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CHAPTER TWENTY

A fter Tuesday’s storm and Wednesday’s cool, crisp air, Thursday morning brought summer temperatures. It was already in the seventies—both the temperature and the humidity—when Forbes and Brooklynn left the estate.

A few minutes after they hit the state highway, Forbes noticed the tail.

Ten minutes later, the black Chevy sedan was still there.

It stayed a few cars back, and under any other circumstances, he’d think nothing about it. But he’d seen that car before, parked in his driveway when Bryce Dawson and the so-called Niles had demanded to search his house.

How long had they been staking out his property? Or had they attached some sort of tracker to his truck? Was that what they’d been doing in the garage the other night, not trying to get into the house but finding a way to track him?

Were their cohorts sneaking onto his property right now?

His cell phone hadn’t pinged an alarm.

“Can I come out now?” Brooklynn was tucked in the narrow space between the passenger seat and the backseat bench.

A glance behind told him she was sitting up and watching him over the console.

“Stay low. We’re being followed.”

He couldn’t see her reaction and managed to stifle the urge to look.

“Are you gonna try to…lose them?”

Lose them . Like he was about to start a high-speed chase.

He checked the speedometer—five miles over the speed limit. He didn’t want the thugs following them to know he’d spotted them. “Don’t worry. If they follow me all the way to Marie’s, I’ll take care of it. You’ll be safe.”

“Okay.”

No hesitation in her voice, no worry. No questions. Just okay.

She trusted him.

Her confidence in his ability to protect her felt better than it should. And worried him.

What if he failed?

All he’d wanted for years, decades, was to find the people who’d murdered his family. Until now, he’d have sacrificed almost anything to get justice for his parents and sister.

But he wouldn’t sacrifice Brooklynn. He hated that she was in danger. If it came down to choosing between justice for the dead or protection for the living, he’d choose Brooklynn.

It would be excruciating to give up on justice, but losing her would kill him.

Simple as that.

The night before, he’d managed to get absorbed in the comedy, enjoying the laughter, the silly jokes, the escape from his worries.

Until he’d realized Brooklynn had somehow ended up close enough that their arms touched.

He’d blame her for scooting closer, but he’d somehow drifted her direction.

Once he noticed the warmth of her, the feeling of her tucked against his side, it’d taken every ounce of self-control not to wrap her in his arms and kiss her.

Until this was over, he couldn’t allow any distractions.

He probably could’ve safely left her at the house, but he wanted Grandmother to meet her so she’d understand Forbes’s desire to tell her the truth.

He couldn’t share who he really was without getting Grandmother’s okay, not after the promises he’d made. Not after the sacrifices Gran had made for him.

But he couldn’t lie to Brooklynn anymore.

Maybe she’d hate him when she learned the truth, but if he fessed up, if he explained, then…maybe not. They could still be friends. Someday, if he ever found the murderers, they could be more than friends.

Forbes could have a real family, a real life, out of hiding.

It felt…impossible. The person he was now, his talents and faults. His personality. His fears and dreams. They’d all been shaped by that one terrible night.

Who would he be when he finally exposed the murderers and their crimes?

He wanted to know. He desperately wanted to move past the murders.

Brooklynn had barged into his life and his house and his thoughts.

Considering he could count the number of hours he’d known her, his feelings for her should scare him. But something about this whole thing seemed almost God-ordained.

Not that he believed God cared about him. But if He did, if Forbes could redeem himself in his own eyes and in God’s…

Maybe there was hope.

He exited the highway, and the Chevy followed.

Forbes snaked along the streets of Portland, hoping to lose them. No luck.

“Are they still back there?” she asked.

“Don’t worry.” He turned into the driveway that led to the retirement home and stopped at a guard gate, rolling down his window. In front of him, the spike strip was up.

They took security seriously at this retirement community, which was why Grandmother had chosen it.

The guard recognized him. “Morning, Mr. Baker.”

“Hey, Russ.” Forbes handed over his ID. “Listen, someone’s been following me. They’re in a black Chevy sedan.”

The man’s gray eyebrows lowered.

“You know how important Mrs. Ballentine’s security is,” Forbes added.

“Gotcha.” He peered behind Forbes, likely seeing Brooklynn, but he didn’t say anything as he spoke into a walkie-talkie. Then he opened the gate. “Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll take care of it.”

Forbes waited for the spike strip to lower before continuing past the guard and onto the manicured grounds. The road wound between tall trees, past flowerbeds and walking trails to the main entrance.

After parking, he opened the back door for Brooklynn. She’d dressed in navy yoga pants and a gray T-shirt two sizes too large, which she’d knotted at her trim waist. Her hair was tucked up into a baseball cap he’d found in Dad's closet.

The drab clothes and old hat did nothing to hide her beauty.

She reached back for her backpack and hiked it over her shoulder. She hadn’t wanted to leave her camera at the house, just in case the thugs broke in.

“Keep your head down.” He guided her toward the front doors. “I don’t want your face on the cameras.”

“I remember.” She glanced around, and he followed her gaze.

This place dripped wealth and beauty like rainwater.

It was a perfect summer day—and only the second time Brooklynn had been outside since she’d been chased by smugglers, yet there was no joy in her voice when she added, “Are you sure it’s safe? ”

“The guard will stop them from coming in. They’re very good at what they do.”

She rubbed her lips together. The fear didn’t leave her eyes.

Not that he wanted her to be nervous, but it was good that she was. She needed to keep her guard up.

In the foyer, he greeted Cheri, the receptionist, pulling out his ID.

She swiped it in the scanner, giving Brooklynn a quick once-over. Cheri was usually cheerful, but her expression dimmed.

“This is Betty.” Forbes indicated Brooklynn. “She doesn’t have her license on her.”

Brooklynn smiled her million-dollar smile. “I lost my wallet.” She rolled her eyes. “I need to get one of those wallet-cases for my phone.”

Cheri’s lips pursed. She glanced at Forbes. “You know the procedures.”

“I do. She’s my sister, and Mrs. Ballentine is looking forward to seeing her. I was hoping you could make an exception.”

Just like that, Cheri’s smile was back. “I understand.” To Brooklynn, she said, “Just stay with your brother.”

“Will do.”

“Please send Dr. Shelley to Mrs. Ballentine’s room,” he said. “I’d like to speak with her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

The electronic lock clicked, and Forbes opened the door.

Brooklynn stepped through, pausing to look around. Her gaze landed on a group of women gathered in one of the side rooms.

“What’s going on in there?” she asked.

As if he’d know.

She headed that direction, and a woman waved her in.

“Are you in the market for a wig, dear?”

“Oh, no.” Brooklynn laughed. “Just curious.”

“The word is nosy,” Forbes muttered.

Somehow, the woman heard him and laughed. “Oh, darling,” she said, “Let a woman shop.”

He saw no point in responding to that.

Brooklynn called, “Have fun” and ducked out.

He led her down the hallway toward Grandmother’s room. “You remind me of a kitten that used to hang around my boarding school.”

“I love kittens! I always wanted one.”

“Ever heard that old expression about curiosity and cats?”

“A bunch of old ladies shopping for wigs aren’t going to hurt me. Not like your admirer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cheri, the receptionist. If looks could kill, I’d be bleeding out.”

“She was just doing her job.”

Brooklynn laughed. “Are you really so clueless? No wonder you’re not married. Cheri was practically drooling.”

“You’re crazy.” Wasn’t she? He’d never been good at reading people, and not being good at things irritated him. “You’re doing a lousy job keeping your head down.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Now that we’re inside, I feel safe again.”

“But you’re not. There are cameras everywhere.” He’d told her that, but a reminder seemed in order. This place had great security, but anyone could hack a system, and he didn’t want her enemies confirming that she was here with him.

“You’re right.” She ducked her head as if she were in trouble.

They passed doorways decorated with wreaths and welcome signs, skirting strategically placed sitting areas where he’d never seen anyone sitting. They turned at a corner and walked a long corridor, finally reaching Grandmother’s room at the end.

He knocked, then checked the door. It was locked, as it should be.

A moment later, it opened, and Grandmother stood on the opposite side.

She was dressed in one of her comfortable velour outfits.

She wore her typical jewelry—diamond earrings, diamond necklace, and the wedding ring he’d never seen her without, despite the fact that his grandfather had died before Forbes was born.

Grandmother’s hair was perfectly styled, as usual.

But a bruise blackened her eye and marred her cheek, and she wore a brace on her hand.

She plastered on a smile, though it was hesitant. Her gaze flicked from him to Brooklynn and back. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I tried to call.” He bent to give her a hug and held her a second longer than usual. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“They told me to rest, so I turned it off.” She patted his arm and stepped back. “I was following the doctor’s orders.” She rested a cool hand on his cheek. “I asked them not to call you.”

“Why? You should have called me.”

“I’m fine.” She turned her attention to Brooklynn.

“Marie,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “this is a friend of mine, Brooklynn Wright.”

Brooklynn held out her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Ballentine.”

Grandmother took her hand in both of hers. “You too, dear. I’m sorry he dragged you along to check on me. One little fall isn’t going to kill me.” She stepped out of the way. “Come on in.”

Forbes followed Brooklynn inside, leading her through the smallish kitchen to the living room. It was just large enough for a sofa and a chair.

Grandmother remained in the kitchen. “Shall I put on some tea?”

He said, “No thanks?—”

“—That would be lovely,” Brooklynn said.

Grandmother started the electric kettle.

“Go sit down.” He urged her toward the sofa. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I can make tea.”

“I know you can. You can also sit with our guest—and let me serve you.”

She tapped his forearm, giving him a little smile before she returned to the living room.

While she questioned Brooklynn about everything from her career to her family—she apparently knew the Wrights and even remembered Brooklynn’s parents—Forbes prepared the tea.

He’d been a little worried that Grandmother might reveal who he really was, but she seemed as sharp as ever.

She’d kept up the ruse for decades. Lying was old hat to both of them.

He set two cups of tea, the matching cream and sugar dishes, teaspoons, a glass of ice water, and a plate of shortbread cookies onto her favorite tray and carried it to the living room.

“Here we go,” he said.

They helped themselves, continuing their chat.

He gave them a few minutes, then cleared his throat. “Enough stalling. Tell me what happened.”

She laughed. “You act like I’ve committed a felony. I lost my balance and fell.”

“Where?”

“In the lunchroom. My legs were a little shaky. I reached for a chair to steady myself, but I missed. It was nothing serious.”

“If it wasn’t serious, then why did they take you to the emergency room?”

“Oh, you know this place.” She waved off his words with a flick of her hand. “Always worried about getting sued.”

“Or,” he said, “they were worried you’d seriously hurt yourself. Obviously, you hit your head.”

She touched her cheek gently, then dropped her hand as if she could hide the brace. “It’s nothing. A little bruise, a little sprain.” Her gaze flicked to Brooklynn, telling him silently that she wouldn’t discuss it further in front of a stranger.

“Brooklynn, would you mind?—?”

A knock cut him off, followed by a call through the door. “It’s Eileen.” She was one of the nurses.

Grandmother started to stand, but he got to his feet first. “I’ll get it.”

She sighed. “Go ahead and ask all your questions, even though I told you I’m fine.” He heard the slight reprimand in her voice, along with a hint of affection.

She hated growing old, but she loved him, and she loved that he cared.

After he found out how Grandmother really was, he’d ask Brooklynn to give them some privacy, then talk to Grandmother about telling Brooklynn his true identity, a request he’d never made before.

He opened the door to Eileen. “Where’s Dr. Shelley?”

“In her office. She asked me to send you in.”

“Can she not come here?”

The young nurse shrugged. “She just said?—”

“Fine.”

He didn’t like leaving Grandmother and Brooklynn alone, but it seemed the doctor was giving him little choice.

After telling the women where he was going, he headed back down the long hallway, praying Grandmother really was all right. And that she’d agree he could tell Brooklynn the truth.

Today.