Page 82 of Shattered By the Currents

Shit, Margaret had messed with his judgment. There’d been a time when he’d thought he’d been good at spotting a lie. At reading body language.

But Margaret had taught him that love made things messy. Blurry. It made him miss things.

When he was finally too tired to continue, he took a long shower. It was only when he was dressed again, after he’d completely exhausted his body, torn himself apart and put himself back together, that he turned his cell back on and called her.

It rang. Then it rang more. Finally, it hit her voicemail.

He tried her again. Still no answer. He shot her a text.

Connor: Hey, Raven. Are you home? We need to talk.

When the three dots didn’t appear, he shoved his cell into his pocket and left the old firehouse.

The drive to his house felt longer than it should have.

He pulled up out front, frowning when her car wasn’t in the drive. Was she not home? She’d said she’d be here all day.

Once he’d parked, he jogged up the steps and ran inside. “Raven?”

Silence.

Quickly, he checked the first floor, then the second. Empty. She wasn’t here.

Where the hellwasshe? Had she gone into work?

He hurried back out to his truck and drove to the community center. She’d said there were no sessions today. But maybe something had popped up?

He pulled into the town square—and his heart fucking stopped.

The community centered was taped off. Had something happened to Raven? Is that why she wasn’t answering his calls?

His heart pounded, loud, panicked thumps, as he pulled up in front of the center and climbed from his truck. Ignoring the tape, he ducked beneath it and ran to the door.

Locked.

Shit.

He pulled out his cell.

Connor: The community center is taped off and I can’t find Raven.

Joel: Polly said she saw Ward and his deputies there, as well as an ambulance.

Ryan: I’ll call Ferris.

A fucking ambulance?

He raced back to his truck and was partway to the hospital when a call from Ryan came through.

“Do you know where she is?” Connor growled before his friend could get a word in.

“She’s at the station.”

The station. So not the hospital. Air hissed between his teeth, and he turned the truck around. “Why?”

“There was a murder.”

“Who?”