Adverse Possession (The Anna Albertini Files #3) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,25

have an Op going. You’re in trouble, Angel. We have to find out who killed Sasha on your front porch.”

The body could’ve been there all day and nobody would’ve seen it, considering how far back I lived from the road. Plus, the attached garage that I rarely used blocked the porch. “Do you think she was placed here on purpose, or did somebody just follow her here?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden said, keeping my hand. “Why would Sasha come to your house?”

“Maybe to warn me off you again?” I asked. “She did want another shot with you.” Although, after our altercation in the alley, it seemed doubtful she’d want to see me. “She was killed here, based on the amount of blood on my porch. Have you seen autopsy results yet?” Maybe she was drugged.

“They won’t be available until tomorrow, I guess,” Aiden said. “The feds called in their own ME to collaborate with the county coroner, so they wanted another night.”

It was all so sad. Even though I hadn’t liked Sasha, she’d been young and strong. “At least you’re not a suspect. You’ll be kept up to date with the investigation,” I said.

“True.”

“Did you clean up my porch?” I asked.

“Yeah.” His gaze out at the lake was thoughtful.

This had to be weird for him. Even though they’d stopped dating or fizzled out, they’d once been close enough to sleep together. “Did she have family?” I bit my lip.

“One brother who died a few years ago from cancer,” Aiden said. “The agency will take care of her funeral arrangements. We’re going to bury her in the Timber City Cemetery on Sunday.”

The lump in my throat just kept feeling bigger. “How are you, Aiden? Seriously. How do you feel about this?”

He turned to me, his eyes blazing. “Pissed off. I am going to find who killed her, and they’re going to suffer. She was a friend and a colleague, and she deserved a lot better than this.”

A chill wound down my spine. When Aiden was on a mission, nothing stopped him.

Even a bomber.

Chapter 10

I awoke in the middle of the night and snuggled into Aiden’s side. Anxiety felt like buzzing flies in my veins, and I sucked down several deep breaths. He felt warm and solid behind me, and I took a moment to enjoy the quiet and his presence before sliding back into sleep.

The nightmare wasn’t unexpected, but this time, my brain introduced new elements.

I was ten years old again, skipping rocks with my cousin at the river. Strong arms, skinny ones, pulled me into a four-wheeler and then tied my hands. I looked sideways to see Jareth Davey with his big nose and vacant eyes. Even years later, even knowing this was a dream, terror cut through me, and I might’ve held my breath while sleeping.

He took me to his cabin and looked at me. “We’re married now.”

A roaring filled my head as a teenaged Aiden rushed into the room and beat Jareth up. He took my hand and led me to safety, except this time, potato guns pointed at us from every tree. They all fired at once.

I gasped and sat up, my heart thundering.

Breathe. Just breathe. I dropped my head to my chest and let my heartbeat even out. Light streamed in through the sliding glass door, which showed a sparkling and deep blue lake. Aiden’s side of the bed was empty.

I burrowed back down and curled around a pillow to watch the lake. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was only six in the morning, so I forced my body to relax one muscle at a time. First my toes, then legs, and so on. By the time I got to my face, my heart rate had slowed and my breathing had evened out.

Usually when I had a nightmare, Aiden was there to talk me through it. Jareth Davey had been charged and tried in a court of law, but he’d been let go because of a technicality. Every year on the anniversary of the kidnapping and during Christmastime, he sent me a card. Right now, we had no clue where he was, but it was late summer, and I wouldn’t worry about him until December.

Not consciously, anyway.

The front door unlocked, opened and shut. It was odd that I could recognize Aiden’s footsteps, and the idea made me all warm and gushy again. He moved into my room, sweat dotting his faded gray tee and running shorts. “Morning.” He kicked off his tennis shoes. “Want