Page 162 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

“Pull yourself together.” Slowly, she swung the flashlight’s beam over the snow-packed earth, where the light glinted and pierced the shadows.

She decided she’d never find him in over forty night-dark acres of man-made forest. What had she been thinking? The smarter move would be to go back to the café, buy a hot cup of coffee, and sip while watching for him to return to his Explorer. An even smarter move would have been to phone or text him.

She started to punch in his number as a gloved hand reached out from the darkness and snagged her forearm. “Rebecca? What the hell are you doing here?”

She whipped around, face-to-face with him. “God, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She yanked her arm from his grasp. “I came looking for you. You weren’t at the inn, and they said you were out here.”

“They were right.”

“I’ve been thinking,” she rushed on. “We, um, we didn’t leave on the best of terms the other night.”

“You walked out on me.” And as he said it, his words still hanging on the night air, Rebecca’s heart clutched. She thought about another time, when the situation had been reversed, when he’d left her for good. For another woman—her own damned sister.

As if he too had realized what he’d said, he let out a huff of disgusted air. “Damn.” He grabbed her arm again, more gently, and muttered something under his breath about being an idiot. “Look,” he admitted, “I don’t know how to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ you know, about everything that happened between us.” He paused as if waiting for her to interject something. She didn’t. Wasn’t going to let him off the hook, not about this.

“And even if I could, it doesn’t seem enough.”

“It isn’t.”

“What would be?”

“Nothing.”

“I was an ass.”

Again, she kept her silence, noticed the first flakes of snow drifting from the sky.

“Probably still am, all things considered.”

“No ‘probably’ about it.” Then she brushed the air with her hand, dismissing it. “Maybe we shouldn’t go there right now.”

“When, then?”

“Never,” she said quickly, nodding sharply in agreement when she heard her own words. “Yeah, never would be a good time.”

Even in the half-light from the snow’s reflection, she saw him wince. “Okay,” he finally said. “Listen: I’m trying to apologize here. And it’s not easy.”

“Good.”

“The appropriate thing would be for you to say, ‘It’s okay.’”

“But it’s not. And it never will be. But we still have to find Megan. So either you work with me or you don’t. That’s what I came to tell you, to clear the air—the recent air. I’m just letting you know that I’ll be around here in Riggs Crossing, and I’m not leaving until I know what happened to my sister. I just need to find her. I didn’t want to believe that something bad had happened, wouldn’t even admit it to myself. It was just easier to think that this was one of her stupid stunts. But this feels different. Even if it started out that way, if she intended to fall off the face of the earth for a while to get everyone worried about her—you know, a big act to get attention—somehow something went terribly wrong.” She met his gaze. “I would think you would want that too.”

“I do,” he admitted, his breath smoky in the night air. “Right now, the police seem to think I had something to do with it.”

“Did you?”

“What? Jesus. No! You can’t still think—”

His phone chirped loudly. He checked his cell. “It’s my foreman.” He didn’t answer, but before he could say anything, it rang again. “Bobby again.”

“Take it.”

Frowning, he asked, “What’s up?” then stood stock still. The conversation was one-sided. “Shit. What? . . . Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . slow down.” His eyes found Rebecca’s, and in the half-light she saw the strain on his face, the worry. “Holy Christ,” he finally said, then, “Stay put. I’m on my way.” He ended the call, jammed

the phone in his pocket, and grabbed her hand. “Come on.” He’d started jogging, dragging her with him toward the glowing lights of the Christmas tree lot, hurrying along a row of spruce trees laden with snow.

“What?”

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