Owen follows me home and does a quick search around the house before we go inside. It seems a little overboard, but he’s seen firsthand what people are capable of. “Jake working late tonight?” he asks, standing by the door.

I nod. “Most likely. I know there’s a lot to be done before we move to Phoenix.” Grabbing a couple of chicken breasts out of the refrigerator, I dash a few spices on it and put it in the oven. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” I ask, fetching the potatoes from the pantry.

He shakes his head. “I’d love to, but I need to get going. I have some phone calls I have to make if I’m going to be your bodyguard.”

Holding the bag of potatoes to my chest, I sigh. “Is that going to cause problems?”

“Let me worry about that.” He squeezes my shoulder and opens the door. “Lock it behind me.”

I do as he says and lock the door. Once all the food is in the oven, I pour a glass of wine and sit down on the couch. From the window, I can see the snow falling. The yard is covered in a sparkling blanket of white, and not even a blade of grass is showing through. Our mountain roads are no doubt getting worse by the minute.

Grabbing my phone out of my purse, I call Jake. He sounds flustered when he answers.

“Hey, babe.”

“It’s snowing like crazy out there, Jake. When are you coming home?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, I can hear the squeak of his office chair as he sits down. “Soon. I promise it won’t be long.”

I breathe in the smell of the chicken. “Good. Because I have chicken roasting in the oven and it smells delicious. I might have to eat without you if you’re not home in the next hour.”

He chuckles. “That’s fine. I don’t want you waiting on me. Did you find out anything on Bryan’s whereabouts?”

“No. Owen’s working hard to find him.”

“Motherfucker. This is getting ridiculous. Make sure to keep the doors locked while I’m gone. Your gun is in the safe.”

“I know. You know I’ll use it too.” My father taught me how to shoot when I was a little girl. I’ve also gone to the gun range with Owen and Jake plenty of times. If I have to use my Glock 19, I will in a heartbeat. “Just be careful on your way home. I’ll make sure to keep your food warm.”

“Thanks, cupcake. I love you.”

“I love you too.” We hang up and I finish off my glass of wine. I have a strong suspicion that he isn’t going to be home in time for dinner. Thankfully, we both have four-wheel drive on our vehicles, which is standard for people living in the mountains.

Ten minutes pass by. Then thirty, then an hour. I take the food out of the oven and pile a chicken breast, along with fingerling potatoes and Brussel sprouts onto a plate. Instead of eating at the dinner table alone, I set my plate on the coffee table and turn on the rest of Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. It’s one of my favorites because it has Dwayne Johnson and Josh Hutcherson in it.

Once I finish eating, I lie down on the couch and finish watching the movie. It’s closing in on eight o’clock and I have an unsettling feeling in my gut. I hate pestering Jake, but I call him anyway. It rings and rings, eventually going to voicemail. I hang up and call again. He doesn’t answer.

Maybe he’s in his truck and wants to concentrate on driving in the snow? No, Jake couldn’t care less about that. He’d answer the phone, even if he was on a tight rope and his life depended on him making it across. So many scenarios run through my mind on why he’s not answering his phone, and none of them are good.

Another hour passes by and I’m pacing across the living room floor. The last time I couldn’t get a hold of someone was when I was in college and I’d tried to call my parents. Neither one of them picked up the house phone or their cell phones. I’d driven home, only to find an empty house. I waited and waited, until finally my mother walked in, her face red and covered in tears. My grandmother had died, and no one even thought to call me. Ever since then, when someone doesn’t answer their phone, I always think the worst.

I turn on the TV, hoping to take my mind off everything.

“This just in. We’re coming to you live from River Bend Road in Pinecrest.” River Bend Road is the same winding road I take home every day. The same goes for Jake, and all the other people who live on our mountain. Martin Stevens, a reporter from our local news station, is standing in the snow with his microphone, while lights from the fire trucks and police cars blink continuously behind him. He’s bundled inside a bulky, red jacket and hat, complete with steam billowing out from his mouth as he speaks. His words are what makes my worst fears come to life.

“There are no leads yet as to why the car ran off the road, but I have been told the driver, unresponsive on scene, has been taken to the hospital. We don’t know of his condition at this present time. Back to you Charlene.”

Hands shaking, I call Jake’s phone, over and over, tears streaming down my face. “Answer the goddamn phone,” I scream, calling him again. Heart racing, I scroll through the TV channels, but no one else is covering the wreck. I want to call my parents, or Owen, but I can’t seem to function. It’s like everything inside me has frozen up.

Then the doorbell rings. Through the glass designs on the door, I can see blue lights flashing in my driveway. My knees are weak and I can barely move, but somehow, I open the door to an officer I don’t know. He’s older, maybe early fifties, with salt and pepper hair. He’s a little pudgy through the mid-section, but still in good shape. His eyes are what gets me. I can see the sorrow and how uncomfortable he feels having to be on my doorstep.

“I’m Officer Charles McGee, ma’am.”

I shake my head, my vision blurry from tears. “It can’t be true. Please tell me you’re not here about my husband.”

He hangs his head. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Kingston. Your husband’s been in an accident.”

That’s all it takes. It’s like everything inside of me rips to shreds. My heart is torn in two and my soul . . . my soul is in a million pieces.

---

The ride to the hospital is a complete blur. Officer McGee drives me, but I can’t think of anything other than Jake. He doesn’t know of his condition and it makes things worse. I have no clue if he’s going to live or die, or if he’s a vegetable living off machines.

The lady at the desk instructs me on where to go to wait, as Jake is in emergency surgery. There are people in the waiting room, but it’s separated into sections so that you have your own. I call my family and Owen, and thankfully, he’d found out over the radio in his car and is on his way. I don’t want to be alone. Before any of them arrive, Officer McGee comes in, along with another officer about the same age, only he’s skinnier with a bald head.

He holds out his hand. “Mrs. Kingston, I’m Detective Terry Bradshaw. You can call me Terry.” I shake his hand but can’t seem to form any words. “I know it’s been a hard night. I’ve come to tell you about the accident.”

“How bad was it?” I ask. “The lady at the desk couldn’t give me any answers.”

Terry releases a heavy sigh. “He’s lucky to be alive, Mrs. Kingston. From what we’ve gathered so far, it looks like someone was in the road and your husband swerved to miss them, causing him to lose control and drive off the mountain.”

My gut clenches to the point I feel like I’m going to throw up. “Someone was in the road?”

Owen rushes in and the officers clearly know him.

They shake hands and turn their attention back to me. “There were footprints in the snow on the road. Someone was standing there when your husband drove through the curve.”

I look up at Owen and he speaks. “I think I know who it is. I have reason to believe that one of your officers, Bryan Snyder, is responsible for this.”

Terry and Charles look at each other in disbelief. It’s Charles who speaks up next. “You can’t be serious.”

Owen stands a few inches above them. “Deadly serious. I’ve been trying to track him down, but I can’t seem to find him.” He nods toward me. “Mrs. Kingston here has been getting threatening text messages and has reason to believe he’s stalking her. Add this to his list and it’s attempted murder.”

Both Terry and Charles appear stunned. “Those are some pretty hefty allegations. Where’s your proof?” Terry demands.

My blood boils. I open my text messages and hand him my phone. “I have text messages from months back, on up until now from two different numbers.” I show him both numbers and he writes them down. “There’s reason to believe he’s also had physical contact with me at a Halloween party. Then, earlier this morning, there was a text saying how beautiful I was in my green shirt, letting me know he was watching me. And now, someone tried to kill my husband. It’s not a coincidence,” I snap angrily. I’m so livid my body shakes.

Owen puts his arm around my shoulders. “Calm down, Ells. We’ll get him, don’t worry.” He glares at the other officers and it’s clear he’s intimidating them by the way they step back. “If I have to search for clues myself, I will, but you need to find the cocksucker and bring him in for questioning. Because if I find him first, it’s not going to be pretty.”

“I’m really sorry this has been happening to you, Mrs. Kingston. When your husband wakes up, I want to ask him some questions.” Terry hands me a card with his phone number. “Please call me when he does. Until then, I’ll see what I can find out about these two phone numbers.”

“Sounds good, Detective,” I say, sliding his card into my pocket.

Owen looks down at my phone. “I’ve already looked into the numbers. With Snyder being undercover, he can use whatever numbers he wants, and they’re not traceable.”

Terry reluctantly nods in agreement. It’s clear he doesn’t believe Bryan’s capable of any of this. “You’re right. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find something.” Turning on his heel, he marches out of the waiting room.

Owen folds me in his arms. “Jake will be fine. I promise. He’s one tough motherfucker. When the police come to question you tomorrow, I want to be there.”

I bury my face against his chest. “If he even wakes up. No one will tell me anything. I have no clue if he’s okay, or if he’s about to die, or dead already.” Teeth clenched, I can feel the muscles in my jaw tense. “If Bryan’s the one who was out on the road, I’ll kill him myself. If he’s watched us, he’ll know that Jake and I take that road home. Not many people travel it. It’s the same road I . . .” Then it hits me.

Brows furrowed, Owen squeezes my arm. “You okay?”

“He’s been watching me,” I whisper. Spine-tingling chills run down my body. “The reason I stopped running outside was because it felt like someone was watching me. It was eerie.”

“I’m glad you listened to your gut. And I promise you this . . . he’ll fuck up. Somewhere along the way, we’re going to find a clue that convicts him. People who do this shit always leave a trace. We just have to find it.”

“Elizabeth,” my mother calls out, her voice thick with tears. Owen lets me go and I run into her arms. She runs her hands over my head while I cry. “He’ll be okay, sweetheart. I’ve been praying non-stop since you called. Do you know how it happened?”

I glance over her shoulder at Owen. “You need to tell them.”

My mother lets me go, her gaze concerned. “Tell us what?”

Taking her hand, we sit down and I take a deep breath. “It’s a long story . . . and you’re not going to like it.”