Best Friend's Sister by Banks R.R

Author:Banks, R.R. [Banks, R.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

Felicity

I slept most of the hour-long drive into the forest where Knox said he keeps a cabin. The long day combined, with the trauma of the evening, left me feeling wrung out and exhausted. The detective – Reid, I think his name is – took our statements and collected the evidence.

We gave him the name of the man responsible, and he told us he’d bring him in and lean on him. He said that, hopefully, they’ll turn up a fingerprint or something connecting him to the break-in and to hope for the best. But he said if they don’t, and without any actual proof he did it, they’d be hard-pressed to hold him for long.

So, we’re left here hoping for the best.

Knox pulls to a stop in front of a rustic-looking log cabin, and I groan. I’m not looking forward to spending God knows how long out here in the middle of the sticks. I don’t even know if he’s got an internet connection out here.

The door opens and Knox is standing there smiling at me. “Home, sweet home.”

I hand him Agatha’s carrier. “Please tell me there’s running water here.”

“There’s an outhouse out back and if you want to bathe, I can fetch you some water from the lake,” he replies.

I groan again and slide out of his SUV. “Why can’t we stay at a hotel?”

“We need to keep you off the grid for a bit,” he explains. “And this place is about as off the grid as we’re going to get.”

I look around at the soaring trees that surround us, the tops of them nearly high enough to touch the sky. Moonlight shimmers off the lake behind the cabin. Though it’s a beautiful sight, it only reinforces the middle of nowhere feeling for me.

We walk up the three wooden steps to the porch and Knox unlocks the door for us. He pushes it inward and lets me step inside first. He carries my things in, and when he turns on the light, I realize that I’ve been caught judging a book by its cover – the outside of the cabin doesn’t come close to matching the inside.

“Wow. I guess you could say the curtains don’t match the drapes,” I quip.

Knox laughs. “Well played, madame. There’s an immature adolescent inside of you after all.”

“Never said there wasn’t,” I tell him.

“I was kidding about the outhouse, by the way,” he laughs, setting my things on the table.

“Yeah, I kind of got that impression.”

The interior of the cabin is gorgeously decorated in polished wood and dark colored fabrics. And while it does have a certain rustic charm, it’s purely an affect, since the place is filled with every modern convenience and gadget you could ever dream of.

“There’s a loft,” he mentions, pointing to a set of stairs. “You and the ball of fuzz can sleep up there.”

“Her name is Agatha,” I correct him.

“A thousand apologies,” he teases. “You and Agatha can sleep up there.”

“What about you?” I ask, then point to a hallway.

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