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Had they, though? Or had Nathan—or whoever else at the department was involved—kept them from sending? Or done something to make them unreadable?

That would explain why The Network was still after Brooklynn. If the photos were corrupted, then the information on her camera—and in her head—was the only evidence of the operation going on at the dock. And the only record of who was involved.

“We need to find out if the state police actually have the photos,” Forbes said.

“Or just send them again.”

“But if they’re not logged correctly, will they be admissible in court?”

“Would they be if they’d been sent to an email address?” She sounded doubtful. “Let me…” Her voice trailed as she tapped a text message.

“Alyssa?” he guessed.

“My cousin Grant. He’s a police detective in New Hampshire. He’ll tell me what to do.” She sent the text, then stared at the phone as if he’d respond in seconds. Giving up, she lowered the phone. “He’ll get back to me as soon as he gets this.”

“Good idea, asking him.” Forbes had thought he was prepared to ferret out the mystery on his own, but he didn’t have any of the contacts Brooklynn had.

She’d been a godsend.

Oh. Huh. He’d need to think about that—and rethink his theory about the God whose love Forbes had doubted for so long.

“Any idea how they found you?”

She uttered a short laugh. “I might as well have dropped breadcrumbs.”

“Meaning?”

She sighed. “Going home was a bad idea. I thought, with the costume… I needed to see something at the historical society.” She explained how she’d broken in through the attic—ingenious, and it should’ve worked. But she’d been seen by three people.

She didn’t seem concerned about any of them, but hadn’t she said Graham and the fisherman—Shane—were friends? And Shane was Bryce’s uncle, so could that man be trusted? Was the hotel owner connected to The Network?

“And then I got back to my apartment,” she said, “and Lenny was there.”

Acid crawled up his throat. “At your door? You let him in?”

“No. Inside. He let himself in. He'd installed cameras so he’d know when I got back. And then used a lock-pick to get inside.”

“Brooklynn, that’s unacceptable. He needs to be?—”

“I know, I know. I got him to leave, but then, to be on the ‘safe side…’”

Her air quotes made him worry about what was coming.

“I texted Nathan and told him what happened. He’d offered to help with Lenny, and I thought…” She blew out a breath. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re the farthest thing from stupid. You’re supposed to trust the police. That you can’t in this case is their problem, not yours.”

“You’re much nicer than you seem.”

Surprise had a chuckle escaping. “Am not.”

“Are too.” The amusement leached from her voice. “I was careful, leaving through Elvis’s shop. Nathan must’ve been watching. And recognized me despite the costume.”

That made sense.

Brooklynn glanced at her phone again. “Maybe I should go to his house.”

“Whose?” Not Nathan’s obviously, so… “Lenny’s?” He couldn’t help the sharp tone. “Are you?—?”

“No. Sorry. I was looking to see if Grant texted back. I mean him, my cousin.”

“Oh. Right.” Forbes hated that idea, but not because it was a bad one. He hated the thought of her leaving. “I can drive?—”

“No.”

“How else?—?”

“No, I mean… I can’t do that to Grant and Summer. They can protect me, but their baby’s due any day. I can’t just barge in on them.”

“You think they’d mind?”

“I think they’d take me in and never tell me if they minded.” She sighed. “I hate this. I hate being a burden, a nuisance.”

“You’re neither of those things. You’re a…you’re a blessing.” Those were words he’d never said to another human in his life, but it was true, even if it felt weird on his tongue. “Just come back to the house with me.”

“But those guys?—”

“They might assume I was the one who helped you. If they come to look for you, you’ll hide, and I’ll take care of it.” Which was easy for him to say. Easy for him to ask her to trust him. “I get it if you don’t want to, but you need a real plan.”

Maybe it was time to stop putting off the inevitable and let her go.

“If not your cousin’s house,” he asked, “then where? You must’ve had a plan before they followed you to the library.”

“I was going to get my car and drive to Alyssa’s in Augusta.”

He opened his phone’s map. “Address?”

“I-I don’t want to go there.”

Did that mean she wanted to stay with him? He couldn’t help the flash of hope her words brought.

“I’m afraid I’ll put her in danger, and she’s been through enough lately.”

“Then where?”

“I don’t know. There’s nowhere safe. There’s nowhere I won’t put someone I love in danger. I just… I can’t think straight. I’m not used to being chased by men who want to kill me, and… This is all so…” Her voice shook again. “I guess a hotel? Or maybe just the bus station. I’ll go to Boston.”

On a bus?

To the city, by herself?

Forbes rubbed his lips together, hating that idea. “No.”

“What do you mean?—?”

“You’ll come home with me. When you make a better plan, I’ll help you follow through with it. But I’m not dropping you off at the bus station and sending you out on your own. I can drive you to Boston if that’s what you want. Do you want to go to Boston?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, then. Tomorrow, I’ll take you anywhere. For now, you’ll stay.” He did a U-turn and returned to his driveway. As before, there was no sign of intruders.

They’d be safe here. And if they weren’t…

Then she’d hide, and he’d take on the killers.

* * *

All the blinds were closed in the kitchen, all the drapes pulled shut.

The house was just as Forbes had left it, no signs of intruders, inside or out.

He sliced cheese and apples, then grabbed grapes from the refrigerator. He put those on a tray, adding a sleeve of crackers and a couple bottles of water.

He carried the food upstairs to the family room, where he closed the blinds and curtains before jogging back down to check on Brooklynn.

He’d still been turning off the car and closing the garage when she hurried inside to the bathroom.

She was still in there when he returned from upstairs.

He didn’t want to leave her alone, not with that limp. Should he linger out here, or wait, or…what?

After a few minutes, he knocked. “You all right?”

“Yeah.”

Despite the wobbly answer, just hearing her voice calmed him. She was here. She was safe, and he’d keep her safe, no matter what.

The water ran, then shut off. Finally, she opened the door.

She’d taken off the wig cap and washed off the makeup that made her look old. Her skin was freshly scrubbed, though paler than usual. Her hair was a mass of frizz and curls. Messy and somehow…

Far too touchable.

He wished they could get back to where they’d been the night before, so close. Almost-kissing close.

He wanted to bury his face in those curls and get lost in them.

He took a step back. “You’re…” Beautiful, but he shifted to, “Hungry?”

She shook her head. “Not even a little.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shrugged.

“I got us a snack.”

“I’m not… It’s just that I might need…” She lifted her left leg, and he saw the issue.

Her ankle was swollen to twice its size.

“I think I sprained it.”

“Hmm. Or worse.”

“No, it’s just… I can walk, if you’ll help.”

He offered his forearm. Leaning on it, she took a step forward, grimacing.

The pain on her face sent acid to his stomach.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she took another painful step.

He couldn’t stand it.

He swept her into his arms.

She squealed, sounding somehow both frightened and whimsical, grabbing him around the neck as if she didn’t trust him not to drop her. Her bright yellow bag dangled from her elbow. “I can walk.”

“Mm-hmm.” That was the best he could do, thanks to the affection and attraction rolling over him. He headed toward the kitchen.

“Put me down.”

“I will.” When he was finished drinking her in. Inhaling her scent. Enjoying the warmth of her.

He reached the foyer and angled through the formal dining room and into the kitchen, where he set her gently on the counter.

“I could’ve made it,” she said.

He stepped back and crossed his arms. “You’re very stubborn.”

But she was also wonderful. Amazing. Perfect.

“I’m sorry, Brooklynn.”

Her eyebrows hiked.

“For lying to you. I know I said it. I’ve said it a few times, but I’m not sure you’ve accepted my apology.

It didn’t feel like lying at first. I’ve gone by Ford Baker and told the story about being a historian for so long it feels real to me sometimes.

But there came a point with you when it wasn’t okay anymore.

I wanted to tell you. I almost did, on the roof, but I’d made Grandmother a promise.

I needed to introduce you to her, get her… blessing, I guess.”

“Did she give it?”

“She did. She likes you.”

“I’m glad.” But Brooklynn didn’t smile. “I understand why you did it.”

“But can you forgive me?”

“I can. I do. Just…no more lying, okay?”

He nodded, swallowing all the things he wanted to say, unsure how to say them, not knowing if he should, if he had any right to.

So he turned his attention to her injury, lifting her injured leg to the counter. “Nice shoes.” They were multicolored slip-on sneakers.

“I thought they looked old-lady-ish.”

He slipped the one from her injured leg, feeling her calf tighten beneath his hand. He moved to take off her sock, needing to get a look at her injury and make sure nothing was obviously broken, but before he’d even touched it, she sucked a breath through her teeth.

“I can cut it off.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” But her face was white as milk.

“It’s not a problem. Just?—”

“I said it’s fine!” Her eyes popped wide. “Sorry. Sorry. You’re trying to help, and I’m?—”

“In pain. No need to apologize.” He turned toward the wall behind him. Mostly cabinets, but… “You see that dent on the refrigerator?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Focus on it. Don’t take your eyes off it.” He leaned over her knees so she couldn’t watch what he was doing. “Can you still see it?”

“Yes.”