Hot Blooded Read Free Page B

she hadn’t asked—how he died. Iona hadn’t thought she wanted to know.
    The sound of a motor broke the peace of the forest. Iona was instantly on guard when she walked back to the front of the house. Her steps slowed, and then halted when she saw the tow truck come to a stop with her father’s 1972 Range Rover hooked to the back.
    The door to the truck opened and a balding, heavyset man with graying hair and a bushy beard got out. He flashed her a smile. “I was told to return the vehicle now that the authorities are done inspecting it.”
    â€œInspecting it?” she repeated.
    He looked up from his clipboard. “Aye. That’s usually the case when an overturned vehicle is found.”
    â€œOverturned vehicle?” Iona couldn’t stop repeating his words. She knew she sounded like an idiot, but that was before she discovered how her father died.
    The driver raised his gaze to her and slowly lowered the clipboard. “Forgive me, lass. I thought you knew.”
    â€œI just arrived.” She swallowed, hoping he didn’t hear the catch in her voice. “Please tell me.”
    He hesitated as if he were trying to think of a way to get out of explaining. Finally, he pursed his lips for a moment and then said, “John’s Rover was found on its side about two miles from town the day before yesterday.”
    Two miles? That meant he was coming off the mountain. There were no guardrails, just boulders and more mountain, if someone went off the side.
    â€œI’m sorry to say, lass, that John was found deceased.”
    Iona blinked and nodded. “Did you know my fa … John?”
    â€œI did. I considered him a friend. He would hate to know that you’d finally come home now that he’s gone.”
    She couldn’t stand the censor in his dark gaze, nor did she care that her father had a friend. “Was John drunk?”
    â€œNay,” the old man said, affronted. “He came into town three times a week for dinner and then went to the pub for a dram with me and a few other lads.”
    It seemed odd to find out such little things about her father’s life now that he was gone. She grew uncomfortable standing there talking about her father.
    The driver must have sensed her unease because he went back to writing on the clipboard. A few seconds later, he tore off a portion of the paper and handed it to her along with the keys. “It’ll take me just a moment to unhitch the vehicle.”
    Iona didn’t move from her spot while the Range Rover was freed from the constraints, nor did she move until the truck was out of sight. Only then did she let her shoulders sag. Now that she knew her father died so unexpectedly and harshly, she felt bad for thinking so callously of him just moments before.
    With the trees blocking most of the light, the shadows began to lengthen, urging Iona to get her things and go inside the house.
    The key was on the fob with the others of her father’s. She let herself in, and then closed and locked the door behind her. Paying little attention to the house, Iona walked to the first door on the right and came to a sudden stop.
    Her old room was just as it had been the night she left. Nothing had been moved, though everything had been recently dusted. Even the red plaid comforter was still draped across the bed.
    Iona dropped her bags next to the bed. It was like walking back in time, except she couldn’t pick up her life at eight. She was twenty-eight.
    She spent the rest of the evening going from room to room looking through everything. Her father’s office, next door to his room, was a complete mess. Just as she recalled from her childhood. There were papers stacked everywhere. His computer was on, the cursor blinking in the middle of the page where he had stopped writing.
    When she next looked up at the clock, it was well past midnight. Iona shuffled to her bed and fell upon it, still fully