Himself.
* * * * *
Morning came too early after a sleepless night. Before Mac knew it, she was staring out the window of her father’s old pickup as it wound its way along Hood Canal on Highway 101. Her father didn’t seem to be much for talking, thank God. He cranked the Mariners game and grunted a few times, but that was it. Good thing, because between tossing and turning all night and thinking of Bruiser, she couldn’t muster enough brain power to carry on the most rudimentary of conversations.
He’d kissed her. Mac brought a finger up to her lips and touched them.
She felt his lips as if they were still pressing against hers, demanding she return the passion. And she had—big-time—for a brief moment that lasted both a lifetime and not nearly long enough.
Mac blew out a breath and stared at the sparkling blue waters of Hood Canal. She needed to concentrate on yet another day of searching, not fret about Bruiser and his momentary lapse. The guy flirted at random with any woman still drawing a breath and most likely kissed every woman with the same reckless abandon. Not that she’d been breathing. One look in those stormy eyes, one flashback of him naked in that barn, and she’d lost the ability to breathe, to think, to function.
How the heck would she survive with that man crowding her thoughts every day and night? While he, oblivious, worked out in full view of her hungry eyes, wearing little more than a pair of shorts, sweat dripping off his pecs and drizzling down that trail of blond hair that ran under his waistband.
Oh, lord. She bit back a moan and chomped down on her knuckles.
This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. She had more serious concerns than her juvenile crush on a guy who was the male equivalent of a slut. Not that she minded man-sluts. They did have their uses, but she hadn’t been with a guy for pure recreation since her college days. She almost smiled at the thought. Frat boys and pretty-boy running backs probably had a lot in common in and out of the sack.
“I feel good about this lead.”
Mac jumped, so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed her father had flipped off the radio. “Uh, yeah, Dad. Me too.”
Liar.
Her father swore every lead would be the one. She couldn’t decide if he earned points for being positive or being in denial. She turned in the seat to face him and banished Bruiser from her mind. Well, she at least pushed him out of the way a little.
“We’ll find the clue we need this time. I can feel it.” Dad had felt every one of those clues.
Mac wanted to talk about something else. Like the future, her plans, her hopes, her dreams. Her dad used to listen to her and encourage her. She missed that.
“Dad, I may not have as much time to devote to the search.” She gathered her resolve and plunged onward. “I’m going to try for the team scholarship. I want to finish my degree in horticulture.” She’d dropped out of college when Will disappeared. “I only have a few years left, and the scholarship includes an internship with the team.”
Instead of being happy for her, Craig’s mouth turned down in a scowl. “How are you going to work full-time, go to school, and help me find Will?”
Mac sighed, knowing this had been coming. “Dad, I really need to do this and do it now. Working for the Steelheads is my dream job. The current horticulturist retires in the next few years. I need to get my degree, need to prove my worth because I want that job.”
Her father didn’t look one damn bit convinced. “So you’re planning to abandon your brother?”
“Dad, it’s not like that. I can’t live the rest of my life in limbo. We may never find out what happened to Will. Besides, I’m not abandoning you. I’ll still help out. I’m as committed to seeing this through as you are.”
Craig ground his jaws together and stared straight ahead. “I know the answer is right around the corner, just out of reach, if we could only get that least piece of the puzzle.” With those words, her father was off and running. He forgot about Mac in his obsessive quest for the truth. Starting with the day Will disappeared, Craig went through everything they knew, step by step, detail by detail, even though Mac had heard it all a hundred times before. Hell, she’d dissected every aspect of Will’s disappearance herself.
As her father ticked off the facts, he sucked her into that all-too-familiar vortex. Her mind fixated on solving the puzzle. They discussed each tip, turning it every which way, hoping to find that one clue that’d so far eluded them. They were like crackheads needing their next fix. As soon as Mac tried to break free and get a life, some new information would surface and drag both of them back down.
Two facts they both agreed on: Will was dead, and his widow knew what had happened to him. Mac knew it. Her father knew it. And so did the investigators. They had no body, no evidence, but plenty of motive. At least Mac and her dad thought it was motive—a business missing large sums of money, a wife who happened to be the bookkeeper, and an affair with Will’s best friend. The entire sordid mess had guilty written all over it.
Craig pulled off the pavement onto a seldom-traveled dirt logging road. The truck bounced along as Mac’s stomach clenched with apprehension. She knew this road, and she hated this place. Firs and hemlocks crowded both sides of the truck, blocking out the sky and what little light there happened to be on this dreary day. A branch scraped the side of the door, making an eerie screech.
No one could hear a person scream in a remote place like this.
“Dad, why are
