“You think the person who broke into my house—”
“It’s a lot of land. I just want to be sure.”
Her lips pressed together as she thought for a moment, and then she said, “I searched the area, went in all the sheds and the two cabins, about a month ago. I didn’t see anything then.” Her lips pulled down. “That was my third search. I thought that maybe Cale was in one of those places.”
Maybe he is now. Because Jasper sure thought the man was back in town.
“Let’s look again,” he murmured. “Sometimes you just need a fresh pair of eyes.” Or a trained gaze that was used to seeing what most people missed.
Like the faint signs left by another hunter’s presence.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
He nodded toward the truck. “Let’s tell the sheriff where we’re heading. If we hurry, we can beat the storm.” And catch anyone who might be lingering around, waiting for another moment to strike.
Not on my watch.
* * *
THERE WASN’T EXACTLY a road that led over the ranch’s property. Not a real road, anyway. Dirt and some gravel. If you tried hard, you could almost follow a trail.
Sometimes.
The truck bounced along the path, heaving over the terrain. Veronica tried to shove all the dark images out of her head—not images about her slashed items, but images of Reed Montgomery. His last minutes.
What did her clothes matter compared to what he’d suffered?
“You okay?”
Her head snapped up at Jasper’s drawl. “F-fine.”
“You seemed to be about a million miles away.”
Not nearly that far. Last Chance wasn’t nearly that far away. She swallowed. There was a question she wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure how he would react. “Jasper...” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
His profile was strong, hard, his attention seemingly all on the area before the truck. His gaze swept over the land, going from left to right, then back again, every few moments.
“What’s it like to kill a man?” she asked him.
His stare flew to her. “What?”
There hadn’t been an easy way to ask the question. “You’ve killed. I know it.” Just like her brother. “Reed—the man who killed him... I was wondering...”
“Killing in combat is damn well not the same thing as killing in cold blood.”
No. “But it’s still taking a life.”
He growled.
“Does it leave a scar inside?” She couldn’t stop herself. “Or do you not feel it at all?” Cale hadn’t seemed to feel anything after his missions. Or if he had, he sure hadn’t told her about any weakness.
“You asking if it’s easy to kill and walk away?”
No. Maybe. She just—
“It’s not easy. It’s never easy. When you’re on a mission, you do what has to be done to protect your unit. You take a life to save lives. And you don’t just forget it the instant the body hits the sand.”
The sand?
“You don’t forget the memories. You remember the smells and the colors and the sights of the land around you. You remember your enemy’s scent. The way he looked when he fell. The way the blood felt on your hands if you were close.” His words were fast and hard, hitting like bullets in the car. “If you kill from a distance, it’s not better. You hear the sounds of the shots. The last cry a target makes... You don’t forget. Those images can haunt your dreams.”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “A soldier isn’t a sociopath. He’s no serial killer. He does his job. He protects his country and his team. The serials out there, the killers who walk the streets...I don’t know what the hell they think or feel. I’m not even sure they do feel.”
His answer wasn’t what she’d expected. Not necessarily what she’d hoped to hear. She knew why Cale had left the army. Knew about the psych evaluation gone wrong.
What category does Cale belong to...soldier?
Sociopath?
She’d hoped that by listening to Jasper, a man who’d been through so many of the same experiences that had marked her brother, she’d—
What? Veronica rubbed her forehead. That she’d understand the killer better? Understand Cale?
Understand the dark and dangerous man beside her?
Sighing, Veronica said, “I didn’t ask to upset you.”
“Why did you ask?”
“To understand you.”
“Is understanding me that important to you?”
“Yes.” Simple.
Silence then.
She waited, not speaking again, just listening to the roll of thunder. The storm was coming closer. Leaning forward, Veronica stared up through the windshield. The sky looked almost black. “I’m not sure how much longer this storm’s gonna hold off.”
Not long enough for them to get back to the main house, that was for sure. And trying to drive over this faint path in a strong storm... A shiver slid over her. After her recent attack on the road, she sure wasn’t eager for another crash.
“How much longer until we reach the cabin?” Jasper asked her.
“About five minutes. Maybe ten. Keep going straight, turn right when you see the stream.” Her hands were flat against the dashboard. She pushed herself back, feeling the seat belt pull over her shoulder.
“I’m not your brother.”
Veronica was so shocked by his words that she almost forgot the impending storm. “I never thought you were.” If she had, then she sure wouldn’t have made out with him.
“The things I do...what I feel...that’s me.”
Uh, okay.
“I grew up in the system, too. Became an army ranger just like him, so maybe you think that somehow makes—”
“The system?” She cut across his words, straightening. “You mean the foster-care system?”
A quick nod.
“I didn’t know that. Cale never told me.”
“Not really much to tell. Thousands of kids hit the system every year.” A shrug. “I was one of them.” His gaze was searching the area before them once more.
“Did your parents die, too?” She could understand his loss. The pain he’d felt when they’d died.
“They didn’t die. They just didn’t want me.”
Instinctively, she shook her head. “No, I’m sure that’s not—”
“My dad split when he found out my mom was pregnant. My mother kept me for a couple of years, just long enough to realize that she didn’t want to be stuck with a kid. Then she dumped me in the waiting room of a local hospital.”