Page 18 of Still Missing You

I shrug on my navy pea coat and wrap the matching crocheted scarf around my throat. A faint frown clouds Hunter’s features as if he’s trying to work something out, but whatever it is, he doesn’t ask. Instead, he opens the door to our room.

In the hall, I lock the door behind us with the heavy iron key before slipping it into my pocket next to my phone. Hunter and I make our way down the stairs and find a middle-aged man behind the reception desk. Nancy Ellis’s husband, Jim, I assume.

Hunter’s gaze lands on the man, and his entire demeanor changes. His stiff demeanor melts, replaced by a warm, engaging smile. Jealousy twinges in my chest, ridiculous as it is, because part of me longs for Hunter to look at me with the same warmth, even though it’s fake.

“You must be Mr. Ellis,” Hunter says, holding out his hand to shake. “We met your wife earlier.”

“Jim, please,” the man says, his own affable smile brightening his lined face. He’s much older than his wife; his hair white, his shoulders stooped, and his once-muscular frame sagging with age. His eyes are blue, not the same deep sapphire as Hunter’s, but dull and faded, almost gray.

“Nancy told me you boys checked in. With us for the next five days, is that right?”

Hunter nods. “A short getaway.”

I sidle up to Hunter and fold his hand in mine. He stiffens beside me, and I try not to grin. His fake smile doesn’t falter, though I know it’s just for show.

“We’ve been really looking forward to this trip,” I tell Jim. “Hunter’s schedule is impossible. I’m Dylan, by the way.”

“What is it you do?” Jim asks, turning his attention back to Hunter, and I realize my mistake instantly. We haven’t come up with any kind of backstory, a plan, something beyond boyfriends on a romantic trip.

I can admit to running a café. There was nothing threatening about that, but the whole point of putting on this act is to avoid telling anyone that Hunter was a private investigator.

“We run a café,” I tell the man before Hunter can respond. He tilts his head to the side, a bemused look on his face.

“In Fieldstone,” I add.

“That’s not far from here,” Jim says, frowning.

“It’s not,” Hunter agrees, turning his attention back to Jim. “But, if we’re honest, this isn’t just an extended long weekend for us. We’re also looking for someone.”

Jim’s smile dims, like a flashlight with dying batteries. “Is that so? Someone here in Coldwater?”

“We think so,” Hunter says. “Dylan’s cousin. His name is Matthew Fraiser. We think he stayed here a few months back.”

Fair’s fair, I saddled us with running the café together, and now he’s made Matthew my cousin. We really should have planned this out better.

“Of course, I remember Matthew,” Jim says warmly. “He stayed with us for a short time months ago. I should have realized you were related. You look alike.”

Jim’s attention jumps to me, and a strange prickle crawls up the back of my spine, and I shift closer to Hunter before I can stop myself.

The front door opens, drawing away Jim’s gaze. Nancy enters and her eyes widen a little when she sees us all standing together. She slowly shrugs out of her coat. “Is everything all right in here?”

“Oh, yes,” Jim says, taking his wife’s coat and hanging it on the rack behind the desk. “Just getting to know our guests. Dylan here is Matthew’s cousin. You remember Matthew?”

Jim shoots his wife a meaningful look, and she nods, joining her husband behind the desk. When she meets my gaze, her smile looks too tight and stiff to be natural. “He stayed with us for just a short while. A lovely young man. Did he recommend us?”

“Not exactly,” Hunter replies, flashing another disarming smile. “We haven’t heard from him in a while, and we know this is the last place he stayed. We just want to make sure he’s all right.”

“Oh, no.” Nancy presses her hand to her chest. “When did you speak to him last?”

“A little more than a week ago.” Hunter’s smile turns less affable than it had been moments ago. His eyes sharpen.

“Well, he didn’t stay with us long, and I haven’t seen him in Coldwater in weeks.”

“Did you see him after he stopped staying here?” I ask.

She nods. “I did. He only stayed here until he got the job at the general store downtown. Then he moved in with that Lyle Kirkland.”

Her nose wrinkles, giving away exactly what she thinks of Lyle Kirkland.