Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
But Logan might look even better, if that’s possible.
And bigger. Stronger. His shoulders even broader. How is that possible? Though I’ve been checking in with Annie regularly and she says the same thing—he’s out in the fields, all day, every day. I imagine home-cooked meals make a difference too.
He returns his focus to the players racing past, but I don’t miss how his chest rises with a deep, calming breath.
“My parents were coming, so I tagged along.” The corner of his mouth kicks up. “They even let me drive.”
“Holt and Annie are here?” I was so busy avoiding eye contact with people, I missed them.
“They are. So are Sarah and Thomas. You should go sit with them.”
If that isn’t a dismissal … “This is how it’s gonna be, then?”
His jaw tenses, his attention flittering behind me to the various game bystanders. “I’m trying to protect you,” he says quietly.
“I don’t need you to,” I snap, my anger flaring, quickly followed by hurt. And I don’t need this shit, especially not today. I turn to leave, to find another isolated spot to watch the game from.
“She’s really good.”
His deep voice stalls my exit.
“Isla.” He juts his chin toward the bench, where she waits for her next shift. “She’s fast. Smart. Aggressive on the boards, like you were.”
“I had to be. I was stuck playing with boys like you.” Girls’ hockey opportunities weren’t anything like they are now.
A player on Isla’s new team tries to rub an opposing player along the boards but comes in too hard, knocking her down. The ref’s hand flies into the air.
Logan smirks. “I don’t know. These girls seem to hold their own pretty well.”
The lines change and Isla hops back onto the ice to take the draw for the penalty kill. It’s a scramble, but she gets her stick on the puck, firing it down the ice. Cheers carry from the stands.
“I wasn’t sure how tonight was going to go,” I admit.
I feel Logan’s gaze on me, but I keep my focus on my daughter as she skates hard after it.
“Why?”
I hesitate. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. But now that I’m with him, it’s all I want to do. “Holly’s case has gone cold. The investigators will keep reviewing and looking, but we’ve exhausted every lead.”
Logan curses.
“I had to tell Isla before the game. I was worried she’d hear it from someone else. I imagine Holly’s parents are already talking.” Blaming us for not doing our jobs. “It’s only a matter of time before all of Cold River knows.”
“I’m sorry. I know you’ve been doing everything you can to find her.”
“Obviously not enough.”
We quietly watch as Isla’s team handily kills the penalty against them and has two shots on net before a turnover.
“She blames herself,” he murmurs.
“What?” I’m acutely aware of Logan shifting closer to me, my nose catching the scent of his pine soap.
“For Holly. She blames herself.”
“She had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t even there.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. She thinks that if she had been, Holly wouldn’t be missing.”
“Or Isla would be missing too.” Panic flares just uttering those words. I’ve thought them plenty. “When did she tell you this?”
“This morning in the stables.”
I recall her leaving especially early, Duke at her side. It was still dark out. “I’m surprised you got two words out of her. She doesn’t say much lately.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, she’s not much of a talker in the morning. Neither am I, though.” The humor falls off. “I thought you should know.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes graze mine, and my heart flips as surely as if he’d touched me.
But then his attention snags on someone behind me.
I glance over to see a stalky form stroll past. I’d recognize him from his walk alone. “Swear to God, can’t turn a corner without one of them there,” I mutter.
“Who is that?” Logan’s eyes narrow on him.
“That’s Ian’s oldest son, Axel. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing at a U18 girls’ hockey game.” I scan the faces around the rink, but it’s difficult to make them out. Are there more Murphys here?
Logan watches him find a spot on the glass. “He was at the Bale House that night.”
“Yeah. Most of them were. He left early, though.” The gas station camera caught a glimpse of Axel’s cherry-red tow truck driving off around ten fifteen p.m.
“No, I mean, in the hallway, when Holly cornered me. He passed us on his way into the washroom. He knew who I was. He said something to me.”
“What?”
Logan frowns as he picks through his memories. “Something about me getting myself into trouble again already? I mean, I guess I can’t blame him. It probably didn’t look good.”
“No. It didn’t.” I know what I saw and it could’ve easily been misinterpreted, if you didn’t know Logan. And that explains why all the Murphys are stuck on their story—they’re regurgitating what Axel told them. But another thought strikes me. “Did it seem like Axel knew her?”