The day was breezy, wrapping the thick scent of evergreens, pine needles, and earthy loam around him. A gust whipped over him, bringing a chill that clawed under his jacket even though it was almost summer. If he hiked up the trail, he could see the snow still clinging to the top of Stone Wolf Mountain and the surrounding peaks.

After the busyness of living in the city and the chaos of his travels, the fresh mountain air and quiet of the forest soothed his nerves. Clink, clink, clink. At least the stone plaque hammering was distant and could melt into the background noise in his mind.

And he heard Mackenzie’s voice in his head. The sound of pain fracturing her words as she spoke of her father. Everyone makes mistakes, especially when they’re young. How could her mistake have cost her so much? She made it sound as if she’d been banished from her family—all so they could build the company.

In the end, what had any of it mattered? The wealthy and successful died the same as anyone else. Mackenzie had missed out on being with a family that had seemed to love her. Then again, she’d made her own choices too. College and career often dragged people away from home.

An insect buzzed, and he swatted it away. Why was he thinking about Mackenzie’s choices? He’d made plenty of his own mistakes.

Her screams in the night rocked through him again. His heart rate jumped at the memory, and he dragged in the wild forest scents with a deep breath. He recalled the feral look she’d given him after the dream, and a million emotions exploded in his chest.

He stood and shook off the craziness. Brushed off a few pine needles that had fallen from the trees onto his shoulders and jeans.

Twenty minutes, and only a couple of hikers had passed on the trail, but no one had stopped to look at the memorial. To many of the locals, the memorial had probably become invisible. Most people didn’t much care about those who’d given their lives for others in the years gone by.

But at least one person cared. Why had she taken a sledgehammer to the plaques?

He shifted forward, listening to the hammer hitting wood and stone below him. The sound pinged through him and again reminded him of his reaction to Mackenzie’s pain, which was quickly becoming personal to him. He couldn’t seem to shake it.

He remembered what Erin had said about the person who had vandalized the memorial . . .

“It’s personal.”

On that note, he had some questions for his mother. He needed to spend time with her too, but he would prefer to do so when his stepfather wasn’t around.

He texted his mother.

How’s your day looking?

I work the evening shift. How about lunch?

I’ll be there.