Evie followed the crumbling asphalt trail that led up to the Roundhouse pavilion. She could see how the structure got its name. Thick wooden beams rose from a concrete platform, reaching up to a green roof with a few missing shingles. The Roundhouse was just that—round. The twelve-sided pavilion easily held two hundred people, with enough room for serving tables and a podium, if need be.

All of this she viewed through Visine-laced eyes.

The eye drops might have eased the redness from her tear-burned eyes, but they’d done nothing to soothe the rupture in her heart.

After their bout of incredible lovemaking, how could Deke still believe they wouldn’t be a good fit? That their age difference would create a crevasse too vast to bridge?

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lisa massaging her temple.

“Another headache?”

“Just a little pressure behind my eye. I took something to knock it out before we left.”

Evie peered over her shoulder at Deke and found him studying Lisa. Something unpleasant lanced her stomach. This wasn’t the first time she’d detected something more to his and Lisa’s relationship. She shoved aside her jealousy. Whatever had been between them was in the past. She couldn’t let something like that eat at her. She couldn’t. Not with everything else going on.

“I’m starting to worry,” Evie said. “You’ve been getting headaches more and more often.”

“You’re a sweetheart, my friend. But I’m sure they’re a reaction to our funding situation.”

“What funding situation?”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “N-nothing. I’m speaking nonsense.”

Evie grasped her arm. “Is the Med Mobile’s funding in danger?”

Her friend’s stricken features told her all she needed to know.

In one smooth move, Deke pushed between them, linking his arms with theirs. “Let’s discuss this tomorrow. Tonight, we’re going to have fun.” He nudged Evie. “Right?”

Questions clawed against Evie’s throat.

“Right?” he coaxed with a little more force.

So many people depended on the MedTour—patients, Lisa, pharmacies…her. What would they all do without it?

“Of course,” she said.

“Lisa, Evie,” Deke said, “this is Rita Sampson, one of the BBQ organizers.”

A tall, slender woman closing in on her late seventies stepped forward and gave her a warm smile followed by a big hug.

“Nice to meet you both. Glad you could squeeze in a bit of fun.”

“This is incredibly kind of you,” Lisa said.

“Nonsense. What y’all have done for us is far kinder than a bit of potato salad and pulled pork. We’ve been praying for your mobile to stop in Rockton, and now you have and we’re right thankful.” She waved them forward. “Come inside and say hello.”

They spent the next hour eating and gossiping and dancing. After the initial introductions, Evie settled into a rhythm, one that felt more natural than she’d expected, less like a façade.

She loved these people. Not just the residents of Rockton, but small town folks, in general. They knew how to laugh, how to help their neighbors, and how to do right by their family.

Her gaze fell on Deke. He lounged next to one of the boys they’d treated that morning. The two spoke in low tones, their conversation punctuated by an occasional laugh.

The patience he displayed with the child surprised her. He rarely sat still long enough to eat, and his mind never stopped. But he appeared content just sitting there, chatting with the boy.

What kind of father would he be? Patient and mentoring? Annoyed and distant? Or the worst of all, absent? She’d never seen him shy away from kids over the years, and the attention he was giving her young patient now spoke volumes. Something close to pride warmed her insides.

Her attention jumped from one family unit to the next, paying particular notice to the mothers. What kind would she be? Caring, supportive, and nurturing, like her mama? Evie prayed that would be the case. Prayed she and Deke would one day find out their parental mettle together.

A couple in their middle-to-late sixties entered the pavilion. Standing at least six feet tall with a barrel chest, beer belly, and spindle legs, the man greeted some folks and flat-out ignored others. In contrast, the petite woman, with long black hair streaked with silver, doled out tentative hellos and short hugs as her husband split through the crowd ahead of her.

Rita approached the couple. “Good evening, Mitch. Iris. So glad you could join us.”

Iris held out a metal pan covered in plastic. “I made Rice Crispies treats.”

“They look delicious.”

“Have you met our guests of honor?”

Iris looked to her husband, who stared at her and Lisa as if they’d interrupted his nap.

“This is Lisa Frye and Evie Steele.”

“Steele?” Mitch asked, ignoring Lisa’s outstretched hand. “Of Canyon Ridge?”

Steele Ridge now, but Evie didn’t correct him. “Yes, sir.”

“I hear your family’s bought everyone out of house and home.”

“Mitch!” Rita scolded. “What a thing to say to our guest.”

Without thought, Evie’s gaze sought Deke’s. He caught it, his focus shooting between her and the jerk, whose head appeared ready to explode. Something sharp and menacing swiped down his features before his long strides tore across the pavilion.

“It’s true,” Mitch said. “Got friends over there. They ain’t too happy about how that Steele boy’s flinging his money around and changing names.”

“I don’t give two hoots about what’s going on over there,” Rita said. “This is Rockton, and we don’t treat guests this way.”

“Who died and left you boss of this town?”

Evie and Lisa moved to stand on each side of Rita.

“My mama told me once that if you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Mitch whipped around to find Deke standing inches away. He took an involuntarily step back, the submissive action angering him further.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hello, Daddy.” Deke nodded to the woman, who now stood near Lisa. “Mama.”

“Derek,” Iris Conrad whispered, using his birth name.

“I asked you a question, boy.”

“Enjoying some BBQ. What are you doing here? Besides making everyone uncomfortable?”

“Thought I told you not to come back.”

“Mitch,” Rita warned, “I told you—”

“Shut up, woman.”

Deke got right up into his dad’s face. “Don’t ever speak to a woman like that again.” His nostrils flared. “You drinking again?”

“Get the hell away from me.” Mitch shoved against Deke’s chest. His son didn’t budge.

“Come on, Mitch.” A blond-haired man in a plaid shirt and jeans clasped Mitch by the elbow. “Let’s go see if the corn cobs are off the grill.”

“Take your damn hands off me, Ray.”

“What’s going on over here?” a redheaded man with thick biceps asked. His dark brown eyes roamed down Evie’s body before shifting to Deke. “Well, well. Look who decided to return. Fed man Deke Conrad.”

“Prickett.”

“Sergeant Prickett.” He took a swig from of his beer bottle. “Things have changed around here since you turned traitor.”

“Sergeant, don’t you have some weights to lift or something,” Iris Conrad piped up.

“Iris,” her husband warned.

“I swear to bejesus,” Rita said, throwing her hands up. “This is supposed to be a party. What do we have? A bunch of apes bumping their chests together. “Ray, Andy, get these boys a corn cob.” She linked arms with Deke and Evie and motioned for Lisa to follow. “I need a shot of whisky. How about you?”

* * *

Deke watched his father refuse all attempts of appeasement. Stubborn old man.

He rubbed the ache at the center of his chest. The three shots of whisky that Rita had pressed on him had gone a long way to numb the pain. But he knew from experience that nothing could make it go away.

How had they come to this?

Why had they sacrificed family for ideology?

He swallowed back the lump, remembering the tears framing his mother’s blue eyes—his eyes—before she’d shuffled after her husband. Now she sat a few feet away from her husband, alone. Not sending even one glance her son’s way.

After a decade of his dad’s cold shoulders, he’d gotten used to the old man’s silence. But his mother’s desertion hurt. She’d always been there when he’d needed her. Always had the right words to soothe any fear, any pain, any injustice.

Something had changed in the past few months. She’d cut off all contact with him. Not one word of explanation. Not a single whispered goodbye.

Did this sudden change have something to do with his dad drinking again? Where had his strong, loving mother gone?

The hollow ache in his chest sharpened.

A touch at his shoulder pulled his attention away from his parents.

“Are you okay?” Evie asked.

“I’m fine.” He pushed the tension from his body and produced a smile. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

She studied his features a moment before turning to Rita and Lisa. “Will you excuse us?”

“Of course,” they said in unison.

Evie slid her hand inside his and led him away from dozens of curious eyes. He didn’t resist. When he’d accepted Rita’s invitation, he’d known he might run into family—or, at least extended family.

She guided him into a cove of shrubs. In the center rose a large paint-chipped fountain that hadn’t seen water in at least a decade. Sitting on the concrete ledge encircling the fountain, Evie patted the space beside her. “Join me.”

He sat, feeling old and alone.

Except Evie was here.

It was enough for now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Does that mean you won’t talk about it?”

A corner of his mouth twisted. “Don’t you have enough of your own family drama?”

“Makes me somewhat of an expert.”

Deke raised a brow.

“Or maybe just a good listener.”

He raked a hand through his hair, not wanting to analyze his screwed-up family.

“How long have you been estranged?”

“My dad hasn’t spoken to me since I went to work for the federal government. My mom—that’s new.”

“Is your dad anti-government? Or does he have a beef with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service?”

“A little of both.”

“But for your dad to turn his back on you, in such a public way, seems excessive.”

“Conrads tend to hold grudges longer than most people, and my father doesn’t care what others think.”

“You really don’t want to talk about this.”

Deke pushed off the wall, no longer able to sit still. What little he’d divulged about his family had brought all the old, harsh feelings to the surface.

“There’s no point in discussing it.” He paced along the scrubby hedgerow. “Even if I were to quit my job, the damage is done. My dad won’t welcome me back and I don’t grovel well.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s made her choice—to stand by her husband. I have to respect her decision. To do anything else would only upset her.”

“You don’t think she’s being mistreated, do you?”

“My father’s many things, but he’s not a wife beater.”

“Mental abuse can be as damaging as physical.”

Deke closed his eyes. With his brother and sister now grown, there was nothing keeping his mother with her husband. Why did she stay?

He listened to his breaths, focused on the stream of air moving through his body and nose. He worked to steady his heartbeat, calm the electricity sizzling in his veins.

When he finally opened his eyes, his mind shied away from all thoughts of Mitch and Iris Conrad. Over the unkempt shrubs, Deke spotted a winding trail leading down to the river.

“Up for a stroll?”

Evie glanced back at the pavilion. “They won’t find us rude?”

“After the show my family and I just gave them, they’re probably glad to be rid of me.”

“You didn’t cause that scene back there.”

“I didn’t end it, either.” He held out a hand and she accepted it. The simple contact warmed parts of him that had gone cold at the sight of his parents.

“Where’re your sister and brother these days?”

“Dara lives in Charlotte with her growing family. When she’s not popping out babies, she’s working as a landscape architect.”

“How many kids does she have?”

“Four.”

“That’s hardly a brood.”

“Maybe not from your perspective.”

“True. Not many people have six kids anymore.”

“Good thing Jonah bought himself a town. The Steele clan now has plenty of room to expand.”

She smacked his good arm. “Not funny. Everyone in that town would’ve gone bankrupt trying to pay their property taxes. Jonah saved them, including my mom.”

He squeezed her hand. “Didn’t mean to hit on a sore spot.”

Sighing, she said, “My family’s constantly battling snide remarks, like your dad’s.”

“You know I meant only to make you smile, right? I’m in awe of your brother’s generosity.”

“What disturbed most people was changing the name from Canyon Ridge to Steele Ridge. But there would be no Canyon Ridge if not for Jonah’s intervention.”

“Jealousy’s an unseen evil that eats away at a person’s good sense. Ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Darwin’s survival of the fittest will soon take care of the problem.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“Now that Britt, Grif, Reid, and Micki have found their mates, the Steeles are going to breed out the rabble rousers.”

“You’re horrible!” She whacked again. “A little sympathy, please.”

“Let me see if I can muster up a bit.” He paused. “Hmm, perhaps I need proper motivation. Do you think Jonah would name a street after me?”

“Arghh! I’m not talking to you about this anymore.” She dropped his hand and surged ahead.

Chuckling, he grasped her arm. “Okay, okay—”

In a move she could have only learned from her Green Beret brother Reid, she broke his hold and spun around with the speed of a Tasmanian Devil, using her momentum to climb—climb—his back. All without jarring his injury.

She wrapped her arms around his head like a monkey hunkered over a football—and squeezed. Within seconds, he struggled for breath. When he made to rip free her hold, she released him.

Whispering in his ear, she said, “Never provoke a Steele.” She pulled his earlobe into the hot center of her mouth, taking away the sting of her action.

He hardened beneath her erotic assault. His hand smoothed over her thigh where it clung to his waist. He pressed closer, into her warmth.

The sun lowering behind the mountain did nothing to cool the temperature. In fact, the humid warmth of a moment ago now felt sultry and damn near perfect.

Just when he’d made up his mind to walk them down to the lake and peel Evie’s clothes off, one by one, she stopped her sweet torture, kissing his neck before sliding off his back.

As they stared at each other, he knew he appeared as off balance as she looked. He held out his hand to her again. “Shall we continue? Before we’re arrested for public indecency?”

“Are you going to behave yourself?”

“After that punishment, I’m not promising anything.”

She smiled, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

A chorus of cicadas pulsed around them, and the rhythmic belch of bullfrogs punctuated the air. A don’t-have-a-care-in-the-world peacefulness settled over him. A frame of mind he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Should we turn back before it becomes too dark for us to see the path?”

“There’s a historic schoolhouse right around the bend. Thought you might like to see it.” He caressed his thumb over her knuckles. “I have excellent night vision.”

“Lead on.”

When they rounded the bend, his pace slowed and his heart bolted like a racehorse. The lighthouse wasn’t the first thing they saw. It wasn’t even the second.

The dead body took the number one spot.

His kid brother leaning over the corpse took number two.

* * *

A woman screamed, wrenching Evie’s attention away from the man crouching next to an unconscious woman lying in the middle of the trail. The guy jerked around at the passerby’s screech, spotting them at the trail’s edge.

“What’s going on?” Deke demanded.

The hysterical woman fumbled with her purse until she extracted her phone.

The man’s features took on the appearance of a trapped animal. His instinct for flight was evident in the way his gaze darted around the area, though he remained in place. Something about his face seemed familiar. Had she seen him at the pavilion? Treated him in the Med Mobile?

“I didn’t do this.” He peered down at the blood on his hands. “I didn’t.”

The paralyzing effects of shock wore off, and Deke’s long strides ate up the space between the trail and the victim. “Does she need an ambulance?”

Something in Deke’s commanding tone—or his actual words—snapped the guy into action. He snatched something from the body and took off in the opposite direction.

“Dylan, wait!”

Dylan? Could he be Deke’s younger brother? He had similar coloring, but she hadn’t seen Deke’s siblings in years, not since they moved away from Steele Ridge and returned to Rockton.

Deke gave chase, barked a command her way, leaving her alone with a hyperventilating woman—and a body. She approached the woman with caution, clicking on her phone’s flashlight.

The victim lay on her side in a pair of tattered jean shorts and a peach tank top. One flip-flop on, one flip-flop off. Long blond hair obscured her face and fanned over her upper body.

Evie glanced at the bystander, who was holding her phone as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. “Is this your friend?”

The bun at the back of the terrified woman’s head jiggled vigorously back and forth.

“I’m a nurse.” Evie kept her voice low and calm, though her heart was sprinting toward the finish line. “Try to take deep, long breaths.”

She circled the unconscious woman to kneel at her side. Blood drenched the woman’s hair and pooled into the nooks and crannies of the old asphalt trail.

“Hello,” she called. “I’m here to help.”

The woman didn’t move.

Slowly, as if sticking her hand into an animal hole, Evie peeled back a rope of bloody blond hair from the woman’s face and throat. The woman’s eyes stared into space, lifeless and cold. Bile raced up her throat, intent on making her look the fool. She caught it and forced it back. She’d seen death before. But never murder. Never such violence.

The victim’s neck had been slashed so severely that little more than skin kept it attached to her body. Evie pressed two fingers to the woman’s wrist, knowing her pulse would be silent, but unable to stop the confirming habit.

When no heartbeat met her touch, she sat back on her heels. Grief for the stranger pressed on her chest. Such a horrible, senseless death.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

The bystander went off on another bout of hysterics. Evie ignored her instinct to care for the distraught witness. Her mind had turned inward.

If the runner was Dylan, could he have done such a thing? The Conrad siblings Deke, Dara, and Dylan—the three Ds—were several years older than her and all bore the same coloring as their mother.

What had Dylan said before he ran?

I didn’t do this.

So why did he take off?

Where was Deke?

Getting to her feet, she searched the shadows.

“Oh, my God,” the bystander said. “Had I come through here a few minutes earlier, that could have been me! He could have murdered me, instead.”

Any other time, Evie would’ve attempted to calm the woman. But she couldn’t see Deke anywhere. She spun in a half circle, worry building in her mind like a kettle of water on the verge of a boil.

No longer able to stand by and wait, Evie headed in the direction Deke had disappeared. The logical side of her mind pleaded with her to stay by the trail and wait for the authorities. But the part of her brain controlling her feet ignored all reason and set off to find Deke.

Within seconds of setting foot inside the woods, her stalker radar lit up. An overwhelming sense of being watched pushed down on her. The wind died down, the insects quieted, the leaves beneath her feet crackled.

Unlike many, she didn’t fear hiking alone in the woods. She and her brothers had spent hours playing war games with paintball guns and whatever weapons they had on hand. So the prickling at the back of her neck had nothing to do with the darkening shadows or towering trees. No, the sensation forewarned her of the evil harbored within these forested walls.

A branch snapped.

She pointed her phone’s flashlight toward the sound, searching.

What the hell was she doing? Time to get the hell out of here.

But Deke was still missing. She stood frozen with indecision until she finally pushed past her fear and barreled deeper into the unknown, following Deke’s invisible trail. If her mother ever found out about this…

Her light shone on a man, and she nearly pissed herself.

“What are you doing out here?” Deke asked, sweaty and out of breath, but he appeared otherwise unharmed.

“Looking for you.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

She recalled him barking out something before he took off. “Maybe. I was a little distracted by the dead body at my feet.”

His voice softened. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Did you catch up to Dylan?”

“No.” He grasped her hand and marched toward the trail. “The little bugger’s always been roadrunner fast.”

“So it was your brother.”

“Yes.” A world of disappointment lay within that one word.

“The woman’s throat—it’s been cut.”

“Cut?”

“Yeah. Whoever did it either wanted to make sure she was good and dead or had a severe grudge against her.”

“That bad?”

She swallowed, nodding.

He paused, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Her hold around him tightened. She absorbed his heat, his smell, his solidness. “What’s going on?”

“Good question.” He resumed their march. “One I’m going to figure out.”

By the time they reached the corpse, streams of light bobbled along the trail. Authoritative shouts of “Mrs. Mullins, show yourself” filled the air.

“Here!” called the hysterical woman, aka Mrs. Mullins, waving her hands in the air. “Over here, officers!” When the newcomers drew nearer, the woman asked, “Is that you, Sergeant Prickett?”

At the sergeant’s name, Deke groaned.

Following Mrs. Mullins’ direction, Sergeant Prickett made a beeline for them.

The sergeant’s attention dropped to the dead woman. “Looks like you got yourself into a whole heap of trouble, fed man.”

She frowned. “Deke didn’t kill her.”

Deke gave her hand a warning squeeze.

“Is that right?” Sergeant Prickett asked, sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “Since you’ve figured everything out, why don’t you tell me who murdered poor Gracie.”

“You recognize her?”

“Gracie Gilbert. Waits tables at the Olde Town Pub & Grill.” He bent down to get a closer look at her obvious wounds before pinning Evie with a nasty look. “Now tell me who killed her.”

Deke nudged her half behind him. “We came upon the body at the same time.”

“Did either of you see who slit her throat?”

She hesitated. The image of Dylan kneeling over the corpse didn’t look good, though he might have found the woman seconds before they rounded the corner.

“No,” she and Deke said in unison.

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Mullins pointed at Deke. “He took off after a young man. Someone named Dylan.”

The sergeant smiled. An oily one. One he greased often and with relish.

“Can only think of one Dylan in these parts. Wouldn’t have pegged your lowlife, thieving brother as a murderer. But people disappoint all the time.” Sergeant Prickett rested a hand on his sidearm. “Now tell me where I can find him.”