Page 5 of When the Smoke Clears

The familiar scent of pine and fresh water fills the cab, and the tension eases from my shoulders.

I trace the condensation on the window, willing myself to take a step. A step into the past—into something I keep locked down for my own survival.

Forcing myself out of the truck, I amble toward the water’s edge, gathering a handful of smooth, flat stones along the way.

The moonlight dances across the lake’s surface, creating a shimmering path as the breeze teases small waves. I sidearm a rock, and it leaps across the water, each skip a brief flight before it eventually disappears.

Tonight, the quiet feels heavier than the badge. It presses against my ribs until I swear I can hear the echo of her laugh in the silence she left behind.

How will Isla react to this news? I don’t know her current address or whether she has even remained in contact with her mom. I never asked, rarely allowing her name to leave my lips after she disappeared.

The pines lean close, their needles whispering secrets I used to believe belonged to us. Wild Haven hasn’t changed. Maybe that’s what hurts the most—that it kept breathing when we stopped.

Even after spending an hour at the lake, my brain refuses to power down. I lie in bed as images from the day play on loop. By the time the clock ticks to 5:30 AM, I concede defeat and stalk to the kitchen where my morning coffee awaits. Thank God for coffee machines with timers.

I sip the steaming liquid energy and absently scroll through my phone until it buzzes in my hand, the screen lighting up with a familiar number. It’s Alan Gordon, a local attorney who has occasionally worked with my father.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Luke. I’m sorry to call so early.”

“No problem, Alan. What can I do for you?”

There’s a momentary pause, as a brief silence echoes through the line. “I want to give you a heads up. I’m handling Gretchen Tanner’s will.”

My head rears back slightly. “I’m surprised Gretchen thought of retaining your services. I guess that’s a good thing, though.”

There’s another brief pause on the line and the sound of papers shuffling before he speaks again. “I want to let you know that I’ve informed the next of kin, so your department doesn’t have to handle it.”

I squeeze the back of my neck as the tension contracts my muscles into tight knots. “Thanks for doing that, Alan.”

“Of course, and, uh, Luke?”

“Huh?”

“I just spoke with her. She’s coming home.”

He didn’t even have to say her name. I already knew: Isla Rae. The woman I wish had never left, and the woman I’d wished would never come back.

CHAPTER 2

ISLA

My spine spikes pencil-straight as the area code blazes across my screen.

Wildhaven.

Those three numbers sear into me like ancient scars reopening—panic waking up under my skin.

The urge to hurl the phone against the wall swells, a tempest barely contained, and it takes every shred of my willpower not to give in. Instead, I inhale deeply and hold the breath for a count of five before releasing it slowly, like I’m forcing air through the narrowest straw. The technique steadies me.

Barely.

The illuminated cassette tape icon on my screen taunts me as a gnawing awareness festers beneath my ribs: I need to face whatever’s on that recording.

And I will. Just not yet.

My hand tremors as I shove the phone into the drawer and seal it away with a tense, deliberate click.