Trembling, anxious, I stared at the bed, then glanced back at Roy, nervous.
He sighed, gesturing to it. “It’s not much but—”
“It’s beautiful,” was all that managed to tumble out of my stupid mouth.
A cottage.
I’d been so anxious, following him to some unknown, secluded location, and at night.
It was probably a terrible decision.
Mari was dead—somebody had obviously killed her and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure who and here I was, mindlessly following a stranger out into the woods at night.
Insane.
But . . . there was something inside of me, a tug almost, to keep following him.
To trust him.
I don’t know how or why, but I felt I could trust Roy.
The cottage was tiny, like one room tiny, but it was lit with twinkle lights hung across
