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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

B y the time Dr. Shelley called, Forbes had been cruising Center Street for hours as if Brooklynn might just appear in front of him.

He parked on a side street and answered.

“I hired two nurses on your behalf,” the doctor said without preamble. “They’ll each take twelve-hour shifts.

“When do they start?”

“One’s already here.” Dr. Shelley gave him the nurses’ names and a rundown of their experience. “They come highly recommended from one of the visiting nurses organizations in Portland.”

“Thanks for handling that.”

“Mrs. Ballentine woke up from her nap to find one of them in her room, and she’s not happy.”

As if Grandmother had sensed him talking about her, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. “That’s her. I’d better answer.”

“Good luck.” The doctor sounded amused as she ended the call.

He took a deep breath and pressed the accept button. “Good afternoon, Gran.”

“Don’t you Gran me. Why do I have a babysitter?”

“Not a babysitter, a nurse. And you know why.”

“Because of a silly fall? Old ladies fall all the time, young man. I will not be treated like a child.”

He absorbed that, inhaling a breath, exhaling it slowly. “Do you remember what happened this morning?”

“Of course I remember. You brought a guest to see me. Was she with…with these people?”

He pictured Grandmother waving toward the nurse. Hopefully, the woman wasn’t easily offended.

He had no idea how much he’d be paying her nurses, but he figured they deserved every penny and more.

“No, ma’am. Brooklynn is a friend of mine, or was. Do you remember what you told her?”

That brought a long beat of silence. “I-I don’t remember much.” The belligerence was gone as she added, “The doctor told me I fell asleep?”

“You had a little memory loss. I think you referred to me as Forbes, maybe called me your grandson. She figured out who I really am and that I’d been lying to her.”

“Oh. Oh, dear.”

Like earlier, at the retirement home, his strong, regal grandmother sounded very much the opposite.

“It’s okay.” Though it wasn’t yet, he spoke with a soothing tone. “I’m trying to find her now and make it right.”

“We can’t let anyone know the truth. Tell her how you look like your cousin and I confuse you two?—”

“I’m not lying to Brooklynn again. She knows the truth, and I’m not going to?—”

“Have you forgotten…?” He heard shuffling, then a door closing. “You could be in danger.”

“Brooklynn Wright didn’t kill our family, Gran. She’s younger than I am.”

“Her folks?—”

“Even if her parents were involved—which I highly doubt—she didn’t tell them where she was or anything about me. And she won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Brooklynn had texted him hours before, promising to keep his secrets. He believed her.

“What would you have me do, Grandmother? Assassinate her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He took a breath to temper his voice. “Brooklynn knows who I am, and I’m not sorry. I’m not going to lie to her. She’s too smart to fall for more lies from me, even if I could find her. Which I can’t, so this conversation is pointless.”

Suddenly, Forbes remembered Brooklynn’s theory about him, that he only spoke in paragraphs when he got angry or passionate.

He’d definitely given his grandmother a paragraph-full.

“Sorry, Gran. I didn’t mean?—”

“You have feelings for her.”

Not a question, so he didn’t feel compelled to answer.

After a moment, she said, “All right, then. If you trust her, I trust her. Find her and tell her how you feel.”

Just like that?

“Really?”

“You were bound to meet somebody someday, and you’re not the kind of man to keep secrets from those you love. If this woman means something to you, then tell her the truth.”

Wow. He’d expected more pushback. He’d expected Grandmother to want to know everything about her. That she trusted Forbes’s judgment that much both surprised and pleased him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be that easy. He hadn’t told Grandmother about the smugglers. About how Brooklynn had taken pictures of them. About how he’d protected her, or about how she’d been at the house for days.

He hadn’t told Grandmother anything like that because none of it mattered.

Heaviness lifted from his shoulders as that thought registered. The smugglers, The Network…

If he never found his family’s murderers, he could live with that.

If he could convince Brooklynn to give him another chance, maybe…maybe the two of them could try a relationship. Maybe there could be more than just attraction and friendship between them.

Maybe he could have the family he’d always craved.

He could never be Forbes Ballentine, not if Grandmother was right and he was still in danger.

There were so many unknowns, and he hated unknowns.

But he cared about Brooklynn. A lot. In fact, though it was crazy to say so, he thought he could love her, someday.

Could he forget the past and focus on the future?

Could he leave justice to God?

If he let go of his need to know who’d killed his family, could he hold onto the woman he was falling for?

Maybe.

But the better option was to find Brooklynn, get her somewhere safe, and then take down The Network for good.

God willing, he could have both Brooklynn and justice.

* * *

Forbes should just do what Brooklynn wanted and leave her alone.

He should certainly not still be lurking on Center Street, looking for a tall, older woman wearing a shoulder-length wig with a full crown.

He assumed it wasn’t a real crown, with diamonds and such.

Of course, because he was looking, he’d swear he’d seen a hundred sixty-plus women in the hours he’d searched. None who looked anything like Brooklynn.

Where are you?

After grabbing a hot dog, chips, and a soda from a fifties-style diner, he parked on the opposite side of Center Street from her gallery. He ate and watched the people who went in and out.

Someone stepped in the way, and a knock sounded on his window. The man backed up enough to be seen.

Forbes stifled a curse word, then rolled it down. “Taggart.”

“It’s Baker, right?”

He dipped his head. The cop wasn’t wearing his uniform today, just jeans and a short-sleeved golf shirt. “Want to search my truck again?”

“What are you doing here?”

He lifted his cup. “Enjoying my dinner. How about you?”

“Seems to me, if you were here to take in the view, you’d be facing it.” He gazed down the hill toward the Atlantic.

“Parking isn’t a crime.”

“But stalking is.”

“You would know, I guess.”

The man’s eyebrows lowered in the center, creating a dark brown V, like an angry emoticon.

“Because you’re a cop.” Forbes forced a smile.

“Funny you’re here.”

“Why? Is this your spot?” He looked around. “I don’t see a no-parking sign.”

“You trying to be smart?”

“Some of us don’t have to try. It just comes naturally.”

He didn’t react to that. “Parking’s limited during the tourist season. Move along.”

Forbes gave Taggart a long look. “Must be frustrating to still be on traffic duty at your age. Bet you thought you’d be a detective by now.”

He acted as if he hadn’t heard, but his face reddened. “I said, move along.”

“I don’t think I will.” Forbes settled back and sipped his Coke. “Is there a law against sipping a soda?”

“Maybe that’s really alcohol.”

“Arrest me and find out. And then I’ll sue you for harassment.”

The cop’s phone played a sound, and he glanced at it, then glared at Forbes. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

“Who?”

Lips pursed, he watched Forbes for so long that it started to feel awkward.

Forbes wouldn’t blink first.

“Stay out of my way.” Taggart stormed away.

Forbes scanned the area but didn’t see his cruiser anywhere. The man crossed the street and slowed, meandering along the sidewalk.

Well, that was the most entertainment he’d had all afternoon.

Unfortunately, Forbes was losing hope of finding Brooklynn.

She must not have come home, or if she had, she wasn’t leaving again.

He had no idea where else to look. Maybe she’d had one of her family members pick her up. He prayed she was safe and would stay that way.

He sent her a text.

Let me know you’re safe, and I’ll leave you alone. If you need me, call or text anytime. I’m sorry.

He watched the screen but got no indication that she’d read the messages.

She would or she wouldn’t. He had no control of that.

Let her forgive me, Lord.

Except that was a selfish prayer, and God never answered those, not for Forbes anyway.

He took his time finishing his dinner—mostly to irritate Lenny, assuming the man was still watching him—then shifted and pulled into traffic.