[Ambys 2022: Mystery/Thriller Winner]
Discovering a dead body just minutes from her cottage in the trees is the last thing Dray Dinley expects upon moving to the remote town of Hero.
Being convinced by the town outcast and suspected murderer, Wells...
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A soft smile, a lingering touch, and a snuggle deeper into the covers wove together into the best morning Dray had had in a while—at least until she remembered why.
She yawned and rolled over onto her stomach, shoving her face into the pillow. She blindly reached for her phone on the night stand, barely turned her head, and held the phone just an inch from her nose.
A surprise text snapped her from the sleepy fog. She pressed to her forearms. A message from Mikki about Porter filled the screen. Dray's confusion about that relationship drifted at the worried words of the redhead. Even the suspicion of how she got her number faded.
She gulped at the truth about Porter. Dray's lack of trust plummeted each time she interacted with Mikki, but she felt inclined to tell her something.
Without revealing details, she settled on a simple message that Porter got involved in a bad, dangerous situation. She stared at her screen after pushing send until it went black and then a few minutes later. No response.
Pots and pans clanged out her room, drawing Dray's attention from the phone laying in a swirl of sheets. She quietly got out of bed and changed into a fresh set of clothes. She slipped the phone into her pocket on the way out.
Lucy clanked some more dishes together while making breakfast.
"Need some help?" Dray smiled.
She turned and revealed a hefty pan of scrambled eggs on the stove. "Sure do!" She pointed to a bowl of fruit on the island. "You can cut that up. It's all rinsed."
"Aye, aye," Dray said and washed her hands. She grabbed a small knife from a drawer in the island and got to work.
As soon as Dray cut the first strawberry, it was as if the sisters transported back in time to when they were young, to the Sundays they spent in the kitchen while their parents watched football. Little prods and pokes accompanied teasing jokes between their hands prepping food.
Before they knew it, the men stumbled in. Sleepy eyes, messy clothes, and knotted hair lined the opposite side of the kitchen.
"Aren't you guys a sight for sore eyes," Lucy tilted her head, "sort of."
An unattractive snort and probably a little spit tumbled out of Dray. She covered her mouth waiting for reactions that never came.
The women shared a casual shrug and started putting full plates of food on the counter. The guys dug in and Lucy hopped up to sit on the counter with her own breakfast, leaving Dray to eat standing.
After the silence of everyone stuffing their faces, Nash wiped his mouth with a napkin and crushed it in his fist. "We should figure stuff out." He met everyone's eyes. "Cliff contacted Sheriff Heron. He's open to our idea, saying he needed to protect his family." He looked pointedly at the youngest Dinley.
