Chapter 3: Chapter 2

I dumped a few bottles of bleach and a dozen N95 masks on the hardware store counter. The clatter had the young clerk looking up, her blond hair swishing with the movement. Her gaze went from me to the items and back again. She grinned as she smacked her gum. “Cleanin’ up after a dead body?”

I didn’t laugh. Didn’t respond at all. A few years ago, I would’ve bantered with her, charmed her. Not now. It all felt like a waste of time and energy. Neither of which I had.

The clerk’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, hitting keys on her register.

I was an asshole.

But an asshole was better than the alternative. Better than caring. About anything or anyone. Caring was a recipe for nothing but agony.

“That’ll be fifty-two seventy-five,” she said, her words barely a whisper.

“It’s on the Colson Construction account.” I shoved the items into a plastic bag. It was the least I could do. As much as I tried to focus on the task at hand, I didn’t miss the slight widening of the clerk’s eyes. Surprise and curiosity.

People knew Colson Construction. The company had a stellar reputation for good work and fair prices. But people knew the owner better. Shepard Colson had an even better reputation than the company did. He was one of those town golden boys.

Given how my brain was trained because of my past life, I couldn’t help but analyze the why. Why was Shep so determined to be everything to everyone? To always ride in on his white horse to save the day. I’d put a hell of a lot of money on the idea that it was tied to his abandonment.

Knowing you were left outside a fire station when you were barely a month old could mess with someone’s head. Make them feel like they needed to prove their worth. Shep had done all that and more.

I grabbed the bags from the counter, shoving the need to analyze and dig deeper from my mind. My profiling days were long gone. They had to be. It was the only way I had any prayer of holding on to my sanity.

“Thanks,” I muttered, heading for the door.

Just as I reached the parking lot, my phone started buzzing. I shifted, sliding the device out of my pocket and glancing at the screen. Only about five people had the number these days, so the possibilities were limited. Still, relief slid through me at the sight of Shep’s name.

“Yeah.”

Shep’s easy chuckle filled the line. “You know that isn’t actually a greeting, right?”

“What do you want, asshole?” I grumbled.

The last thing I should be doing was giving Shep shit. He’d saved my ass. Had given me somewhere to land when everything went up in fiery flames. A job. A purpose that had kept me from descending into a bottle or worse.

I’d worked a few construction jobs in college, so I knew the basics. But working with my hands, building something up instead of tearing it apart was so different from my time with the bureau. I’d needed that. And I had my college friend to thank for it all.

“Why so grumpy?” Shep chided. “Need a snack?”

I grunted. “I had to run your errands.”

Shep snorted in response. “Sorry I made you people, but I had to meet a client for a job update and sure as hell knew you didn’t want to do that.”

Beeping the locks on my truck, I opened the back door to the cab and shoved the bags inside. “What do you need?”

It could’ve been nothing. Shep liked to check on his people and make sure they were okay. But not typically in the middle of a workday. He’d save that for stopping by for a beer to nose around in our business.

“Can you meet me at Rho’s Victorian? I want to go over our restoration plan before we’re a go tomorrow.”

“Sure. Now?”

“If it works for you.”

I glanced at my watch. The day was only half over, and I’d been itching to get into the space ever since Shep had told me about it. As I worked with Shep and his team, I found I had a gift for buildings with fire damage. I’d taken that gift and expanded on it with some training and digging into research. Now, I took point on those restoration projects.

It was fitting. My idea of messed-up atonement. Only it wouldn’t come close to paying the price I owed.

“I’ll head that way now,” I said, climbing behind the wheel.

“I’m still a ways out, but feel free to poke around. Don’t think anyone’s there. Rho was finishing up at her old place.”

I’d never laid eyes on Shep’s sister. Not for his lack of trying. He was always trying to bring me into his family’s fold. And they were that to him. Family. It didn’t matter that not all of them shared blood or that some had only joined the brood midway through life. They were his, and that bond was everything to him.

But just the thought of those kinds of familial ties had my ribs tightening around my lungs. My breaths got shallower. Each inhale brought a stab of pain.

I shoved it all down and locked it away in a place I never went. Because if I ventured there, the darkness would swallow me whole.

“Anson?” Shep’s voice cut into my spiraling thoughts.

“Sorry, what?”

He was quiet for a moment, and the brief pause told me he was worried. “I asked if you wanted to come to dinner after. Mom’s making lasagna.”

When was the last time I’d had a home-cooked meal? I couldn’t even remember. God knew I didn’t have a prayer of cooking one. “I’m good.”

“Are you?” Shep probed.

Aw, hell. “I’m fine. Just don’t want to do dinner.”

Two years working for Shep, and I’d managed to get by with only one brief meeting with his mom and grandma and a handful of quick words with his eldest brother, Trace. The sheriff always gave me an assessing stare that had my Spidey senses tingling, as if he knew there was more to my story.

But Shep had kept his word. He hadn’t told a soul about my past or my previous occupation. To anyone who asked, I was simply a friend from college who needed a job. A loner asshole who didn’t especially like anyone, so there was no need to take my lack of conversation personally. It worked. Even if it was lonely as hell at times.

“One of these days, Lolli is just gonna hog-tie you to get you there,” Shep muttered.

My mouth twitched at the mention of Shep’s grandmother. In just the few seconds I’d been around her, I already knew I was a fan. “I don’t really wanna get sucked into modeling for one of her art pieces.”

Shep made a gagging noise. “Please don’t remind me. She tried to offload one that was some sort of shirtless elf prince and his fairy love.”

I didn’t laugh, but I wanted to. “It’s hanging in your house right now, isn’t it?”

“It’s in my office,” he grumbled. “Behind the door so I don’t have to see it.”

I grinned as I turned onto Cascade Avenue, the main drag through town. “You’re a good grandson.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shep muttered. “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Sounds good.” I hung up without another word. My lack of hellos and goodbyes annoyed the crap out of Shep, but he’d grown used to it over the past couple of years.

I slowed to a stop at one of the three stoplights in town. Shep had told me the town had descended into a riot when they were put in. Half the residents thought they were necessary for safety, and the other half was certain it would ruin everything about Sparrow Falls.

I wasn’t sure you could ruin a place like this. There was a simplicity to it that hung in the air. A peace. It was the first place I’d felt like I could breathe since losing Greta.

Just thinking her name lit a burn in my throat and down into my gut, an image of my sister flashing to life in my mind. They were rarely of her grown. Almost always something of us as kids. Racing around the yard as our parents called us in for dinner or climbing up into our treehouse to try to escape bedtime in the summer.

A horn honked behind me, shaking me from the agonizing thoughts. I never used to think happiness could be painful. But now I knew the truth. Happiness was the greatest torture of all because it could all be taken away—and it was so much worse than if you’d never experienced it at all.

I shifted my foot from the brake to the accelerator as a gray-haired woman in the sedan behind me glared at me through her windshield. I couldn’t help but build her profile in three quick snapshots. Car old and sputtering but impeccably clean. A bumper sticker that read Jesus Saves. A car seat in the back.

She was proud, a tinge of righteousness sneaking in there. She followed the rules but also did the right thing, the caring thing. She was a caregiver to a small child, and she did what she could to make her life the best it could be. But she thought others needed to live life the same way she did and wasn’t happy when they didn’t. Hence the honking.

I forced my gaze away from her and to the shops along the street as I drove. Most of them were made of aged brick, giving the downtown character, something I hadn’t experienced in my development in the DC suburbs. Every structure here held a story, and something about that fact resonated.

I passed the diner, a bakery, and the bookstore. There were tourist shops, cafés, and a coffee place on the other side. Galleries here and there. But I could count on one hand the number of times I’d entered any of them, other than the small grocery store.

The more you ventured into town, the more you made yourself a part of the fabric of the place, and the more people felt they had a right to talk to you. To ask questions. That was not on my list of desired outcomes.

It took less than ten minutes to reach the turnoff for the Victorian. As I made a right onto the gravel road, I couldn’t help but be struck by the sheer beauty and power of the image that greeted me.

A range of four mountains was to the east, their craggy peaks covered in snow. To the west was a series of rock cliffs that made you want to stop dead in your tracks in hopes of taking them in for just a moment longer. The gray-blue of the mountains was the perfect juxtaposition to the golden hue of the cliffs. Shep’s sister had sure landed herself one hell of a view, even if she had bought a half-burned-out house.

As the structure came into view, I slowed, letting out a low whistle. The gorgeous Victorian was completely decimated on one side. The walls were caved in, and charred beams poked at the tarp-covered roof. Most people would consider it a gut job—tear the whole thing down and start new.

But Shep had made it clear that wasn’t an option. His sister wanted the house restored, not rebuilt from scratch. It’d cost her at least a third more to do things that way.

My sixth sense began to prickle on the back of my scalp as I wondered why.