showed up. Apparently, Buzz had gotten away from her. She was in her wheelchair and had attempted to take him out to the show. She offered me some money for my trouble. I told her I couldn’t accept anything. She ended up coming over to my booth and purchasing a painting instead. She talked to me a little about my work, and genuinely seemed to like it.”
“How did that lead to a job?”
Sarah put her fork down. “At that point, she knew my name and even my number—I’d given her my business card. She called me two months later and offered me a job as Buzz’s caretaker, as well as part-time personal assistant. She said the job would still allow me time to work on my art. It was like an answer to prayer.”
“It sounds like it.”
“It wasn’t always easy. Not at all. Loretta wasn’t the easiest to get along with. But I really respected the work she was doing in the medical community, and it was an honor to work for her. She was a medical researcher, and she developed a drug to help people with arthritis.”
“That’s great, Sarah.”
She picked up her fork again but looked uncertain. “I know this sounds weird, but could we turn on the TV? I want to see if they’re reporting Loretta’s death yet and what they’re saying about it if they are.”
“Of course.”
Colton flipped on the morning news. Breaking news aired over the station.
All the blood drained from Colton’s face when Sarah’s picture appeared on the screen. The headline proclaimed that Sarah Peterson, twenty-seven, was wanted for the murder of famed medical researcher Loretta Blanchard. The news anchor continued, saying that there was now a manhunt to find Sarah and warning viewers that she could be dangerous.
Sarah exchanged a look with Colton.
This was much, much worse than he’d imagined it would be.
Because not only was a killer potentially looking for Sarah, but so were the police.
“The police think I killed Loretta,” Sarah murmured, her head spinning. “Why would they think that? I would never hurt anyone.”
“Someone could have seen you run from the scene,” Colton told her. “It would be a natural assumption.”
She put her fork down, her thoughts clashing inside her until her head pounded. “You’re right. Of course I look guilty. I was the last person seen with her. Her blood was on my sweater.”
Colton squeezed her arm. “Don’t panic yet. We could talk to the police, explain what happened—”
“I told you, no police. I can’t risk it.” Especially now that Sarah knew they thought she was guilty.
“The police aren’t your enemy, Sarah.” Colton’s voice was quiet and calm—but also full of conviction.
“I didn’t say they were. But Loretta had reasons for everything. There was a reason she said that. She…she was one of the smartest women I’ve ever met.”
Colton frowned, looking as if he was trying to find the right words. “Not coming forward will only make you look more guilty.”
Sarah shrugged, knowing his words were true but unable to verbally agree with him. “I just don’t know what to say or do.”
Colton opened his mouth, like he was about to say more. Before he could, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned again before answering.
Sarah tried to interpret the one-sided conversation but couldn’t. She only knew something was wrong. Colton’s voice sounded stiff, and he glanced at the window.
He ended the call and stood. “You and Buzz need to go to the back bedroom. Now. Lock the doors, and don’t come out until I tell you.”
Alarm raced through her. “Why? What’s going on?”
“My neighbor saw someone coming up the lane toward the house.” Colton walked toward the window.
“And that’s strange?”
Colton looked back, locking gazes with her. “There are only two places they could be going—his house or mine, and neither of us are expecting anyone.”
Sarah’s heart rate surged. It was the killer, wasn’t it? Or the police. Either way, her future looked bleak enough that nausea rose in her so quickly that she grasped her stomach.
“You need to go. Now.” Colton pulled out the gun from his waistband, his jaw set with steely determination.
Sarah didn’t argue. She scrambled away, hardly able to breathe.
But as she locked the door, Buzz beside her, she pressed her ear there, trying to hear what was going on.
It was silent as Colton waited, seeming to prepare himself for battle.
“Buzz, what’s going on?” She reached down and wrapped her arms around the dog, relishing his soft fur.
The dog let out a whine and licked her cheek. Buzz knew something was wrong also.
Sarah waited, praying for safety and favor. But the moments felt like hours.
Flashbacks from earlier hit her, each one making her flinch. Images of seeing that man in Loretta’s room. Watching as Loretta took her last breath.
Sarah remembered running. Fearing the man was following her. Fearing what he would do if he caught Sarah too.
Now Colton was in danger.
She stood and pressed herself into the wall, resisting the urge to look out the window and see what was going on.
She didn’t have to.
She heard tires crunching on gravel in the distance.
Someone was here.
Sarah braced herself for whatever would happen next.
Colton rushed to the window, reaching for the gun at his waistband. Who would be coming here at this time of the day?
No one—unless it was an emergency or unless it was trouble.
His breath caught when no vehicles emerged at the end of the lane.
Someone had started this way and stopped.
Colton’s instincts were finely tuned from years of law enforcement—finely tuned enough not to believe in coincidences, especially given the circumstances right now.
No. Someone had scoped out this place. Seen his cabin. And then returned.
That person was most likely the one who’d sent Sarah that threatening text.
He
