and jackets, a
couple with raincoats. This was not a place or a time for formality. He almost smiled but didn’t when
he thought of how Nate would have laughed if they had dressed formally and in black.
His chest tightened when he let himself acknowledge that one of those standing on the ridge
had to be Belle.
According to Jensen, the BPD had attempted to find Salcido, but individuals who knew the man
hadn’t seen him for days. Finding Salcido’s blood and evidence of his possible disappearance had
changed the game. Because of the man’s ties to the cartel, DHS had taken over the case. DHS
would still work closely with the BPD until potential ties to the cartel were confirmed.
Because of all of the questions in the air, the DHS had arranged to keep Nate’s body. The
autopsy showed nothing beyond Nate dying of asphyxiation; however, the police wouldn’t release
the body until the DHS was positive no foul play had been involved. Dylan’s gut told him that holding
onto Nate’s body had been the right thing to do, even though it meant the funeral itself would be
delayed.
DHS agents were currently tearing apart Nate’s house, combing through it for clues to a
suspected murder. If Dylan’s own suspicions were correct, they’d be looking for proof of two murders
that would suggest Nate had not committed suicide. If it weren’t for Nate’s memorial, Dylan would
be at Nate’s house now conducting his own investigation.
Dylan would have bet anything that Nate hadn’t taken his own life. Dylan thought once again of
the strange note Nate had scribbled to him but hadn’t mailed. Maybe he hadn’t had time to mail the
postcard and had stuck it in the book at the last minute to hide it. But why would he need to hide it?
When Dylan reached the group, everyone faced him. Christie was the closest, so his gaze met
24
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hers first. Her eyes were red, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her freckles bright against her
pale skin, her long red hair drenched.
“Hi, Dylan.” Her voice trembled as she went to him and slid her arms around his waist.
He hugged her, then went to each of the remaining friends in the broken circle.
Tom’s expression was sorrowful as he gave Dylan a quick hug. “Good to see you.”
Marta’s throat worked when Dylan moved to her. “I’m sorry it’s for something like this,” she said
before she hugged him.
Leon gave Dylan a quick hug and a slap on the back before releasing him. “We should be getting
together now with Nate, not at his damned memorial.”
Dylan stepped back and his gaze final y met Belle’s, and it was like a punch to his gut. She was
older now and had grown into a mature beauty. Her expression was stricken, her wide violet eyes
showing the depth of her grief. She’d pul ed her dark hair away from her face and her pale skin
glistened in the rain. The urge to hold her, to comfort her was strong, but it felt awkward, like he had
no idea what to do.
She held a small bouquet of daisies, which trembled, telling him she was shaking. “Hi, Dylan.”
Her voice was as low and sweet as it had been on the phone, just as he remembered it being when
they were young.
“Hi, Belle.” It was all he could think to say in return as he went to her.
She lowered her hands to her sides, holding the daisy stems in one fist. When he brought her
into his arms and hugged her, she hugged him in return. A knife of pain cut through his heart. Her
scent was so familiar, the feel of her body natural against his. She sobbed close to his ear and he
gave her a tight squeeze before releasing her.
It took a moment before he could tear his gaze from hers. He moved aside to look at the ridge
in front of them. For a long time they were all quiet, the rain pattering on the wet earth and making
plopping sounds when they hit puddles that had formed on the ridge.
“We should each say something.” He turned his gaze on Christie, who was now across from
him.
She cleared