He gave her a grin.

“Gianna?”

She forced her eyes open in the vehicle, abruptly aware of a heavy warmth across her lap, and her hand automatically stroked the dog’s fur. Chris had turned around in the front passenger seat and was looking in her direction. She couldn’t make out his eyes in the dark.

“We’re almost to your house.”

Looking out the window, she recognized the street adjacent to her own. Some minor slush had accumulated along the roadsides, but the streets and yards were clear. It’d been dark when they left the ranger station. Michael had slowly followed the Oregon State Police detectives past the scene of the pileup. They’d all gaped at the burned and smashed vehicles. The emergency vehicles were gone and two county patrol cars had stayed to turn around any drivers who tried to continue along the highway. A lone tow truck had been pulling a crumpled car up onto its truck bed with a winch.

Once they’d passed the accident, the roads had improved. Gianna remembered how heavy her eyelids had felt and how she’d closed them just for a minute.

Or so she’d thought.

She awakened Violet.

“Can you get in without your things?” Michael asked.

Gianna finally felt the loss of her purse. Up in the forest, it hadn’t seemed important, but now she was back in the real world. “There’s a keypad to open the garage.”

He stopped at the curb and relief flowed over Gianna at the sight of her home. She’d owned it for only a few months, but she adored the house and the new beginning it symbolized for her and Violet. The outside lights were on and transmitted a sense of peace. Violet opened her door and started to slide out, no doubt thinking of her bed and good Wi-Fi.

“Wait,” stated Chris.

Gianna stopped, her hand on her door handle.

“Does the window next to the front entrance always look like that?” he asked. Michael bent over slightly to look past Chris at her home.

“Violet, get back in the truck,” Michael ordered.

The girl silently obeyed.

Gianna slid across the seats, pressing up against Violet, trying to see out her side of the vehicle to the window in question.

A spiderweb of cracks glistened in the glass, catching the light from her outdoor lamps and highlighting a large jagged hole.

“Oh, shit.” Gianna’s brain wouldn’t accept it.

“Someone broke the window,” said Violet. “Mom, why would they do that?” She started to softly cry.

Gianna pulled the girl close, her heart breaking for her daughter, who’d had one shock after another in the last two days. She squinted at the hole in the window; it was right at the height of the front door handle and lock. Clearly they hadn’t simply broken a window. Someone had gotten into her home.

Chris called the police.

Why is this happening to us?

“Can anything else go wrong?” Gianna muttered.

“Is this normal for you?” asked Michael quietly. Because of the streetlights and the dark in the vehicle, he was simply a silhouette in the front seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Gianna.

“Some people attract drama.” He shrugged. “It’s like they have a magnetic force that constantly brings bad luck into their lives.” He turned toward her, and she could faintly make out his eyes.

He knows.

“The last two days have been horrible,” Gianna stated. She closed her mouth. Chris had told her his brother was an investigative reporter, and she knew how to deal with reporters. Rule number one was to not speak to them. Every few years one would call her out of the blue, wanting to update the story of her life. She always refused and threatened to call her lawyer if they pestered her again. She’d had more phone numbers in her life than a call center. Once she received one of those nosy calls, she got a new number.

Violet opened her mouth to speak, and Gianna squeezed her arm.

Quiet.

She closed it.

“These have been bad days for you,” said Michael. “Someone tried to burn down a cabin with you two in it. Someone left a dead body in your place—almost as if they were trying to pin his death on you. Someone took a shot at you. Now it looks like someone broke into your place. I’d be very concerned.”

“I’m sick over what’s happened. This is the last thing I need. And no, this isn’t normal in our lives.” She tightened her grip on Violet’s shoulders, her anger growing at the man who was simply stating the obvious.

“Someone will be here in a few minutes,” said Chris. He turned to look at Gianna. “Don’t take Michael’s questions personally, but he does have a point and it’s related to the same one I’ve asked a few times. Why would someone target you?” He pointed at her home. “This isn’t a damned coincidence. They knew you were up on that mountain and they knew where you live. What’s going on?”

She stared back at him, the truth of his words slamming into her brain. Violet shuddered under her arm.

“Mom?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she whispered.

After a thorough search, the two Portland police officers declared no one was in her home. Gianna knew most break-ins didn’t warrant more than the filing of a report. Crime scene investigators didn’t rush over to take fingerprints and trace evidence. But once the officers realized the break-in could be tied to two murders, they agreed to call an investigator and refused Gianna entrance to the home.