Page 26 of If You're Reading This
That, unfortunately, had led to his death.
Tears pricked her eyes.
The official police report stated that Bobby’s body was recovered from the river beneath Alameda Bridge, with the cause of death ruled as drowning following blunt force trauma.
The police classified his death as a gang-related homicide. At least his killers were behind bars. But she knew the truth about his death.
Morgan stood and rested her palm against the cool window, gazing into the darkness beyond the glass.
Her father’s voice echoed in her memory: “That feeling in your stomach when something’s off? That’s generations of ancestors trying to keep you alive.”
As a child, she’d dismissed his words as another of his Native American superstitions. Now, she understood—even if she didn’t believe in superstitions.
The feeling had started subtly. The prickle of awareness between her shoulder blades while photographing the frozen lake. The distinct sensation of disturbed air when she returned home, as though someone had occupied her space moments before.
Nothing was ever missing or obviously disturbed, yet somehow the cabin felt . . . studied. Items appeared microscopically shifted from their proper places just as light changes a familiar landscape just enough to make it unsettling.
Morgan had begun second-guessing mundane occurrences. Was that branch broken naturally, or had someone passed this way? Had she left her journal at that angle?
The rational part of her brain manufactured explanations, but her instincts continued their persistent warning.
Something watchful had entered her world, patient and calculating, its attention fixed upon her with an intensity she could feel but couldn’t prove.
Now she was living on the edge, holding her breath as she waited for the next moment of fear to strike.
She moved from the window and went to sit in her favorite chair instead. She opened the leather-bound journal she’d purchased at a gift shop in Seward with Logan.
Logan . . .
She knew she could call him and talk to him about her concerns. But he’d only worry and become even more protective of her. Though part of her loved that protectiveness, he already had enough on his plate with his job. Everything that had happened after he took down that businessman Victor Goodman last year had taken a toll on him.
He didn’t talk about it often. But she could see the stress in his gaze. Doing the right thing had come with a high price—one he was willing to bear.
Plus, every time she was with him, all she wanted was to spill her feelings.
Her feelings forhim.
Feelings that grew stronger every time she saw him.
But Morgan wasn’t sure Logan felt the same way.
Many times, she felt certain he did. She was certain she saw affection for her in his gaze and in the sweet things he did for her.
But he remained guarded. He always kept his feelings at a distance.
And Morgan wasn’t sure why.
Except . . . maybe he’d never seen her as someone he could be interested in. Maybe he would always see her as her brother’s big sister. Maybe that made her off-limits to him.
Right now, his feelings were all a guessing game.
She stared at the blank page in front of her, wondering what to write. She needed to writesomething. An internal nudge urged her to do so. Plus, Dr. Winters—her therapist after her brother’s murder—had encouraged her to get her feelings on paper.
Besides, maybe sheshouldwrite her suspicions down, just in case anything were to happen to her. She needed to leave some type of breadcrumbs.
Or maybe she just needed to do this for herself. She wasn’t really sure.
Drawing in another deep breath, she started.
