He thought back through what he knew of the man. Always competitive at school, Burton had never excelled purely for the pleasure of it—no, he’d excelled because he felt he had to be the best, the fastest, the brightest. If another student’s marks beat his in one exam, it hadn’t been long before that student began to slide back in his work, or—even more sinisterly—was found with a copy of an exam paper, or alcohol, or even worse things, in his locker.
It wasn’t that Rogers wasn’t a clever man—he most definitely was, which made him all the more powerful an adversary. But there was a clinical air about him. As if he was detached from the world he lived in, choosing to lord it above everyone, and carefully selecting the things and people he wanted in his realm. And he’d chosen Shanal.
It was easy to see why. Intelligent, good at her work and incredibly beautiful into the bargain, she would have appeared to him like a prized exotic flower to be collected by an avid botanist. Raif had no doubt that Burton had bided his time before approaching Shanal. That was part of his modus operandi. He liked to stalk for a while, to savor his victory before pouncing.
It was how Burton had seduced Laurel away from Raif, striking when she was at a low moment. A month before the canyoneering trip, they’d argued, after Raif had once again avoided discussing the future of their relationship. The weekend they’d broken up, he’d used that dreadful adage, the one that usually struck fear into the heart of any person in a long-term relationship—he had told her that he “just needed a bit of space.” So she’d given it to him.
Raif had loved Laurel, but not in the way he now knew he loved Shanal—and maybe, deep down, she’d sensed that, too. Maybe she’d known, on some level, that his dedication to her hadn’t been as deep as hers for him. He’d certainly enjoyed their relationship, had even believed they were on the same page when it came to their time together—and, yes, maybe in time his feelings would have deepened and they would have married. But it hadn’t happened fast enough for Laurel, and she had begun to ask for more from their relationship. Things including a commitment he hadn’t been prepared, at that stage, to give to her or to anyone.
Either way, Raif still blamed himself for her death that awful day. He should have known she’d continue with the expedition without him. And if he’d been there for her as he should have been, Raif knew she wouldn’t have died. He might have a reputation as a bit of a daredevil, but he never underestimated danger and always double-checked—no, triple-checked—everything when it came to equipment and environment in the pursuit of adventure sports.
Remembering Laurel made Raif wonder again if there should have been more to the reports that had been submitted to the coroner after her death. Was it possible that some vital information had been withheld? There were only two survivors from that day. One was Burton, the other was the guide. Raif picked up his phone and punched in the number for the investigator who had been assigned to him. After a brief conversation, directing the man to explore deeper into the circumstances of Laurel’s death, and to talk directly with the guide who’d been with them that day, he hung up his phone.
Could the guide be the key? The man had sworn he’d checked the ropes and carabiner that had connected them. He had no reason to lie about that, or did he?
It was Friday evening when Raif got a call from the private investigator. He’d tracked down the guide, who’d said he would speak only to Raif. The investigator gave him the details of where to meet the man.
Raif fired a quick text message off to Shanal: Trust me!
It took him a while to find the address the investigator had given him, but Raif was persistent, eventually spotting the overgrown driveway on the hill road. He parked his car and walked toward the house. The front door opened as he approached. He recognized the guide immediately; Raif and Laurel had used him several times before her fatal expedition.
“Noah, good to see you,” Raif said, stepping forward and offering his hand.
“Good to see you, too,” the other man replied.
But he didn’t meet his eyes as they shook hands ,and Raif had to admit to some shock at Noah’s appearance. Was he sick? Always lean, the guy was almost skeletal in appearance now. And even though Noah was a good five years younger than Raif, right now he looked at least ten or fifteen years older.
Raif followed him inside and sat down in the living room. There was a layer of dust on every surface, and although the room held quality furnishings, an air of neglect hung over everything.