Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,12

Sydney?”

Aiden gritted his teeth. “Both.” That man back there was literally the only person in town directly connected to both of them. “Let’s go get coffee. We can pick one up for Savannah too.”

Jess eyed him. “I will find out who that was. Or you could just tell me, and I’ll have more time to study for the detective’s exam.”

Aiden stared at her over the roof of his cop car. “Fine. He’s Sydney’s grandfather.”

Five

The path was more overgrown than Bridget remembered. Even in the dark she could navigate her way to the creek from where she’d parked. Through the frozen earth that cradled spring runoff—dry right now—up the ridge to the farm.

Her childhood home.

Bridget supposed at some point it had been a real farm, not just a rundown house on twelve acres of grass her father never mowed. At one point he’d rented it to the neighboring herd so they could graze it down. But that never lasted long. Even a simple transaction like that, which should have brought income, dried up like the creek sooner or later.

Bridget laid down at the top of the hill and pulled out a pair of binoculars. She set her elbows on the frozen earth and watched.

Light illuminated the kitchen window in a yellow glow. Someone had replaced the curtain that used to hang there with lopsided cardboard. Beside the backdoor was a milk crate, full of mismatched boots. Snow lay in patches on the ground, swaths of earth shaded by the house so they got no sun.

In the same way her parents’ lives had shaded her. It wasn’t until she left Last Chance that she’d finally known what the sun felt like. Sure, summer had been part of her life here. Literally and otherwise. But there had been no good times in this house.

Nothing good at all until…that final summer.

Then, nothing but pain. So much pain that all the good in her broke apart until she was nothing but a collection of fragments. Millie had helped her put them back together. And Sasha, too. In her own way.

What Bridget had now wasn’t much better, though she was capable of finding peace by herself. In her faith. Through the quiet times and solitary places when she could just be…Bridget. No pretenses. It wasn’t overflowing with abundant joy the way it maybe should’ve been. But she was happy enough.

There was still violence in the world, but now she knew how to work through the fear and survive intact.

Unlike what had happened the night she’d left town.

Memory of that pain washed over her. Bridget rolled onto her back and stared up at the stars, millions of them. And here she was. Just one woman down here, millions of miles away. Her tiny life didn’t mean much in the grand scheme—nor did her suffering in light of all the pain in the world. In the whole history of humanity.

Bridget breathed until the ache of the past melted from muscle and bone. Maybe someone new lived here now, so she wouldn’t have to see her father.

She rolled over and picked up the binoculars in time to see the back door open. A hefty mastiff trundled down the steps and into the grass where he sniffed around for a minute before lifting a leg.

Bridget whimpered. She managed to swallow down the reaction but didn’t take her gaze from the animal. All the while her heart raced faster and faster. “Butch.”

She’d thought it was a dumb name for a majestic English breed, but her dad hadn’t paid her any mind.

An early warning sign if ever she’d seen one. Too bad twelve years old was too young to know. Too young to see the truth of how her father treated her. To her, he’d just been her father.

The dog was old now, and it clearly pained him to walk much. Still, he scented something on the wind.

“Where you goin’ dog?” The low rumble of her father’s voice drifted to her in the still of night, when sound carried best.

Had Butch heard her say his name? She was maybe four or five hundred feet from them, hidden in a bundle of berry bushes no one ever picked or trimmed.

The dog ambled up the hill toward her. He could definitely smell her, but then she’d wondered if this might happen and had come prepared. Just in case.

Anything but having to face down her father. She wasn’t even sure what her purpose was for coming here, except to find out if he was still