Find Me Series (Book 4): Where Hope is Lost Read online

  Where Hope is Lost

  Find Me Series, Book 4

  Trish Marie Dawson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  About the Author

  Also by Trish Marie Dawson

  Also by Trish Marie Dawson

  Also by Trish Marie Dawson

  Where Hope is Lost

  Copyright © 2017 by Trish Marie Dawson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For all those who have found love and lost it: keep looking.

  Chapter One

  RILEY

  A fresh layer of sharp ice stabbed at my skin, forming crystals around my eyes, encrusting my lashes into jagged chunks and making it impossible to blink. But the snow beneath my head was soft. Inviting. With a swipe, I brushed the harsh weather off my face and shifted, allowing my sore body to settle deeper into the drift, like a young seed in a pod. Above, the starry sky had turned ombre, leaving the dead of midnight in the past and bringing a colorful blend of pressed violets and tea rose to the new day.

  “What are you doing?”

  The snow squeaked around my shoulders as I moved just enough to see the upside-down version of Jin’s silhouette standing behind me at the tree line. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It looks like you’re a few minutes’ shy of freezing to death,” he answered.

  I didn’t reply, just let the snow penetrate through the many layers of clothes protecting my body from the bleakness of winter, and the bruised skin beneath, until my muscles began to go numb.

  “Is that a yes?” he pressed.

  “Not really. More like an intentional attempt to avoid the inevitable,” I said with a long sigh.

  “The inevitable?” His feet crunched closer, pausing at my side so I had no choice other than to see him.

  A snowflake the size of a quarter landed on the end of my nose and I blew it off with a loud gust of air. “We won’t survive the winter,” I grumbled. The displaced flake floated back down onto my left eyebrow. “Damn.”

  “Well,” he said, squatting by my side. “If we fix the pipes, we’ll have hot water again. Heat. The job will be easier to do with two sets of hands, instead of one.”

  “I’m useless with pipes. You know this.”

  “So, you would rather speed up your death than learn something new?”

  “I am learning something new, Jin,” I argued. “I’m learning right now that this little bed in the snow is the perfect ice-pack.”

  He shook his head with disapproval but didn’t argue.

  After a crack pierced the quiet of the woods, inside the trees a startled pair of birds took to flight. My elbows groaned in noisy protest as I pushed myself upright, scanning the landscape for intruders. “What was that?”

  The top of Jin’s faux fur-lined boots peeked out from under the faded denim of his damp jeans as his squat turned into a kneel. He pivoted, pointing to his right where a cluster of trees dropped white dust from their overloaded limbs in clumps.

  “Frozen branch must have fallen.”

  A pain in my ankle flared with heat as I crawled rather ungraciously into a stand, swallowing enough cold air to crystallize my lungs. “Right. A frozen branch. Sure. Let’s go back inside.”

  Jin, who stood with zero urgency, laughed softly. “It takes the trees to get you indoors?”

  “Not the trees,” I corrected. “Just what’s hiding inside them.”

  “There’s no need to pace the floor like that. No one’s out there.”

  I did stop, but only long enough to glare over my shoulder at Jin as he transferred a full pot of simmering water from the fireplace to the kitchen sink. Steam curled up the kitchen window, leaving it wet with streaks.

  After rolling my eyes at his back, I returned my attention to the window, where something most definitely did wait. I could sense it. Though remaining hidden, something was watching as I searched through the trees. Every inch of my skin tingled with warning.

  “And if you’re wrong?” I mumbled against the frozen glass.

  Jin grunted a wordless reply. Typical. He didn’t talk much. And when he did, it was with a purpose. The soft smell of crushed pine and lavender began to fill the treehouse, and my muscles relaxed. Standing at the window was suddenly an exhausting task. With a limp, and care to avoid the creaky floorboard that was getting louder with each step, I wandered across the room and sat heavily on the sofa. Jin worked quietly in the kitchen, dumping various plants and herbs into the steaming water and stirring the concoction until it was almost cool enough to touch.

  “The bathwater’s ready,” he declared over his shoulder.

  “You go first,” I answered, glancing between the windows, wondering who or what waited outside in the snow.

  Without argument, he grunted again while lifting the heavy pot and carried it around the partition door between the living space and small kitchen, where I heard him dump the water into the tiny clawfoot bathtub. It was the fourth or fifth such pot poured into the tub. Not enough water to drown in, but enough to warm the hands and feet and pretend the world outside wasn’t one giant ice cube.

  After returning the pot to the kitchen, he set it in the sink. “The water will get cold soon. Go,” he urged.

  “Fine.”

  The lavender scent in the air tricked my mind into thinking it was bedtime, but it was barely early afternoon. That didn’t stop me from falling asleep almost twice while nearly folded in half inside the soaking tub. I opted to leave my hair pinned up to keep it dry, and when the water had lost most of its heat, I splashed my face and climbed out, wrapping myself in a terry robe, eager for a comfortable spot in front of the fireplace.

  “Your turn.”

  Jin nodded, and shuffled by me into the bathroom with another steaming pot of water carefully carried in his hands. The door stayed shut for half an hour. I wasn’t the only one intoxicated by the relaxing aroma in the air, and the warmth that came from bathing. When he emerged, his hair was wet and plastered around his face, and his eyes drooped lower than usual. He dropped his dirty clothes outside of the curtain, then returned to the sink to shave, oblivious that I stood in the kitchen watching him.

  “Why do you bother?”

  Jin stood in a relaxed pose, leaning over the small sink with his hand hovering an inch from his face, gripping a razor.

  “I feel decent. Plus, it's hard to eat with an unruly beard.”

  “I wouldn't know.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  He set the razor down, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. “It’s familiar and calming. And a
process that regularly cleanses and lightens my being.”

  “Literally?” I smiled.

  “More than words can say.”

  “So, you enjoy the ritual?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then perhaps you’ve become its slave.”

  “I’m going to bed,” he grumbled, climbing the short ladder that led to the loft. He’d offered the space to me more times than I could count, but had stopped asking after I insisted I was quite happy in the papasan chair. It was closer to the bathroom, I’d told him. Plus, the exit, which I didn’t mention.

  “Knock yourself out. I’ll be doing the same.”

  Jin didn't shave for several days after that conversation. Not until the tiny hairs around his mouth began to get wet when he drank his tea, did he pick up that razor again. We are each a slave to something.

  When I woke the next morning the day had turned, dialing forward into the early hours of the night. Shadows danced around the room from the flickering fire which left the air smoky, though not overwhelming. But one shadow stood motionless in the far corner. Cursing myself for napping in only a robe, I stumbled around the mantel for a poker and jumped when the shadow spoke, revealing Jin’s calm voice.

  “You were right,” he admitted, not turning away from the window to look at me. “We are not alone.”

  I dressed so quickly that the fact I was without underwear went unnoticed, as did my thermal shirt being inside out and backwards. The only light in the room came from the fire, dying slowly and noisily from inattention, so by the time I reached Jin’s side, shoving my arms into my coat with a curse, I was surprised to find him wearing the same outfit he’d gone to bed in. A quick glance down confirmed that he didn’t have his boots on either.

  “So…” I pressed. “Who’s out there?”

  He shrugged, keeping his gaze calmly fixed on the ground, several stories below us. “I don’t know.”

  “But you saw someone?” The zipper caught on my shirt, and while attempting to free it, I inadvertently created a hole in the worn material right between my breasts the size of a large bullet hole. “Fucking perfect,” I muttered.

  “What?” He glanced at me with a frown.

  “Nothing.”

  “I didn’t see anyone,” he said, after turning his attention back on the coming night.

  My hands dropped to my sides. “Then why’d you say we aren’t alone?”

  “Because we aren’t.”

  “Care to explain, or is this a spidey-sense thing?”

  He could have smiled, or it could have just been a nervous twitch along the side of his cheek, but I saw the subtle movement before he tried to wipe it away. Before he lowered his hand, he pointed out the window.

  “It’s too quiet,” he elaborated. “Too still.”

  “Yeah, it’s winter.”

  “It’s quiet even for winter,” he stated, with another point out the window. “The branches have been empty since this morning.”

  Peering down below us, there was no sign of movement, no sign of disturbance. But the achy feeling of being watched was still turning my stomach sour.

  “What do you mean, the branches are empty?”

  He sighed as if annoyed. “The birds have come to the edge of the trees to watch us every day, except for today. I haven’t seen them. I don’t hear them. Something is down there.”

  “Okay, maybe. Or…maybe the birds got bored and moved on. It’s not like we’ve been very entertaining.”

  “You’re arguing for the sake of it. Don’t.”

  “Fine. So, what? We arm up and go poking around in the snow till we find whatever, or whoever, is out there?”

  He shook his head. “No, of course not.”

  It was my turn to sigh with annoyance. “Then what’s the plan?”

  Jin smiled briefly at me before walking from the window to the front door. He latched the lock and returned to me, pulling the coat off my arms and hanging it on the wall hook next to his. Then he pulled a chair closer to the window and propped his socked feet up on the sill.

  “We’ll wait.”

  I felt the sensation of Jin’s eyes landing on my back as I pulled a second wooden chair over to the opposite side of the window and folded my legs beneath me. “Okay. Let’s wait then.”

  DRAKE

  The scab on his arm wouldn’t stop itching. It was one of the few lasting mementos from Connor’s crash in the mountains while they searched for her almost a month ago. He stared out the window at the growing drifts, picking at his irritated skin through his flannel shirt, wondering where in the hell she was. Was she safe, inside somewhere nearby with heat and food? Or was she dead, being buried beneath the last few weeks of snow that crept closer and closer to their little hideaway in the valley? He didn’t know. He couldn’t feel her. It was as if she was gone completely from his life, lost among a million other souls. He hated himself a little more each day. He hated himself for being alive. For being indoors with food and water. He hated everything and everyone, except for the dog. He could never hate the dog.

  Zoey’s wounds were far from recovered. The exposed skin across her chest had become a bright pink scar, jaggedly running from one shoulder down to the opposite ribcage like a lightning bolt. The fur had started to regrow, and fortunately, there was no sign of infection. But something inside the dog wasn’t right. It was a struggle to get her to eat and drink, even harder to make her rest, and every noise in the house and sound outside made her jumpy. Drake didn’t know what to tell her. He’d already sat her down and said, ‘Look, Riley’s gone missing, girl. We don’t know where she is, but we’ll find her, don’t worry’. It was a one-way conversation; he spoke, the dog blinked. The words meant nothing to Zoey. Even if they did, none of them could explain what had happened, because they didn’t know themselves.

  Drake rubbed behind Zoey’s ear, being careful around her healing chest when he shifted her weight on his legs. The two of them stayed at the window until the rising sun woke up another member of their fractured group. Minutes later, the air began to fill with the aroma of freshly brewed dark coffee. When it became stronger, Drake turned in time to see the hall door open and Ashlyn poke her head into the room.

  “It’s cold in here,” she complained with a tight smile.

  “Is it?” he grumbled.

  “May I?” Ignoring his abrasive attitude, she leaned into the doorway and raised her hands, of which each held a steaming mug.

  With a shrug, he stroked the lonely dog and returned his attention to the window, where the falling snow showed little sign of ending any time soon. He listened as Ashlyn moved around the furniture and set the mugs down on the table near his feet.

  The common room was long, with windows lining both sides, and a handful of sofas and coffee tables and miscellaneous entertainment equipment that was useless to them now: televisions on the walls, DVD and CD players, and stereo surround sound. One corner of the room had been rebuilt their first week at the lodge, with salvaged wood and some of the interior doors to repair the damage made by the last group of survivors. They had moved the bodies outside when they arrived, burned them to be safe, but their bloodstains and bodily fluids had left stains on the lodge carpeting. The story of what happened to their refuge before their demise died with them. Drake had imagined nearly a dozen possible scenarios. He pictured the small band of people hiding in what they thought was a secure location, invaded by an aggressive outside source that wanted their supplies, or worse, their people. Or maybe it was a saboteur from within, someone who couldn’t take the new world and snapped, killing everyone unfortunate enough to be standing nearby. But the story didn’t matter, regardless of what happened. The lodge had been left damaged, but mostly intact. And empty of breathing souls. It was the perfect temporary spot for Drake and his group. But then the snow came, and temporary became more like sheltering in place.

  “Have you slept?” Ashlyn asked.

  He didn’t turn to look at her, but shrugged again. �
��I sleep when I need it.”

  “And what, you never need it?”

  When he glared over his shoulder, he found her closer to his seat than expected, sipping from one of the mugs. She leaned against the wall, just two feet next to the oversized chair he lounged on. Drake didn’t like her this close, where he could smell the sweet and unidentifiable hint of her perfume. He didn’t like any of them in his space. To say it made him uncomfortable was an understatement.

  She noticed him glance down at her hands and lifted the cup. “It’s black. No cream, no sugar, but it’s hot.”

  “We have sugar,” he said.

  “Connor said not to use it for the coffee. To save it for the food.” She took another sip and stared over his head out the window.

  “For what food, the refried beans or canned carrots? Did he become a pastry baker overnight?” Drake shifted and carefully placed Zoey on the ground where she carefully stretched before padding across the room to drink from her water bowl.

  Ashlyn smiled, and it did more than upset his nerves like her close proximity did, it made his skin crawl. There was nothing about their days that was worth smiling over. Not until they found Riley.

  “You know,” she said. “He’s told me he likes to cook. But I don’t think he considers coffee a major food group that needs to take from a limited supply of an essential item.”

  “Is that so?” He almost smiled back from pure astonishment. Instead, he stood and snatched the second mug off the table and left the room.

  Ashlyn trailed behind him, silent but knowing. When he reached the kitchen, she was hot on his heels. “Drake, wait…” she started.

  “Don’t bother,” he laughed. “If I want sugar in my damn coffee, and we have four sacks of it in the damn cupboard, I’m going to dump as much of it into my damn cup as I want. If Connor has a panic attack over sugar, he can suck my fat one.”

  Ashlyn’s face paled, her mouth fell open and Drake watched her spin around to leave the room, bumping into another set of shoulders along the way.