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“I mean…” she hesitated, lowering her voice even further, “What if this has to do with the diner? Or Aunt Annie directly?”

Neither man spoke for a moment.

“That’s not off the table.” Bennett said. “Which means we double the cameras—here and next door.”

“What about my aunt?” she asked, alarm squeezing her chest. “I don’t think she should be alone, but I also know she wouldn’t let me come back and stay with her now. Taking over the renovation project is more important to her than common sense.”

Kind of ran in the family.

“Don’t worry. We’ll put a shadow on Annie,” Bennett stated, his gaze reassuring. “She’ll be fine. No one will get to her.”

“Yeah. Not with our shadow people.” Matthew grinned.

Although she wanted to ask what they meant, their confidence went a long way to easing the tightness from her chest. “Okay. Thank you.”

“And I’ll talk to Carter,” Matthew added, already pulling out his phone. “He can check whatever feed is on this camera and add more of them here.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering if she should mention her conversation with Duke or if she was just being paranoid.

“Spit it out,” Bennett said. “Something’s bugging you. Trust your gut.”

She glanced at him and sighed, not bothering to dissect how he knew that, knew her. “I-I’m not sure if this is anything, but I had a weird conversation with Aunt Annie’s old realtor this morning,” she said, before retelling the rest.

“Duke Carver. Got it. I’ll check into him,” Matthew said, phone already to his ear as he left the breakroom.

Laurel rubbed her arms in an attempt to dispel the chill creeping under her skin.

Bennett noticed. “You good?”

No. Not by a long shot.

“Yeah.” She nodded, unwilling to admit otherwise. “Just ready to be done with whoever’s playing these games.”

His gaze held hers for a few warm beats. “So are we.”

Chapter Ten

Evening settled over Harland with a thick haze that clung to the salt air, warm and heavy. Inside Laurel’s apartment, the soft hum of conversation and muted clinks of tools were the only sounds breaking the quiet. Bennett stood near the freshly installed kitchen island, arms crossed, and instead of watching the security feed Carter was adjusting on a tablet, his attention was on Laurel chatting animatedly with Brandi near the sink. From the corner of his eye, he noted everything that had changed in just a day.

The place looked different. Lived in.

A new refrigerator, dishwasher, microwave, and stove gleamed in their new spaces, along with an impressive coffee maker on the counter near the sink. Three stools lined the island, an oak dining table sat in front of a tall window by the kitchen, and all the damaged drywall had been patched. In the corner of the living area, a gray wing back chair had been positioned beside a standing lamp. There was even a rug now—one of those woven ones that looked like it belonged in a catalog, softening the sharp edges of construction.

The bedroom down the hall had a bed with clean linens and a nightstand with a lamp someone had already plugged in, he’d noted earlier.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Brandi’s crew moved like a unit on a mission. While she and her team tackled the interiors, another crew worked to frame and wire the other apartments. Carter said plumbing was nearly finished on one side. They were pushing hard to meet Annie’s mid-summer target.

But all Bennett could think was it was too much progress too fast, exactly the type of thing that pissed off the wrong kind of person.

Like whoever had been trying to sabotage this place from day one.

His gaze returned to Laurel. She was rinsing a mug and laughing softly at something Brandi said. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower, hanging in loose waves over her shoulders. She wore black leggings and a faded diner T-shirt. Nothing flashy. Nothing special. But somehow, it still knocked the wind out of him.

Laurel looked like a woman making a home in spite of the chaos.

He hated how much he noticed that now.

She caught Bennett’s eye, and for one brief second, the coil of tension lodged between his shoulders all day unspooled. She looked good like this—relaxed, warm, lit by soft kitchen light.