Page 53 of Pieces Into Place

We fit together as pieces of the same puzzle – two parts longing to be reunited after being lost for so long.

I’m filled with so much joy and admiration for this place, for the way it has given us a chance to explore together. Even as I try to hold back my enthusiasm, I can’t help myself. I can feel myself spinning around the tall trees like a character out of a storybook.

It’s beautiful and romantic and silly, but I know better than to say any of that out loud. Kane is incredibly sweet and sensitive, but he’s still a man no matter how deeply he cares for me; he doesn’t need to hear all of these sappy details about my experience here. No, this stays between me and Christmas Valley.

The sky is a brilliant shade of pink, the mountains fading into silhouettes as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. I imagine Henry and Kane must have finished their conversation by now, so I start to make my way back home, my thoughts already turning toward cooking dinner for Kane. I know there are steaks in the fridge that would be perfect marinated and served with garlic mashed potatoes. Plus, I could take out some pinecones for arts and crafts time later on.

Despite not having ventured far from the cabin, as per Kane’s strict orders, I have to pick up my pace due to the quick temperature drop when the sun disappears from view.

As I approach the front porch, I hear Kane’s raised voice coming from within, making me stop in my tracks and hastily step aside to hide beneath a window so I can listen without being noticed.

He’s practically yelling, and his booming voice seems to fill the small cabin. I feel my chest tighten as I creep closer, straining to make out the words in the heated conversation.

Henry’s measured tone contrasts sharply with Kane’s emotional one. Realization suddenly hits me like a punch; they’re talking about Profaci and my uncle.

Despite the cold, I can feel sweat beading along my forehead as I imagine what Kane must be thinking. Just like everyone else from my past, he’ll assume I’m some sort of monster as well, all because of my connection to The Sierra Falls Strangler.

No, Kane is a reasonable man. He’s levelheaded above all else. He won’t blame me for the actions of a psychopath who I never even met. Yet, even as I try to keep my breathing steady and my hands from shaking, doubt still manages to creep in. That same psychopath has taken away so much from my family; he ruined my life and indirectly caused at least three more deaths. My mom and both grandparents.

I stand there clutching the pinecones tightly to my chest when I hear it. Something about my uncle killing Kane’s dad. What? That makes no sense. Kane’s father is alive and well; we’ve talked about him before. He’s a retired detective. Except…No. No, that can’t be true.

The other night in bed Kane mentioned something about losing someone very close to him – someone who had been murdered. He was beginning to open up about his past. Maybe that person was his father. Which can only mean one thing.

My uncle was responsible for killing Kane’s father.

I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, every inch of air around me becomes thicker and thicker until it constricts around my ribcage like a vice grip. My heart thuds heavily against my chest and tears blur my vision. I turn around to leave. I need to be anywhere but here.

Kane is going to hate me; I’ve lost everything. My legs give out beneath me as I step off the porch into the snow, collapsing down onto my knees and sending the pinecones flying out around me. I struggle to swallow down the vomit rising in my throat and the sobs lodged in it.

I reach blindly through the dim light and tears, feeling for something to pull myself up. My fingers brush against a cold, damp branch, and I clutch it desperately, using it as an anchor to lift me from the frozen ground. Still unsteady on my feet, I stumble back the way I had come, away from where the light can reach me.

I remember the story about Cecily Profaci that my mother had been forced to tell me when I was thirteen-years-old and the news story was everywhere. I choke back more tears and swallow the bile in my throat. Cecily Profaci and the story of how my uncle had brutally murdered her had sent us into hiding. I have never allowed myself to think about any of the other details of his life or death until now. There’s no avoiding it now that I know Kane and his family were directly involved in it all.

With my muscles screaming from exhaustion, I make my way further into the depths of the forest, and then finally collapse onto my knees, unable to hold back the vomit any longer. I wipe a gloved hand across my mouth and nose, shuddering at the icy chill that courses throughout my body.

Before I can stand again, a gloved hand clasps over my mouth, suppressing my scream as three faceless figures emerge from the shadows dressed in black military gear.

The realization that this is how my life will end has my stomach plummeting to the ground, and all I can think about is Kane and how grateful I am to have known his love for even such a short period of time.

I hear an angry voice demanding to know why I am unconscious as I struggle to open my eyes. “If you’ve fucking hurt her, I will end you,” he says.

“I didn’t hurt her, Boss,” a panicked voice says. “She passed out when I got to her, probably from fear.”

With trepidation, I slowly open my eyes and take in my unfamiliar surroundings; I am lying across the cold gray leather of the backseat of an SUV, with a blanket pulled up over me and someone at my feet whose legs push against mine as we drive through the snow. There are four other men in the car, all dressed in black: two in the front seat and two in the middle row.

Fear has turned my body to stone, trapping me to the cold leather. I feel a chill that has nothing to do with the cool air of the car and everything to do with the voice from the backseat. A voice I don’t recognize, but one that sends an unmistakable threat through my veins – stay still or face the realization that I will never see Kane again. So I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately clinging onto a memory of the brief days Kane and I spent together when I had been so close to finding something resembling happiness.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires fills the car as it makes a sharp right turn.

“Liv, open your eyes, please,” the voice begs now, softer and laden with emotion. With trembling arms, I push myself upright and focus on the figure sitting next to me in the shadows. Molasses colored eyes stared back at me – much older and worn compared to how I remember them – yet there was no mistaking who they belonged to.

“Dante?” My question hangs heavily in the air.

Chapter twenty-six

Kane

Frantically I follow her tracks deeper and deeper into the woods, the light dwindling to a pale purple the further into the pine canopy I go. My chest constricts. Damnit, where is she? I’m about to call out her name when I stumble upon chaotic footprints in the snow. Several sets match a smaller set where it looks like Olivia has fallen into the snow.