Page 106 of When the Smoke Clears

“What are you—my wife? I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Isla turns to me, her eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. “You didn’t lock the front door?”

“I forgot,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “What about the bears?”

“They’re not going to sneak in and eat your porridge,” Gabe quips. “Now, can you please explain to me what’s so urgent?”

“We heard from Doc. The samples from Gretchen showed nothing.”

Gabe nods knowingly. “We knew they wouldn’t.”

“But then he told me that partials found on the rock I found are a match in the database to a guy who’s committed some pretty serious crimes all over the country.” Gabe’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “It’s in the database?”

“Yes. I can get into it from work tomorrow⁠—”

“No need. I’ll do it when I get home.”

He strides into the kitchen, snatches an apple from the fruit bowl, and tosses it into the air. With a swift motion, he catches it and takes a hearty bite. “I’ll be in touch.”

Isla glances at the door after he leaves. “What the hell was that?”

“Who knows. Maybe he just drove over from a hook up,” I reply, wiggling my eyebrows.

Isla giggles as I approach the villain board. With a black marker in hand, I write “Killer?” in bold letters, drawing arrows from it to Gretchen’s name, Isla’s near hit and run, my own shooting, and Ben Manning’s murder.

Isla stands beside the board, her eyes scanning the chaotic collage with keen interest. “Do you really think this could be the same guy?”

“It sounds like he’s more than capable of committing all these crimes. I just don’t know why.”

Isla steps closer, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind. “I know this is driving you crazy, but you’ll figure this out.”

“How am I supposed to take care of you if I don’t know who to protect you from?” I exhale in defeat, trying to keep the edge out of my voice, but failing.

“Luke, look at me,” she insists, and I turn to face her. Her eyes meet mine, filled with unwavering belief. “I believe in you. I trust you. And I know that anytime you’re looking out for me, I’m safer than I’ve ever been.”

I offer her a half-hearted nod, and she picks up on it immediately.

“I believe in you,” she repeats, her eyes imploring. “I need you to believe in yourself.”

Several hours later, Isla’s words still reverberate in my mind as I lie on my back, listening to the steady rise and fall of her breathing. She’s been asleep for a couple of hours, and despite my efforts to quiet my racing thoughts, I remain wide awake, unable to drift off alongside her.

I gently shift onto my good side, turning to face her on the pillow. She’s taken over my side of the bed, and I didn’t even resist. I would gladly surrender anything to her. I’d give her the world.

Her hair fans out like a halo across the steely-gray pillowcase, and her face is a portrait of peace, the kind that eludes me tonight.

I’m mesmerized as her lips part slightly, and her eyelashes rest delicately against her rosy cheeks. She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Fear stirs in my chest. I have to find a way to keep her safe and protect what we are rebuilding. No matter the cost.

As the first light of dawn begins to outline the rugged peaks of the mountains beyond the window, I lean in close. My lips touch hers gently. In the hushed stillness, I whisper, “I love you.”

The words fall into the dark, a vow as much as a confession. She may not hear them tonight, but I’ll spend every day proving them until this nightmare ends, or until it takes me down trying.

The creak of my front door opening breaks the hushed stillness. I slide out of bed quickly, pulling on the gray sweatpants that lie in a crumpled heap on the wooden floor.

As I step into the kitchen, Gabe stands by the counter, knuckles popping as he flexes his hands. The shirt and jeans he wears are creased and rumpled, the same ones he wore yesterday.

My throat tightens. “What’s going on?”