Garrett rubs his hands together under the blanket. All they really need is a solid proposal and a few killer chapters to kick off the auction and make the Nottingham people sorry they tore up their contract.

Garrett gets up from the chair, nervous energy flowing through him. He starts pacing. He checks the time on his phone.

Brea should be here any moment.

There’s a knock on the door. A muffled voice. “Mr. Wilson?”

Must be the guy with the firewood. Garrett closes his laptop. “Hold on.”

He walks across the wide-plank floor and pulls the door open.

Two men are standing there. Dark slacks, short black jackets, plain black baseball caps.

First impression: No firewood. One man is in his thirties; the other is a little younger. The men push into the room.

“Hey!” says Garrett. His mouth suddenly goes dry.

The younger man shoves him in the chest, forcing him back. The older one says, “Now.”

The metal end of the silencer is cold on Garrett’s forehead.

Brea! His last thought.

CHAPTER
66

I make it to Brattleboro in record time. My last text from Garrett said that he’d booked cabin 19, our place. After all, that’s where he first told me that he loved me. As if I hadn’t known it already. I told him I loved him too.

I round the last curve through the pine trees.

What the hell?

The woods are lit up with flashing red and blue lights.

I brake hard. Everything comes at me like freeze-frames every time I blink.

Garrett’s rental car. An ambulance. Two police cars. Uniformed cops standing on the porch of a cabin.

I put the Subaru in park and jump out. I start running. One of the cops jumps off the porch and heads straight for me.

“What happened?” I call out. “I’m meeting my boyfriend here!”

The officer has the sturdy build of a lacrosse player. She stops me cold. “Honey, you can’t go in there.”

My ears start ringing, and she keeps talking but her words sound like they’re coming from underwater. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” She’s staring right into my eyes. “Sweetheart! Listen! Who were you meeting here?”

I try to push past her, but it’s no use. She has her legs planted wide.

There’s a glow coming from the cabin. Bright lights. Brighter than a fire.

“Garrett!” I shout. “Where are you?”

“Garrett? And what’s the last name?” The cop is in my ear. She’s half holding me, half hugging me.

“Wilson! Garrett Wilson!”

“Okay, honey. I need you to come sit down with me.” She pulls me toward a wooden bench under a pine tree. My eyes are fixed on the cabin door. The number 19 is carved into it.

No!

I don’t know how, but I tear myself away from her and run up the steps to the cabin. Two more cops grab me.