I’m so excited that book 2 in my new Writers Retreat Mystery Series is publishing next week on July 4! I really love this new series and hope you all love it as much as I do.

I am using this blog to share the first chapter of Second Look with anyone who is interested in previewing it.

 

Kindle: http://amzn.to/2qcO434

Nook: http://bit.ly/2tu2w7Z 

 

Chapter 1
Monday, October 23

Five years ago, award-winning actor Rhett Crawford threw a party for a group of family members and friends. The event was held at his beachfront estate on Gull Island. At around eleven-thirty on the night of the party, the groundskeeper, Wylie Slater, found the body of one of the guests, Georgia Darcy, bludgeoned to death and left in the toolshed at the edge of the property, beyond the garden. The authorities were notified and interviews of all individuals on the property were conducted. It was eventually determined that the victim’s date, a man named Dru Breland, had most likely killed the woman before fleeing the scene of the crime.

After Georgia’s remains were found, the authorities conducted an exhaustive search but were unable to locate Mr. Breland. As far as anyone associated with the investigation could find out, he was never seen again by friends, family, or business associates. It was assumed by most that he had fled the country and started a new life under an assumed name.

Then, five days ago, the oceanfront estate once owned by Rhett Crawford but now owned by an out-of-state developer, was scheduled for demolition. During the destruction of the house, a human skeleton was found in a hidden room off the wine cellar. After a thorough investigation by the medical examiner and his team, it was determined that the body was the decomposed remains of murder suspect Dru Breland.

My friend Jackson Jones, owner of the fledging Gull Island News, had latched onto the story and seemed determined to find out not only how Dru Breland ended up in the secret room but who had killed Georgia Darcy, if, in fact, Dru Breland wasn’t the killer, as everyone had believed. Jack knew the five-year-old mystery would be a complicated one to unravel, so he asked me, Jillian Hanford, if I’d be willing to present it to the writers’ group I lived and sleuthed with. I agreed, which brings us to the regular Monday night meeting of the eclectic group of writers I call friends but consider family.

“Okay, so what do we know about the other guests at the party?” asked George Baxter, a sixty-eight-year-old writer of traditional whodunits who was currently living in one of the cabins on the property I was running as a writers’ retreat.

“There were twelve people in all on the property during the party,” Jack answered. “As I mentioned before, the estate was owned by actor Rhett Crawford. He, along with his wife at the time, Hillary Crawford, invited eight guests, including four visitors from off the island: the victim, Georgia Darcy, who was Hillary Crawford’s younger sister; Georgia’s date, Dru Breland, who was living in Los Angeles at that time; Jedd Boswell, also an actor and Rhett’s best friend; and Honey Golden, a model living in Orange County and Jedd’s date.”

Jack paused while I wrote the names of the out-of-town guests on the whiteboard we always used when attempting to unravel mysteries. We’d found visuals to be invaluable as relationships, motives, and secrets long kept began to reveal themselves.

“Also at the party were six Gull Island residents,” Jack continued. “Tiffany Pritchett, a friend of Hillary’s; Reggie Southern, Tiffany’s date; Claudia Norris, the woman who owned the adjoining estate and had become friendly with the Crawfords, and her date, Trent Truitt; and two employees, Olivia Cotton, who was hired to handle the cooking, and Wylie Slater, who lived on the property and worked as the groundskeeper.”

Once all the players had been identified, Jack paused to ask if there were any questions. I glanced around the room, which was lit by a crackling fire and warm candlelight. On this particular occasion, the electricity was up and running, but after a previous meeting held during a blackout caused by a storm, we’d decided the subdued lighting somehow heightened the senses. The only electric light in the room was a small overhead one we’d positioned over the whiteboard so everyone could see the details I was recording.

“I’m not really one to keep up on all the Hollywood news,” Clara Kline, a sixty-two-year-old, self-proclaimed psychic who wrote fantasy and paranormal mysteries, admitted. “You said Hillary Crawford was married to Rhett Crawford at the time of the murder. Have they since dissolved their relationship?”

“Yes,” Jack answered. “They were divorced shortly after the murder of Hillary’s sister, Georgia. The specifics of their divorce aren’t public record, but the press at the time reported that Hillary in some way blamed Rhett for what happened to Georgia.”
“Did they have children?”

Jack shook his head. “The couple seemed to be focused on their careers above all else. Not only was Rhett a major star at the time of the party but Hillary was a pretty big name as well. Based on what I’ve heard, it seems the couple’s relationship took a backseat to the fame they seemed to crave.”

Clara rocked back and forth in the antique rocker she favored, stroking her cat, Agatha, but not commenting further. Clara was an intuitive of sorts who had, in the past, helped provide key pieces of information necessary to solve the mysteries we were working on. The problem was, she was an emotionally intense individual who had a tendency to be flighty and distracted. When her emotions became too entangled with the specifics of the case, they seemed to block the psychic ability she claimed to possess. I just hoped she’d be able to maintain an emotional distance and help us out this time.

“Do we know if any of the guests who attended the party still live on Gull Island?” asked Brit Baxter, George’s twenty-six-year-old niece and the newest resident at my writers’ retreat. Brit had been a business major who’d decided her true calling was to be a writer. She’d yet to have anything published, but she’d already established herself as a valuable member of our little family. She had an intense look of concentration on her face as she sat on a barstool next to where the resident mascot, a parrot named Blackbeard, watched from his perch.

“Tiffany, Claudia, Olivia, and Wylie still live on the island,” Jack answered. “Tiffany Pritchett, who, as you’ll remember, was Hillary’s friend, is married to a contractor, Vince Flannigan. The couple have two children and seem to be contributing members of the Gulf Island community. Olivia Cotton, the woman hired to cook for the party, now owns her own bakery in town, and Wylie Slater, the Crawfords’ groundskeeper, now owns a fishing boat docked in the marina. And finally, Claudia Norris, who lived next door to the Crawfords’ beach house, still lives on the same property. She’s single and is no longer dating Trent Truitt.”

“And Truitt?” Brit asked.

“Now lives on Folly Island.” Jack named a nearby island.

“So it seems Tiffany, Claudia, Olivia, Wylie, and Trent should be available to interview,” stated Alex Cole, a twenty-eight-year-old, fun and flirty millennial who’d made his first million writing science fiction when he was just twenty-two.

“In terms of proximity, it seems very likely these individuals will be available for interviews,” Jack agreed. “I haven’t, however, had the opportunity to contact any of them, so it remains to be seen whether they’ll be willing to share their memories of what occurred.”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t speak to us if they’re innocent,” Alex added. “If they’re guilty of killing two people, however…”

Alex made a good point. If Dru hadn’t killed Georgia, one of the people we sought to interview most likely had.

“So where do we start?” Brit asked.

“Is everyone in to help?” Jack queried.

“As interesting as this sounds, I’m heading to New York tomorrow morning,” Alex informed us. “I have meetings with my agent, publicist, and publisher, so I’ll be gone for four or five days. If you haven’t solved this by the time I return, I’d be happy to help then.”

“Actually,” Jack smiled, “the fact that you’re heading to New York works out really well. I did some research before this meeting, and it seems Hillary Crawford moved to Manhattan after she divorced Rhett. I have her current address and phone number. Maybe you can find the time to interview her while you’re there.”

“I’d be happy to.” Alex reached out for the paper on which Jack had recorded Hillary’s contact information. “I’ll call you to let you know what I find out.”

“What about the others who aren’t on the island?” I asked. “Do you know where they are now?”

“Rhett and Jedd still live in Los Angeles. They both continue to be active in the entertainment industry. Reggie Southern, Tiffany’s date to the party, has moved to Charleston.”

“And Honey Golden?” I asked.

“Her present whereabouts are unknown.”

“I’ll do some research to see if I can track her down,” Brit volunteered. “Almost everyone has social media accounts these days. I’m sure I can find her, and maybe Victoria can have a chat with Rhett and Jedd.”

“I’ll call to ask her,” I said.

Victoria Vance was the final member of our writers’ group, a thirty-seven-year-old romance writer who lives the life she writes about in her steamy novels. She was currently in Los Angeles, meeting with the production studio that was thinking of making some of her novels into movies. She’d be the perfect person to interview Rhett and Jedd. For one thing, she possessed certain assets that tended to make men do whatever she asked of them. For another, Victoria is a strong-willed woman who rarely takes no for an answer.

“Jill and I will get started on the interviews for the guests living in the area,” Jack added. “I have contact information for most of them and should be able to dig up phone numbers for the rest.”

I glanced at Clara, who seemed to be deep in thought. “Are you picking up anything?” I asked.

She frowned. “Maybe, but I’m not ready to say anything just yet. When we’re done here, I’ll consult my cards to see if I can confirm my suspicions.”

I was happy to see Clara was on board and hoped she’d be able to make a connection.

“And I’ll look in to the history of the estate,” George offered. “The idea of a secret room intrigues me. I wonder if its existence was widely known.”

“If not, that could narrow down our suspect list,” Jack said.

“It would be interesting to find out if the room was built into the original structure of the house or if Rhett added it.” George looked at Jack. “Do you happen to know if there was anything in the room other than the body of Dru Breland?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll see if I can find out.”

“How long ago was the property sold to the developer?” George added.

“I think about a year ago,” Jack answered. “I’ll find out the exact date.”

“On the surface, it seems Rhett is a likely suspect because he would know about the room, but if he’s the one who put the body in it, I would think he’d have moved it before he sold the property. He was selling to a developer, so he must have figured the house would be torn down at some point.”

George might be right. In all likelihood, Rhett wasn’t the killer.

The room fell into silence. I glanced at Blackbeard, who seemed to be taking in everything that was happening and was watching, not speaking. I know looking to a bird for insight might seem odd, but I’ve discovered since living on the island that Blackbeard had a way of knowing exactly what was going on even when no one else had a clue.

“Does Deputy Savage know you’re taking a second look at the case?” George asked Jack.

I glanced at Jack. I’d wondered that myself but hadn’t gotten around to asking. Deputy Savage was a good guy who honestly seemed to care about the people he had sworn to serve, but he hadn’t been much of a fan of civilians getting involved in ongoing cases. While the case had been closed when it had been decided that Dru Breland must have murdered Georgia Darcy, there hadn’t been an ongoing investigation. I was certain it would be reopened now that Breland’s body had been found.

“I haven’t spoken to Deputy Savage, so I don’t know what he thinks about the new developments in the case,” Jack admitted. “Having said that, I’m a newspaperman now and it’s my duty to my readers to find and report the facts as I see them. I believe we all have our assignments. When should we meet again?”

“I can meet whenever,” Brit answered. “When’s Victoria due back?”

“I don’t think until the weekend at least,” I told her. “But she can pass along anything she finds out to me and I’ll bring it to the meeting.”

“I won’t be back for several days, but I’m fine with calling Jack or Jill with any information I uncover as well,” Alex added.

I glanced at George, who asked for a day or so to do his research but was pretty open, and Clara indicated her schedule was flexible as well. Those of us who would be on the island tentatively arranged to meet again on Thursday. George, Brit, and Alex headed out to the cabins they were living in and Clara and Agatha went upstairs to her suite.

I began picking up coffee mugs and dessert plates once they’d gone and it was just Jack and me. “So what do you think?” I asked.

“I think we have a good plan that hopefully will yield the results we need. We won’t begin to get a good picture of what might have occurred five years ago until we begin to speak to people. I can make some calls in the morning and set up appointments if you want to get started right away.”

“Yeah. We may as well plunge right in.” I glanced at Blackbeard. “Any thoughts?”

“Secret kisses, secret kisses.”

“That big guy turns out to be the motive behind more murders than you might think,” Jack replied.

I opened Blackbeard’s cage. “How about we get you settled in for the night?” I turned and glanced at Jack. “I have wine in the kitchen if you want to stay.”

“I have an article to write, but we’ll catch up tomorrow. Call me and we’ll set up a time to get started on the interviews.”

After Jack left, I got Blackbeard settled and then poured myself a glass of wine. It was a lovely autumn evening and a stroll along the beach seemed just the thing to sooth my jangled nerves. The last time the group had taken on a case it had been at my request, and the time before that it had been George we’d helped. When I’d decided to move to Gull Island temporarily to help the half brother I hadn’t known I had, I’d never imagined the family I’d find; not just Garrett but the writers I shared my life with as well.

The idea for the writers’ retreat had been something of a whim. Garrett had run the place as a family resort before he’d had his stroke. When he realized he would most likely never be able to live on his own again, he’d thought he had no choice but to sell the property that had been in his family for generations. The resort had fallen into disrepair over the past decade, and Garrett realized that to make any money selling the resort he’d have to fix it up first. Initially, he’d asked an old friend of the family to oversee the renovations, but when a chance occurrence revealed my existence to him, he’d gotten in touch and asked me if I’d be willing to run the property in his absence. Normally, island living wouldn’t be my thing, but my own life was a total mess at that time, and I’d jumped at the chance to escape and try something new.

I walked along the well-worn path to the beach. The Turtle Cove Resort was a magical place, situated on the tip of a narrow peninsula that jetted off the southern end of Gull Island. Due to its unique location, the property was bordered by oceanfront on the east and marsh on the west. The sheer amount of wildlife that inhabited this part of the island, including the endangered sea turtles, created an enchanting setting to work and live.

Initially, I’d planned to oversee the renovations and then move on. I could see Garrett wanted me to stay, but I couldn’t see myself running a family resort. Then his good friend, George Baxter, had come for a visit, and a conversation about the old days, when he’d come here to write, gave me the idea of reopening the resort as a writers’ retreat rather than a family vacation spot. I’d approached Garrett with the idea and he’d assured me that he was fine with my running the property whatever way I saw fit. At that time only the main house was habitable, but it had ten bedrooms, so George had moved in. Shortly after that, Clara found her way to my doorstep, followed by my best friend Victoria, Alex, and, eventually, Brit.

The remodel of three of the cabins was now completed, so George, Alex, and Brit all had their own space. Clara seemed content to remain in the main house, and while Victoria wanted her own cabin eventually, she wasn’t around much and so had been content to wait. I’d remodeled the attic to create my own private retreat within the communal structure; so far, my plans were working out perfectly, and I had additional writers who’d signed on to come aboard as soon as the first of the year.

I paused and took a sip of wine as the waves rolled gently onto the shore. It was a cool evening, although the day had been hot, so I took a moment to enjoy the perfection of the moment. It seemed I’d been running full throttle ever since making the decision to move to the island. Not only had I had the renovation to deal with but our little mystery solvers group had been kept quite busy as well.

Jack was the only member of the group who didn’t live at the resort, but as a writer, he was qualified for membership. Not only did he own the local newspaper but he was a novelist, probably more successful than all the rest of us combined.

Jack had written his first best seller and made his first million when he was just nineteen. Since then, he’d had several other best sellers and was considered one of the major names in the industry. He lived in an oceanfront mansion, but most weekday evenings you could find him here at the resort, hanging out with the rest of us lowly writers.

I took a deep breath and turned back to the house. Despite the peaceful evening, I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t imagine how investigating a five-year-old murder could put anyone in danger, but my instinct told me it would be found before the answers we sought were revealed.

 

 

Taming of the Tabby publishes on Tuesday June 20. I’m really excited about this Cait and Cody crossover with Alyson from Seacliff High.  I really had fun with the story and hope you will as well. Here is a preview if you are interested.  http://amzn.to/2sMACnM

 

I could feel something brush my cheek as I struggled toward consciousness. I swiped at it with my hand, but it didn’t seem to help. I tried to open my eyes, but my head was throbbing and the effort seemed almost more than I could bear. I felt myself drifting toward the darkness, but whoever or whatever was brushing my cheek wouldn’t allow me to drift away completely.

“Stop,” I yelled, although it came out more like a croak. God, I was tired. All I wanted to do was slip back to the comfort of nothingness.

I swatted at whatever was irritating my cheek and slowly opened my eyes. It was dark. Eerily, totally dark. The only thing penetrating the inky black night were bright eyes staring at me. I stifled a scream and tried to move away, but I realized I was trapped.

Where was I?

After a moment the creature with the glowing eyes moved away, although I could still sense its presence. I raised a hand to my throbbing head. It felt wet and sticky.

Was I bleeding?

I lowered my hand and tried to get my bearings. I was sitting up, but I was tilted to the side and something was holding me in place. I struggled to liberate my tangled limbs but couldn’t get free. My heart raced and I began to breathe heavily as panic set in. After a few seconds of emotional terror as I struggled to untangle myself, I realized I was in Cody’s truck. I took a deep breath and looked around. I began once again to panic, but after a moment more I realized I was trapped in place by my seat belt and the airbag in front of me.

“Is anyone there?” I yelled into the darkness.

I paused to listen, but the only sound that penetrated my fogged mind was a soft rumbling that sounded like … purring?

I turned my head and once again locked my eyes on the dark figure beside me. I narrowed my gaze as I realized the rumbling was coming from the huge black cat with bright green eyes who must have been the one responsible for waking me in the first place. I immediately felt my heart rate slow and my panic ebb.

“How did you get in here?”

“Meow.”

I took several breaths, blowing them out slowly. Now that I knew where I was, I knew I needed to get out. I struggled to release the catch on the seat belt, which had become trapped between my body and the airbag. In a couple of minutes I’d worked the catch free and scooted out from behind the bag. The driver’s side door was jammed, but the window on the passenger side was open. I supposed that was how the cat got in. I moved my arms and legs to make sure everything was still functioning and then moved across the front seat and climbed out onto the wet ground.

Once I landed I paused to let the dizziness and nausea pass. I put a hand to my torn dress and tried to remember where I’d been and where I was going. I’d been driving Cody’s truck, so I knew he hadn’t been with me. Had anyone else? I looked around and didn’t see anyone, so I supposed I must have been alone. The truck had settled into a ditch, but from where I stood I couldn’t see the road or hear any traffic. I looked around for another vehicle but couldn’t see much in the darkness.

I realized I needed help and looked around for my phone. It wasn’t on the ground, so it must still be in the truck. I was considering crawling back inside to look for it when I smelled gasoline.
“We need to get away from the truck,” I said to the cat who sat watching me.

I paused as I tried to decide which way to walk. Nothing looked familiar. I looked down at my dress and remembered dancing. I was certain I’d been dancing. But if that had been the case why was I alone in a location so remote that not a single car had passed since I’d been here? I looked around, trying to get my bearings, but it was so dark I could only see a few feet in front of me. I figured the truck must have rolled down an embankment, which meant the road would be up the hill, so I started in that direction. I’d lost one of the high heels I’d been wearing, so I took the other one off and tossed it aside. It was slow going as I tried to walk across the rocky ground barefoot, but I had to put some distance between myself and the truck, which I feared could explode at any minute. The cat followed along as I dragged my bruised and battered body up the steep incline, one agonizingly slow step at a time.

As I walked, I listened for the sound of…well, pretty much anything. If I had been in an accident there must have been a second car. Were there survivors in need of help? And even if there hadn’t been a second car it seemed like I should be able to hear traffic on the highway. I paused and put a hand to my throbbing head. God, it hurt, but I needed to find my way back to the road, so I kept going.

As I walked, I tried to remember the events leading up to the accident. I looked down again at my dress, which was, by this point, little more than a tattered rag barely covering my body. Yellow. Siobhan’s favorite color. The wedding! My older sister, Siobhan Hart, had finally married the love of her life, Deputy Ryan Finnegan, and I, Caitlin Hart, had been her maid of honor, while my boyfriend, Cody West, had been one of the groomsmen.

I sighed with relief, now that my scrambled mind was beginning to put things back into place. Finn and Siobhan were supposed to marry a week ago, but she’d come down with a nasty virus and there was no way, she’d declared, that she was going to try to get through one of the most important days of her life when she felt like she wanted to die. It had been a juggling act requiring a lot of hard work and negotiation, but eventually we were able to postpone the event until today. Finn and Siobhan had been cutting it close with the postponement because it meant a lot to them to have Father Kilian officiate at the ceremony, and tomorrow was his last day as a priest at St. Patrick’s before his retirement.

I paused to take a breath and once again wondered where I was. I could remember the wedding and subsequent reception, but then everything seemed to go black.

I crinkled my nose as the smell of smoke penetrated the air. I looked back toward the truck. I didn’t see any flames, but perhaps there was a small fire on the far side of the vehicle that was hidden from my view. I gauged the distance between me and the truck and realized I was still much too close should it explode. I looked down at the cat, then continued forward. The brush was dense on this part of Madrona Island, requiring me to navigate the steep hillside carefully. I couldn’t see my legs, but based on the number of scratches I could feel, I was sure it was going to be a while before I was going to be able to wear shorts again without looking like the subject of a medical experiment.

It probably took me a half hour to make it up the embankment to the road. I looked carefully in both directions, but there wasn’t a single headlight on the horizon. I did see something on the side of the road ahead of me, though. My feet were raw and bleeding and I winced in pain with each step I took, but eventually I was close enough to the object that it began to take form.

Oh God.

I put my hand to my mouth and moved forward at a slightly faster pace. On the side of the hill just a few feet down from the road was the still form of a man lying on his stomach. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He didn’t move. Kneeling beside him, I placed two fingers on his neck. I’m certainly not a trained medical professional and I’ve had zero experience taking pulses, but I didn’t feel one, so I had to assume he was dead. I looked around but didn’t see a second car. I wondered who he was and how he’d come to be there.
Had I hit this man before plunging over the embankment? I didn’t remember it, but, to be fair, I couldn’t remember anything else either.

I carefully checked the man’s pockets for identification or, better yet, a cell phone, but they were completely empty. That in and of itself was strange, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it now. I looked carefully at the side of his face that was exposed. I didn’t know who he was, but for some reason he seemed familiar. Mostly, I felt certain I hadn’t known him before tonight, but a memory flashed through my mind as I studied his face. My head began to spin and I was certain I was about to pass out, so I looked away. I hated to leave him lying on the side of the road, but I needed to get help and because not a single car had passed by, I wasn’t confident waiting was the best thing to do.

“I’m going for help,” I said to him, just in case he was alive and could hear me, which, to be honest, I pretty much doubted. “I’ll try to hurry. If you’re alive and regain consciousness wait here for me.” I looked around. “Wherever here is.” I stood up, then looked down at the cat, who was pacing back and forth alongside me. “What do you think? Do you know where we are?”

“Meow.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” The only thing that made sense was that we were on the northern end of the island, which was only sparsely populated. There weren’t any retail outlets there, but there were a few homes. Based on my best guess, if I walked long enough in either direction I should come across a house, which might contain a Good Samaritan willing to let me use their phone. “What do you think? Left or right?”

The cat took off trotting to the west and I fell in behind. I was several hundred yards down the road when I heard a boom, followed by a flash of light. It looked like Cody was definitely going to need a new truck. The ground and surrounding forest was wet from all the rain, so I doubted the fire would spread. At least I hoped it wouldn’t.

The road was narrow and twisting as it wound through the dense forest. I had the sense we were heading toward the coast and hoped that if I managed to make it that far we’d either come across a residence or perhaps a car. The loop road that hugged the coast of Madrona Island was fairly well traveled, though not necessarily on the north shore and not necessarily at this time of night.

Every step I took sent pain shooting up my leg. My feet were covered in deep cuts, making walking agony, but I needed to get help. I figured Cody must be worried and looking for me by now, although I had no reason to believe he’d be looking for me here.

I frowned. Why was I even on the north shore?

I took a deep breath, focused my mind, and struggled to remember.

Finn and Siobhan had gotten married. It had been a beautiful ceremony, with our family and friends surrounding them. Finn was the resident deputy for the island and Siobhan was the mayor, so they knew a lot of people. The church had been packed to capacity for the ceremony and the reception, which had been held in the church hall, had been a festive and happy affair.

I remembered them leaving to catch the last ferry to the mainland. They were going to Italy on their honeymoon, which struck me as perfect and romantic. Their flight left from Seattle early tomorrow morning, so they were spending the night in a hotel near the airport.

After Finn and Siobhan left the guests began to disperse. I remembered discussing cleanup duties with my best friend, Tara O’Brian, and that’s where things got fuzzy. I could picture a girl with blond hair. She was somehow involved, but I couldn’t quite nail down how.

I paused and looked around. Large clouds covered the moon, plunging the narrow forest road into almost complete darkness. Tiny fingers of panic began to work their way up my spine. I needed to fight the urge to curl up and cry if I was going to make it out of the forest alive.

I glanced down at the cat, who must have sensed my panic because he began to wind himself through my legs, purring so loudly that he chased away the eerie silence of the night. I bent over and picked him up, then buried my face in his warm fur. I willed myself to relax as I took comfort from my four-legged companion. I kissed the cat on the top of the head, thanking him for the affection he’d offered, then set him gently on the ground and looked around again.

I felt so small and insignificant. How would anyone ever find me? The temperature had dropped significantly as the time passed, but I didn’t think it would get so cold that I needed to worry about hypothermia. Still, I needed to keep moving.

It would help if I had something to wrap around my feet, but I couldn’t immediately think of anything that would stay in place as I continued my trek. After a moment I decided to tear strips from what was left of my dress and tie them around my feet to act as protection between my torn skin and the rough ground.
I ripped several strips of fabric and sat down on a log. I flinched as I tried to remove the small rocks that had become embedded into my flesh before wrapping my feet. God, they hurt.

I waited for the pain to ease and then stood gingerly. My feet felt like they were on fire and pain shot up my legs, but the only thing to do was keep going, so I did.

I let my mind wander back to the wedding. It helped to divert my attention from the pain, and I hoped determining a sequence of events would lend perspective to the situation. I could picture gathering discarded cups as I worked the room and thanked everyone as they left. I noticed that one of Siobhan’s bridesmaids, a woman named Shelby Long, had imbibed a few drinks too many and wasn’t in any shape to drive home. I’d offered to drive her, despite the fact that she lived on the north end of the island. I didn’t have my car at the church, so I took Cody’s truck. Ah; that answered the question of why I was on the north shore, but Shelby lived on the coast, so what had I been doing on an old logging road in the island’s interior?

“Meow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I said to the cat, who had started to pick up the pace.

Now I remembered Cody volunteering to go with me, but Tara and her date, Dr. Parker Hamden, needed help cleaning up and returning all the tables and chairs to the storage area in the church hall. We discussed it and agreed it would be better for Cody to help Tara and Parker while I ran Shelby home. I’d delivered her home safe and sound and then …

I narrowed my gaze as I tried to remember. I was in the truck driving back toward Harthaven when …
When what?

The answer to how I’d ended up on this rarely used logging road in the middle of the night probably wasn’t as important as the fact that I might have run down a pedestrian. My heart ached at the thought that I’d taken a life.

I raised a hand to my head as a wave of nausea gripped me. It felt like the wound had stopped oozing, but my head still pounded and my thoughts were still unclear. My feet were mostly numb by this point, which I supposed was a good thing considering that based on my calculations I still had a good two miles to walk before I hit the coast road.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard the hum of an oncoming vehicle. The driver wouldn’t be expecting to find someone walking around in the dark, so I didn’t want to stay where I was, in the middle of the road. I was trying to decide how best to get the attention of the driver when headlights shone from around a corner. Before I could react the cat darted across the road and the driver slammed on the brakes.

I held my hand to my chest as my heart raced. Had the cat been hit? I looked around frantically but didn’t see it.

A man jumped out of the car and looked around. When he saw me standing on the side of the road he came in my direction.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a heavily accented voice.

My eyes darted around. “The cat. Did you hit it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t hear a thud. I tried to stop in time, but I can’t be sure. He came out of nowhere.”

“I know. I saw what he did. He wanted to get your attention. He didn’t want you to miss me in the dark.”

He gave me an odd look. I was certain he thought I’d lost my mind. “What happened to you?”

“I was in an accident. Do you have a phone?”

“Yes.”

“I need to call my boyfriend, Cody West. He’ll know what to do.”

He lent me his phone and I made the call. As I’d thought, Cody had been out looking for me and wasn’t all that far away. He assured me he’d be there in five minutes, so I thanked the man and he went on his way.
I called to the cat who had helped me while I waited for Cody, but he seemed to have disappeared. The fact that I didn’t see his body lying on or near the road meant that at least he hadn’t been killed by the oncoming car. Still, he could have been injured. My heart ached at the thought that he might have given his life for mine. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer as tears streamed down my face.

A few minutes later Cody pulled my car to a stop at the side of the road, followed almost immediately by Dr. Hamden’s car.

“My God, what happened?” Cody wrapped me in his arms.

“I don’t know. I was in an accident. I don’t remember.”

Parker pulled up and Tara jumped out and joined us in the middle of the road. She hugged my back because Cody was still hugging my front. “What happened? We were so worried.”

“I’m fine.” I struggled to breathe amid all the hugging.

Parker walked over and shone a flashlight in my face. “You have a fairly serious head injury. We need to get you to the hospital.”

“Wait.” I put up a hand. “There’s a man down the road. I think I might have hit him, although I can’t really remember. I think he’s dead, but I can’t be sure.”

We all piled into the cars and headed down the road. We drove slowly, so we wouldn’t miss the place where the accident had occurred. The fire from Cody’s truck was still smoldering. Luckily, as I’d hoped, the damp forest hadn’t burned from the explosion. I got out of the car and walked to the edge of the embankment, a wave of nausea gripping me as I looked down. The remains of Cody’s truck were clearly visible, but up here, the man was gone.

“I found him on the side of the road. He was right here, I swear.”

Cody and Parker both used flashlights to search the area while Tara took me back to my car. The men looked for a good fifteen minutes, but neither found evidence of a body, a second car, or even any blood.
“But that can’t be,” I insisted. “I saw him. I felt for a pulse. I swear to you, there was a man in this very spot.”

Parker put a hand on my shoulder. “You were in an accident, leaving you with a serious head injury. You’re in shock. It’s completely possible you were hallucinating. We’ll notify the sheriff’s office; for now I have to insist we take you to the hospital so I can look you over.”

“But…”

“Please.” Cody placed his hands on my face and forced me to look at him. “We’ll call the sheriff’s office and they’ll handle things regarding the missing man, but Parker’s right; we need to get you to the hospital. You could have internal bleeding.”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “But I know what I saw.”