eyes from the target said, “This isn’t a game for me. Never was. Never will be. That’s not a paper man to me. That’s the man who nearly killed my fiancée.” Trent aimed and fired his gun.
Scott, who claimed a byline at the Indian Lake Herald newspaper, knew every last detail and then some about Trent’s brilliant and dangerous plot to bring down the leader of the Le Grande drug ring in Indian Lake only a few short weeks ago.
Trent had headed up the Indian Lake PD’s drug task force for nearly two years, resulting in many arrests, but it was the capture of Brad Kramer, AKA Raoul Le Grande, that brought national attention to their small Indiana town—and to Trent. He’d denied all interview requests, though, except Scott’s. Trent had many reasons to avoid the press. Accuracy was one. Trent had trusted only Scott to report sensitive details about the intricate sting he’d set up to catch Le Grande. Cate Sullivan, Le Grande’s ex-wife, had been at the center of the plan. Scott had met Cate when Luke hired her to sell his home after his first wife died of cancer. Cate was a private woman and had kept her personal life quiet. When Scott learned that Cate had been living in disguise in Indian Lake for the past six years, Scott was as surprised as everyone else.
Le Grande hadn’t only wanted to use Indian Lake as a way station for trafficking drugs from Chicago up to Detroit and eventually to Toronto. The drug lord had wanted his ex-wife and six-year-old son, Danny, back.
Trent had convinced Cate to act as bait to smoke Le Grande out. The plan was well orchestrated, yet even Trent had not calculated the extent of Le Grande’s twisted, maniacal mind.
Thanks to Trent’s Special Forces military training and his exceptional perceptive genius, Cate and Danny survived, and Le Grande was now in prison awaiting trial.
Scott had been at the Christmas Pageant at St. Mark’s school when Le Grande had attempted to kidnap Danny, and he’d managed to capture the entire, harrowing scene on his iPhone. His eyewitness reporting, along with his photos and videos, were still getting attention across the country.
Not since had Scott worked for the Chicago Tribune right after graduation from Northwestern University had he dared to dream of prizes and awards. Now those possibilities seemed once again in reach.
“Hey!” Luke shouted over the blast of Trent’s final bullet. “Back up there, buddy.” He put his hand on Trent’s shoulder. “Did you just say fiancée?”
Scott also did a double take. “What? You and Cate?”
Trent’s half smile grew into a full-blown grin. “Yeah. Can you believe it? She said yes!”
“No,” Scott said, feeling an odd sense of disbelief and disquietude. “I don’t. You’ve only known her—what, a couple months?”
Scott stared at Trent, who had a goofy look on his face. Trent had just become the town hero. He could outshoot and outsmart master criminals. But when he talked about Cate, he turned to mush. It had been a long time since Scott had felt that way about Isabelle. Come to think of it, he’d never seen her get dewy-eyed over him. And if she had, he’d missed it. Maybe that was a good reason to rush into marriage. Grab the feeling while it was new and fresh, like a spring sapling. Let it grow over time.
Trent’s laughter broke through Scott’s thoughts.
“Yeah, man, intense days, I’ll tell you. But—” He glanced down at his gun. “I can’t imagine another day without her.”
“Wow!” Luke grabbed Trent in a bear hug. “That’s awesome, man. Did she like the ring?”
“Actually, I haven’t gotten her one yet. I want it to be a Christmas present.” Trent looked from Luke to Scott. “Do you think I should surprise her or have her go with me to pick it out?”
“Surprise her,” Luke said emphatically.
“I dunno...” Scott shook his head. “Women can be weird about rings. I’d take her shopping. What if you pick out something she hates and then she’s stuck wearing it the rest of her life?”
Trent and Luke took a moment to consider his advice.
Luke put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “This is why he’s been my best friend since high school. He considers all the angles. Very observant. Better take her shopping. But to surprise her—you could put the empty box under the tree. Then tell her you’re taking her to the jeweler the next day.”
“Ah, good one,” Trent agreed. “So, Luke, what are you getting Sarah for Christmas?”
“I was thinking about some new drill bits,” Luke deadpanned.
“Right,” Scott said. “She’ll be thrilled.”
Luke broke into laughter. “Nah. I got her a sapphire bracelet. To match her eyes.” He smiled wistfully.
“Very romantic,” Scott replied.
Trent grabbed his box of shells. “So what are you giving Isabelle? Want to make that a double date to the jeweler’s?”
Scott’s mouth went dry. “Uh, we don’t exchange gifts.”
“You what?” Trent and Luke said in unison.
“Man, no wonder...” Luke didn’t finish his thought. He went over to his gear and fussed with his holster.
“Isabelle and I aren’t like that,” Scott began.
“You mean not romantic?” Trent asked.
“Uh, no. Not really.” Scott aimed at the target again, pretending interest in the exercise. He felt more like the bull’s-eye was drawn on the middle of his chest. “Isabelle and I are friends. You know?”
“Yeah?” Luke narrowed his eyes. “Is that because that’s how she wants it or how you want it?”
“It’s how it is.”
Trent unloaded his gun into the target, then turned to Scott. “I thought you told me you two were sweethearts in high school?”
“We were just kids then.” Scott turned away, avoiding Luke’s steely gaze. He knew exactly what his best friend was thinking.
Scott had returned to Indian Lake four years ago to take care of his mother, who had needed a new heart valve. He’d had to leave his job at the Chicago Tribune, but he’d sensed a layoff was around the corner anyway; journalists had been losing their jobs across the nation, and it was only getting worse.
He’d been in town a few months when he’d run into Isabelle at one of Mrs. Beabots’s Sunday dessert parties. Sarah Jensen had invited him, and since Sarah’s mother had recently died, Scott thought he was doing the friendly thing by attending. Sarah’s girlfriends were all there, including Isabelle.
In minutes they’d struck up a conversation. Scott had been surprised she didn’t seem to hate him for not staying in touch as he’d promised.
Isabelle had told him she was now the bookkeeper and sometimes-hostess at the Tall Pines Lodges of Indian Lake. He remembered the green-eyed girl who’d painted sea nymphs and faeries for a high school play he’d codirected. Isabelle had designed the backdrops: stunningly beautiful moonlit forests that pulled the viewer into
