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CHAPTER TWELVE

F orbes had scoured every inch of his father’s office and found exactly…nothing.

It was maddening.

Dad had to have left something about the smugglers he’d done business with. He’d kept meticulous records regarding every other aspect of his real estate enterprise. Surely, surely he’d recorded information about the people who ran a smuggling operation through his property.

The Network.

That was all Forbes knew. He had a fleeting memory of one of the murderers—the woman—using those words.

“The Network trusted you. You betrayed us.”

But who was The Network? What had they trusted Dad to do? Had Dad really betrayed them? He’d vehemently denied it. He’d begged them to believe him. He’d assured them that nobody in his family knew anything about it.

But they’d shot him. And Mom. And Rosie.

And Forbes had done nothing to protect them. He’d hidden like a coward.

He knew what his therapist would say. You were eight years old, Forbes. What could you have done?

Something. He could’ve done something.

He could have tried to get to a phone. He could have tried to protect his mom and his sister. If he had, maybe he’d have died with them. Probably. But he wouldn’t have had to live with this guilt and regret.

But Rosie had shoved him into the hiding place, and there he’d stayed.

Even now, so many years later, he could see his father’s body fall. See his lifeless eyes.

Forbes hadn’t seen his mother’s murder or his sister’s, but he had never forgotten the sound of the gunshots.

He’d stayed in his hiding spot, listening to shouts. He didn’t remember most of it, but one phrase had lingered.

Find it. We have to find it.

They hadn’t found it, whatever it was. Sirens had cut their search short. They’d escaped moments before the police swarmed the house.

Forbes stayed hidden, even then. Too terrorized to emerge from his hiding place.

It wasn’t until Grandmother came to the house the following day that he dared leave the little cubby hole in the family room. She’d coaxed him out, and then she’d taken him away.

Grandmother had protected him. The old woman was far braver than Forbes had ever been.

What had the killers been searching for? And where had Dad hidden it?

A flash of light had him turning toward the window.

Thunder cracked.

Though it was only eight o’clock, it looked dark enough to be midnight.

Another crack of lightning, and the power went out.

What in the world?

He stood in the center of the office and waited, sure it would come right back on. But it didn’t, and thanks to the thick cloud cover, it was even darker inside than out.

Had everyone in town lost power, or just him?

Had someone cut his electrical line?

He didn’t move. Just listened to the wind howl, the thunder rumble. No sounds of breaking glass or doors opening. No voices. No intruders.

His state-of-the-art alarm system was engaged. If anyone tried to get in, thanks to a backup battery, it would sound despite the lack of power. They should be safe.

Where was Brooklynn?

They’d eaten dinner—she’d broiled steaks, which had been delicious. He thought she’d gone back upstairs to resume cleaning.

Forbes pulled his handgun from a drawer in Dad’s desk, ensured the safety was engaged, and shoved it into his waistband, just in case. He owned a holster for it, but he didn’t think he was actually walking into a gunfight. Besides, the holster made him feel like some Old West train robber.

He moved into the long hallway, using his phone’s flashlight to keep from crashing into walls, and went up the hidden spiral staircase to the second floor.

He peeked into the family room. “Brooklynn?”

No answer. It was warmer in there, but that wouldn’t last without electricity. He closed the door to keep the heat in.

He headed away from his family’s bedrooms toward the north wing, where he’d told her she could clean. Nobody in his family had used those rooms. He raised his voice. “Brooklynn?”

“In here!” Her voice was faint over the storm.

He moved faster, but there were a dozen rooms on this end of the hall. “Where exactly?”

“Polo!” she called.

Like they were playing a game.

Silly woman.

He was thankful she couldn’t see the smile creeping across his face. He schooled it, just in case, but decided to play along. “Marco!”

“Polo.” She sounded closer.

He continued more slowly. “Marco?”

“Polo?” She replied with the same questioning tone, the sound coming from an unused sitting room. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, scanning with his phone’s flashlight. She’d turned on the heat, making it warmer than the chilly hallway.

She’d plopped down in the middle of the floor. This room had no windows, no natural light at all.

“Comfortable?”

“Oh, yeah.” She pushed to her feet. “Best seat in the house.” Was her voice shaky? Surely she wasn’t afraid of the dark.

“Does your phone not have a flashlight?”

“The battery died.” She brushed off her pants. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to borrow a charger, but…” Her voice trailed.

He guessed she was the kind of person who let her phone die regularly.

“Thanks for coming for me. Another rescue mission! You’re like one of those lifeguards on Baywatch .”

Like it was 1995.

She added, “Sans the Speedo, of course.”

What was he supposed to say to that? He came up with zero responses. “What were you doing in here?”

“Cleaning.”

He scanned the room again. His flashlight skimmed the bottle of Pledge and the rag but landed on a spiral notebook in the middle of the desk. “What’s that?”

“I found it. I thought you might want to see it.”

He crossed to the desk and flipped the top open. It was a ledger of some kind, filled with Father’s handwriting. Beside it were a couple of cassette tapes.

His heart thumped. How had she come across this? He’d searched this room already, and law enforcement had searched the entire house.

Which meant…

“Where?” He spun to face Brooklynn, accidentally flashing the light in her face.

She squinted and took a step back.

He lowered the beam. “Where did you find it?”

“Um…” Based on the wavering single word, she was nervous to tell him. “The desk drawer had a false bottom. Once I figured that out, it was just a matter of finding the way in.”

“How did you know?” He was tempted to flash the light in her face again, to judge her expression as she answered the question.

No need for her to feel like she was being interrogated, even if she was.

“It’s just that the house has some secrets, so I thought maybe there were more.” When he said nothing, she continued. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just… I was curious.”

“I specifically told you not to snoop.”

“I wasn’t snooping. I was?—”

“Cleaning? You were worried the secret compartment might be dusty?”

She shifted her feet but said nothing.

“Come on.” After grabbing the ledger and tapes, he marched to the door and down the hall to the family room, the whisper of her footsteps following. He pushed the door open and stepped aside so she could precede him.

When she passed, she didn’t look up. Was she embarrassed or frightened? Maybe a little of both?

He didn’t want to frighten her, but she needed to quit nosing around in his business.

Even if she had found something he’d missed.

Though this room had a wall of windows, they didn’t let in much light. The sun had set, and the moon was hidden behind clouds. Nothing but an occasional flash of lightning brightened the space.

“Sit.”

She froze halfway across to a chair. “I think you’ve mistaken me for the family dog.”

Nothing about Brooklynn said dog.

And anyway, dogs were obedient.

He blew out an audible sigh. “Would you please sit down so you don’t crash into something and break a bone or an antique lamp?”

“Why, thank you, kind rescuer.” He heard a smile in her voice as she settled on the sofa near the fireplace.

The woman was cheerful to a fault.

He checked his phone and confirmed that the power was off in most of Shadow Cove. Then, he scrolled the video feeds. His security system was working and all seemed…

Wait.

Was that…? It looked like someone was lurking outside the garage. Or maybe a fallen branch had blown in the heavy wind.

He didn’t want to worry Brooklynn, and if someone was out there, if they breached the building, the alarm would sound.

“Don’t move,” he told her. “Just…just stay there until I get back. If you hear anything unusual…” He crossed to the hiding space he hadn’t peeked into since that terrible night so many years ago. He swung the grate open.

He didn’t look inside. Never wanted to see in there again. “You can hide in here.”

“Ooh, another secret.”

“Just stay put.” His words were too gruff. When she said nothing, he added, “Please?”

“With no flashlight, where am I going to go?”

There was no telling with this woman. “I’ll close the door to keep the heat in. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, but Ford? Don’t be long.”

She sounded as nervous for him to leave her alone as he was. Sure, the alarm system would alert him if anyone came. But could he get back to her in time?

* * *

Forbes made his way down the steps to the basement and to the door that let out into the side yard, opposite the garage. Silently, he paused the alarm long enough to step outside, knowing it would re-engage in seconds.

He killed his flashlight and stowed his phone. The wind whipped, and rain stung his face.

Heart thumping, he pulled out his handgun.

That shadow on the video feed had probably been nothing. Even so, he proceeded cautiously.

He crept toward the back of the house. He couldn’t differentiate the sound of the surf from the heavy wind whipping through the trees.

On the far end of the house, he rounded the garage.

The side door was open just a crack.

Thanks to the storm, Forbes couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. He glanced through the window in the door.

Two flashlights were moving around near the vehicles.