Page 25 of Capturing You

When the pounding intensified, he decided to leave her to decide.

The cop was still banging when Forbes reached the foyer.

He yanked open the door. None of the words on his tongue would diffuse this, so he said nothing.

The uniformed cop on the other side looked furious. Behind him, a dark blue police car idled in the circle drive. “What took you so long?”

“I didn’t hear you. You should knock louder next time.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows lowered. “Where is she?”

Forbes crossed his arms. “You’re looking for a woman? You should try Webb’s Harborside. I hear it’s hopping at happy hour.”

“I know she’s here.” The cop was a couple inches shorter than Forbes with tanned skin and dark hair. He straightened as if trying to make himself taller, bigger. “Her truck’s parked”—he tipped his head to the road—“right over there. So I know she’s here. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have to take you in.”

Forbes made a show of looking around. What he wanted to say—you and what army?—wouldn’t go over well. “On what charges? Minding my own business?”

“Refusing to obey a police officer.”

“Obey what order?”

“Tell me where she is.”

“I can’t conjure answers at your command.”

The guy’s skin reddened. He looked about one degree south of rage.

Forbes needed to dial it back. He could hear his grandmother’s voice.Use that big brain of yours for something besides filler for your skull.“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other guys, I haven’t?—”

“What other guys?” The cop’s unibrow lowered. “Someone else was here?”

Quick thinker, this one.

Forbes needed the police to be searching for the guys who were searching for Brooklynn. But he didn’t need them thinking she was here. A fine line.

“Two guys came by earlier, said they were looking for a brunette. Said she’d taken something of theirs.” He shrugged, leaning against the door jamb. “I told them I hadn’t seen her.”

If Forbes wasn’t mistaken, genuine concern filled the cop’s eyes as he glanced behind him toward the road.

The sun was high in the sky, a few puffy clouds overhead. The property, surrounded by forest and hedge, looked ill-treated. He’d hate to think what Mom would say if she saw her lawn like this. Grass replaced with weeds. Flowers dead. Bushes overgrown.

Of course, if Mom were still alive…

“Tell me about the men,” the cop said.

Forbes did, sharing their descriptions and the names they’d given him—though he doubted very much they were really called Niles and Bernie.

The cop took down the information in a small notebook he’d pulled from his breast pocket. Old-school for someone who didn’t look any older than Forbes’s thirty.

“And they were looking for Brookie?”

“Brookie?” He repeated the name. “What kind of name is?—?”

“What’s your name?”

“Ford Baker. What’s yours?”

“What are you doing here?”