The wings of the plane tipped precariously against the wind. Izzy clutched the handle of the door, her fingers numb from the strain of it.

“Almost there,” Quinn yelled out, but there was a smile on her face. Maybe someone had to be slightly deranged to fly in this weather.

Izzy flashed her a quick thumbs-up with her free hand and then concentrated on swallowing the extra spit that was gathering in her mouth.

Soon enough, Quinn was directing the nose of the plane toward the water. The little thing was so light that Izzy thought it might just get taken away by a strong gust, but they did manage to land. It wasn’t smooth, and Izzy had been praying even though she stopped praying years ago.

“Quinn, don’t tell anyone I’m back, okay?” Izzy said after she’d crawled out onto the dock. She wanted to just lie there on her back, feel the solid ground beneath her weight. But she indulged for only the space of a heartbeat before she was on her feet again. Moving.

“Aye, aye, captain,” Quinn shouted at her back. Izzy shook her head, bemused by the woman but also so grateful to her that Izzy spared the moment to turn and wave.

Then she started up the hill as fast as the freshly fallen snow would allow. Izzy would start at Edie Hart’s house, then go from there. Mia had mentioned searching Cash Bishop’s place for things Earl had left behind. That would be her next stop.

The minute she stepped into Edie’s pale pink house, Izzy knew it was empty and wrong.

Izzy had spent the morning keeping the worst-case scenarios at bay, but they started circling now, prowling at the boundaries of her self-control.

She went through the rooms, but each confirmed her initial impression. There was no one there.

But. Nothing was overturned. Nothing broken or in disarray. This was not the scene of a crime.

Before leaving, she jotted a quick note, just in case Mia came back. When she was done, she started down the hill at a near run, anxiety not so quietly pacing along the inside of her skull.

Not yet, not yet, not yet. The mantra kept it at bay, each boot fall drilling in the point.

By the time she got to Bishop’s front door, Izzy was panting, in a combination of exertion and fear. She pounded on the wood with both fists, just as Cash had done days earlier when he’d found Earl.

The thought gave her pause. Lacey had probably killed the older Bishop. She’d been in town that night; she’d been at the bar. She must have stayed with Cash after.

One more victim. The tally kept ticking up.

The door gave way beneath her hands as Cash ripped it open. Izzy hadn’t yet figured out if he was involved, but she had to risk it.

“Is Mia here?”