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)
He considers it. “Maybe. He shook his head at her. Like disappointment?”
“Huh.” The only connection we’ve ever made to Holly and the Murphys was to Kyle, but what if Holly and Axel had something going on? He’s older and attractive enough.
“Are you sure he was talking to you?” I ask.
“I assumed he was.”
“Was he looking at you when he said it?” I push.
“I can’t remember. I …” Logan’s chest lifts with a heavy sigh. “He said it as he was walking by both of us. I guess it could have been for either.”
What if Axel and Holly had something going on, and seeing Holly flirting with Logan triggered Axel’s jealousy? Would it be enough for him to hurt her?
Kill her?
We’re still not sure if Axel’s following in his late father’s footsteps on the crime front, but I know he has a temper. He was expelled from high school for fighting.
I ponder this as we watch Isla race across the ice to back-check her old teammate, earning a round of claps in the stands on her new team’s side and, I’m sure, several flat faces from the old. I’ve heard enough backhanded compliments to know some of them look at us as traitors for leaving Cold River.
I shift to the far side of Logan where I have a better view of Axel.
He slaps his hand against the glass as Cold River outmaneuvers our defense and takes a shot. Thankfully, it lands in the goalie’s glove. I don’t know the men he’s standing with, which means they’re either from out of town or they’re law-abiding citizens. Who’s he here for? There aren’t any Murphy girls on either team, so what’s a twenty-six-year-old man doing watching a teenage girls’ hockey game?
I may be reaching, but given we’re at a dead end with Holly’s disappearance, any angle is worth pursuing. I dig out my phone and call Terry.
He answers with, “Miss me already?”
“I might have new information. Well, I do. I just don’t know if it’s useful.” I reiterate what Logan told me.
“So, the Landrys pointed at the Murphys and the Murphys pointed at Logan, and now Logan is pointing at the Murphys again. Who could have foreseen this?”
“Yeah, I get your point, but Logan didn’t know who Axel was until I told him.”
“So the criminal says.”
I grit my teeth at Terry’s snark. “What do you have on Axel?”
“Give me a sec.” Terry’s sigh fills my ear as I wait, my focus divided between the game and the call. “He left the Bale House at 10:15 p.m. in his tow truck and then came back with it around midnight and left a few minutes later, which is when Hank Murphy left. According to Hank, Axel was giving him a ride home. Story checks out.”
“And after that?”
“He says he went home. He was alone, so no strong alibi, but no sign of his tow truck or him around the Bale House after that.”
“But he could have come back to the parking lot in a different vehicle.”
“A third time?” Terry pauses, and I picture him scratching his chin in thought. “It’s not impossible. There were a lot of pickups pulling in and out. We couldn’t ID all of them. If he drives a white, gray, or black F-150—”
“A black one.”
“Well, there you go. That parking lot was jammed with them. If he came in and parked around back, then … yeah. It’s possible.”
“You need to dig into him. See what you can get on his alibi.”
“Will do—”
“Maybe one of his neighbors saw something or has a security camera.”
“I’ve got it—”
“And go further back in Holly’s phone. See if there’s a connection.”
“I don’t know how I ran an investigation without you,” he mutters but follows it with “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
We end the call.
“He thinks I’m lying,” Logan says.
“He’s giving another viewpoint, is all.” Albeit in his typical dickhead fashion. “The Murphys all said they saw you and Holly in the hallway that night, so they’re parroting what Axel saw, and embellishing it.” Information I shouldn’t be sharing.
“Of course they are.” He shakes his head. “Fucking assholes.”
“It’s a good thing you have a strong alibi, right?” I flash him a cutting look and then lean in to add, “You know, the one I gave you, right before you kicked me out of your family’s home on Thanksgiving?” No, I’m not still bitter.
Logan’s lips purse as he shifts to face me, his shoulder leaning against the glass. “It’s a good thing the detachment commander of Cold River’s OPP knew exactly where I was and what I was doing that night.”
He was doing her.
It’s a blunt reminder of how risky that night was for my career. And yet all I can focus on right now is how close Logan is standing, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, and how enticing he smells. Like fragrant men’s bodywash. He would have showered off the workday before he came here—a visual I don’t need in my head until I’m home alone, in bed.