Page 77 of Capturing You

He slowed a little so she could catch up.

“Remember I told you about my friend Lois?”

“Whitmore, widow of Arthur? She’s your mentor and used to manage Arthur’s gallery.”

“Good memory.” She didn’t hate that he’d listened so closely.

In that respect, he was much better than Lenny. Not that she should be comparing Ford to her ex-boyfriend. “She was the victim of a home invasion last night.”

He looked in Brooklynn’s direction, brows lowered. “She all right?”

“Yeah. The intruders demanded to know where I was.”

That brought a scowl.

“When the power came back on, they took off.”

He started walking again, more slowly. “Why would they leave because of the power? Did she recognize them?” He paused to let Brooklynn precede him down the center staircase. “Or did she have some way to contact the police once the lights were on?”

“I assumed they were afraid she’d recognize them, but she said they wore masks.”

“Then how could she? Did she recognize voices?”

“I think she was pretty traumatized. Maybe she’ll remember something today she didn’t think of last night.”

“Does she know a lot of people in town?”

“Mostly older people. Now that she’s retired, she doesn’t interact with the public much. She doesn’t have kids of her own, and Arthur’s don’t live nearby. She’s in her sixties, so I’d say she knows people she grew up with, but aside from me and my sisters, I doubt she knows a lot of younger people.”

“Why do you assume the people who terrorized her were young?”

“Oh.” Brooklynn considered the question, then shrugged. “I guess I just don’t see any sixty-something men invading a home. Even if one were behind it, wouldn’t they hire someone? The people who followed me sounded younger.”

“But they were here,” he said. “What time was it?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Whoever it was, they were aware of her connection to you.”

That had Brooklynn stopping in place.

She hadn’t thought of that. Not that it was a secret that she and Lois were friends, but it wasn’t public information. Meaning, whoever had broken into her house knew enough about Lois—or Brooklynn—to understand their relationship.

Which meant the intruders, and the people who’d followed her, weren’t strangers or outsiders. They were locals. Or at least someone they worked with was.

Ford watched her processing but didn’t say anything.

Brooklynn swallowed a fresh wave of fear—along with a healthy dose of sadness that someone she knew was behind this.

But who?

She continued toward the kitchen, picking up a scent she couldn’t place that, under normal circumstances, would have had her mouth watering. As it was, she felt a little sick.

And claustrophobic.

She needed out of this house. Out of this situation.

“Your friend called the police?” Ford asked.