Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (39)

Wylder watched him go before glancing my way. “I’m worried about him.”

My jaw worked back and forth. “Me, too. But I’m not sure anyone can reach him. We’ve all tried.”

“Ever,” Wylder said quietly.

Ever Devereux had been Orion’s first love. His only love, given that he didn’t interact with anyone but us now. Her parents had worked for our father, and they lived on the property while we were growing up. Their relationship was one of those you thought would stand the test of time, even with them being so young.

After Orion killed our father, though, he cut off all contact with Ever. He refused calls and letters, blocked her emails and social media accounts. And when she’d shown up here, he refused to see her.

But that didn’t stop her. She still made trips out to Starlight Grove on the regular. And every time she got a break from serving communities in need of medical care with Medicine for Humanity, she came to the ranch and would simply stand outside Orion’s house and wait, hoping he might see her.

He never did.

But she didn’t stop coming.

I shook my head. “He’s got to be willing to open the door. And I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen.”

Maverick crumpled his empty chip bag and tossed it in the trash. “We could hog-tie him and force him to listen to her.”

Wylder sent Mav a quelling look. “That is definitely not the answer.”

“We just keep thinking,” I said.

Wylder nodded. “We do. All right, I’m out. See you guys later.”

I gave him a salute as I gathered up my files. But Maverick lingered. Not moving closer but not heading for the door either. I lifted my gaze, trying to discern what might be on his mind. He looked … nervous.

“Why are you hovering?” I asked.

Mav’s face twisted. “I don’t hover. You make it sound like I’m a clingy boyfriend or something.”

Which would be the ultimate insult for Mav. He never let himself care that much.

“There’s something you don’t want to tell me but know you need to say.” My older-brother radar was pinging as I narrowed my eyes on him. “Did you get caught riding your dirt bike on national forest land again? I’m not fixing your ticket.”

“I’m not trying to get you to fix a ticket,” he grumbled as he lifted his backpack onto the conference table and pulled out an evidence bag.

I frowned as I caught glimpses of newspaper clippings through the plastic.

“Someone left this on Brae’s SUV while Nova had it,” Maverick went on. “She thinks it was that asshole reporter, but—”

I snatched the bag out of his hand. “Where.” The single word wasn’t a question; it was a demand.

“At the mountain biking trails off Spruce Canyon.”

My gaze flicked to him. “And she called you?”

The sharp sting of that took me by surprise. I’d gotten used to being the one Nova turned to during the rare times she looked to others for support. And the idea of her reaching out to Mav for help instead of me had my stomach roiling.

Mav shook his head quickly. “I ran into her out there. She was about to get in way over her head on some trails, so I gave her a lesson instead.”

That sick feeling eased, only to be replaced by a worry that rode me hard. The trails out at Spruce Canyon were like a maze of death-defying jumps and steep drop-offs. It would be really easy to get lost or hurt out there. Or worse.

My back molars ground together. “She shouldn’t be out there alone.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mav clipped. “That’s why I stayed with her.”

I jerked my head in a nod as I studied the bag. I couldn’t see all the articles the way they’d been shoved inside, but I saw enough. Articles about Nova. About other missing persons. I flipped it over, trying to see more, and my blood went cold.

The boxy, black lettering looked angry. NEVER FORGET.

What the hell did that mean?

At this moment, it didn’t fucking matter. What mattered was that someone was clearly watching Nova. Following her. Taunting her.

I slammed the bag onto the table. “Help Waylon watch Sky. I’ve got dinner in the slow cooker at my house.”

“I’m not your manny, you know,” Mav yelled.

But I was already at the door and moving through it. Some phantom force buzzed in my ears, and memories battled to break through the bars I’d contained them behind.

Endless cop cars. Ambulances. A medical examiner van. All of them crowded around the driveway of the house, leading toward Dad’s workshop.

A sick feeling spread through me as I slammed the brakes on the Range Rover. I shut off the engine and jumped out, only to come face-to-face with a police officer barely a handful of years older than me.

He put out a hand. “I’m sorry. You can’t be here.”

“I live here,” I argued. “Where are my brothers?”

Something passed over the young officer’s face. Pity. “The youngest is on the way to the hospital with Wylder and Dexter.”

“Orion,” I croaked. “Where’s Orion?”

A muscle fluttered in the officer’s cheek. “He’s in custody.”

All the blood drained from my body. “For what?”