“It makes sense it’s Robby, though. Think about it.” He dropped our bags on the leather couch, hands slipping into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Who was the one that discovered that initial box with the chicken head inside of it? It was him. And it wasn’t put through the postal system, so we thought it might have been hand-delivered. But who would get the address wrong on a package that important? No one. Because all Robby had to do was step outside his door and put the box down and then yell as loud as he could. The windows were open, the blinds were open—I’m sure he saw us inside your house. He knew how to get your attention. He thought you’d be a damsel in distress that night, and he was ready to bring you in. He just wasn’t counting on me being there.”

“What about Franky’s car? And the attempted break-in at your place?”

Jake’s lips quirked to the side. “I don’t know. I’m assuming he was wearing a disguise when he tried to break in, but I don’t know how he was able to use Franky’s car as a getaway car.”

I locked the door and put my back against it. The cabin was warm and cozy, with plenty of thick blankets thrown over armchairs and spilling out of wicker baskets. A fireplace was framed by two tall windows that looked out to the back of the property, lined by trees. There was a small trail of smoothed-over stone that led from the cabin and through the trees. Walking the five minutes down that path took me to one of my favorite spots and one of Blue Ridge’s best-kept secrets.

Maybe that’s what I needed to clear my head. I went to Jake’s side, my hand fitting into his. I tugged him toward the side door. He gave a confused “huh?” as he followed me out into the back porch.

“I can’t think about all this right now,” I said. My throat tightened. If I hadn’t already cried so much, I was sure more tears would have made an appearance. But I was as dry as a husk. “Come with me. Let me show you this cool spot down the way.”

I led Jake down the stone path, the trees creeping in on either side for a couple of minutes before they suddenly opened, the path ending on a large outcropping that looked down onto a bubbling river. Mountains climbed on either side of it, a natural-made border that turned sunsets into works of art as the blues and purples of dusk painted the natural canvas. A few wildflowers broke through the rocky dirt, reaching up toward a bright and ever-present sun.