place lay in the opposite direction from where she stood. Even if she’d seen the light from there, which she couldn’t because of the ridge in between, she would have had to circle around to arrive where she stood, and why would she? He had no more explanation for that than he had for her being here in the first place.
“You saw the light from where?” he asked.
“Town.”
“Did not.” There was no way his single battery-operated lantern had shone that far through the forest.
“Not town exactly. I was at the end of the hiking trail.”
“What hiking trail?”
“I’m not going to explain all the changes to Three Harbors since you left. If I hadn’t seen a light do you think I’d be out here?”
“Why are you? It certainly wasn’t to make sure the house hasn’t been vandalized. From the looks of the place that ship sailed nine and a half years ago.”
She lowered her gaze. Guilt? Why? It wasn’t her house. Maybe she’d been the first one to throw a stone through the window. Considering what had happened between them, or hadn’t, he could hardly blame her.
He shouldn’t blame anyone. Why he’d thought he could leave the place untended for ten years and everything would be right where he’d left it, he had no idea. In truth, he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t ever planned to return. Now he had, and it was worse than he could have imagined.
Of all the people to turn up on his first night back in town he never would have expected Becca Carstairs.
“You’re right,” she said, gaze once again returning to the distant glow of Three Harbors. “I shouldn’t be out here.” She contemplated the shovel he leaned upon. “What are you burying?”
“Bodies.”
She blinked and took a step back, landing on another stick. The resulting crack made her flinch, and he felt bad for scaring her. But didn’t she know him better than that?
Owen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He might have been gone from this town for ten years, but he would always be “that McAllister boy.” When there was trouble, everyone pointed his way. To be honest, a lot of the time they’d been right.
Even after he’d found football and discovered he was pretty good at it—knocking heads on the field kept him from knocking heads anywhere else—folks still saw him as Mary McAllister’s son. And Mary had never met a pharmaceutical she didn’t love.
As she’d gone about obtaining them in both creative and illegal ways … Well, in a town like this that was hard to live down. Certainly it wasn’t fair to visit the sins of the mother on the son, but when had life, or small towns, ever been fair?
Still, Becca had always believed the best of him. She’d befriended him, stood up for him, protected him. She’d loved him.
Which was why he’d had to leave.
“Animals,” he blurted. “I found dead animals in the house. I’m burying the bodies.”
“Are they black?”
“Well … blackened.” The moon cast just enough light over her face to reveal her confusion. “They were burned.”
The scent of charred flesh and fur still lingered—in the house, the yard, his nose. For an instant when he’d walked into the place, he’d thought he was having a flashback—wasn’t the first one, probably wouldn’t be the last.
“Show me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
A lot of reasons, the most obvious one—
“It’s not pretty.”
“I’m a vet. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen.”
“You don’t want to see this.” He wished he could unsee it. But he’d wished that about a lot of things, and that never, ever happened. Which was how most wishes went.
“I’m sure I don’t want to see it.” She made a “move along” gesture with both hands. “But I have to.”
Owen shook his head, refused to move, and she stomped her foot. More twigs died.
“There are missing pets.”
“You think these are them?”
“Only one way to find out.” She tilted an eyebrow. He stayed where he was.
“Maybe we should call the police.”
“We will. But if the bodies are burned like you say, they’ll call me to identify what they are. Better if I take a peek first. Besides, my phone doesn’t work. Does yours?”
He hadn’t checked, and his phone was in the house anyway. “After you,” he said.
The ground was uneven; Owen leaned on the shovel a bit. He still had a slight hitch in his giddyup he didn’t want anyone to see.
Ten years and Becca didn’t seem to have aged at all. The light wasn’t good but what