Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(15)

This time, my heart cracked. God, being a new kid sucked. I waded through the piles of clothes and toys to my boy and wrapped an arm around him. “Worst case, best case.”

Owen let out a long breath. “Worst case, they think I’m a huge dork and no one wants to be friends with me. Best case, they think I’ve got sty because I’m from Oakland and everyone wants to chill with me.”

I had to translate that sty meant style. It was a miracle I didn’t need a dictionary at this point. At least Owen was giving my brain a workout.

Brushing the hair back from his face, I gazed down into his green eyes. “Worst-case plan?”

I’d learned over time that it didn’t help to tell him that the worst case would likely never happen. It belittled his feelings and sent him the message not to trust himself and his emotions. Instead, we made plans—plans that would help him deal with any of his fears.

Owen tugged his lip between his teeth. “Move back to Oakland?”

“Never back down, what?” I challenged.

“Never give up,” Owen grumbled. He snatched up a bathing suit. “If they hate me at first, I’ll win them over with my gaming skills and Bigfoot knowledge.”

A laugh bubbled out of me as I pulled him into a hug. “Dang straight. Best-case plan?”

“Best-case plan, I’m king of the school until I graduate and get to go learn coding.”

I grinned. “And?”

“And I remember how it feels to be on the outside and make sure to include other kids,” he mumbled.

I wiped invisible tears under my eyes. “They grow up so fast.”

Owen tickled my side. I squealed but quickly sobered and cupped his cheeks. “Proud to be your mom.”

“Proud to be your kid,” he echoed.

I left a smacking kiss on his forehead before heading for the door.

“Sick!” Owen called after me. “And not in a good way.”

“You’ve got fifteen minutes before we need to leave for camp, rizz king!” I called back.

“You’re not using it right,” Owen yelled back.

I shrugged. Rizz was supposed to loosely mean charisma. I thought I was close enough.

Heading down the hall, I slipped into the third bedroom. Just like in our house in Oakland, I’d always keep the door closed but would also never tell Owen he couldn’t come in. If I did that, he’d instantly become interested—too interested. For now, he thought what dotted the walls were exercises for Yeti.

They weren’t.

The room itself was the largest in the cabin. Not huge but with enough wall and storage space to create a headquarters. In Oakland, I’d slowly turned Nova’s room into that headquarters. Now, I had a space that would turn into her room once I found her.

And I would find her.

I’d been told time and time again that what I found might not mean happily ever after and a sweet reunion. And I knew there was a chance I might not find Nova alive. But I couldn’t help clinging to hope and the knowledge that I would feel if Nova had been wiped from this earth.

Either way, I would bring her home. I would bring her peace.

I crossed to the massive map of Starlight Grove and the surrounding areas. There were already a couple of pins in the map and a dish with more on the nightstand I’d placed below it. There were half a dozen colors with different meanings.

Yellow for the places Nova and I had visited on our trip before she disappeared. Green for the stops we’d made along our hike. Red for the last place I’d seen her and where I found her water bottle. Purple for reports of women who matched her description. Orange for where women with similar victim profiles had vanished.

There weren’t many oranges. But there were a few. And I hoped like hell some of their loved ones would be at the support group meeting this weekend. Because maybe there was a common thread here that law enforcement had missed.

But that didn’t matter because I was about to be a serious pain in their asses if they wanted to cold case Nova.

“Never back down, never give up,” I whispered to the wall.

And I would never give up on Nova.





7





BRAEDYN





Rolling my shoulders back, I imagined sliding invisible armor into place. I’d need every piece of chain mail for the battle about to ensue.

Taking in the double glass doors and the sign above that read Juniper County Sheriff’s Department, I sucked in a deep breath and reached for the handle. The moment the door opened, I heard the din of conversation and work. It wasn’t the sort of noise that came from emergencies but from everyday business.

As I stepped inside, a woman in her mid-thirties looked up from behind the counter. “Afternoon, can I help you?”

“Hi. I wondered if Sheriff Miller was in?” I kept my voice steady and my expression neutral.

“Can I get your name to let him know who’s here?”

I tried not to tense at the question. Of course, she’d ask. The problem was, my name would give Sheriff Miller warning. But I didn’t have any other option. “Braedyn Winslow.”

There was no recognition on the woman’s face; she simply lifted the phone on her desk and hit a couple of buttons. “Sheriff, there’s a Braedyn Winslow here to see you.”