas for me too.” I knew he and River were very close. “I’d do it myself, but?—”

“Consider it done.”

“We’re about to have a manhunt on our hands. But Ayla—I left her at my place, I have to—and she hasn’t been answering my messages?—”

The words died in my chest along with my breath.

“Get to her,” River said. “I’ll be on the road as soon as possible.”

The next few minutes were a blur. I sped toward my home, eyes more on my phone than on the road. Ayla still wasn’t answering my calls.

I checked the app for my home security system. It was disabled now. The front door was open.

When I checked the live camera footage on the app, I nearly swerved off the road.

God, please, I prayed.Please don’t do this to me. No, no, no.

My tires squealed as I tore up my driveway and hit the brakes. I threw my door open and flew toward the house.

Paul Ruxton lay in a pool of blood on my front porch. That was shocking enough, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Jumping over him, I went through the open door and inside.

“Ayla!” I screamed. But she wasn’t here.

The camera. I had to see what had happened.

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