Page 5 of Mountain Murder

It was the question Easton Ford had been mumbling to himself between outbursts of frustration and anger that something like this could’ve happened on his watch. Whispering Pines Ranch had been built and founded to give those recovering from physical and mental trauma a safe place to heal. An escape. That list of residents included the man’s wife. Any threat to the people here was a direct threat to Ford’s family.

It didn’t make sense. The only way the killer could’ve gotten in and out was if he’d known exactly where the cameras and security measures had been installed. Hell, Lance had been here three weeks, and he hadn’t found them all.

“You know you don’t actually work here, right?” That voice charged through him and dislodged his obsessive hold of the failed security system. Audrey stared up at him from the base of the ladder, hands leveraged against her hips. She’d changed out of the sweatshirt he’d found her in last night. Showered. Tendrils of hair dripped over her favorite Metallica T-shirt. She tended to live in it whenever possible. “I heard through the grapevine you’ve been looking at these all morning. Which means you missed your appointment.”

Lance descended the ladder. “You remember when a man broke into this building and chased you down with a knife?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.” Audrey backed up a step, adding a good amount of distance between them.

“Yeah, well, given that Ford and his cop buddies are focused on the murder, I thought I might lend some help with the security system,” he said. “Make sure everything’s working.”

“Is it?” Hesitation warbled through her voice. Some part of her wanted to know the details of how someone from the outside could get into the building without setting off any alarms, while he was sure another part didn’t really want to know who she’d gone up against. It was that precarious balance between acceptance and denial. Of pushing forward or staying frozen in her terror.

She wasn’t going to like his answer, but Lance had never been the type to lie for the sake of making anyone feel better. It was that brutal honesty that’d destroyed his family. It was why he was here at the ranch in the first place, having sacrificed every relationship he’d had for the sake of forcing people to understand what he’d been through. Not that it’d done a damn bit of good. Humans didn’t actually want to hear about the horrifying realities this world offered, even when it affected the people they loved.

“Everything’s operating as it should, as far as I can tell.” Lance took his first real look at her there under the florescent lights. The lacerations down her face resembled something more like claws rather than scrapes. Though not as deep as he expected. The damage had no bearing on her features, though. The soft curve of her eyebrows framed warm eyes that had the ability to drill straight through him to the point he couldn’t take his next breath when he caught her gaze. A dusting of freckles was the only humanizing evidence he hadn’t created her inside his head. Despite the cuts and bruises, she was still as beautiful and off limits as ever. “How’s the face?”

“Sore.” Audrey pressed the long side of her hand against her cheek, stretching her jaw. “Guess it could’ve been a lot worse.”

He settled back against the wall, fully enveloped in her mere presence. As though nothing existed outside of the small bubble they’d created around themselves. It’d been like that since the first time she’d thrown him a hello. Pulling him in, heating him through with her acceptance and sincerity. Audrey Ferrogni wasn’t like the other residents here. She hadn’t shut herself down or lashed out at anyone in the weeks he’d known her. Though every once in a while, he caught a tendril of pain in the curve of her mouth, in the way she tried to smooth the half-moons made by her fingernails from her palms.

Nobody got through this life without a few scars.

And for some reason, Lance wanted to know about hers.

“Have you eaten since last night?” he asked.

“Not yet. I just…I keep thinking about how Inez’s killer got inside. That he must’ve known where all the cameras were to stay clear during the break in.” She gripped her arms as though trying to contain a shiver. “The police haven’t found him yet. I overheard one of them saying they lost his footprints through the woods at the main road. Makes me think he could be in here with us right now, and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“You don’t want to go to the cafeteria.” He knew the feeling better than anyone. Being surrounded by people, not knowing if one of them would turn on him when he least expected it. It was exhausting having to maintain that kind of vigilance. More so for someone who hadn’t been trained to work under the threat of attack.

“Sounds silly, doesn’t it?” Her voice lost that confidence he’d always associated with her, and Lance’s protective instincts wanted to step in, to make it so she didn’t have to live with the fear. “You’d think being with the other residents would make me feel better. I’ve taken on the most patients in the past two years than in my entire career because of the events that have tried to tear Battle Mountain apart. Serial killers, a forest fire that forced evacuations, bombs going off on Main Street, kidnappings. The people of this town have suffered more than anyone else I know, and talking with them gave me a sense of community. We all had the same concerns for our hometown, the same reactions to what was happening. There’s supposed to be comfort in that. But now… The truth is, I don’t want to be around any of them.”

“It’s not silly, Audrey.” He took a risk, closing the distance between them. “You saw your friend’s body last night. You escaped a man bent on killing you. A man who broke into your room in the middle of the night and threatened you. Your sense of safety is gone, and honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t locked yourself in the maintenance closet for the past few hours.”

She cut her gaze to one of the other residents coming down the hall. A flood of tension tightened the muscles along her jaw. “The janitor kicked me out.”

His laugh took him by surprise.

“Come on. I want to show you something.” He didn’t bother offering his hand, knowing she wouldn’t take it. That she didn’t trust him or anyone else right now. That could be one of the worst parts about trauma. Not being able to rely on anyone else, but Audrey had spent her entire career helping others, even veterans like him. She deserved to have someone look out for her.

“There better be food.” There was a lightness in that remark that pulled a smile at one corner of his mouth. Only it didn’t last. “Because as soon as I’m fed, I’m going to find who did this. And I’m going to stop them.”

CHAPTER THREE

She’d already made up her mind. She was going to go after a killer.

Lance shouldered into his private bedroom across the corridor from hers.

Suddenly aware no one he most likely hadn’t let anyone inside this room, that he was willingly providing a glimpse into his mind, Audrey crossed the threshold. He wasn’t just allowing access to a fellow resident of Whispering Pines Ranch, but to a former trauma therapist.

The room was laid out identically to hers. Square, apart from the bump out of the window. Though he’d done a bit more decorating than she had. Made sense. He’d been here longer. She honed on the pegboard of photos leaning against the wall from atop his dresser. In reality, there wasn’t much they could do here, especially to the walls. These rooms were meant to be temporary sanctuaries, but Lance had somehow made it feel like a home. Inviting. Cozy. Dark bedding, accents of wood, and more house plants than she’d ever killed urged the muscles along her spine to give up the fight. “Wow. This is…not at all what I expected.”

“It does its job.” He scanned the room, his size alone taking up most of the space. He’d sequestered her from the rest of the residents, but he seemed to make a point of leaving the doorway open. Giving her the option to leave if needed.

“Is that job to compete on HGTV? Because I think you’ve got a shot.” She traced the corner of one photo on the board. A woman, older—in her early sixties, if she had to guess—smiled at the camera. His mom? There were others. A man dressed in a full military uniform. Familiar features reflected from the headshot. Obviously related to Lance. Maybe a brother. Though the age of the photo said most likely a father. More scenes of children laughing as they raced through backyard sprinklers and blew out birthday candles filled in every inch of space on the board. “Is this your family?”

“Most of them.” Lance rounded the end of the bed shoved up against the wall and hauled a duffle bag from beneath the frame. His body language told her he’d locked on her assessment of his space as he pulled a full box of pink and white circus cookies from his stash. “It’s not much, but these will keep your blood sugar from crashing.”

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