Wounded (Wolfe & Vaughn Mysteries Book 3) by Samantha Simard

Author:Samantha Simard [Simard, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-23T04:00:00+00:00

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The drive north away from the city was the total opposite of the one from Wolfe’s place to Jake’s house in tone. He and Frankie stopped to pick up a picnic-friendly lunch at a sandwich place on the border with New Hampshire before continuing up I-95 into Maine. From there Frankie took Route 236 through a small town called Eliot, then crossed Route 101 into South Berwick. His face scrunched up as he looked for the turn to… wherever they were going. Maine wasn’t a state known for its signage, so even if he was here before it wasn’t an easy feat to find their destination again.

Jake had lost some of his tension the further they got from the city and now felt like being a smartass. “Wow, you sure know how to show a guy a good time—what’s next, tumbleweeds?”

“Bite me,” was Frankie’s mature response, jerking the wheel at the last possible second. “Oh, here it is.”

They went careening down a side road that eventually dumped them out at Vaughn Woods State Park. The Camaro came to a stop in the gravel parking lot, where there were plenty of other cars even though it was the middle of a weekday. Picnic tables dotted the grass along with a playground for kids. Groups of people were laughing and eating lunch together, ranging from giant families to couples. Kids chased each other around the sand pit and in circles at the base of a big pine tree. There were even some solo dog walkers and spandex-clad joggers.

The best part? Nobody paid them the slightest bit of attention when they got out of the car. Usually when Jake went… well, anywhere, at least one person would recognize him for his association with the Mass Art Murders. Or they saw his scars, and that was an entirely different scenario with a whole host of possible endings, none of them good. It was nice to walk to an empty table with Frankie and not have anyone look at him twice, even if he was wearing a trench coat and had a bruised face.

Lunch was delicious—there were few times when still-warm meatball subs with marinara sauce and provolone cheese were anything less—and afterward Frankie led Jake through the forest. They followed a winding path with a gentle downslope, crossing the occasional pine-board bridge or set of steps. Frankie didn’t have his camera but they both had their phones, so he took pictures for Instagram while Jake snapped some as reference for future paintings. The fall foliage was in full swing this far north, so there were a plethora of reds and oranges from which to take inspiration.

They were close to the Piscataqua River in one of its few peaceful spots. It looked nice, but not as nice as Frankie did—and where had that thought come from? The last thing Jake needed was to start thinking shit like that about his best friend, even if objectively it was true. Still, he made sure to sneak a few pictures of Frankie bathed in dappled sunlight when he wasn’t looking.

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