The Echo on the Water (Sacred Trinity #2) Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sacred Trinity Series by J.A. Huss
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Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
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When we get to her house, I tell her and Cross to wait outside while I go in and check things. Inside, I pull my sidearm and check the first floor, then go upstairs and check there too.

The puzzle is propped up against Rosie’s pillow. A crossword, just like she said.

After checking the bathroom and closet, I go back outside and wave Rosie and Cross inside.

“What’s goin’ on?” Cross asks.

Rosie would probably like me to lie to him, but I’m not gonna. “There was a break-in, Cross, and your mom called me so I could check it out. So I did. And the house is safe now.”

“A break-in?” Cross’s eyes go wide as he looks to his mother. “What the fuck?”

“Cross! Mind your mouth!”

“A break-in?” he says again, ignoring Rosie’s admonishment and looking up at me instead. “Who the hell in their right mind would break into a house in Disciple, West Virginia?”

His innocence is adorable. But he’s only half wrong because the answer to his question is—a stranger. That’s who would break into this house. A stranger. Someone not from here.

And then a wave of déjà vu hits me and I’m in high school again, the day after Collin shot that man in his house who was trying to kidnap his baby sister.

Collin was one of those good kids, as are most Disciple boys, except for me, of course. But something hit me sideways that morning. Deep, too. Because it was a realization that I didn’t know Collin Creed. We had grown up together, played sports together when I was very young and into that. He was never in the children’s choir, of course, because he was always on stage, behind his daddy. But I was in the choir until I was eleven, so I was on stage too, and we were friendly.

Collin was never small, or passive, or weak, but he was never aggressive either. Even on the football field, everything about how he caught that ball was about job performance and had nothing to do with ego.

And that morning, when I found out he had killed a would-be kidnapper, everything I knew about Collin Creed reset to zero.

I am thinking about all this because Cross’s attitude about this intruder has me rethinking my opinions about him as well. If he was home and someone came in, threatening him or his mother, and he had the chance to get a shotgun—or a rifle, as it was in Collin’s case—he’d take that shot too. I know he would.

“Pack a bag, Cross.” I say this the way I would say anything to Collin, or Ryan, or Nash. “You’ve got five minutes.”

He wants to say more. He wants to demand answers from me. But he recognizes this tone of voice and instead presses his lips together and gives me a small nod, then retreats to his bedroom.

“You too, Rosie. Go pack something.”

“For how long, Amon?”

I smile at her. “A long weekend.”

“Should I bring my Revival costumes then?”

“Sure. Bring ’em.”

She nods as well, then disappears upstairs while I walk out onto the front porch and stare across the street, listening to the river down below in the valley.

Someone came in this house.

Someone was in her bedroom.

And it wasn’t Erol Cross, so who the hell is stalking my woman?

I think about that the whole way back to the compound. Cross wants to listen to the radio, and there’s a station that runs out of Revenant that plays oldies—which, for reasons unknown to me, seems to be all the rage around here at the moment—so we listen to that instead of trying to have a conversation. It’s useless to pretend that this is anything but what it actually is, so we don’t even bother trying.

It’s dark by the time I pull into the compound, but nights out here don’t end with the sunset. The dining hall is lit up bright as I pass and there are dozens of men wandering about. Some have fires going in the various pits, some are sitting on the church steps, just talking, and some sitting at picnic tables, cleaning their weapons.

My eyes track up to the rear-view mirror and I catch Cross practically pressing his nose to the window, trying to take it all in.

I park in front of my house and spy Lowyn and Collin sitting on their porch steps, talking.

Lowyn gets up first when she realizes who’s getting out of my truck. “Rosie!” she says. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Well…” Rosie looks to me, wondering what to say.

I look at Collin. “Someone broke into Rosie’s house earlier today.”

“What?” He looks at Rosie, then Cross, then back at Rosie. “Are you all right?”

She nods. “I’m fine. We weren’t home at the time. I just…” She looks at Lowyn. “Someone’s been sending me weird letters. With puzzles inside.”

“What?” Cross says. Because of course he hasn’t heard about this yet.



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