When they reached the east side, Robo hesitated at the sidewalk, giving it a thorough sniffing. Then he trotted away from the school, keeping his nose to the ground. Surprised, Mattie followed.
She glanced behind to see Brody following at a distance, alone. Before she turned her attention back to Robo, she heard Brody shout at a group of boys to stay put, and she knew he’d keep the bystanders in line so that she and her dog could focus on the track.
Robo led her eastward for several blocks and then across the street, heading for the high school. He kept his nose down and didn’t hesitate; Mattie felt certain Candace had come this way instead of going west toward her home. Robo continued along the sidewalk toward Timber Creek High and then turned onto school property.
He skirted the edge of the school, moving along the rough stone-and-metal siding of the walls toward the side doorway. His ears pricked forward, and he paused to sniff the sidewalk, circling the area outside the door, nose down. Mattie imagined the trail he’d been on mingling with all those scents left by other kids, and she feared he’d lose the track.
But Robo kept searching, and he stayed with it until he moved off again toward the far corner of the building. From there, he picked up speed, heading up a well-trodden pathway that led to the hill at the backside of the building, which students had dubbed Smoker’s Hill even before her own tenure.
The steep incline challenged Mattie’s tired muscles. She’d walked this trail countless times as a teen—and yes, once she’d been one of the teenage smokers the hill was named for—but it had been years since she’d been back here. Even so, nothing had changed. Same elevation rising at a diagonal toward the top, same vegetation made up of dry grasses, rabbit brush, sharp yucca and cactus, everything just beginning to green. Same boulders and outcroppings dotting the hillside, providing plenty of places to hide.
Ambush. Something she thought of every time she followed Robo into this type of terrain. She scanned the hillside, telling herself she was silly to worry.
This is the hill behind the school, right here in town, for Pete’s sake. Still, she kept a watchful eye on the boulders as she climbed.
Would she find Candace up here, casually sharing a cigarette or a joint with a friend? Surely a kid with asthma would know better than to smoke.
Robo continued up the trail, his ears darting forward and back. About halfway to the top, he breached a rise that led into a depression surrounded by scattered boulders and rocks of all sizes. After following him down into the bowl, she scanned the area, realizing no one could see her from the bottom of the hill. Isolated.
There were changes on the ground, torn sod and footprints, as if there’d been a scuffle. They spoke to her.
Something’s wrong.
The hair on her neck rose about the same time it did on Robo’s. Something bad had happened here; Robo could feel it, and so could she. She glanced behind her to see if Brody was near, but the rise blocked her view.
She hurried to keep up with Robo, who was trotting off-trail now and heading around a rocky outcropping farther up the hillside. He disappeared behind it, and Mattie ran to keep him in sight. Sprinting uphill, she rounded the rocky area and found him sitting beside a clump of rabbit brush, staring at her.
“What is it? What did you find?”
She spotted something under the brush. Denim . . . jeans. The setting sun provided dim light. Shadows gradually took shape. Jean-clad legs.
Mattie squatted beside Robo, gently pushing the brush aside so she could see what lay beneath. She heard and felt Brody come up beside her, but she couldn’t divert her gaze to look at him.
The girl lay on her back, hands folded on her chest, eyes closed. Only the broken fingernails, blue-tinted lips, and red abrasions on her face belied her peaceful repose. Curly brown hair—no doubt it was Candace. Dead.
Mattie sucked in a breath and slipped an arm around Robo, hugging him close while her eyes rose to meet Brody’s shocked expression.
“Shit, Cobb,” he muttered. “What the hell’s going on in this town?”
Chapter 2
Cole Walker glanced around the dinner table and smiled with satisfaction. Both his daughters sat in their seats wearing pleasant expressions and looking happy. When his kids were happy, he was happy. Things were good.
Angela, who’d been through a rough patch and appeared to be coming out on the other side, sat across from him and met his gaze with her blue eyes—so like her mother’s. She wore her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a few strands had fallen loose to curve around her face.
Sophie, her brunette curls tied back with one of the gauzy scarfs she’d taken to lately—this one a brilliant turquoise and one of her many favorite colors—sat in her place on Cole’s left. Her brown eyes twinkling, she leaned over to kiss Belle, who was sitting beside the girl, watching her every move. Their Bernese mountain dog was an avid Sophie fan during mealtime. Bruno, their Doberman pinscher, sat on the floor between Cole and Sophie, waiting his turn for her attention.
Cole absently stroked the top of Bruno’s head, where the black hair grew straight and silky between his ears, while he thought of how things had improved since last fall, when he’d made the decision to seek counseling for his daughters. After their mother left them a year ago and then refused to see them, and then one of Angela’s friends had been killed last summer, the girls had been overwhelmed with grief and confusion. Mattie had encouraged him to seek professional help, and thank goodness he’d followed her advice.
The high school counselor had recommended a therapist in Willow Springs who specialized in child and family counseling, and while at first the weekly visits had been difficult, the sessions had proven to be a worthwhile investment. Now they made the trip only as needed, and although life could still be a bit bumpy—when was life with two kids not?—things had smoothed out considerably.
“Platz,” Cole murmured to Bruno as Mrs. Gibbs approached the table bearing a platter with roasted chicken, potatoes, and carrots accompanied by their delicious aroma. The big dog went into down position, and Cole gave him a final pat on the head. Bruno had been trained in Germany, and although he was now fully bilingual, having quickly picked up English commands, the entire family enjoyed reinforcing his German vocabulary.
“This looks mighty fine,” Cole said, counting his lucky stars once again for their resident housekeeper. Molly Gibbs had joined them last fall, creating some rebellious turf protection from Angela, but the woman’s unflagging support and genuine concern for his children’s well-being had eventually won over even the recalcitrant teenager. Along with a little help from their therapist.
Mrs. Gibbs flashed him a quick smile to acknowledge his appreciation, making the crow’s feet at her green eyes crinkle. After placing the platter in the middle of the table, she took her seat to his right, unfolded her cloth napkin, and placed it in her lap, smoothing it over her black trousers. The rest of them followed suit while Cole recalled pizza boxes, hamburger wrappers, and paper napkins from takeout during the months he’d spent trying to do everything on his own after Olivia left.
“Angela has a fantastic plan for the school yearbook,” Mrs. Gibbs said in her lilting Irish brogue. She nudged the platter Cole’s way for him to serve. “Do you want to tell your dad about it?”
Angie began talking about her work on the yearbook committee, mentioning photo layouts and page spreads, her face and voice animated, her enjoyment of the project apparent.