And now? Now, he’d never pick her up again. Never hear her tease him about being late. Never…anything.

Red splotches drenched her clothing. Bobby’s blood. Harper couldn’t help releasing a guttural cry, a primal sound among the tall trees and rain. Painful and bleak.

An ominous flock of black crows suddenly scattered across the desolate sky. Their raucous calls of outrage mingled with the rolling thunder. She watched them disappear into the sinister black clouds.

The trees seemed to shroud and suffocate her. Shock turned to despair. She was truly alone.

A crack pierced the air, quickly followed by a fracturing split and a thump punching through her thick veil of anguish. Ducking next to the cab, she saw a bullet had shattered the pickup’s windshield and embedded itself into the seat only inches away from where she’d been. The cheap upholstery had a little round tear where stuffing spewed out.

She zeroed in on the area where she’d heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Thunder roared and lightning spidered across the sky, illuminating the dark rain-glazed trees. Squinting, she saw a sliver of metallic sheen.

Danger flooded her mind. She knew any sane person should be hightailing it out of there, but the impulse to run was beaten down by a ravaging anger that grabbed ahold of her gut, twisting and snaking a white-hot rage through her blood, savagely replacing the utter coldness in her core. Someone had shot her brother. Deliberately. She narrowed her eyes toward the trees where she’d seen the out-of-place glint.

Harper warily rose to gently rest Bobby’s body on the bench seat. She had started to back away when something dropped from his rigid hand and thudded to the squishy floor mat, just under the brake pedal.

A key. Attached to an otherwise bare key ring. In a daze, she picked it up to get a better look. No inscription. No markings whatsoever.