“Ready?” she asked.
He glanced up, and she had the feeling she’d dragged him back from a dark place. “Yeah.”
He followed her to the Suburban, Uncle Pike’s gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. The gun he held brought new meaning knowing that he had shot someone. Killed someone. She swallowed and climbed into the SUV. They traveled to Earl’s in silence, but once there, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Before we go any farther, I need to know what happened. How Earl died.”
Aidan glanced at her and then faced forward, gazing at nothing through the windshield. “There was trouble this summer. Sonya.” His voice broke on her name, but he cleared his throat and continued, “Sonya had decided to fish both types of gear, drifting and set netting, taking more of the season’s catch. To make a long story short. Earl just…snapped, attacking Sonya and a fish cop who was protecting her. He was…crazed. Insane. He went to shoot Sonya, and I…I shot him instead.” Aidan turned toward her, his eyes full of disbelief and pain. “Earl died in my arms. Just before he died, he looked at me with pride for the first time and said, ‘Son, I didn’t know you had the balls’.”
Raven had so many questions, but one look at his face told her she wouldn’t be getting any answers. So she sat and tried to digest what he’d said. “Is this the same Sonya you asked to marry you?”
He nodded but didn’t add anything else. Almost like he had no more to give, that it had taken everything out of him to impart to her what he had.
“You had to stop him, or she would be dead.”
“Yeah, too bad I hadn’t stopped him from killing your father.” Aidan got out of the Suburban and slammed the door.
She scrambled out after him. “Aidan, wait. Stop.”
He halted just inside the broken gate. “I don’t want to hear it, Raven. Let’s just get this over with, and then I’ll get out of your life.”
She didn’t know what she wanted to do. Leave him. Comfort him. Love him. No, she didn’t want to love him. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t survive a second time.
“The map. Remember?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the surprisingly detailed map her son had drawn for her last night.
Aidan turned back, his shoulders rigid, his dark eyes swimming with shadows. Right now he didn’t care if getting into the cabin hurt him again or worse. She didn’t want him hurt, and if there was a threat, they needed to know. She handed over the map. He took a couple of steps toward her until he could reach out and take it. The action, like coaxing a wounded animal, wasn’t lost on her.
He glanced down at the map, his brows shooting up. “This is really good.”
Crap. What was she thinking? Aidan was an artist, he drew characters. So did Fox. He’d drawn on everything as a little kid. From pieces of paper to the walls of their cabin. She shouldn’t have given the map to Aidan. Of course he would recognize the level of talent as Fox had gotten it from his father, not his mother. Raven considered herself an artist, but she couldn’t draw. Her medium was clay. Not pencils or paint.
“Think you can navigate us to the cabin with it?” she asked, getting off the subject of Fox.
“Yeah.” He glanced at her. “You don’t have to come with me. With this map, I’m good.”
“I’m coming.” She’d like nothing better than to get back into the car and drive away. But she couldn’t. Maybe it was the sixth sense that was raising the hairs on the back of her neck, but she needed to be here. See this through. She motioned for him to start. “Lead the way.”
“All right.” He looked around the area. “Stay in my footsteps. Whatever you do, don’t venture from my tracks.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.”
Aidan turned and treaded carefully, stopping every few feet to glance at the map and his surroundings before continuing. The trek was slow, but they arrived at the back door of the cabin without mishap. Aidan released a deep breath as he opened the door with the key he’d found where Fox had said it would be. Inside the skull of a wolf sitting on the stoop.
She really needed to have a long talk with Fox.
Aidan opened the door, walked in and held the door for her. The smell hit her first, a mixture of stove oil, tanned fur, and age. The place smelled old and dusty. It looked old, dusty, and…wrecked.
Aidan pulled the gun from his waistband and held it in front of him. He reached a hand behind him and grabbed her, pulling her up against his back. “Stay close.”
He turned a full circle in the one room that made up the living space, kitchen, and small dining area. “Earl was never the cleanest sort, but this is beyond anything he would have lived with.”