Page 12 of Solid as Steele
Owen closed the door and crossed the room toward them.
Mackenzie lifted a glass pitcher with honey-colored liquid and clinking ice cubes. “Can I get you some iced tea?”
“That would be nice.” He smiled. “Dinner smells great.”
“I made a beef roast with carrots and potatoes. I know Ryan likes it, and it’s an old favorite with my dad and grandad.”
Ryan’s stomach growled.
Mackenzie looked at him and rolled her eyes.
“What? I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.” He laughed. “I don’t get over to my mom and dad’s place often enough for my stomach’s liking.”
“You need to find a woman who can cook then.” Mackenzie poured the tea and set the glass on the island in front of Owen.
Ryan frowned.
She peered at the guy. “Right. Still pining over the one who got away.”
“Would that be you?” Owen asked and instantly hated that he needed to know the answer.
Her gaze flashed to him. “Me? Hah. No. Mia. Ryan’s high school sweetheart.”
“Enough.” Ryan turned his attention to a backpack sitting on the stool next to him. He took out a laminated map and slid items out of the way to lay it on the island. “A map of this property. Can you show me the direction you arrived from?”
Owen moved closer and looked at the terrain and lay of the buildings on the land. He ran his finger from the front porch that faced west in a straight line through barren land. “I started out at dusk and walked most of the night, but my injuries made me rest often. Not sure about the distance. Once I spotted the cabin’s lights, I aimed toward it.”
Ryan pressed his lips into a thin line. “And that’s it? That’s all you can give me to go on?”
“Yeah, except for there being a ten-foot butte and rock with blood on it where I started.” Owen held Ryan’s challenging gaze.
“No idea how you got there?” Ryan didn’t back down.
“None.”
“That’s freaky.”
“Tell me about it.”
Ryan folded the map. “I’d hoped we could drive at least part of the way, but with not knowing your direction, I’ll need to be on foot to track your movements. And hope what I locate areyourmovements and not someone else’s.”
“I haven’t seen anyone else on the property.” Mackenzie set the pitcher on the island. “But someone could be out on the far reaches of the land, and I wouldn’t know it. Owen showing up proved that.”
Ryan looked at her. “You get the police involved yet?”
“No,” she said.
“My fault.” Owen picked up his tea. “I’m hoping when I go back out, something will jog my memory, and we won’t need the police.”
“Not notifying the police at all is not an option,” Mackenzie said. “Someone hurt you. The massive bruises you sustained prove that, and we need to make them pay.”
“Yeah,” he said, but depending on the situation, Owen might not involve law enforcement.
A timer sounded from the stove.
Mackenzie turned to silence it. “Dinner’s ready. Head to the table, and I’ll serve.”
Owen stood. “Can I do anything to help?”
