55

He found no footprints as he moved forward, keeping a close eye on the ground, keeping his gun out, listening. The dark woods seemed endless suddenly, the frigid air menacing. He was pretty chilled through by the time he walked out of the woods.

He walked around the backyard, did find some shoe prints, but not the size and tread he was looking for. As he strode up to the front door, he could hear Ashley talking and laughing inside.

No extra car in her driveway but her own. Maybe she was on the phone.

Light poured out the windows. He glanced back at the woods that stood in dark silence. And darker yet, the grave.

He cursed, his breath visible in the air. He stabbed the doorbell before he could think more about it.

Then Ashley opened the door, with a black eye, and everything inside him stilled. Rage rose swiftly. Whoever touched her—

He hadn’t come up to the house with any clear idea of what he wanted, and whatever little he’d prepared in his head now fled, replaced by hot, pumping ang