North Country(57)

Isla’s shoulders sink as she releases a lung’s worth of air, caught in the act .

“So? Go ahead and ask.”

She looks warily at Thomas. It’s clearly not a question for his ears. I guess it’ll have to wait.

A sharp knock sounds then.

“I’ll get it.” Thomas bolts from the table and rushes for the door.

“Is someone here?” Sarah emerges from the kitchen where she’s helping Mom with pumpkin pies for tomorrow, a sleepy three-year-old Egan in her arms. “You expecting someone?”

“Me?” I give her a doubtful look. I guess it could be that OPP officer to take my statement about the incident at the lake today, but something tells me they have far more important things to focus on.

“Isla! It’s your dad!” Thomas announces, a moment before he rounds the corner with Dillon Sanders trailing behind.

He spots me sitting across from his daughter and his jaw instantly tenses.

“Hi, Dillon,” Sarah says cordially.

He nods toward her. “I heard congratulations are in order. You’re looking good.” It’s only a momentary distraction before he turns to focus on me. “Hello, Logan,” he offers coolly.

I don’t bother with a fake smile as I grunt in return.

This is the guy Emery married.

He hasn’t changed much. A little older, a little more distinguished, but all in all, he still has that clean-cut boyish air that always made him look years younger than everyone else his age. He was a year older than us and I barely noticed him growing up—not until he started dating Emery.

Dillon’s eyes roll over me in the same assessing manner. “You look … bigger. Glad to see you used your incarcerated time wisely.”

There’s an insult in there, somewhere. “Never did fix your nose, huh?” It still curves slightly to the left. It’s been that way since I smashed my fist into it.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” Isla asks, breaking up our prickly exchange.

“You would know if you answered any of your texts.” His words are for her, but his gaze is on me, and I can read his thoughts plain as day: Who approved of my daughter around that criminal?

“Oh. Yeah. I put it on Do Not Disturb. People kept calling and texting me to ask about Holly.” Isla’s brow furrows as her mood instantly darkens. The temporary reprieve from her worry is over.

Mention of the missing girl seems to snap Dillon back to focus too. “That’s why I’m here.”

Isla’s eyes widen. “Did they find her?”

“No. They’re still looking. Your mother won’t be home until late, so she asked me to take you to my house.”

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’m sixteen—”

“This is nonnegotiable, Isla. Come on. Let’s get your things.” He jerks his head toward the door. “And you’re spending Thanksgiving with us, so your mom doesn’t have to worry about you. We need her focusing on this case.”

With reluctance, she pushes her candy pot toward Thomas. “You can have this if you clean Biscuit’s stall in the morning.”

“Deal.” His eyes light up with excitement as he begins loading his loot into his sweatshirt pockets.

Climbing out of her chair, Isla mumbles, “My backpack’s in the kitchen,” and heads in that direction.

“What has Emery told you?” Sarah asks quietly, swaying with her son in her arms.

“She’s pretty tight-lipped. I drove by the Bale House. It’s all taped off and crawling with cops. Forensics and CIB investigators are there now. I don’t know. She said they’re chasing a few leads. Hopefully good news will come soon.” But Dillon doesn’t sound convinced.

Isla returns with her jacket, bag, and muffins that didn’t sell. She pauses at the table. “Thanks for teaching me Texas hold ’em, prison style, Logan.”

I chuckle. “It was plain Texas hold ’em. You don’t want to play the other version. Trust me.”

Sparing me a weak smile, she heads out the door, her father dropping a hand on her shoulder.

And I stare blankly after them, my stomach burning with jealousy and regret.

That should have been my life.

Isla should have been my kid.

“Time to get home!” Sarah calls out. “Brooks, Carson, come on! ”

When they don’t acknowledge her, she barks, “Don’t make me change the Wi-Fi password!”

The twins begrudgingly drag themselves off the couch.

“Can you teach me more prison games tomorrow, Uncle Logan?” Thomas asks.

“I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Sarah shoots me a warning glare before prompting, “Say good night to your uncle.”

A childish chorus rings out and then she ushers them out the front door, leaving me to the uneasy silence and my dark thoughts.





Chapter 20





Emery




“Got it. Thanks for the help.” Detective Constable Gary Schmidt from the North East Region Crime Unit ends the call with a sigh, smoothing a hand over his bushy moustache. “That was Thunder Bay. Reeves is clean. He even let them check out his truck. Nothin’ turned up besides a collection of empty coffee cups. Not even a loose speed pill lying around.”