Page 44 of Red Hunt

“We’re out back, sweety,” Cindy called out.

I watched Goofy visibly swallowing, then he steeled himself and forced a frozen smile on his face.

Whatever had happened between this Niki and Goofy, today wasn’t a joyful reunion.

When Niki Michaels, the ER doc I’d met the night of Milli’s accident, stepped through the door, I was thrown for a second. How did I not make that connection? Whitebrook was a relatively small town with exactly one hospital. How many doctors called Niki would work the ER there? I stood up, as did Peaches and Goofy.

“Niki, honey, these are Max and Peaches, friends of Scottie,” Cindy introduced us.

But Niki’s eyes were fixated on Goofy. And her face—she wasn’t nearly as good at masking her feelings as Goofy was at that moment. Her eyes were wide, chin slightly trembling, and she was gripping the straps of her bag until her knuckles turned white.

“Scott.” Even her voice sounded weak. She must’ve realized it herself because she grimaced, straightened her spine, and forced her eyes from Goofy’s face to Peaches and me. It took her a second before her eyes widened. “Max.” She smiled, rounded the table, and hugged me. “How nice to meet again.” I could feel more than see Goofy’s eyes boring into me. There would be questions for sure.

“Peaches.” She smiled and shook hands with Peaches, and I could hear Goofy’s low growl.

Interesting.

“That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s Thomas, actually. Peaches is just a nickname the boys gave me.” He grinned, and I chuckled when I watched Goofy’s pissed-off expression.

There would be questions for sure.

24

MILLI

I looked around after I got off the bus. I’d been to Three Oaks before. My Moon Lake girls’ posse had dragged me to The Oaktree on multiple occasions for what they’d called a real girls’ night out—away from the watchful eyes of Blake, Claire’s husband and owner of the bar in Moon Lake, who was also Sharon’s boss since she worked there as a waitress. But I’d never been to the diner…until now.

I looked at my watch. 11:55. Right on time.

If I went through with it.

I’d contemplated all morning whether to go through with it or not, and my stomach churned just thinking about the potential risk of meeting someone I didn’t know. Max would be furious if he’d known. Though to my surprise and disappointment, I hadn’t heard from him.

The upside of today? My leg was a lot better. The swelling had gone down, and the sharp edges of the pain had transformed into a dull soreness. I could walk without a limp and therefore had been able to avoid needing to tell Grandpa about my accident.

My eyes focused on the street and what lay ahead, and my stomach clenched. Or maybe the pain had subsided because my mind had been occupied with more important things…like this meeting and all the potential pitfalls.

Electrona didn’t contact me again. So, the meeting was still on.

I looked up and down, then crossed the street. The diner looked like any small-town diner. Charming, a bit nondescript. Normal. The parking lot in front of it was half full with parked cars, and several people exited the place with their lunch to go.

I stopped, still unsure if I should go in. This was not me. I was a virtual warrior, if that. In real life, I was a coward—a survivor, not a fighter. The door opened again, and a guy exited, his hand wrapped around the forearm of a petite red-haired woman he was dragging along with him.

I watched them cross the parking lot until he pushed her between two trucks. I couldn’t see them anymore from where I was standing, but something inside me told me to hurry up.

I heard a cry and a gasp, and I hurried up even more. When I reached a point in the parking lot where I finally could see, I froze. The guy had the woman pressed against the truck with his hand wrapped around her throat.

He was choking her.

I inhaled, but the breath caught in my chest. Holy shit. What now?

Her eyes met mine, uncertain, fearful, silently begging for help.

And something in me snapped. I lost sight of my surroundings, my single focus on the guy who was holding her in a death grip.

The next thing I was on his back, hitting his head for all I was worth, clawing at him and screaming like a banshee.

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