Page 65 of The Sleeping Girls

June knew her grandma had faith. But she’d been praying for Kelsey and that hadn’t worked.

Her grandmother plucked some tissues from the box on the end table and stood, brushing her hands over her apron as she crossed the room to the window. The curtain fluttered as she pushed it back and peered outside. A shiver ripped through June at the sight of the police car. The detective had put a guard outside for a reason.

Because she thought the killer might come afterhernext.

SEVENTY-ONE

RED HAWK RIDGE

Heath parked at his cabin, grabbed his laptop and hunched his shoulders against the cold as he hurried to his front door. A noise made him jerk his head to the right and he saw a stick banging against the house.

The mountains stood ominous and unforgiving in the background, the sound of the hawks’ wings flapping echoing from above. He ducked inside his house, the floor creaking as he closed the door.

Tonight, he’d review the case against Digger and see if he could locate his father in case Digger had contacted him.

He made his way to the breakfast bar, set his computer on top of it and flipped on the light. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The faint scent of sweat and cigarette smoke made his nose itch.

Someone was inside his house.

He reached for his weapon. Heard a footstep near the back door.

He turned and swallowed hard. Digger was inside by the sliding glass doors, his broad shoulders thrown back, his eyes cold and hard.

Heath barely recognized him. The last time he’d seen Digger, he’d been a scrawny, awkward teenager with big wary eyes and glasses.

Now he was over six feet, at least two hundred pounds, with muscles that indicated he spent time in the prison yard working out. Scars crisscrossed his arms and a long jagged one slashed his left cheek running from his temple all the way to his ear. His head was shaved but a goatee grazed his chin, a few early gray hairs poking through the brown.

“Hello, little brother,” Digger said.

“You broke in,” Heath said. “Isn’t that a violation of your parole?”

Digger’s scowl matched his tone. “You gonna arrest me?”

Heath searched for some semblance of the boy Digger had once been. Instead, all he saw was a cold, angry man with a grudge against the world. “Should I arrest you?”

Digger shrugged. “I figure you want me locked back up and out of your way.”

Heath ran his gaze over the length of Digger’s body. “You armed?”

Digger cursed then raised his arms to his side like Heath imagined him having to do constantly when they searched him in the pen. “See for yourself.”

Heath considered it but finally gave a shake of his head. “I want to talk.”

“Now, you do,” Digger snapped. “You sure as hell didn’t want to talk to me the last fifteen years.”

“You killed my sister and blew up all our lives,” Heath said, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone.

His brother pulled a hand down his chin. “I know. I… I’m sorry.”

“Really? If you’re so sorry and reformed like that O’Connor woman said, why would you get out and kill another girl?”

Digger hissed. “Already tried and convicted me, haven’t you?”

Heath shot him a challenging look. “Prove me wrong. Did you kill Kelsey Tiller and kidnap Ruby Pruitt?”

A vein pulsed in Digger’s neck, making his snake tattoo appear as if it was slithering up his throat. “You won’t believe me no matter what I say.”

“Try me,” Heath snapped.

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